“Hey, what the—” John Hyde Jones rose from his seat in the orchestra, his face red with anger as he watched his brother’s face from his photograph flicker against the wall. He gripped his oboe like a baseball bat.
The light swirled, twisting away from his brother’s image to another ghostly figure standing on the balcony, a blonde girl in pigtails and a white shroud torn to shreds.
“All my life I looked up to Amber. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. But she disappeared. She never got to see me grow up.”
Even though I knew the ‘ghost’ was just a cut-out head from the photograph beside Tillie’s room glued on some cheesecloth, in the gloom it appeared quite spectral. I was starting to see how the charlatan medium Helen Duncan had won over all those followers with her fake ectoplasm.
“Bianca? What are you doing here?” From the audience, Tillie’s mother stood up, her hand trembling as she reached out toward the ghost. From the wings, Tillie collapsed to her knees, staring up at the image with wide-eyed horror. “I told you Tillie was dead. I kept you from this for a reason!”
In a blink, Quinn flicked off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. Screams echoed through the audience. Backstage, students yelled at each other.
“What the hell is going on?” boomed Vincent Bloomberg above the rising din.
CLICK. A single spotlight came up, focused on another ghost hanging for the lighting rig. the image of Zehra’s dark hair and penetrating eyes were visible against the backdrop of the gilded ceiling, her stare defiant as she looked down her nose at them all. A jagged cross marred her perfect face – the cross Trey had made over her photograph in Parris’ book.
“You took my brother Ayaz from me,” she declared. “Now I’m coming for every last one of you.”
The lights went mad, dancing around the auditorium in a frenzy, bouncing from seat to seat as the projection flashed through a rapid succession of faces – sisters, brothers, friends, aunts, uncles, random people from the magazines we butchered. They swam in a tapestry of stolen futures across the stage, their limbs and smiles dancing over my skin as Trey and I held each other in silent reverie.
We danced on the ashes of our futures. We danced on the love that should have been ours.
More gasps and shouts rose from the audience. From the wings, I heard a commotion as students wrestled each other, but still we danced on. Trey’s eyes burned into mine, flaring the heat that rose through my body, stoking the fire that lusted for vengeance.
“We miss our brothers and sisters!” the ghosts cried. “You were taken away from us. Do you know who took you away? Hazel Waite knows. She found out their secret, and they sent her away. But she’s back now. She’s back to return our brothers and sisters to us.”
At the mention of my name, Vincent Bloomberg roared with rage. Tillie lunged toward us from the side of the stage, her fingers clawing for my face. Her nails raked my cheek as Trey spun me away. My head whirled. I caught a glimpse of Vincent out of the corner of my eye. He had a seat in the middle of the upper level, and he climbed over chairs and shoved people out of the way as he struggled to reach the aisle, not caring who he mowed down in his desire to reach the stage and choke me with his own hands.
That’s not going to happen, Vinnie boy.
CLICK. The image settled on the photograph of young Courtney I’d stolen from her noticeboard, posing for the camera in a shimmering dress nearly identical to the one I now wore. The projection zoomed in her gap-toothed smile while her father’s inscription flickered across the stage.
“My beautiful Courts. You’re going to be a star one day, just like your mother. Love, Dad,” the eerie voices mocked. “Where is this star now? Why has she been locked away so no one can appreciate her? Is it so she will never outshine her mother?”
“Stop this at once!” Gloria Hayes bellowed from the back of the theatre, her voice rising with panic.
“You’ve been robbed of a future,” the faces cried in unison. Quinn looped all our voices on the track to make it sound as though there was an army of broken children. “We are the ghosts of what could have been, and we will fight for you, even if you won’t fight for yourselves. It’s time to ask the question – who did this to you? The fire that took your lives was no accident, so who is pulling the strings of the god?”
“Get her off!” Students spilled out on the stage, faces glowing red with rage as they closed in on Trey and I. I knew they’d do this – I showed them the truth and they blamed me for it. Luckily, we were prepared.
