No, my attention immediately landed on the strange object underneath the white cloth on the table.
That wasn’t…
No way.
No fucking way.
“Ian,” Victor spoke, turning to face me. His expression was grave, but he said nothing more as he watched me step closer to the table. “It’s not pretty,” he warned. “I wouldn’t, but I won’t stop you.”
Yeah, like I was going to change my mind and stop now. I had to see, had to know, for sure, that this wasn’t some twisted nightmare. The kids were gone, finally, only for me to come face to face with this.
I pulled the sheet back and nearly tripped over my own feet as I stumbled away from the table.
Felice was there, but her body was…mangled. Rotting. The moment I lifted the sheet, a rank smell hit my nose, and I wanted to vomit. Her perfect skin was perfect no more, now frozen in a half-decayed state. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, every bit of her sunken in and dried up. Even her eyes, which were open, were shriveled up and yellowed. Oozing puss.
This was what Payne meant. Felice was dead, and now…all that talk about hope and the like was pointless.
Well.
Fuck.
Chapter Twelve – Felice
Koda and I were unhurried in putting our clothes back on. He helped me with the zipper on my dress, even though I’d grown used to doing a little dance as I reached behind my back and did it myself every morning and night. My body felt…weirdly normal, considering it wasn’t real.
Because it wasn’t. If I was dead, if my body was shriveled and rotting, how could the body I wore now be real?
Then again, I could ask the question of how I could bleed, too. I was pretty dang sure dead people didn’t bleed; without a beating heart, there was no blood flow.
Everything was topsy-turvy here, and I honestly hated it. I also hated being dead. Not something I ever thought I’d think, a stark and grim reality here in Grimmstead Academy.
Hah. An academy. Pardon my language, but fuck this place. Fuck it so hard.
My eyes lingered on the knife on the floor as I zipped up my boots. Koda was working on buttoning his shirt, keeping those emerald eyes on me, so I didn’t go for it. Not again. I couldn’t lose my mind here; that’s what the house wanted. It all but told me that, when it had said the guys would go nuts.
They would, especially if I lost my sanity and became just as crazy as them.
I kept a sigh buried inside as I straightened myself out, smoothing my dress before exiting the kitchen, Koda on my heel. He was busy asking if I was alright, if I felt any better—to which I’d say yes and no, frankly. It was nice to feel his comforting arms around me, but it was also extremely nice to give in to the intensity of the moment and let Bram take me.
You know what was awful? I hardly recognized myself here. This place had changed me. I might still be obsessed with fire, but I had to come to terms with the fact that I was obsessing over these guys just as much.
Koda and I headed through the dining hall, emerging into the main hall right as Lucien was coming down the stairs, looking mighty perplexed. He was halfway down the steps when he noticed me, and he paid no attention to Koda as he closed the distance between us, his mouth drawn into a thin line of worry.
“Felice,” he whispered my name in a way that told me he knew all about it. My death. Still wasn’t something I was used to thinking. “How are you?” He looked as if he wanted to reach for me, wanted to touch me, but he held himself back.
“I’m okay,” I said, lying only a little. “Getting there, anyway. Koda and Bram helped me.” I did not want to go into detail about how exactly Koda and Bram helped me, but I knew by the way Lucien darted his hazel stare to Koda he could put two and two together. My cheeks flushed at that, which was just ridiculous, considering the fact I’d been with practically every man in this house. Victor, well, I wasn’t sure if he counted or not.
It was also ridiculous to feel heat grace my cheeks because, you know, dead.
“Where are the others?” I asked, not wanting the silence to linger. The silence would only make me think about what I’d seen in that basement, what those horrible children had made me see. Those black-eyed demons wearing the cherub faces of the men I adored.
“Victor’s upstairs, keeping an eye on your…” Lucien paused, frowning. “Body. Payne is dealing with Dagen.”
“I think,” I said, “we need to have that meeting after all.” That was probably the year’s biggest understatement. We didn’t need a meeting. We needed a miracle, and I had the feeling miracles were hard to come by in a place like this.
