Rock and Ruin

by Saranna Dewylde

  Oscar’s face froze.

  He struck the drum with more force than I’d ever heard before.

  I sent a meaningful glance over my shoulder at Nabila. Her lips were clamped together, cheeks bulging with what had to be repressed laughter. Yup, she knew what I was doing, and she was all in.

  She hit the beat. “One, two… one, two, three.”

  I held my breath, waiting for Oscar to hit his mark—grinned widely when he nailed it with force.

  Yes! That’s what drums should sound like—raw and powerful and ragged.

  Joining in, I kept my guitar quieter, let the drums fill the room and batter away at the shadow-covered walls. Then I let my vocals slide into the mix, let my voice meld with Nabila’s and sweep us into the story of the song.

  When it came to an end, after the last notes had faded, we stared at each other for a moment.

  Then we erupted into cheers.

  We’d done it. We’d been a band.

  “Yes!” Nabila smacked my hand with a vicious high-five. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “That wasn’t too loud?” Oscar asked.

  “Nope. That was perfect!” I wrapped him in a one-armed hug. “Way to channel that unrequited rage, buddy.”

  “Oh, no.” He looked horrified. “I didn’t. I don’t have…”

  “Shut up, you do so have. And you kicked ass.” Nabila scrubbed her knuckles in his head, making his near-white hair stand on end.

  He brushed her off, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Wanna go again?”

  He quirked a brow at me. “Yeah, but no more…you know.”

  “Messing with you to get you to smack the drums harder?” Nabila asked sweetly. Then she laughed and poked his shoulder. “No worries there. Ash already played that hand. Not much else she can do, unless she goes with him to the ball—”

  “Bite your tongue.” I pointed my guitar at her like a weapon. “Poofy dresses and slow music? So not my jam.”

  “We’ll see, Freshy,” she said smugly.

  “Let’s not,” Oscar said.

  “Oh, we won’t.” I stuck my tongue out at Nabila.

  “Come on, Freshy. Are we going to play another song before the break or what?”

  “Hell yeah we’re going to get another song in.” I glanced down at the set list, skimming down the short row for the ballsiest anthem on it. “How about a little Back in Black—”

  A knock at the door cut me off.

  I spun around to face the door. Froze.

  Nash stood in the open doorway. “Ash, time to go.”

  Oh, balls. How long had he been there—long enough to hear my anti-ball stance, or even longer? I couldn’t read his expression. Mentally crossing my fingers, I hoped I hadn’t just dropped Oscar into shit with the Shifters.

  To be on the safe side, I decided to leave without protest—and quickly.

  “Yeah, sure.” I didn’t dare look at my friends. “Coming.”

  “Guess we’ll pack up,” Nabila muttered.

  Oscar, of course, said nothing.

  Snapping my guitar into its case, I sent a silent apology to Nabila and Oscar. But their glares burned a hole between my shoulder blades as I headed to the door, scooping up my backpack along the way.

  I’d barely made it there when Nash grabbed me in the hallway for a kiss.

  Behind me, I heard Nabila hiss.

  Fuck.

  Nash wasn’t exactly my boyfriend, but the tension radiating between him and my friends really sucked.

  We’d just sounded like a band. I’d put my ass on the line for them. Couldn’t they accept this for me, even just a little?

  I couldn’t deal. I just couldn’t.

  I knew I couldn’t trust Nash, but at least he could kiss me until I didn’t have to think about it.

  “How much trouble do you think we’d get in for skipping our class?” I asked him.

  He looked down at me and his lips curled into a wry grin. “We can go to the hallway after lunch. If we miss Churchfield’s class, she might cut off a finger. I don’t know about you, but I don’t regenerate that fast. It takes for fucking ever.”

  “I… yeah, I can’t do that.” And I liked my fingers.

  He slid a hand around the curve of my waist as we headed for the cafeteria.

  We walked in silence for a while.