I whipped out my knife from my bra, but before I had the chance to use it, Andre barrelled in and tackled Paul to the ground. Derek wrapped a beefy arm around his neck, but Andre threw himself back, slamming the bully into the stage so hard the wooden boards splintered. More guys piled on top of him, but he was too strong. He kept them all at bay.
“Your parents!” the ghosts screamed over the fight. “Your parents sent you here to die for their own personal gain. So they could have more riches. More fame. More power.”
“This is fucking bullshit!” Paul wheezed, trying to pull himself to his feet. Barclay grabbed my arm, but I broke his grip and landed a swift kick in his nuts. He dropped with a THUD. Trey shoved himself in front of me as more students poured toward me.
“She’s trying to turn us against our parents!”
“She’s just a fucking lying gutter whore!” A shrill voice screeched from the wings. I whirled around as Courtney staggered across the stage, her silky hair disheveled and her eyes hard as flint.
Shit. She must’ve got out of the closet somehow.
From her crooked walk, I guessed Courtney was still suffering the effects of the sedative. But she had one thing on her side – pure, unadulterated fury. I slashed at her arm, splattering her blood across my dress, but she didn’t even slow down, Courtney tore the tiara from my head, taking a clump of hair with it. I howled as pain flared through my skull.
Courtney threw the tiara on the stage and stomped on it, breaking it in two.
“You never should have come back to my school,” she hissed, advancing on me. Her words slurred from the drug. “You never should have tried to cross us with your lies. Now, I’m going to wring the life from you with my own hands. I don’t care if it hurts the god. It will bring me great satisfaction.”
She lunged again, screaming like a banshee.
Loretta appeared out of nowhere and tackled her legs, sending Courtney sprawling across the stage.
“How dare you touch me?” Courtney kicked and clawed at Loretta, but she didn’t let go. A lifetime of abuse had hardened Loretta against pain.
That’s my little murderess.
Quinn appeared at the wings, his face gaunt. He rushed to my side, backing me up toward the wings as he slammed a fist into Barclay’s face. Blood spurted across the stage. John Hyde-Jones pulled himself up from the orchestra pit, swinging his oboe at Trey’s head.
Trey caught the instrument easily, twisting it out of John’s hand and laying him out with an uppercut. John hit the stage with a THUD. The students froze, unsure.
Trey’s ice glare across the students – that same glare that once turned every one of them into his minions. His hand in mine burned with heat, matching the fire dancing in my chest. “You need to listen. Those ghosts or whatever they are… they’re telling the truth about our parents.”
“Tear that gutter whore apart!” Gloria Haynes yelled from the audience.
“She’s not one of us,” called out Senator Hyde-Jones.
“Don’t listen to these lies.” Elena Delacorte stood, her designer dress swirling around her as she held her arms out to her son. Tears streamed down her face. “My darling Quinn, don’t believe this horror. It’s not true. You know how much I love you. I would never dream of hurting you.”
Beside me, Quinn’s face paled. His eyes locked on his mother and his body jerked as her words hit him like a bullet exploding in his chest. All that rage he’d bottled up since seeing her in the
meeting had fled him the moment he’d heard those magic words. I love you.
Those words held power over him. They’d once held power over me. But not anymore. My hatred for Quinn’s mother burned bright. A small flame burst from my palm, but I snuffed it against my dress. I can’t lose control now.
“See? No one’s listening. You don’t get a say anymore, Trey,” Courtney sneered. “This little stunt only proves that you’re not fit to lead this school. Ayaz is twice the man you’ll ever be. He understands our privilege comes with responsibilities – namely, to exalt the glory of the Eldritch Club. Unlike you, I take that role seriously. You and your gutter whore aren’t going to drag us through the mud any longer.”
