by C.E. Wilson
Chapter One
The short trip to Micah’s house had taught Archer a valuable lesson – Roderick did not drink often and had no tolerance. One of his special cocktails had been more than enough. The poor guy swayed back and forth as they stood in the bushes next to the pool house where Micah was ‘discreetly’ hooking up with Bentley, the loud moans filling the air causing Archer to scrunch up his nose with distaste.
“What the hell was in that drink?” Roderick slurred, shaking his head.
“Liquid courage. Now stand here,” Archer instructed patiently. “He’s in there now. You can hear him and that girl. Don’t put your knife away because you’ll need to be quick. When he comes out the door, you stab him. Don’t waste time thinking about where to hit him, just jab wherever you can.”
“I thought I said I wasn’t killing him.”
“And you won’t,” Archer said. “You’re just going to poke him a few times. We’re sending a message.” As he started to walk away Roderick reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Roderick said. “You need to stay here like you promised.”
He cleared his throat loudly. “Y-yes…I’m right here. I’m right beside you.” Suddenly he realized that the night was silent again. “They’re finishing up. It’s about damn time. Hold up your blade!” he hissed.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Roderick said incoherently.
“He’s given you plenty of reasons.”
“I’m still not going to kill him.”
“Then don’t,” Archer said, still watching him carefully. Maybe he had given him too much to drink. Maybe the drugs hadn’t been necessary. He didn’t really care if Micah lived or died; honestly the whole thing was starting to bore him. He couldn’t give Roderick the money back, there wasn’t a chance in hell. He needed that money because his father had cut him off for not getting into a university. Roderick annoyed him. Maybe he should have given him more to drink.
“That was amazing,” Micah said, opening the door to the pool house. He pulled Bentley closer to him. “You’re amazing.” After a moment she laughed and pulled away. They exchanged a few words and she started walking towards the main house. Micah watched her go.
“Wait until she leaves,” Archer whispered.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Roderick said. “I can’t see. I can’t focus.”
“You have to!” Archer hissed, keeping a steadying hand on Roderick’s shoulder until Bentley was out of sight. “Do it!” Micah started strut back to the pool house toward their hiding spot. “Do it now!”
“What the hell…” Micah yelled when Roderick jumped from the bushes. “You? I remember you! What’re you doing on my dad’s property?”
“Stay back!” Roderick yelled, too hazy to focus properly. He wildly slashed his knife through the air and Archer tried not to roll his eyes.
“What are you doing with that thing?” Micah asked, jumping back. “What’s wrong with you?” Roderick sloppily lunged forward, plunging the knife into Micah’s shoulder. He bellowed in pain and surprise. “What! What are you doing?” he shouted, stumbling backwards. “Stop! Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Roderick said, advancing on Micah. He raised the knife for another strike. His arm froze for a moment in indecision, and suddenly Micah lashed out with a desperate attack. He knocked the knife from Roderick’s hand with his good arm, sending it flying into the bushes next to Archer’s hiding spot.
Before Roderick could react, Micah struck him across the jaw with the back of his hand. Roderick fell to his knees, and with a loud grunt of pain Micah kicked him squarely in the ribs. Roderick rolled limply into the bushes next to the path and Micah fell to one knee as he clutched his injured shoulder.
Swearing under his breath, Archer went to reach for the knife but his fingers stopped inches from the bloody blade as he had a sudden idea. He soundlessly picked up the pole of a nearby pool skimmer and moved up the path a few yards.
After a moment Micah staggered to his feet and began to stumble up the path towards the house. Archer waited until he had almost passed, then suddenly thrust the pole between Micah’s feet. He fell heavily forward and his head made a dull thudding sound against the flagstones of the shaded path. Archer watched impassively as he rolled slowly onto his back. A sound from the street forced him to look up.
“Shit,” Archer whispered as he saw a car coming up the street. “That looks like Orion’s car. What the fuck’s he doing here?” He slipped further into the shadows.
“Help me!” Roderick said weakly from the bushes. “You said you’d help!”
“Who’re…talking to?” Micah groaned.
“Damn,” Roderick said, looking at his hand in a stray beam of light. It was covered in blood and it shook wildly. Had he really stabbed somebody? He felt sick and hot and he couldn’t see or breathe properly.
“What’s going on here?” Orion’s voice shouted from the driveway.
“Orion!” Micah shouted, grimacing. “Orion! Over…here!” Footsteps trampled down the path and Orion appeared.
“Here you are,” he said, kneeling down in front of him. “Why are you on the ground? I stopped here for a moment to have a talk with you before I take Devony home. I’m not a fool—” his wild red eyes suddenly noticed the pain in Micah’s face and he looked around. At the sight of the blood on the path, Orion’s eyes widened in shock for an instant but quickly hardened. “Fate has given you what you deserve, nothing less.”
“What…you…talking about? Help…me. Get my…phone. In…pool house. Call…the…police.”
“You’re kidding. For what you’ve done to Dev, you deserve to suffer.”
“What…for? I said…sorry…for fighting…for…drinking. I’m sorry!”
“That’s not what you need to be sorry for.”
“Then what?”
“You know what!” he roared, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking his body off the ground. “I know you were with that whore.”
Micah’s eyes widened in surprise. “What…do you care? She’s not…your woman.”
“No,” Orion said, releasing him slowly. “She’s not anymore.”
“W-what? What…what you talking about?” Micah moaned. “Get…my phone…call help.”
“No.”
“How can you…say that? Please…help me.”
“You both deserve to die for what you’ve done to me.”
“W-what does she have to do…with you?”
“She has everything to do with me, you asshole!” Orion shouted into his face, spittle dripping from his mouth. “I should kill you with my bare hands but I would rather you suffer like I have.” He stood up and stared down at him. “See you in hell.”
“Orion…please,” Micah croaked as he began to leave. “You can’t…leave me here! Just give me…phone.”
“You want a phone?” Orion asked, turning around. He took out his own phone and tossed it into Micah’s face. “Take mine. I have no reason to call anyone anymore. I’ve been betrayed for the last time.” He stormed off, leaving Micah to grope for the phone. He called the first number on the list.
“Hello?” Lucas’s voice grunted. “Orion, where are you? We need the signed permits before these vendors can set up and you have them. I’m driving around looking for you now.”
“Help…me,” Micah grunted into the phone.
“Who’s this? Orion?”
“Who is it?” another voice said in the background. “What’s going on?”
“Dammit, Gavin, I’m on the phone. I hear voices,” Lucas said. “It doesn’t sound like Orion.”
“It’s not,” Micah said. “L-Lucas…it’s Micah.”
“Micah the headmaster’s son? What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“N-no…please…help…me,” Micah said.
“Where are y
ou?” Lucas asked.
“P-pool…house.”
“Are you drunk?” Lucas asked. “You sound horrible.”
“Please…come over…now. Call police.”
“Calm down,” Lucas said. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes. I’ll call the cops if you still need them then.”
“Cops?” Gavin asked.
“These high school brats drive me crazy,” Lucas said. “Orion’s missing and Micah just called from his phone.”
“Why isn’t he using his own phone?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said, looking at the phone. “But we need to find Orion. Why would he be at the headmaster’s house? He said he was going to Devony’s. Oh well, as long as he has those forms with him. The turn is right up here.”
