by MV Ellis
I manage to wriggle free a little later, but in the meantime, I legit think I’m going to suffocate to death before I even step foot in the room.
“Oh my God, I’m so excited. Finally someone who isn’t a mean girl bitch, or who hasn’t been lobotomized, or who’s not an unfortunate combination of both. Come in, come in, why are you still outside? Mi casa es su casa. Literally. You don’t know how glad I am to see you!” The sound of her exuberant laughter rings around the empty, marble-lined hall.
“Umm... me?” I look around, half expecting to see someone else standing behind me, but knowing that it’s very unlikely, unless they’re totally creeping up on me. As uncertain as I am about the unexpectedly enthusiastic welcome committee, I step inside the room, not daring to defy her.
“Yeah, of course you. I was hoping you’d be assigned to my room, and here you are, just like a gift from the gods.”
“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” I’m beginning to think there has been another mistake, and maybe she thinks I’m someone else.
“Well, no. Not officially. Not yet anyway, but we will, now that we’re roomies. And of course, I’ve heard so much about you, so I kind of feel like I do sorta know you already. Wow—you’re even more stunning up close than I was expecting. Crazy. This is going to heat shit up around here for sure.”
“Oh, I think you have me confused with someone else. I only just got here yesterday, so you can’t have heard anything about me.” What the hell is happening right now?
“Oh, boy, I can tell you’re new to all this. It’s been way over twenty-four hours, including a full day of classes, and that’s more than enough time for you to be the talk of this place three times over. I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of experience of boarding school, or of hanging out with bored rich kids, then, huh?”
“You guess correctly. Actually, I have zero experience of either thing.” Is it that obvious?
“Well it’s a good thing you have Aunty Geneva as your spirit guide to show you the ropes. Given how you’ve set the cat among The Fallen’s pigeons, I figure you can use all the help and guidance you can get before shit gets ugly. Although, from what I’ve heard, it may already be too late.”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about. The what?” I feel like I’ve slipped into a parallel dimension, like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole, or something.
She smiles at me as though I’m a wayward toddler, or at least have the IQ of one. “The. Fallen. You know, Zeph Cross and his crew of crazy-hot psychopaths?” Oooooooooh.
She’s right; from what I saw in the lunchroom today, they are crazy hot, and Zeph at least does seem a “little” off, if not psychopathic. “And don’t try to tell me you have no idea who they are, because you’ve already almost caused World War III between them, so I know for sure you’ve crossed paths, no pun intended.”
“I mean, yeah I’ve run into Zephyr a few times, and one of his friends, as well. Something Le Claire…?”
“That would be Tyce.”
“Okay, yeah. So I guess I know who they are, but I wouldn’t say I know them, or have even actually met them. Encountered is probably a more accurate description. And I definitely have no idea why there would be any kind of issue between them that relates to me.”
Geneva’s smile stretches from ear-to-ear. “Ah, you have a lot to learn, Grasshopper. Come in, come in. Make yourself at home, because this is your home as well as mine, or at least it will be once we get you settled. That’s your bed there.” She points to the one nearest to the window, which I’ve already figured out is mine, given that the bedding is folded up at the bottom of it, and, more to the point, Geneva has flopped down onto the other. “I’m Geneva, by the way, Geneva Hall, but you can call me Neve, or Nevie. All my friends do.” She thrusts out her hand and smiles.
I return the gesture. “I’m Blake Allen, but I guess you already knew that?”
She nods sagely. “Natch. Pleased to meet you Blake Allen; something tells me the two of us are going to get on like a house on fire. But first, I need to tell you all the things to ensure you survive here. The first is that you don’t encounter The Fallen, they encounter you, and if you get on the wrong side of them, there will be hell to pay. Literally.”
Chapter 10
Blake
* * *
Geneva must register my surprise, because she pats her bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you up to speed in no time. Come sit with me, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know before the porter gets here with your bags, then we can get you settled in properly.” I don’t really know what to say, which is just as well, because she clearly has no intention of letting me get a word in, anyway.
“So I guess you met the twins, and they did their full crazy routine on you, at which point you wanted to gnaw your own leg off just to get away?”
“Oh my God, you don’t even know.” I roll my eyes, and smile, as silent relief floods my body. As much as the twins had been totally extra, it turns out that they weren’t too far from the norm at St. Joseph’s, which is packed to the gills with identikit over-groomed, perfect-looking blondes. I hazard a guess that many have help from a high-end colorist, but of course, it’s hard to tell who’s faking it, and who’s rocking what their mama gave ‘em.
“You said routine, so are they not always like that, then?”
“No. I mean, yes. Yes, and no.”
“Okay…?” I let the word slip from my lips slowly and hesitantly.
Geneva laughs, which I’m guessing is something she does often. “Clear as mud, huh?”
I join in with her laughter, nodding. “Totally.”