Ayaz? Where is he? I couldn’t see him on stage or lurking in the wings. Why wasn’t he here supporting his girlfriend and fighting for Vincent? My heart soared with forlorn, impossible hope. But not even that hope could extinguish the blaze that prickled against my palms, the growing heat of my simmering violence.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Trey’s icicle eyes fixed on her, his shoulders tensing with rage. “I’m not afraid of you, Courtney. And as for Vincent, what can Vincent do to me that is worse than what he’s already done? What you saw tonight wasn’t a trick. It’s a truth that’s been lurking in the backs of our minds. Don’t tell me you haven’t already thought it. I know Tillie has because we whispered it to each other in the dark.”
He whirled around to fix his gaze on his ex, who stood stunned at the edge of the stage. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Tillie flicked her head between Trey and her parents, in the third row. In a small voice, she asked. “Is this really true, Trey?”
“Of course it’s true. Your mother confirmed it. You heard her say she told your sister you were dead. They inprisoned us because they wanted the god’s power. Each family in the club chose one child to sacrifice. We have a list they made of all our names. I’ll show it to you. Right now we all need—”
“That’s enough!” Vincent boomed. He’d reached the front of the auditorium now, and the glow of the spotlight caught his eyes in the gloom – red with fury. As he gripped the front of the stage and tried to swing himself up, Quinn stepped forward and stomped on his hand, sending him reeling just as Ms. West swept onto the stage, a familiar dark figure at her side.
Ayaz.
He’d gone to find Ms. West. But why? He’d been at that meeting showing his loyalty to the Eldritch Club. So why had he brought the deadmistress into this?
Trey and Quinn squeezed close to me, their bodies my shield, their hearts the only thing keeping my fire in check. And even though I had the two of them, something still felt wrong. Incomplete. I knew what it was as soon as he stepped under the spotlight and his beauty drew my breath. His opium scent slammed into me, knocking me back.
I missed Ayaz so much it was a physical ache that dragged in my limbs. I’d pictured him seeing Zehra’s face on the projection tonight and running into my arms to kiss away all the pain. I kept hoping one day he’d wake up and remember. But that day was clearly not today.
Stay focused. Tonight wasn’t about Ayaz and how I felt about them. Tonight was for the students of Miskatonic Prep. I forced a smile onto my face and addressed the deadmistress.
“Go on,” I said, gesturing to the students gathering around her. “Tell them the truth. I know it serves your purpose. Tell them what their parents had you do.”
“Don’t say a word, Hermia,” Vincent warned. For the first time, I thought I detected a hint of doubt in his voice. He managed to pull himself onto the stage. Quinn and Andre moved toward him, but four guys stepped in front of him, shielding him from us.
For now.
Ms. West swept her eyes across the students. “I must say, it has been quite the performance. One of the best productions this school has ever staged. I’m proud of all of you. Fifty merit points each. Except for Ms. Waite, of course. She’s no longer a student here.”
“Hazel ruined the show. She tried to make us all hate our parents. She drugged me and locked me in a closet and set up this ridiculous ghost show and sent her little minions to attack us.” Courtney jerked her body like a worm, breaking Loretta’s grip and kicking her in the face. Loretta staggered back, clutching her nose as blood trailed through her fingers. Courtney staggered to her feet and threw herself into Ayaz’s arms. “You have to punish her. You have to give her to the god.”
“I’m afraid Hazel isn’t going anywhere near the god. Not now that I’ve figured out what unites her and Loretta.” Ms. West’s cold smile drove a dart of ice through my chest. From her pocket, she withdrew the stack of newspaper articles. “I can’t believe that as long as I’ve had these, I didn’t understand their significance until Ayaz here said something to me today. Loretta murdered her father, and you killed your mother and best friend. The two of you are the first murderers we’ve had as scholarship students.”
No.
Don’t you dare.
Don’t you fucking dare say those words.
Behind me, students murmured, turning to each other to digest the news.