  I wanted to ask him what he’d heard, to ensure he wouldn’t take out anything on Oscar later. But I knew that if I showed Nash how much Oscar mattered to me, that would only put him in danger.

  When the arched stone entrance of the cafeteria came into view, I looked past the creatures carved in its columns. All the Shifters were gathered at our usual table—my and Nash’s table, of course. Hell forbid I got to eat with my friends.

  I sighed.

  He cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to cut off your practice. I know that music stuff matters to you.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Our time was nearly up.”

  “Still, I guess I’m sorry.” He kissed my forehead.

  The move surprised me, and it endeared him to me. If he’d asked me for the moon just then, I’d have tried to lasso the sucker. I wished Nabila and Oscar could see him in these moments, maybe then they’d understand.

  “I guess I forgive you,” I said.

  He kissed my forehead again. “I’m glad.”

  Taking my hand, he led me toward our table. Judging from the food trays, today was “pretend to be Mexican” day. Given no one seemed to have eaten more than half a pseudo-taco, the trolls were in a bad mood.

  Or maybe everyone was simply distracted? Plant seemed to be gesturing at her boobs, then sweeping her hand toward the floor.

  “Oh, God,” I whispered. “She’s planning a ball dress.”

  “Right. Shit.” Nash pulled us to a stop a couple tables away. “So, listen. I should’ve asked sooner, but you’ll be my date to the Principal's Ball, right? Just tell me what color your dress is and I’ll match my tux.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Uh…” I blinked at him. “I’m not exactly going to the ball.”

  He frowned at me. “What? Of course, you are. You’re mine. You’ll go to the ball with me. Don’t make this difficult. I’m even sorry for asking late.”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  And my earlier warm and fuzzies evaporated in a puff of rage. I’m his? Don’t make it difficult?

  Everything in me screamed to lash out. To tell him exactly where he could shove his demands and how far up his ass they should go—but one glance at our table stopped the words in my throat. Pairs of eyes glinted, watching us as a pride of lions might a pudgy antelope.

  I could not afford to cause a scene.

  Our dating was obviously approved, and I needed to keep things on an even keel for as long as possible.

  I also really wanted to keep all my fingers and toes intact.

  “No, it’s not that,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze. “I’m not mad. Really. If I was worried about you asking, I’d’ve reminded you. I’m not going because my band is playing at the ball.”

  “No,” he said.

  “No? What—” I took a moment to breathe. “This isn’t an option. It’s done. Bournival asked me to. I can’t say no.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Then I guess I’ll just have to take someone else to the ball, then, won’t I?”

  “Hmm.” I was literally biting my tongue while I weighed my options.

  The student movement in the cafeteria had stopped and everyone was openly staring at us. This was exactly what I hadn’t wanted, but I’d already shown myself to be someone with a smart mouth and a solid sense of self. If I let him treat me this way in public, the demons would know something was up.

  I hadn’t started this scene, but I’d sure as hell finish it.

  I smiled up at him and added a tiny shrug for good measure. “I guess you should take someone else. And to the hallway. I hope you both have a good time.”

  I
turned to walk away from him.

  Nash reached out to grab me. My sixth sense kicked into overdrive and I dodged his first swipe. If he made contact, if he grabbed my arm, I was going to lose my shit in epic fashion—right here, in the middle of the fucking cafeteria.

  Shitty tacos would be the least of everyone’s worries if that happened.

  So I reached out and caught his hand instead.

  He looked surprised, but he smiled. A real smile. “I don’t want to take anyone else. To the ball or the hallway.”

  I returned the smile. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

  And we headed to get our plates, his hand on my lower back. Eyes were on us and I could feel the truth of so many emotions churning through the large room—most of it boiling from the table we’d just left. Jealousy, anger, and a whole heap confusion. A lot of the Ferals didn’t like him spending time with me, couldn’t understand why he’d take my attitude, but what could they say about it?

  Nothing. Because the hierarchy obviously approved.

