by Katie May
We add a few more names. All of the professors, for one, and all of the vampires. I want to defend my brethren, but I don’t bother. I’ve lost count of how many times I tried to convince everyone that vampires weren’t responsible for the bite marks on both girls.
“Don’t be mad,” Mason tells me sternly before taking the marker from Barret’s hand and adding one more name.
When I see it, my vision turns red, and my hands curl into fists.
“What the hell, Mase?” I demand, jumping to my feet. The ice cream bowl residing in my lap clatters on the floor.
“I said don’t get mad,” he pleads.
Ignoring his shouts—combined with the roars released from Cal and Barret at him for upsetting me—I storm out of the teacher’s lounge, down the hall, and back into the stairwell. I’m fuming, my anger almost a physical manifestation of fire in my mind. I want to burn this whole fucking place down.
My father’s a lot of things, but he does love me. I know that he does—in the sick, demented way only he can.
Dracula’s name does not belong on that list.
Chapter 26
Hux
I move swiftly, stealthily, through the woods. Critters scuttle through the forest floors, their vexing chatter grating on my nerves. A bird chirps noisily overhead, and I hear what sounds like a grasshopper. While the noises are not aesthetically pleasing to my ears, they help mute the sound of my footsteps as I slink through the forest.
“Up ahead,” Jack whispers, and I whip my head up just as my target slips through the door of a small building. “A shed,” Jack supplies helpfully.
It’s a small, dilapidated thing with loose boards and no windows. According to my calculations, it sits a few miles away from campus, in a stretch of woods devoid of any walking trails.
“What’s the plan?” I ask Jack, crouching behind a collection of tree stumps and twigs. I can feel one of my own forming in the recesses of my brain, and a sly grin curls up my lips.
“We’re not murdering anyone,” Jack declares in clear exasperation. When I open my mouth to protest, he adds, “And no torture either.”
Damn him and his moral conscious.
“Violet will be upset,” he adds gently, and those words have the intended effect. The fight drains from me, and my shoulders slump forward.
“Can I at least maim?” I plead.
“Hux…” he warns.
I’ll take that as a no, then.
It’s still a strange sensation to have Jack’s voice in my head. For as long as I can remember, Jack has been nothing more than the other soul inhabiting my vessel. I remember we would leave notes for each other before each switch, a way to solidify our bond as brothers.
Until he trapped me in my cage.
Fury momentarily burns through me, but I smother it like I would an out-of-control fire. We have to work together, at least for now.
For my precious treasure.
My hand tightens in my pocket around the melted chocolate bar she had given me. One of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given, falling just behind the gift of her presence.
With her, I don’t feel alone. She’s the light breaking apart the monotony of darkness I’ve grown accustomed to.
She had seemed angry in fight class today. Vengeful. She hadn’t even looked at Mason who tried desperately—futilely—to garner her attention.
I had asked if she was experiencing the Great Period, but that only caused her to huff away, muttering under her breath about oblivious, stupid males.
I don’t like when my precious treasure is angry with me. It causes a gnawing pit of despair to settle in my stomach.
After this mission is over, I will gift her more chocolates to help combat the Great Period. She will no longer fight it alone.
“We need to get closer,” Jack insists.
“But no maiming?” Sometimes I need clarification. Apparently, it’s not appropriate behavior to kill everyone who wrongs you. Just some.
With a dismayed grunt in my head, Jack urges me to move forward.
I stay low, relying on the minimal shadows of the shed to obscure my location. It’s a dance. A game. My feet barely touch the ground as I move towards the broken window with grace and agility.
If my precious treasure could see me now…
I balance on the balls of my feet, straining my ears to hear anything transpiring inside. After a moment of silence, I risk poking my head up and peering into the “shed.”
It appears to be a nondescript, one-room house complete with a cot, a white bowl that serves to hold your poop (a toilet, Jack tells me), and a white rectangle (a fridge to keep your food cold).
