The Mask of the Damned (The Damned of Lost Creek Book 2)

by Danae Ayusso

  Once the last of the lingering girls hurried out of the bathroom, I made the call.

  “This wasn’t a good idea,” I said before she could say anything.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellie demanded.

  “I’m seeing people that shouldn’t be there, in the flesh, and yet he is… He smells even better now than he did when I thought he was in my head. Not that it’s important,” I quickly added, catching myself much too late. “Did you know that I’ve been hanging out all summer with Draven Van Zul?!” I shrieked.

  Ellie sighed. “Yes, we figured that out, but your father didn’t want us to tell you the truth.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “Because you needed him,” she said, as if it were obvious. “When you started talking to Draven, spending the mornings in your self-therapy, you started to relax and smile more, and had much more of an open mind in general. You didn’t flinch as much, didn’t shy away from us as often, you opened up more, and started to come alive before our eyes. You didn’t see how you were before your morning self-therapy, but we did. Your father hates to admit it, he is terrified to admit it, but the truth was right in front of him: you needed that ear to vent in and shoulder to lean on, even if it was something you didn’t realize you needed or was real. It wouldn’t have been right to take that from you when it was obvious it was what you needed. You can’t be mad at us, or your father, for that, Mikhail. Your best interest was at heart.”

  Damn it. If their reasoning wasn’t so sound…

  Shut up! You cannot agree with them when they violated our trust.

  The only one that violated our trust was the fucker that neglected to tell you he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. You can’t blame Daddy or the others for you being too stupid to realize the truth that was right in front of you!

  I hate you so much right now.

  “Mikhail… Justice?” Ellie asked, concerned.

  “We’re here, fighting as always,” I grumbled, leaning against the bathroom door. “Grams, I’m so pissed off right now about this.”

  “As you should be. Price should have told you, but he was scared to. There’s a lot he needs to tell you, and I fear he no longer has a choice in it. The time has come.”

  I snorted. “Could you be more vague and ominous?” I complained.

  “Yes, I could,” she said with a chuckle. “Has Draven talked to you?”

  “In a sense, but he isn’t making any sense,” I complained.

  Softly she laughed. “The things you do to that brat. Is everything else okay? Justice hasn’t gotten you detention yet?”

  That is another thing to bring up.

  “Where’s Price?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.

  “Justice changed our name in the office before school so now everyone knows I’m a Simoeau, especially the Van Zuls.”

  For some reason she chuckled.

  “It isn’t funny, Grams,” I whined. “This is bad. The asshole I thought was in my head said that it’s bad.”

  “Draven is always looking out for the family,” she said.

  Of course he would be. He’s one of those vile fuckhead Van Zuls… Not that I know what the problem with the Van Zuls are, but whatever. It sounds bad.

  “Also, you might want to give Price the heads up that I got into it with a different Van Zul, too,” I said.

  Again, Ellie chuckled.

  “You’re on a roll today,” she teased. “Let me guess, that asshole Pauly?”

  “How’d you know? Did Shep call and tattle on me?” I complained.

  That’s it, he’s dining with Dandy tonight! Narking ass bitch. I’ve cut bitches for less.

  “No, he didn’t need to,” she said. “Paul is a punk ass bitch that starts shit with Shep any chance he gets.”

  Oh my God! I love this crazy little old lady. That is too damn funny.

  “So he is a cockgoblin like I accused him of being,” I surmised.

  She roared with laughter. “That’s a good one, but I’ve called him worse.”

  Challenge accepted.

  “It blows my mind that I’m the most mature one out of the elders in our home,” I scolded, causing her to laugh even harder. “Thanks, Grams. Oh, do you still have your Foster parent credentials like Soren accused you of having?”

  That sobered her up.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You know Remi?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Remi and Shep have gone to school together since kindergarten… Let me guess, drunk mother of the year lost custody of her again for living conditions?” she surmised. “I’ll make the call.”

  “Can you call Simian as well?” I asked.

  Ellie sighed. “What happened?”

  “Foster parent is touchy in a bad way and there are others there,” I whispered, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand.

  Never in a million years did I expect to find someone like me, with the same issues and damage inducing past that I have in Anaconda, Montana, of all places. It makes me feel not as messed up, but I don’t like that it’s apparently an epidemic either.

  “I invited Remi over tonight,” I said. “I hope Price doesn’t mind.”

  “Oh hush,” she whispered with a snivel. “That girl isn’t nearly as messed up as she looks. Remi is always welcome here, even after she shaved Shep’s eyebrows in fourth grade. Have the boys bring her home and I’ll call Simian and have the other kids pulled and get them placed in a safe home. Is there anything else you need, Sweetheart?”

  A fifth of whiskey.

  “Justice wants to start drinking, but I’m fine. Hungry,” I admitted. “Had a meltdown over the asshole from the woods showing up at school then discovering he’s real.... Puked my guts out so now I’m hungry and I’m sure my breath is questionable at best. If that little white bitch comes crawling out of the woods next, I quit,” I grumbled the latter under my breath.

  Ellie chuckled. “Puke breath is oh so sexy! Go hang out with Dilly and I’ll have Price come get you. Perhaps having a shortened schedule would be better for the first half of the year. A bit less stressful and not as many temptations.”