“My bad. So, what’s real as that they like to give the appearance that they have the combined intellect of a lobotomized frog, which may or may not be accurate. I figure it must be slightly higher than that, though not necessarily by much. I’m guessing they think that boys find it cute. I mean, maybe they do, but I strongly suspect that their success with guys has little to do with their IQ, or deficit thereof, and more to do with their willingness to do just about any and everything to get the D.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah. It’s a well-worn routine, and the finishing each other’s sentences part is totally faked. Thank God. At least we don’t have to put up with it twenty-four seven.” Amen to that. “They’re still annoying as hell though, but in different ways.”
“Like how?”
“Like they are massive bitches who hate anyone who’s not created in their image. They strut around with their army of braindead obsessives trailing behind them, hanging off their every moronic word, like they own the entire school——and in some ways they kinda do. Oh, and they look down on anyone who doesn’t treat sucking dick like it’s an Olympic Sport.”
I try to stifle my laughter, but just can’t. “What?”
“Seriously, I’m no Frigid Brigid. I like a good dicking as much as the next girl, probably more than most, if I’m honest, but those chicks are next level. I mean, when your diet is ninety percent cum, ten percent lettuce, you probably need to take a step back and reevaluate your life choices. Am I right?”
“I…guess…” I squeeze the words out between bursts of uncontrollable laughter. “I’m dead.”
Geneva tosses her head back, throwing her thick mane of raven hair behind her, and joins me in raucous laughter.
When she’s done, or at least able to speak again, she fixes me with a serious stare, her bright eyes twinkling as she speaks. “Oh girl, you can’t die yet, I haven’t spilled the tea on The Fallen. They make the Heels Up twins look like vestal virgins.”
“The what?”
“Trini and Divi. They like to call themselves the Hit Girls, or some shit—I guess it’s supposed to be a hybrid of hit and it, but that doesn’t matter, because them and their minions are literally the only ones who refer to them that way. For everyone else it’s Heels Up, because, more often than not, they can be found on their back with their…heel
s up…you can work out the rest.” I most certainly can. “Then it’s the crazy twins, for obvious reasons, or the St. Joe’s Hoes. Again, pretty self-explanatory.”
I nod slowly. It is.
“But anyway, I digress, and the girls aren’t half as interesting, or a quarter as important, as The Fallen, so I shouldn’t waste any more breath on them.”
“The Fallen...talk me through that.”
“Okay, so you know it’s Zeph and his band of genetically blessed men.” That part I gathered from what she said before.
“Yeah, but why—”
“Do we call them that? Good question.” Not that I actually got to ask it. “They were doing something awful—I don’t even recall what, anymore, but it probably had something to do with their dicks—one day in mass, and Father Tobin
“‘They’ being…?”
“Don’t worry girl, I’ve got you. I’m getting to that. Zephyr Cross, who you know already.”
I sigh loudly. “I don’t know him.”
“Well, he knows you. Same-same.” It wasn’t the same at all, but I didn’t dare argue. “He’s basically Satan in this scenario, and, actually, that’s not too far from the truth. Someone kinder than me might refer to him as troubled. I prefer to call a spade a spade: he’s an asshole, maybe with good reason, but an asshole all the same.” That definitely fits with my experience of him so far.
She wrinkles her nose, expressing her disdain. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who fits their name better than him. Seems like he was born pissed, and, like I said, for legit reasons or not, the guy is bad to the core. Besides, as Father Tobin has reminded us no less than eighty-billion times, we all have our crosses to bear. What the hell makes him so special that gives him license to act like he thinks he’s God, no matter what he’s been through?
“Amen to that.”
“Oh, and by the way, you ain’t seen nothing yet. He truly does act like he’s untouchable, which in many ways, is true. I don’t know what exactly his deal is, but he can pretty much do what the fuck he likes around here with zero repercussions.”
Which also fits with what I saw in that first class. “Yeah, I noticed. What’s with that?”
“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure, and it seems like nobody around here knows exactly why. I do know that his father went here, as did his father before him, and who knows how many other generations of his family. But that’s not necessarily unique, and to my mind it definitely doesn’t justify the fact that the entire school, including the teaching staff and the principal, act like he’s the fucking Messiah.”
“Is it just because he’s loaded?” I realize how dumb the words are as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I have no idea of Geneva’s financial situation, though, unless she’s also on a scholarship, she’s likely to be wealthy also. By my standards, at least.
“I mean, sure there’s that; Zeph’s dad is an obscenely successful tech magnate, but the whole money-equals-power thing isn’t unique here, either. Whichever way I look at it, and I feel like I’ve looked at it every which way, it just doesn’t seem to add up.”
It definitely doesn’t make any kind of sense to me, but I have no experience of being obscenely wealthy to draw from, so I’m hardly a credible judge.
“Anyway, enough about Zeph ‘walks on water’ Cross. Next in line at the gates of hell is his best friend Tyce Le Claire, whom, as you mentioned before, you’ve also already met.” My blood, and my cheeks, heat at the thought of our ‘meeting,’ and I can barely manage to nod my agreement. “Another damned near perfect specimen with almost as much power, but a slightly sunnier disposition than his best friend. That’s not saying much, given that I’ve met warmer polar ice caps than Zeph.”
She cackles at her own joke, and I can’t help but join in.