Our target is nowhere in sight.
My suspicion grows just as I feel something sharp touch my neck. Jack’s anxiousness amplifies as he begins running a long, drawn out list of possibilities to escape this situation unscathed.
I’m very, very upset that none of them involve murder.
“This isn’t very nice,” I say pleasantly to the man holding a knife to my throat. I hear a masculine snort, and the blade presses down harder, cutting skin.
“Why are you following me?” he demands.
He grabs my shoulders and pulls me to my feet, spinning me around. I know he wouldn’t have been able to move me without my compliance. He’s strong, but he’s no match for my monster.
Dimitri Gray stands in the tiny shaft of sunlight piercing through the boughs of trees, eyes glacial. His light hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and he’s bedecked in black pants and a black shirt.
He’s every inch the fearsome assassin.
But he doesn’t scare me.
Raw fury climbs up my throat at the sight of him.
“What do you want with my precious treasure, Assassin?” I growl, hands balling into fists.
I can hear Jack inside my mind, attempting to placate me. Calm me. But my beast demands release.
Anyone who dares to harm my love will get their heads served to them.
“Your precious treasure,” Dimitri repeats dryly, finally dropping the knife, spinning it around his fingers once, before returning it to its sheath. “You mean Violet?”
A low rumble reverberates through my chest.
“I was merely being a good professor and returning her textbook for the quiz today,” he says in that same, monotone voice. His expression is just as dispassionate—a blank, impassive mask. “Not that she bothered to show up to my class anyway.”
I know that Violet snuck away to visit her friends in detention with Mason. She thinks I don’t know, but she’s wrong. I know everything about her.
The question is: does Dimitri?
I search his face carefully, but his mask doesn’t slip. Not even a twitch.
“If you hurt her, I. Will. Destroy. You.” The mere thought of my precious treasure under any duress causes my brain to lose cells. I would tear this damn world apart with my bare hands.
At my dogmatic confession, a tentative smile finally graces Dimitri’s face. The smile is as cold and cruel as the rest of him—thousands of secrets lurk behind it.
“We’re a lot alike, Hux,” Dimitri says, almost conversationally. He takes a step backwards, eyes fixed on me with that damn sly smirk on his face. “You want to know what’s different between us?”
“I want you to stay away from Violet,” I growl. “I want you to tell me why you’re framing her for murder.”
His expression doesn’t change at my accusation, much to my displeasure and rapidly growing anger.
“The difference is that you wear your vulnerabilities on your sleeve. You allow the world to see what you care for. Who you care for. That’s dangerous in this world. Very, very dangerous.”
I don’t know if his words are meant as advice or a threat, but either way, I release a guttural roar and lunge for him. Dimitri easily steps out of my way, the dagger once again held casually in his hand.
“You know nothing about me, Hux. Nothing.”
“Stay away from Violet,” I hiss once more. I hope he can hear the threat in my voice, see the promise of violence in my eyes. The crazy man throws his head back in raucous laughter, the cold noise more unnerving than his silence.
“Kind of hard to do when I’m her professor.”
I want to growl at his smartass reply—I want to attack—but Jack’s voice once more attempts to calm me. I can sense my brother's unease and suspicion, but he knows fighting Dimitri will be futile. The man’s a trained assassin, and though we’re skilled, we’re nothing compared to him.
But I will find a way to kill him if he lays one hand on my precious treasure. I will tear him apart limb from limb until all that’s left is his smug smile shoved up his ass.
“Have a safe walk back to campus, Hux. And tell Jack I said hi.”
With a cheery wave that doesn’t quite match his icy disposition, he saunters away, whistling.
“What do we do now?” Jack questions nervously. I eye the assassin until he disappears from view.
“We watch. And if he steps out of line, we kill.”