A Hellmouth, according to Victor. There was no light amongst the darkness in a place that oozed evil on a daily basis.
“Get Payne and the others,” I told him, knowing Lucien didn’t like taking orders, but he would if they came from me. Even though I was dead, I would forever be his weakness. “I’ll meet you upstairs.” I didn’t need to ask which room he’d taken my body to; a part of me knew, like my soul was called to its rotting, stinking form.
Which, you know, I found odd, because before this, I’d never felt lost, like a part of me was missing.
As Koda and I headed up to the third floor and Lucien went for the others, I couldn’t help but replay recent events. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I did feel like half of me was missing, only I couldn’t recognize the feeling. The flies, the instances where I’d randomly find myself before the basement. The heartbeat—was it always mine? Was that sound always coming from me, from my body in the basement, before I’d stepped foot on Grimmstead grounds, haunting Dagen before I’d even known him? It made no sense, but around here, sense was hard to come by anyways.
We found Victor standing in the furthest room in the west wing, near a table where my body was, all hunched over, though it was covered with a sheet. Still smelled, but the unnatural coolness of this particular room made it less unbearable.
Victor’s long legs strode to me, and he swept me up in his arms before I could stop him. “I am so sorry,” he murmured, his arms tightening around me as if they could protect me from all of the evil residing within these walls. The darkness. The depravity.
I found myself closing my eyes as I let his strength flow into me. I breathed him in—he smelled musky, like an old book, something out of its time. Maybe it was the clothes. But it wasn’t a bad smell; quite the opposite, in fact. I rather liked it.
I also rather liked the feeling of his arms around me, his lean chest against my face, my body caving into his.
When Victor finally let me go, he glanced to Koda, who stood behind me, eyeing him up like he didn’t trust him. No one in the house trusted Victor, and after Victor told them the truth, they’d have even less of a reason to. I prayed I could somehow bring them together. I might be dead, but I could still be the missing link between these guys.
And if I wasn’t, well…one thing we had plenty of here was time.
“Lucien is bringing the others up,” Koda said.
“Good,” Victor replied, though judging from his tone, good was not what he meant. Nothing about today was good. To claim today was good was to say he was happy that I was dead. Call me conceited, but I didn’t think any of the men here would be glad about that.
Was it weird to stand in the same room as my body? To smell the rank, nausea-inducing odor my own flesh gave off? To stare at that white sheet and the misshapen body curled under it?
Yes, yes it was. It was something I knew I’d never get used to, regardless of how much time passed.
I was dead. Still hardly registered in my brain, because I felt so alive. Was that how the others felt? All of these guys, were they aware they were no longer among the living? They had to be.
After a while, Lucien returned, though he only had Dagen and Payne in tow. “I couldn’t find Ian,” he told me, frowning.
Payne closed the distance between us, reaching for me, setting a hand on my lower back—a loving,
warm gesture the Payne of before never would’ve made. He’d been so calculating, so cold and distant before, and then…then he’d died. Then Bram had killed him. His most recent death had been the turning point in our relationship. Go figure.
“He saw your body and took off,” Payne spoke.
Behind him, Dagen looked uneasy. He could hardly look at me. He’d somehow been in the basement with me, but after I saw my body, I tuned everything else out, even him. He was probably as distraught over this whole thing as I was.
“Dagen,” I said. “You know this isn’t your fault.” I knew the man blamed himself, and I was now in my mind enough to try to make him see that. Before, I’d been in denial, in a frenzy. Now…let’s just say it was impossible to not face reality when reality laid a few feet away, decomposing.
All Dagen did was shrug, so I inched closer to him, aware that everyone else’s eyes were on me as I set a hand on his face, cupping his cheek and forcing him to meet my gaze. Those dark eyes, such beautiful things, even behind those glasses.
“I don’t blame you,” I told him, hoping he knew I meant it. I never said anything I did not mean. This place might be changing me, but it would not change me that much. “I blame this place. I blame myself for thinking that I could save you.” Pulling away from him, I brought my stare to each and every one of the guys in the room.