“Hazel didn’t do it,” Quinn said. “A gang set fire to the apartments—”
“Not according to this arson report, sent to me as your legal guardian.” Ms. West removed another document from her robe, this one printed on crisp legal paper. “The police and fire department have conducted a thorough investigation. Hazel Waite had burns on her hands consistent with her starting the blaze. I’m disappointed in myself that it’s taken me so long to connect the pieces, but now I understand everything.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You set the fire that burned Dunwich. You’re possessed by fire – a conduit for power. And that is why you cannot leave this school. If I let you out, you’re going straight to jail, and you won’t do the god any good there. You’re the key to getting us all what we want.”
Trey’s hand circled my wrist felt like a shackle. He pressed his thumb into the scar. “Hazel, is this true?”
“Of course it’s not.” Quinn dropped an arm around my neck. “Hazy would never…”
Quinn’s words trailed off. He saw something in my face, in the flames in my eyes, in the defiant tilt of my chin.
I did it.
I killed them.
Memories of that day flew at me in a rush, riding the wave of the god’s screams. Some kids from Dante’s neighborhood kept trying to haze him into joining their gang. They would often follow us around his street, taunting us with slurs and spittle. That particular day, Dante hadn’t been in class, so I walked over to his place to see if he was okay. He wasn’t there, either. On the way back, four guys surrounded me. They tried to rough me up and take Dante’s journal from my arms. The fight was a bit of a blur, but I kicked someone in the nuts, gave someone else a bloody nose, and ran for it. I raced home, lungs bursting. I thought maybe Dante might’ve gone there to wait for me. I thought my mom would protect me. That’s what parents were supposed to do.
I rushed into our apartment to find the two of them together. On my bed. Naked and wrapped in each other’s arms.
My mom.
Dante.
Betrayers.
I wanted to scream, but they’d stolen my voice. They’d taken everything I thought I could trust and torn it to pieces right in front of me. And so I gathered up all the screams that echoed inside me and I shoved them into the flame.
I ran.
I raged.
I ignited.
I watched from the street as the flames blew out the windows to dance in the crisp breeze, relishing their freedom. Black smoke spewed out as the building cleansed itself of treachery. People in the neighboring apartments rushed into the street. The kids who’d followed me tossed their Molotov cocktails into the empty parking lot and scampered into the night. I tried to pick one up and throw it after them and that was how I burned my hands.
My mother leaned out the window, a halo of fire wreathing her hair like an angel. Only she was no angel but a de
mon burning up in the inferno fuelled by her betrayal. She cried at me to help.
I watched her body collapse. I sucked in fresh air as the two people I loved most in the world breathed their last. The fire that possessed me burned like a warm comforter in my chest.
That is my truth.
That is the secret that possessed me, that made me a prisoner.
That is the lust fuelling the god’s desire.
As the memories surfaced, the god came with them. He reveled in my secret, gorging himself on my crime like a kid loose in a candy store. A chorus of voices screamed in ecstasy inside my head. I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to push the sound back inside, but that didn’t make the pain go away. I collapsed to my knees as my legs gave out and my body turned to jelly. Trey and Quinn let me fall.
Ms. West glided toward me, wrapping cold fingers around my wrist and holding my arm high. “Is this the girl you’d allow to lead you in rebellion? A murderer.”
“That only proves my point further.” Vincent stood on the side of the stage now, his hands in his pockets, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips. He thought he had me now. “That girl is trying to mess everything up for us. She must be got rid of.”
“Hazy?” Quinn stepped away from me, his eyes wide. His face froze in the same expression he wore when he found out what his mother had done. It broke my heart to know I’d caused it.
“That’s sick,” Courtney gasped, clutching her stomach. “You burned your mother alive?”
They don’t know you as I know you, the god spoke to me through the screams. How it was speaking to me while I was awake, I didn’t know. You alone can end this as it began. You alone can cleanse this place and do what I cannot.
Possessed: A reverse harem bully romance (Kings of Miskatonic Prep Book 3) Page 23
