by Katie May
“I heard about you from the middle school conductor,” Mr. Tucker gushes, and the rest of the orchestra exchange hushed whispers. There are three boys, none of which I recognize, and two girls I remember from my time in middle school. Sadie and Lauren, I believe? The rest I’m not overly familiar with. The dark-haired violist is still hurling daggers at me as she sits primly in the seat opposite mine. Her black hair hangs in loose curls over her shoulders, and her eyes are a similar shade of obsidian, the brown so dark they’re almost black.
“That’s Felicia,” Sadie whispers from the seat beside mine. I never really had a problem with the petite blonde before. She wasn’t necessarily my friend or anything, but she was never openly hostile like some of the other students. And from the confused look in her eyes, I don’t think she recognizes me. Though how many white-haired, amber-eyed women she knows remains a mystery. “She’s a grade-A bitch, especially when she’s not Mr. Tucker’s sole focus.”
“Kiss ass.” Lauren pantomimes barfing from the seat on the other side of Sadie, and the four girls around them—all slightly familiar—giggle. Two are cellists, one’s a bassist, and the other one is a violinist, as well as Sadie and Lauren.
“Whenever anyone joins the orchestra, we ask that they play a piece so the other students get a feel for their style. Is that okay with you?” Mr. Tucker’s exuberant voice has me whipping my head in his direction. He’s once more bouncing on the balls of his feet, rubbing his hands together like the fucking Grinch who just stole Christmas. Honestly, it’s kind of adorable.
“Of course.” I nod once before procuring my sheet music from my backpack. Sifting through the options, I settle on “Partita D minor BWV 1004” by Bach. It’s one of the hardest pieces you can play, but also one of my favorites. There’s something beautiful about the music emitting from the instrument, the abrupt change in registers. The movement of your fingers caressing the strings as the bow develops a life of its own. This particular piece isn’t as melancholy as some of the other ones I love to play. Instead, it takes you on a journey. You can sense the excitement contaminating the air as the enthusiasm grows and grows.
Putting the violin beneath my chin and the bow to the strings, I begin to play.
I lose myself to the music. For a moment, I forget who I am and why I’m here. I forget about the charming Devils who ruined my life when I was younger. I forget about the pain that accompanied me for years, the sense of failure and resignation that I will never be good enough. The music courses through me, and I squeeze my eyelids shut, no longer needing the sheet music to guide me.
And as the song reaches a crescendo, I feel my body begin to sway.
I play for only a few minutes, allowing the music to taper off when it reaches a natural conclusion, and reopen my eyes, once more joining the land of the living.
The entire class is staring at me with various expressions of disbelief. All at once, like a dam being burst open, excited murmurings drift to my ears.
“That’s wonderful!” Mr. Tucker practically squeals…though I feel kind of bad for him. I mean, there’s not much he’ll be able to teach me that I don’t already know. I live and breathe the violin the way some people do dance and others do sports. There’s something about losing yourself to the music…
Felicia is the only one who’s not smiling. It’s not quite hatred emanating from her gaze, but it’s pretty damn close. Unable to stop myself, I flash her a smug smirk, and I swear smoke wafts from her nostrils.
Orchestra is the one place I don’t have to pretend, the one place where I can live without pain and heartache. If this bitch thinks she can take me down, she has another thing coming.
When I’m exiting the classroom, heading to my third hour of the day, I see Mariabella once more. She’s leaning against her locker, laughing at something Karsyn says to her.
For a moment, for a single helpless moment, I allow my traitorous eyes to linger on one of my childhood tormentors.
He’s buffed up over the years. I would’ve never called him scrawny before, but in comparison to what he looks like now…yeah. The new him could’ve crushed the old him with one swipe of his hand. From this distance, I can see his muscular forearms, even with the heavy letterman jacket on. His blond hair is a few shades lighter than Emmett’s and stylishly tossed to the side. His stupidly pretty face is perfectly proportioned with high cheekbones, lush pink lips, and hazel eyes. At the moment, with laughter dancing in his gaze, the green is more prominent than the brown, reminding me of a swampy pool of water.