“Still, Tyce is just a little less of an asshole, despite being Satan’s sidekick. Those guys are super tight, from what I can make out. Like, I mean it’s one of those ride or die, ‘I’d take a bullet for you,’ type friendships. As much as I hate the way these guys carry on, and treat everyone and everything as if they own them and it, I kind of envy them that degree of friendship. I’ve never had that with anyone.”
I nod, knowing exactly what she means. I haven’t either. The closest I ever came was my relationship with my mom, and now I’m facing the reality that maybe it was never what I thought it was in the first place. Or even if it was, I’ll never have it again, because my mom isn’t coming back. I wince as my heart jags painfully at the thought.
“Are you okay?” Geneva’s perfectly shaped brow is etched with a concerned frown.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, carry on.” I push my thoughts aside, and give Geneva an overly bright smile.
“Oh…okay.” She sounds less than convinced. “So under those two are their Hades henchmen: Thunder, and the not-so-crazy twins, Lennon and Jagger, who are…” She lets the sentence hang in the air, and looks off into the middle distance. I wait, but she doesn’t say anything else. Apparently, they need no further introduction.
“Jeez. Are those names for real?”
“Hmm…?” She has a faraway look in her eyes, and I definitely don’t have her full attention.
“Thunder—just one name, like Beyoncé or Eminem?”
“Hahaha! No, it’s Jackson Rumble. I guess Thunder is a play on his last name, but I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest; he’s just always been Thunder.”
“Okay, but the twins are really Lennon and Jagger?”
She nods her head definitively. “Yep, they sure are, and they are every bit as rock ‘n’ roll as their names suggest. More so, even.” The faraway look is back again, and I make a mental note to ask her more about it, and them, when I know her a little better.
Right now I settle for clearing my throat in an exaggeratedly theatrical fashion, and that seems to do the job of bringing her back down to earth. “So, that’s Zeph’s little guy-gang, is it?”
She clears her own throat and looks kind of sheepish. “Um…yeah, but I warn you, it’s not all whoopee cushions and video games at the clubhouse. These guys carry some serious weight around here. Honestly I’m kind of scared of them, and I know I’m not the only one. As much as their power—both physical and social—is awe-inspiring, it’s also a little terrifying.
“For real?”
“Yeah, there’s just always this undercurrent of danger when they’re around, you know?” I know exactly what she means.
I’d felt it even when I’d stumbled into Zeph’s room, and definitely when Tyce had offered me those words of…warning in class. As his breath had grazed the shell of my ear, and my whole body had reacted to him in a way it hadn’t ever done with anyone else. I hadn’t been able to give the feeling a name at the time, but now I can. It was part fear, part arousal.
“Do you seriously think they’re a threat, or is it just an illusion—an image they like to cultivate and portray because it makes them feel powerful? Like, is it real, or is it more of a social status thing?”
She shudders a little. “Oh, it’s real all right; those boys have more power than anyone should, and they’re not afraid to use it. And you know what they say about absolute power, right?”
“It corrupts absolutely.”
She nods definitively. “Exactly. God, the name of their ‘lair’ says it all—The fucking Abyss, for Christ’s sake.”
“Huh? I don’t know—”
“Symbolically, the Abyss is basically the pit of hell—the devil’s playground. In reality, that’s not too far from the truth with The Fallen. Trust me; they rule this joint with cast-iron fists, and nobody dares to go against them, not even the faculty. Word of warning: those guys are wild, and dangerous. You’re on their radar, so watch your back, and maybe if you play your cards right, you’ll make it out unscathed. But believe me, others haven’t been so lucky.
Chapter 11
We Know What You Did
Zeph
* * *
Bass fro
m the music downstairs drifts right through the bathroom floor and walls. It pumps through my veins and shakes my bones. I have to hand it to myself—it’s a testament to my hosting skills that this party may go down as one of the best on record. It’s lit AF.
I’m buried deep inside my “date” for the night. By date, I mean girl I’m fucking, and by night, I mean as long as it takes to come inside her.
I have her pinned against the vanity with my hips, and one hand gripping her waist to keep her steady while the other holds onto a silver tray teetering on the edge of the basin.
I lean over her shoulder and snort my line. The high instantly surges into my bloodstream, mixing with the Henny already there. A stark tingle of euphoria rolls through me like sunshine on a searingly hot day, but I’m not baked enough to escape the fact that it’s ultimately an empty feeling that leaves me dead inside, the same as it always has since that day…
I’m never high enough to mask those emotions, but, if I’m going to screw random girls in the bathroom of the Philosopher’s billion-dollar crack shack, fucked up is definitely the best state to do it in. Not only is lit sex awesome, but it helps me to forget the soul-destroying reasons I’m here in the first place, even if it’s only temporary.
As always, my mind strays to the things I so desperately want to forget, until I snap myself the fuck out of it. I’m back in the game only moments later, with my dick still wedged between the blonde girl’s legs.
“Your turn,” I command her, reaching out to brush her hair away from her face from behind, as she leans over the tray and snorts a fresh line.
“Like a pro.” I grin, and give her a generous smack on her round, tight little ass.
She lets out a squeal of delight and stands up straight, beaming at me over her shoulder while she wipes the residue of the powder from her nose with the back of her hand.