  My friends, on the other hand, did not.

  As for me? I couldn’t help but feel like I was cheating on the guy I’d met twice with the guy who was basically my boyfriend.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was early Saturday morning, and I kind of wished I drank coffee.

  Maybe that kick of caffeine could have helped me process where I’d ended up—at just about the last place I’d pictured my pin-wielding friend dragging me to: a decomposing shell sitting alone in an abandoned stretch of dessert on the far edge of Paradise.

  I squinted at the building before me.

  Spiders guarded the entrance to the crumbling Flambeau Casino as diligently as bouncers outside the major clubs. Nabila said the casino had ruled this section of desert fifty years ago. Now, its only claim to fame appeared to be slowly disintegrating. It surprised me that no one had bought and developed the land.

  Perhaps there was some truth to the voodoo rumors?

  I snorted. My chances of getting a straight answer about that were slim to none.

  “Nabila, what could we possibly need in this place?” Coughing, I waved a hand through the web-drenched doorway as Oscar ripped another board off the bottom. “I haven’t been able to talk to you guys for days! Can’t we just get breakfast and complain about our families—you know—after you and Oscar finally explain what this Principal really is and why Oscar is strong enough to rip that board off with his bare hands?”

  “I’ll tell you when we’re in. It’s not safe out here,” Nabila said. It was the same answer she’d repeated since waking me up at seven in the morning.

  I sighed, sneezed, and zipped my hoodie up over my nose to provide protection from the dust.

  The whole school buzzing about the Principal’s arrival, and I was tired of pretending I really understood his coming really meant. I mean, I knew the obvious: boss demon plus creepy ball equaled not good. It was the history, the stories of last time, that I was missing—because no one fucking talked about it.

  Fine. If breaking into a moldering casino was what it took to get the full scoop, then I was in.

  I grabbed hold of a board and pulled. It didn’t budge.

  Stepping back from the entrance, I leaned against the exterior and waited for Oscar to finish clearing the way.

  “That’s it, come on.” Nabila eased beneath the remaining boards and slipped into the shadows beyond. Her impatience radiated from the darkness on the other side.

  “We shouldn’t be here.” Oscar followed, his concerned expression visible in the bands of light sneaking between the gaps. “We should go. Please?”

  “We’ve come this far. No point in ripping off that shit to run away.” I shrugged and ducked under the boards to stand beside him in the entranceway. My sneakers squished into the remains of carpet and dirt littering the floor.

  The smell of mold filled my nose. I sneezed

  “Here you go.” Oscar passed me a tissue.

  “Thanks.” I turned around just in time to catch Nabila disappearing around a corner. “Nabila! Seriously? You could wait!” I yelled after her, but she didn’t come back. I shared a look with Oscar.

  “I have worries about this,” he whispered.

  “We’d better go after her.” I cautiously moved away from the bright entrance and into the gloom. “First rule of horror movies—don’t separate.”

  In only a few steps, I was far enough inside that I couldn’t easily identify colors. Everything was a shade of grey. Tattered strips of drapes and wallpaper hung from the ceiling, looking like jagged teeth against blackness beyond. I stopped and tried to peer past them.

  “Nabila,” I whispered fiercely.

  Nothing answered other than footsteps traveling farther away.

  “You’re right, Ash. We should find her together.” I started, surprised to find Oscar has appeared beside me. He hadn’t made any noise at all. He lightly touched my arm and inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring.

  I nudged him with my elbow as we moved forward slowly. “Are you searching the air for scents?”

  “What?” He blinked at me. “No, of course not. Feeders don’t have any special skills.”

  Except those that are surprisingly strong.

  I shot him a suspicious look and wondered what else he wasn’t telling me. “Can you see in here?”

  “Can’t you?”

  “Not well—most everything past this point is just gray blobs. Wish we’d brought flashlights.” I stumbled over something and latched onto his jacket. He seemed to know exactly where to step to avoid shards of pottery and rotted floorboards. “If Feeders don’t have any special skills, how come you can see in the dark?”