I bite my lip as I’m assaulted by yet another memory.
“I’ll choose Sweats,” Lucas snapped coldly as we stood out on the soccer field. The boy in question—his real name was Markus—ran to join Lucas’s team.
Mr. Highland, the Gym teacher, barely looked up from where he was devouring Fifty Shades of Grey on the bleachers, content with allowing students to run his class.
“Chubs, you’re with me.” Karsyn nodded at the only other person besides me still in line, waiting to get picked. Chubs—or Daniel—ran forward with an enthusiastic whoop to join his dodgeball team.
“And what should we do with her?” Cassian said the word “her” as if it was an unfitting title, as if it would be better to describe me as a hideous monster or something just as degrading. He thrived off of making me feel inadequate and ugly whenever he could.
“I don’t think she should be on any team,” Elias mused almost lazily. He never talked much, but when he did, everyone fucking listened.
“Hmmm…so everybody versus the freak?” Karsyn asked with a maniacal glint in his hazel eyes.
“What do you say?” Lucas took a step forward until he was close enough to grab at my chin. His touch was almost bruising as he yanked my head up, forcing me to stare into his ice-cold eyes. “Everybody versus the freak?”
The class erupted into giggles as I felt a piece of my soul wither like a raisin. Pain bombarded me from all sides, and I could barely breathe through the tightness gripping my throat.
“Please, don’t do this,” I begged, tears pricking my eyes. Desperately, I glanced towards Mr. Highland, but he was too preoccupied with his book to notice what was transpiring right under his nose.
Not that he would care either way. None of them did.
“Begging will get you nowhere,” Lucas whispered before abruptly releasing me and wiping his hand on his pants. That was what nearly did me in—the show he made of wiping my germs off, as if the mere thought of my touch made him want to vomit. He was a performer, and this was his stage.
Behind him, Karsyn and Cassian howled with laughter, and even Elias—quiet, subdued Elias—chuckled darkly.
You won’t get away with this, I thought bitterly as I moved to stand on one side of the field and the rest of the class moved to the other. Soon, I’ll be a witch.
And humans wouldn’t dare to mess with a witch.
I wrench myself out of my memories just in time to hear Karsyn’s throaty chuckle. The large, beautiful man plants a tender kiss to Mariabella’s forehead before the two of them separate, heading to their respective third hour classes.
But seeing them together…
Seeing them happy…
It only fuels my blistering rage. Why should he have everything he ever wanted, while I have nothing? How is that fair? Why does the universe have such a sick sense of humor?
I planned to start with Karsyn’s football career, but maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe I need to hit him where it actually hurts.
As I stare at Mariabella’s retreating back, an idea forms, and I can’t stop the demented smile from cleaving my face in two.
Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer.
Chapter 5
There’s no Elias in third period, though I’m not surprised. My sources told me that he never arrives at school earlier than lunchtime. How he expects to graduate remains a mystery, but I can’t find it within me to give any semblance of a damn.
&
nbsp; As I slide into a seat near the front of the classroom, my phone pings once. And then twice. And then three then four then five more times. Only one person would have the gall to incessantly message me in the middle of the school day.
Glancing at the front of the room and ensuring that Mr. Milk is still preoccupied talking through an assignment with a group of students, I pull my phone out of my backpack and glare down at the offending texts.
Mom: Hey! The very least you could’ve done was clean your bedroom completely.
Mom: There are crumbs everywhere!!! Did you even vacuum?
Mom: This is just like you. So disrespectful.
Mom: I told you to take everything.
Mom: I hired a cleaner. Anything of yours, I gave her permission to throw away.