Chapter 27
Violet
My days at Monster Academy begin to follow a pattern. Breakfast in the dining hall, where I alternate eating from Vin and Jack. Classes. And then studying in the library with all of the guys. One—or all—of them will always walk me back to my door just as the sun disappears behind the orange and red tapestry of leaves.
There have been no more murders, thank fuck, and conversation around the school quickly steers away from Ali and Blowy to Halloween fast approaching.
Living with Dad, I didn’t overly celebrate the holiday. Sometimes, he would drag me to a fancy Devil’s Night party. Most times, however, he would stand outside on the front porch scaring the poor kids who tried to trick-or-treat. I remember once he buried himself at the edge of the long driveway. When the children came, bright-faced and eager, he would grab their ankles while cackling malevolently.
My dad is a little...strange.
“Any big plans for Halloween?” I ask as I arrive at our lunch table. Vin trails behind me looking dazed and disheveled, his shirt untucked and a drop of blood on his shirt collar. I lick my lips at the sight of the blood, yearning for another taste.
Mason’s eyes are fixated firmly on my mouth, eyes heated.
After a few days of ignoring him, I’m grateful when he finally caved and apologized. I had missed him—the dopey, perpetual smirk on his face and his beanie.
I watch him through my fluttering lashes, totally notching up the charm. I’m a sex fucking goddess. The epitome of sex. The reason why vaginas exist in the first place.
Mason is staring at me intently, and I continue to flutter my lashes.
Bow down to the sex goddess.
And then…
“You have food on your face,” Mason says at last, reverting his attention back to his plate.
“Such a fucking slob,” adds Vin good-naturedly.
“Are you okay? You’re not having a seizure, are you?” Jack asks worriedly.
I fucking hate all of them.
“So Halloween,” I say quickly, changing the subject. “What’s the plan?” When no one immediately answers, I sigh heavily. “What do you guys usually do on Halloween?”
At this, the guys exchange uncomfortable glances.
It’s Frankie who answers first, clearing his throat. “I usually work in my lab.” At my flabbergasted expression, he shrugs sheepishly. “To me, Halloween is just like any other day.”
Jack nods his head. “Same. I usually retire early that night.”
“Mason? Vin?” I glance at the two men who are both looking anywhere, everywhere, but at me. “What do you usually do?”
“They usually do me,” a sly voice says curtly from behind me. I stiffen, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I sort of wish that those hairs were razor blades I could use to stab the bitch.
Cheryl sashays forward with an exaggerated sway to her hips. She looks as annoyingly beautiful as ever. It’s so not fair.
“Vinny Poo,” she purrs in what she probably thinks is a suggestive voice.
It totally is. Even I want to dry-hump her.
“Masey Bear,” she adds, dropping a manicured hand onto Mason’s shoulder and kneading the flesh there.
Masey Bear?
I know about her and Vin. But her and Mason?
Mason shrugs her hand off him, face unnaturally cold. It’s such a contrast to his normally jovial grin and sparkling eyes that I resist the urge to do a comedic double-take.
“I wanted to officially invite you to the Halloween Spectacular,” she purrs, undeterred by Mason’s obvious dismissal. I have to give the girl credit: she has balls.
Or very strong ovaries.
The Queen of Ovaries.
Her Vaginasty.
This is why I don’t have any friends.
“Leave, Viper,” Vin hisses darkly, and a petty part of me—a very, very petty part of me—is jealous he gave her a nickname.
Even if that nickname is Viper.
“What’s the Halloween Spectacular?” I cut in, and she flashes me a look of pure annoyance. I sort of feel like a child caught putting a severed hand into their dad’s shoe...oh wait. That’s not a normal part of childhood? Whoops. Anyway, I feel like a child about to be reprimanded by a parent.
Her lips curl back over her teeth, but she answers reluctantly. “It’s a Halloween party the student council puts on,” she admits.
First: we have a student council?
Second: we have a fucking student council?
“So does that mean it’s open to all students,” I say with a slight smile. “After all, it is a school event.”
I bat my eyelashes innocently.