  I think that’s best.

  Yeah, it might be better.

  Of course it is. We’re a punk ass street kid from North Philly. We’re used to dodging bullets and battling demons that crawl out of the darkness with a taste for skinny white girls. We haven’t been schooled in high school and the politics and haters that accompanies it.

  When you put it like that, you’re right…

  Wait a minute.

  You’re welcome.

  “No, I can do this… I’m better than that. I’m not some punk ass that just ups and quits when shit gets hard. That isn’t me, and it’ll never be. If I can survive the shit in Philly, I can survive high school… I can survive this, right, Grams?” I asked, not meaning to have ranted in her ear when I meant to keep it in my head for Justice.

  “If anyone can, Mikhail, it’s you. If you need anything, give me a call and I’ll take care of it. I’ll have Price bring you something to eat so you aren’t as moody. Try to have a good day. I love you, Sweetheart.”

  “Okay, thank you...” I tried to say it back, but I couldn’t for some reason, so I hung up.

  It always freaks me out when people say they love me. Blue Boy, Mama Jones, and De’Von told me they loved me all the time and it was like pulling teeth to get me to say it back, until it just happened one day. Usually it was guilt that caused the words to leave my lips, and I didn’t like that. In my mind, it meant loving someone had a negative context associated with it. That isn’t right, I know, but I can’t help but think that way.

  Since coming to Anaconda, I’ve heard I love you when it pertained to me too many damn times, and each I believe to be true, but it still freaks me out.

  I’m so damaged it isn’t even funny.

  You can say that again.

  “Shut up. This is partially your fault,” I sneered, looking at
my reflection in the mirror. “If you would have kept your prideful, boastful ass shut, and not changed our name to reflect that we’re Price’s kid, I wouldn’t have lost the only person I had that listened and made me feel less like you!”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t even,” I warned, glaring at her. “You are the crazy one, not me. I am going to chill the fuck out, take a deep breath, and enjoy this social experiment from Hell called high school. I will like it, you will like it, and you will shut the hell up and let me try to be normal and sane, regardless of how asinine that is.”

  It amuses me when you talk as if you have a choice or say in the matter. It truly is amusing and pathetic.

  “I hate you,” I sneered before throwing the bathroom door open.

  When I exited the bathroom, I ran into the very person I was trying to not think about or talk to, and that I never wanted to see again.

  My phone slipped from my grasp and fell to the ground.

  In a blur of movement, the phone never hit and was in his hand and he was thumbing through it.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, trying to grab my phone but he pulled it away from me. “Give me!” I complained, reaching for it so he held it over my head as he did with the basketball when we played one-on-one. “I will kick your ass,” I warned, grabbing for it again.

  Draven put his hand on my head and pushed me back from him. His thumb moved in a blur of movement, doing something but I wasn’t sure what. The phone was top of the line, but I hadn’t read the manual yet since Bleu programmed everyone’s numbers into it for me.

  “Seriously?” I complained, swinging at him, missing completely since his arms are longer than mine are.

  “You look like a cartoon,” he informed me with a chuckle, offering me the phone. “I put my number in there for you, in case you needed to talk.”

  I grabbed the phone from him and thumbed through it. “Doudou?” I asked.

  “Your blanky,” Draven said, as if it were obvious.

  I glared at him.

  “You prefer Mysterious Lover?” he mused.

  “Has that lame ass line ever worked?” I scoffed, trying to delete the new contact, but it was locked. “What the hell?” I looked up at him, glaring.

  Draven smiled wide.

  “Delete it,” I demanded, holding the phone out.

  Again, it was in his hand in a blur of movement and he scrolled through the contacts, turning from me then headed down the hall.

  Wait, what in the…

  “Where are you going?” I demanded, hurrying after him.

  “To class,” he said as if it were obvious. “Are you on drugs? Drinking I can handle, but drugs are beneath both of us.”

  I punched him in the arm and he chuckled.

  “Get your number out of my phone,” I complained and tried to grab it, but he moved in a blur of movement, pulling it away from me again. “The last thing I need is a reminder of the biggest mistake of my life,” I sneered.

  He stopped in mid-step and turned to look at me. “That’s a little harsh. If I do remember correctly, you were the one that ambushed me.”

  I laughed. “Me?!”

  “Oui, you,” Draven said, his eyes moving over my face.

  Why am I blushing?

  “You had to come along and ruin everything, didn’t you?” he asked.

  My nostrils flared and hands balled into fists.

  Mom used to say that to me, and often.

  Draven leaned back and offered me my phone.

  I snatched it from him. “Stay the fuck away from me,” I warned.

  He smirked. “Or you’ll do what?”

  My hand wrapped around his throat and I spun us around before slamming him into the wall of lockers.

  “Do not test me,” I warned, getting in his face. “You have already violated me in ways that the crackwhore never did, and it is taking more conscious effort than I knew I was capable of to keep from killing you because of it.”

  Draven smirked and caressed the backs of his fingers along my cheek.

  The sick bastard ignored the additional pressure I was putting on his throat, and disregarded that I was trying to choke the life from him.