Mom: I’m converting your bedroom into a tanning salon. I’ll send pictures! XOXO
Growling, I switch my phone off and shove it face down onto my desk. How to describe my mom…
Well…
She’s a fucking bitch who kicked her only daughter out because she’s a jealous cunt and terrified that my magic will surpass hers. I always knew I was special. From the very first moment I could conjure up a ball of light, years ahead of my classmates, the coven whispered about me and the plans Mom must have. They thought I was going to take over the coven when Mom eventually retired. But Mommy Dearest? She had other ideas.
The main one being, she’ll never retire.
I’m sure if it wasn’t frowned upon—wasn’t a punishable offense—she would turn into a Blood in order to retain her status as coven leader. But alas, most of the Bloods are hunted down only days after their transitions.
“Why the long face?” Emmett slides into the seat beside mine, flashing me an easy-going smile.
Instead of answering, I merely release an agonized groan and drop my head into my arms where they rest on my desk. He chuckles in understanding.
“The parents?”
“The mom,” I correct. “She’s killing me.”
He snorts as he removes his APUSH textbook from his backpack and sets it on the flimsy wooden desk.
“I feel that. My mom texts me daily just to bitch about something that happened years ago. I can never make that woman happy.” He scrubs at his clenched jaw as irritation ripples through him like waves.
“Three cheers for shitty parents?” I ask, not bothering to raise my head. Emmett chuckles darkly.
Class is grueling. And by grueling, I mean that the lesson is slower than molasses and the teacher’s monotonous voice makes me want to stab someone. Preferably myself.
By the time he dismisses us, a full minute after the bell already rang, I’m seriously contemplating dropping the class. It would screw up my plans, especially since Elias is supposed to be in this hour with me, but if I have to hear Mr. Milk’s growly voice for one more fucking minute…
“You have lunch now?” Emmett queries as he waits for me to pack up my stuff. I shove the heavy textbook into my backpack before sliding my phone into my back pocket.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yuppers.” He rubs his toned stomach enthusiastically. “Ain’t nothing better than greasy pizza to start your day, am I right?”
I want to snort at his dramatics, but honestly, the man has a point. The timeline of this high school is ridiculous. It’s only ten-fifty, and already, we have to eat lunch.
Emmett chats about everything and absolutely nothing as we follow the throng of students towards the cafeteria. He half reminds me of a verbal freight train, charging head first towards a brick wall with no chance of stopping or slowing down. But his enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself smiling and nodding along as Emmett relays a story about his pet dog.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for cute animals.
When we enter the cafeteria, I pause at the threshold of the main doors, allowing my eyes to travel over the arrangement of tables. There are five ways you can enter and exit this particular section of the school—two doors at the entrance where we stand, two on one side, and one on the other. Directly behind the tables is a pavilion that houses five different buffets, each one manned by a different lunch lady.
The cliques are easy to spot. Without even needing to look, I can tell who is who and what is what.
Near the back of the cafeteria, in the row of booths located flush against the far wall, sit the cheerleaders and footballers. I spot Karsyn chatting animatedly with some of his teammates. I’m not surprised he’s no longer friends with Cassian, Lucas, or Elias. I heard that the four of them had a falling out shortly after I left.
Isn’t karma a beautiful bitch?
Surprisingly enough, Mariabella isn’t sitting with her boyfriend. Instead, she sits at a table behind him with some of her fellow cheerleaders, all of them chatting and giggling amongst themselves. Occasionally, the blonde bombshell will lift her head and glance around the cafeteria, almost as if she’s looking for someone, before rejoining the conversation.
On the opposite side of the room, Cassian lounges with a few of the guys I recognize from my Orchestra class. Numerous girls paw at his arms, and he smirks indulgently before pecking first one and then another on the lips. The guys around him hoot and holler, while the girls practically melt into a puddle of goo. I don’t see the redhead from earlier, so I figure either he’s already tired of her or she has second lunch.