Her face twists, and she opens her mouth to no doubt argue, before snapping it closed. Through gritted teeth, she says, “Yes.”
Turning away from her, I smile at the assembled guys. Mason and Vin both look as if they have eaten something sour. Frankie is volleying his gaze between me and Gills with fascination, and Jack is silent as usual. When they spot my smile, wariness flashes across each of their faces.
“We’re going to the party,” I say resolutely.
“No,” they chorus back to me. I pout.
“Please. Pretty please. Pretty please with sparkly dildos and dicks on top?” I beg, pushing out my bottom lip and folding my hands together as if in prayer.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Vin hisses at last, ripping his gaze away from my puppy-dog eyes to glare at Cheryl. “Now leave.”
“But I miss you—”
“Leave, Cheryl. Now.” His expression is as unyielding as his voice. Cheryl remains for a moment longer, seeking support from the other guys at the table. When they all continue to glare at her, she huffs, flicks back her orange hair, and stalks away.
“I feel kind of bad for her,” I admit when I’m sure she’s out of earshot.
Four incredulous gazes swivel my way.
“What?” Vin sputters. “Why?”
“Because she’s lonely and bitter.” I shrug my shoulders. “She has no one who truly cares about her, and no one who she truly cares for either. Her one friend died. She’s surrounded by a lot of people, yet she’s never smiling. I don’t think she knows how to. Add to that her unreciprocated lust—not love—and she’s a walking, life-sized form of loneliness.” I shrug once more as the guys gape at me wordlessly. After a moment of silence, I ask, “What?”
It’s Jack who looks away first, something akin to respect and awe shining in his eyes. “You're perceptive.”
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I fiddle with the sleeves of my shirt. “I just know what it’s like, that’s all.”
The silence this time is more pronounced, the tension following my confession thrumming between us like a live wire.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about loneliness ever again,” Vin says gruffly, and my heart elevates, gaining little tiny wings an
d fluttering against my rib cage.
Frankie shoves the remainder of his food into his mouth, scrambling to his feet.
“Where are you going?” I ask. We still have a little more than an hour until our first class begins. Usually, we chat amongst ourselves or play a stupid game Mason comes up with.
A full piece of toast held between his teeth, he mumbles, “Lab.”
“Oh!” I jump out of my seat as well, clapping my hands together eagerly. “Can I come? Please? Please? Please? I’ll be good! Promise! I’ll sit and listen and won’t touch anything!”
I expect a quick, harsh no. Frankie isn’t cruel by any means, but he’s the iciest of my new friends. He has these impenetrable walls erected around him, walls that I’m incapable of breaching. His lab is his sanctuary. Even his clients are only allowed in one small portion, from what I hear.
So you can imagine my surprise when Frankie nods without hesitation, quickly swallowing the rest of the toast.
Surprised—but not willing to look a gift horse in the anus, or however that saying goes—I grab my backpack and hurry after him, waving goodbye to the others who are watching me with soft smiles on their faces.
I’m practically skipping as we wander down the wooded trail and into the main academic building. Frankie leads me to the Employee’s Only door he had pointed out before and then down a long, steep staircase.
“Lights on,” he demands, and one by one, bright white lights spring to life overhead illuminating the spacious lab.
Lab seems too tame a term for the room I’m in. It’s glorious. If I was into science—and knew more than just “inertia is a property of matter”—I would orgasm everywhere. Make the white tiled floors a slip-and-slide.
Counters are lined around the perimeter of the room, each holding an assortment of machinery and equipment. A glass cabinet over one of the shelves shows a bunch of vials, each holding a strange, undefinable liquid. There’s a section closed off with dividers, but through a crack, I can see an operating table and a tray of tools.
“You work here?” I ask in awe, spinning around in a circle. Frankie shrugs nonchalantly, but I can see heat rising to his face. He’s embarrassed. It’s a strange thing to see on the serious man.