To Payne, to his ruffled white hair and the scar on his neck. To Lucien, and the way he scowled while simultaneously looking like he wanted to tuck me under his wing and never let me go. To Victor, who gave me such a heavy look I desperately wanted to reassure him, to tell him that I didn’t blame him for this, either.
Everyone but Ian, but I knew I’d find him eventually.
We stood in a misshapen circle, away from my smelly body. It was now Victor’s time to survey each of us, his turn to take a deep breath, fill his lungs, and start to explain. He then told the guys everything he’d told me before, and then some.
“I know you probably do not remember what your lives were like before, but I do. I remember every passing year with clarity,” Victor spoke, moving to hold his hands behind his back. “I built this place, brick by brick, but it was a center of darkness long before then. The locals thought I was crazy to build something over it, and maybe I was. Maybe I still am.”
He then told the guys how, as Grimmstead changed, he took on the persona of whoever was in charge, accepting society’s castoffs and scorned children, kids who’d been given up and surrendered by their parents, kids who never would’ve had a life outside these walls.
“This place promised me power, promised me the one thing I desperately wanted.” Victor paused, his eyes darting to me. Everyone in the room knew who he desired above all else, besides the power that came with running Grimmstead. “But, of course there was a price, and that price was both blood and soul. It allowed me to keep mine as long as I fed it, as long as I helped it become stronger. As I did so, I learned the walls could change, I learned its reputation in the world could change. It morphed itself into whatever most fit.”
“Wait,” Payne spoke slowly, his silver eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by fed it?”
My mind flashed back to when I saw Payne in the basement, that day when Bram was on a rampage. I’d seen him coming around the corner, carrying a bucket, and then, just like that, the bucket was gone, as if the house had made an oopsie and didn’t want me to see it.
Victor did not hesitate to explain, “Everyone who had the misfortune of coming to me was given to it. Sacrifices, I suppose, tributes to it and its power. I foolishly made this place stronger by doing so. You all…were given to me, either dropped off, abandoned, or sent here by your parents. One by one I gave you to the darkness, thinking only of myself and what I wanted as I did so. You, Payne, took over the job once this place decided I was no longer fit to do it, but animal blood and the blood of a human are two very different things.”
My mind was fuzzy when it came to when exactly I’d breathed my last breath. As he spoke, I felt a twinge of pain on my wrist, and I glanced down, tugging on the sleeve on my left arm a bit to expose my wrist. Not even a scar there, which I found odd. That was the wrist I’d fed Payne out of, the one he’d bitten and the one I’d cut.
Cut.
Wait a moment.
Cut?
I didn’t…I didn’t feed myself to Grimmstead, did I?
“During my time here, I gave it everything. The blood, the body, the soul. It has grown weaker lately, which is why I’m able to be here. Felice…” Victor turned to look at me, his hazel stare sorrowful. “I fear Felice died because I called out to her, because I needed her to come back. She bled for me, but she bled out for this place.”
A rumble left Lucien, and I saw his fists clench so hard his knuckles turned white.
I did die. I died because Victor needed a way out. The house had trapped him, and I was his way out, just as I could help the others. I’d helped Payne with my blood, could alleviate the sound for Dagen with a touch, and I helped calm the tumultuous waters inside Ian’s head.
I didn’t so much blame Victor for it, as Lucien surely was right now, but it was difficult not to be a little bitter.
Dagen spoke to his chest, his chin turned down, “The sound was impossibly loud that night. I…I couldn’t stop myself from going to the basement. When I did, I…” Behind his glasses, his black eyes shut. “I saw Felice, but it was too late. By the time I got to her, she—she was gone.”
“You did well by not allowing the mouth to devour her body as well,” Victor told him. Hard to look on the bright side here, though.
“I don’t know,” he replied, shrugging. “It felt almost like I did what Grimmstead wanted me to. How else did I know to put her where I did?” Dagen’s voice shook. “There were bricks…and I shoved her into a wall.”