  I felt him shrug. “I just can. Sometimes.” Anxiety rolled off him in waves as we moved deeper into the broken shadows of the Flambeau. “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

  “Come on, Oscar. Who would I tell and why would you even care? We go to school with a bunch of inhuman, demonic kids with all sorts of random talents. With all of that, I’m the freak for being normal—” I glanced around the melting dark of the hallway and added, “—well, mostly.”

  “You’re friends with him,” he uttered in low, quiet tones.

  “Him? You mean Nash?”

  “You don’t need to say it so loud.”

  “Chill out. He doesn’t care. I haven’t even told him anything about me.”

  “But you like him. You kiss him. And he says you’re his.” It was an accusation, not a question.

  Oscar’s arm slipped away from me and my heart punched the outside of my chest.

  My breath caught. He was going to leave me, alone, in the dark. “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Reaching out, I felt for the wall and a weight jostled in my pocket. I was an idiot. Pulling out my newly loaned cell-phone, I pressed a button and light from the screen illuminated a circle around me.

  I found Oscar standing a few paces away, regarding me with a wary expression.

  “Geez. Don’t do that.” In no way did I want to be alone in this casino.

  Moving toward him, I stepped carefully over a toppled metal lattice, the glow from my phone just catching glimmers of what looked like gold. This had been a place of unquestioned luxury in its day.

  His features gained detail and I could tell he wasn’t ready to let the subject drop.

  “Look, yes, I agreed to go to the ball with him—for one freaking dance before Oya’s Blade takes the stage. It’s not a big deal,” I said, holding my hands out, palms up, in the universal gesture of peace. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  Though his comments about me being his? Yikes. Definitely not bringing that up right now.

  Thinking of Nash’s amber eyes and long, lean body made my cheeks burn. I was abruptly grateful for the crypt-like darkness. He kept inviting me to confide in him, and I wanted to—a lot. But every time I started talking about my past, my heart would rhumba and I’d change the topi
c. Or he’d distract me by snapping at a Feeder who had the misfortune of getting in the way.

  I sighed. Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether I liked him or hated him.

  What I did like was making out with him.

  “Whatever.” The unbridled bitterness in the word was so open, so unusual, for Oscar that my attention jerked back to him so fast I stumbled. He caught my arm and held on until I steadied. Then he let go.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  It was a bizarrely surly response.

  This was an Oscar I’d never encountered before. I stopped walking. Crossing my arms and tapping my foot while I waited for him to face me. “What the hell’s your problem today?”

  “I don’t have a problem,” he replied, standing just far enough away that none of the light from my phone reached his face. I snorted in disbelief. He did not sound okay. And my inner truth-radar loudly informed me he’d lied.

  Oscar wasn’t slouching and he wasn’t apologizing. Something major was going on.

  “You don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t bullshit me.”

  He opened his mouth as if to retaliate, and abruptly deflated. I hated watching his shoulders sinking down to their typically stooped position. It was like some inner glass had been placed overtop the light in his soul and snuffed it out.

  “You can tell me. I can keep a secret.” I stepped towards him, wanting to offer what comfort I could. “Trust me.”

  A scream rent the air and my alarmed gaze collided with Oscar’s.

  “Nabila,” we said in unison.

  Oscar took off down the hall with me hot on his heels.

  He moved fluidly, with a grace I’d never seen before. I hoped we got to Nabila before whatever was making her scream got us—or stopped her from explaining why she’d dragged us here in the first place.

  Dodging broken furniture and unidentifiable debris, I skidded around corners, clutching my phone and trying to keep Oscar in my sight. Ancient carpet tore away. My feet slid out from underneath me.

  Skidding forward, I slammed into a wall and my phone flew from my grasp.

  “Ugh. This sucks.” Scrubbing cobwebs from my face, I looked up to find Oscar had disappeared ahead of me. “Wait!”