  “I’m not that easy to kill,” he crocked out, stealing one of my lines.

  The clearing of a throat caused our heads to snap to the side in unison.

  Dillon cocked an overly sculpted eyebrow. “Is there a problem here?” she asked.

  I looked from Dillon to the jerk I was choking out. “I won’t warn you again,” I said, releasing him.

  Draven coughed and rubbed his throat. “You don’t scare me,” he sneered.

  I grabbed his shoulders before slamming my knee into his crotch and he dropped to the floor before throwing up.

  “Now we’re nearly even and both of us are hungry,” I said. “Something you should resolve. Enjoy cleaning that up,” I teasingly sang before heading over to Dillon.

  Her eyes were wide.

  “Sorry I’m late for class,” I said. “I had to call Grams.”

  Dillon nodded, looking between me and the dude on the ground in the fetal position. “Damn, you really did a number on his balls.”

  “I’m doing the world a favor by breaking them,” I informed her and she laughed.

  “When you’re done cleaning that up, get your ass in class,” she said.

  Draven flipped her off before whimpering.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, walking me two doors down to her classroom.

  “Did you know?” I asked.

  “Not until Shep said something two minutes ago. I would have never played along with it,” Dillon promised me. “That asshole was supposed to be in Paris, not here.”

  “Because of me?” I asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” she admitted with a shrug. “Last year he was named the US winner of an international art competition. He was all set to fly out in June… Draven’s a Val Zul and they aren’t synonymous with sanity. Case in point,” she said, motioning towards the classroom.

  Those of my family were on one side of the classroom, some students were in the middle, and those that hung out with that douche bag Paul Van Zul were on the other side.

  “This is going to be awesome,” I groaned.

  “Welcome to my Hell,” Dillon beamed, motioning towards the seat in the front row between Shep and Remi.

  I sat, and nervously my knees bounced, waiting for the waking nightmare to walk through the door and join the others of his asshole family.

  “I hear more talking than writing,” Dillon warned. “I want those essays on what you did this summer done before the end of block,” she reminded them.

  Shep leaned into me. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, just felt a bit ill… I’m pissed at you for lying to me,” I said, digging through my bag for something to write on. “I’m even more disappointed in you for getting your ass handed to you by that douche bag in the hallway of all people. Did you not even land a punch? He’s blemish free!”

  “Shh,” Dillon warned.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, making a face and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

  Shep shook his head. “It’s complicated,” he whispered.

  “It’s lying,” I hissed back in a whisper.

  Bleu kicked my chair from behind so I looked over my shoulder. He motioned towards the Surface Tablet on his desk and the stylus in his hand.

  Oh, that’s what that stupid thing is for?

  I looked around the classroom and everyone else had one as well, everyone but Remi.

  “Where’s your computer thing?” I asked.

  Remi shrugged, not looking up from the paper she was writing on. “I got mine last year from the office and Mom pawned it for beer money three days later. I have to come up with five-hundred bucks to pay for it or I don’t get to graduate… Not really sure why I’m even bothering,” she sneered the latter, shoving her papers and pencil across her desk to the
floor then sulked down in her chair.

  Shit. That wasn’t my intention.

  I pulled the Surface from my bag and set it on her desk.

  “I don’t want your fucking charity,” she sneered.

  “And I want it back at the end of the year in working condition,” I retorted.

  Remi looked over at me.

  Everyone in the classroom was looking at me as well.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Doing what?” I asked, uninterested in the answer. “Being a decent human being by sharing something that I haven’t used and won’t use? Or trying to look out for those that have been shit on their entire lives like I was? Take your pick.”

  Remi groaned. “I hate you, Baby Girl,” she complained, powering up the tablet.

  “You only hate how much alike we are,” I teased with a wink.

  “Yeah, there is that,” she agreed, trying to keep the smile threatening to fill her face back and to ignore the tears flooding her eyes.

  Huh, so that’s what it feels like to give without expecting anything in return? It feels good.

  Growing up I didn’t have anything to give, but I like how I feel. I almost feel normal and good inside.

  That’s a change.

  “Ugh, another broke welfare bitch,” Lizzy complained from the other side of the room.

  As if sharing flex hour with that bitch wasn’t bad enough.

  Remi started to get to her feet put I pulled her back down and shook my head.

  The last thing we needed was a fight in Dillon’s class on her first day of teaching.

  “Your ass is mine in the parking lot,” Remi warned, pulling her knife out and the blade sprung free.

  I shook my head, smacking her so she put the knife away.

  “Shut up before a house falls on me mistakenly while trying to take you out,” another flamboyantly complained from next to where Lizzy was sitting.

  “Screw you, Christian,” she shot back.

  “Me and those of the founding families would be the only ones that haven’t,” Christian said before smooching his lips at her.

  Dillon shook her head. “That’s enough. One more word from you, Lizzy, and you’ll have detention.”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes and sulked in her seat.

  “Here,” Paul said, reaching into his pant pocket. “Will this shut you up,” he said then held a dollar bill up and he waved it at Dillon. “Isn’t that how it works? What, not enough to get you to shut up and earn your pay?” he taunted.