Lucien growled out, “What now? What do we do now? You said the house was weakening before, but now it’s surely growing stronger. Those kids—”
“Were the house’s response to me coming back,” Victor said. “Those kids were not truly kids. They never were. They were here to watch and to observe.” To me, he added, “To lead you to your body and try to tear us apart.”
“Thankfully, it seems they are no longer here,” Payne said, folding his arms over his chest.
Dagen questioned, “Which means…what, exactly?”
“It’s waiting,” Victor said. “It’s waiting to see what we do next. It will undoubtedly try to get her body as well, and if that happens, all hope is truly lost.”
“How is all hope not lost now?” I asked, gesturing to the table, where my body lay. “I’m dead. I can’t get un-dead. That’s not a thing.” Here, it might be, but in the end, everyone was dead to start with, so this walking and talking thing was technically the lie. I didn’t bring Payne back from the dead with my blood—not technically; he’d already been dead.
Ugh. This was confusing, and made my head hurt.
It was a moment before Victor said, “There might be a way. I’m not…I’m not sure what that way is yet, but I’m certain there has to be one. I really do wish this house hadn’t taken away my ability to read.”
Lucien’s dark brows came together, though he said nothing.
Koda spoke up, “Can you, can you just…” He coughed, as if he was suggesting the most awkward thing ever. “Pop back in?”
Pop back in? I gave him a weird look. “Are you asking if I can just crawl back into my decomposing body like it’s some kind of cocoon?” Not saying it was impossible, but it did not sound like something I wanted to try. I mean, just nasty.
“I don’t think it works like that,” Victor spoke.
“Well, how did Payne come back?” Koda shot a look toward the pale one.
“Payne was already dead,” Lucien answered him. “Weren’t you listening? Victor sacrificed each of you to this place, so he could fill his black heart with power.”
A muscle in Victor’s jaw clenched. “That wasn’t all of it
, Lucien.”
“Stop it,” I raised my voice, halting any further argument between these guys. “It’s pointless to argue. We need to be on the same side. I know it’s too late for me, but there has to be a way we can beat this thing.”
“But it’s not too late for you,” Victor said. “As long as no one takes your body to the basement, there is still hope.”
I wasn’t sure if I would go that far, because it certainly seemed like there was no hope whatsoever for me, but I let the statement sit. “So, what? Are we just going to take turns babysitting my body now?”
“One of us should be with it at all times, just in case,” Lucien remarked, clearly hating himself for agreeing with Victor.
No one, it seemed, had any bright ideas for the moment, so we disbanded. Victor took the first shift near my body, and I was about to head to my room for a well-deserved nap—it wasn’t every day you found out you’d been dead for a while and hadn’t known it—but Lucien stopped me on the stairwell. Payne and Koda had already gone down, leaving me alone with the big, burly, possessive man.
I stood on a step beneath the one he was on, feeling even smaller compared to him. He looked more impressive than ever, his wide chest snug in a black suit, a dark blue undershirt neatly tucked into his black pants…pants that hugged every feature perfectly. Pants that, quite frankly, allowed you to see which way he dressed himself.
As in, which side his dick hung.
Yeah, probably shouldn’t be noticing that right now. Maybe later.
“Felice,” he spoke, “my office. Now.” Stern and demanding, as if I hadn’t just been traumatized by my own death.
Annoyance ticked inside me, but I said nothing, heading all the way down to the ground floor and going to his office. I listened to him close the door, wondering what he would scold me for now. Allying myself with Victor? Trying to stop them from arguing? Like we had a choice. This house was out to get us, to get me; why wouldn’t we work together to try to find a solution?
“If you’re going to yell at me for siding with Victor or some other stupid reason—” My other words were stolen from my lips the moment Lucien grabbed me, spun me, and crashed his lips to mine, his huge frame bending over to meet my petite form. His kiss was heated and urgent, desperate and needy. Everything he couldn’t say, he said in that kiss.
Grimmstead Academy: Defiant Rebellion Page 14