And there, in the center of the room like a king addressing his civilians, sits Lucas Scott himself. With his red hair glinting like garnet stones in the drab school lighting, sea-blue eyes, and form-fitting jeans and gray sweater, it’s no wonder he holds the attention of almost every girl in the immediate vicinity. All of the men are a catch, but there’s something about Lucas that exudes danger. You’d never expect it from just glancing at him—he looks too much like a preppy fuck-boy—but when you stare into his eyes…
You’ll see the devil.
And isn’t that the most ironic thing of all?
I made a deal with the devil to get my revenge. And now, he owns my soul.
“Don’t be nervous,” Emmett whispers in my ear, misreading my silence. “You can sit with me and my friends.”
“I’m not nervous,” I protest automatically, almost vehemently. And I’m not.
The butterflies in my stomach battering their wings are because I’m excited, right?
Bracing myself, as one would do when faced with a ferocious storm, I step into the cafeteria. Somewhere nearby, a girl plays “A Little Wicked” by Valerie Broussard on her phone, and I can’t help but think it’s a fitting song for this moment.
Nobody even glances in my direction. No one notices the strange new girl with silvery blonde hair and amber eyes. Nobody, that is, except for the three gorgeous men who each carved out a piece of my soul.
Their eyes hone in on me, as if they’re heat-seeking missiles and I’m their target.
Karsyn inhales sharply, and though I can’t hear the sound over the chatter in the cafeteria, I imagine his breathing is now stuttered. I can see his wide eyes focus on me as I glide imperiously towards an empty table near the center of the room.
Lucas’s lips pull into a tight smile as he nods at something the doting female on his left says. But his eyes…his calming, observant eyes never leave me. They trail after me with unnerving intensity as I pull out a seat and gracefully sit down. Emmett surprises me by sitting opposite, a beguiling grin on his handsome face. Lucas’s gaze shoots to him, and his frown tightens almost imperceptibly.
And Cassian.
I’m not even sure he’s breathing. His face drains of all color as he shoos away one of the girls tugging at his arm. Unlike the others, his entire head moves to watch me sit down and pull out my lunch.
The rest of the school may have forgotten about me, but these men? These devils?
They remember.
And they know that I’m dragging them to hell with me this time around.
Chapter 6
It takes only twenty-two seconds fo
r Karsyn to storm across the cafeteria and plant his large hands on the table. He towers over me, all two hundred pounds of him, but I don’t feel any fear or anxiety. There’s something near-pleading in his eyes, the softest brown infused with green, a melt of autumn tones.
“Peony.” He breathes my name like one would at the climax of a horror story—with heavy trepidation, a hint of fear, and a generous amount of disbelief. “What…? How…?” He trails off, running a hand through his light blond hair.
“Do you know each other?” Emmett volleys his head between me and Karsyn curiously, and Karsyn whips his head to the side to glare down at his teammate.
“Leave,” he growls, his guttural voice sending a slight tremor through my body. Lifting his head, he spears me with a heady look, one that almost makes words unnecessary. “I need to talk to you.”
“Do you remember,” I begin casually, tapping my fingers against the top of the table, “when you dumped a pot of chili over my head in seventh grade?”
Emmett’s face scrunches up in horror, while Karsyn’s turns grave.
“Peony, please,” Karsyn beseeches, and I’m not gonna lie, it feels fucking good to have him beg. Maybe that makes me a little messed up, a little wicked, but I can’t deny the burst of light that explodes in my chest like an errant firework.
Ignoring Karsyn completely, I focus on a fuming Emmett. He’s glaring at his teammate as if he doesn’t know him anymore, as if he can’t comprehend what went through his mind. “So, you were telling me about your dog. Roofus, was it?”
Emmett shakes his head violently, as if coming out of trance, and flashes me a tight smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but I appreciate the effort, especially when Karsyn releases a growl of frustration.
“Yeah. Cutest little fucker you’ll ever meet.” His eyes slide to Karsyn, who remains standing over the table, alternating between glaring at Emmett and pleading with me.
“Is he a Husky?” I tease, and this time, Emmett’s lips twitch into something that resembles a genuine smile.
