Sancte Diaboli: Part One (The Elite Kings Club Book 6)

by Amo Jones

  “I can’t,” Madison snaps. “He—I can’t.”

  “Ever?” Tillie asks, and I hold my breath while I wait for Madison to answer. As if I’ve been waiting for the answer for as long as Tillie has.

  She shakes her head. “Just for now.”

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it aimlessly, watching the question mark flash over the screen. Tillie and Madison are still chatting in the background as my thumb hovers over the swipe to answer button. Could it be Eli? Or Bishop? Or any of the other guys that I’ve seen hanging around Brantley?

  Unsure.

  Just as I make contact with my screen to answer, my ringtone is cut off and the call disappears.

  “Who was that?” Tillie asks, hanging up on Madison and putting her phone in her pocket.

  “Ah, I actually don’t know.” It’s not a lie, because I don’t know who it is.

  Tillie pops a Cheeto into her mouth and chews. “Telemarketers are relentless around this time of year.”

  “October?” I ask, confused. I think my confusion is more from the news she just dropped on me moments ago and less on the current season.

  “Mmmmhmmm, that leads up to Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, et cetera.”

  I don’t think much into what she starts talking about next because my mind clings to one word.

  Halloween.

  Past

  There was a chill in the air that bit every part of my exposed flesh and left bruises well after its departure. My teeth chattered so loudly I was sure they would crack. It was dark. So dark. Mud curled around my toes as I sunk them deeper and deeper into the mushy soil. My hair hung low, covering the corners of my eyes. The sound of a twig snapping had me spinning around as panic rose in my throat. What was happening? The tombstone that led into the TEKC cave was the only thing I could see that let me know I was in the Vitiosis graveyard. The strong block letters embossed into the ancient stone somehow felt brighter this night. So vivid, begging to be seen.

  A hand wrapped around my arm and a scream tore out of my throat just before the same hand was over my lips.

  “What the fuck are you doing down here?” His voice had changed over the years. It wasn’t the world that hardened him; it was simply too soft for him. Too demure. His soul was haunted, he walked this earth as an empty vessel. His eyes were the entrance to Hell, and every time he looked at you, he would draw you in closer to the burning iron gates. I sometimes wondered when the day would come that he would completely shut me inside. He wouldn’t be an empty vessel anymore; he would carry me.

  I turned in his grip, my hands colliding with his chest. He’s bigger. Stronger. Harder. And so, so tall.

  “If I release your mouth, will you keep quiet?”

  I wasn’t sure why he asked me this question, but I nodded.

  His touch was gone, and immediately the shivers started again. The teeth chattering. The coldness that stuck to me like icicles against warmth. It was then that I realized I was standing out in my silk pajamas. A simple spaghetti strap top, trimmed with lace, with matching shorts. They were white, so I guess it was easy for him to see me, but he was in black, so I couldn’t see anything of him. I only had his touch. And it was blinding.

  “What are you doing out here? Why are you out of the house?”

  “I—” I couldn’t get a word out of my mouth because my teeth were chattering so hard.

  “Fuck,” he cursed, and moved my hand away from his body before something warm was being shoved into my chest. “Arms up.”

  I did as I was told, though my body would not stop convulsing. Seconds later, I was surrounded by fuzzy warmth and the scent of cologne that stung the back of my throat like a deadly poison. Strong leather notes, with a subtle hint of fresh pine, a dash of soap, and the delicate fume from an already smoked cigarette. Did he smoke now? He was just seventeen.

  “Thank you,” I said, forgetting I was to be quiet. His hand was back on my mouth, while his other was behind my head, holding me in place.

  “Be. Quiet.” His whisper-growl reverberated around me. If I didn’t feel so safe, it would be horrifying. I could see the flesh of his arms now, and when I finally trailed my eyes up to his face that was now bare from the hoodie, I froze.

  My brows curved.

  “Yes, Saint, be quiet. And yes, my face looks like a skull.” The lines of the skull that were painted over his face were hypnotizing. I was awestruck, unable to speak or move from beneath his hold. Black and white colors crafted perfectly over his high cheekbones and eyes. His eyes were now hidden behind the brightest white contacts.

  He released my mouth again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, wrapping my arms around my stomach protectively. Brantley was hardly home anymore, but recently, he’d passed through more often. More often than Lucan anyway. I sensed something was happening around the house, but never spoke a word. The house was always quiet, but with Lucan and Brantley living under the same roof, it was loud. Loud with anger, tension, hate.

  He grabbed my hand and began dragging me back through the forest. “Don’t fucking worry about what I’m doing. Fuck. Why are you out here?”

  I didn’t speak until I could see the high arches of the entry and exit of the cemetery, with the manor glaring down at us both in the distance.

  “Speak, Saint. You can speak now…”

  We were still walking toward the house when I finally opened my mouth.

  “I don’t know how I got there. I’ve—”

  He paused, turning to face me. I hung onto the silence, awaiting his next words. But instead of words, he picked me up from around my legs and threw me over his shoulder.

  “Brantley!” I hissed.

  “Your legs are too fuckin’ small and I need you back in your room now, not in an hour.” He continued to carry me up the steps of the patio and through the glass doors, kicking them closed with his foot.

  He placed me onto the ground once we were back in the living room of the house. No TV. Just three sofas, a fireplace you could ignite a bonfire in, old family portraits from years and years ago, and candles. So many candles.

  The dim light from the fireplace and said candles gave me the perfect view of his face now. My throat swelled. I had no words. It had been three months since I’d last seen him. Lucan was never home, always away in his office. I didn’t mind him being away, though. Lucan had always been somewhat distant from me. He avoided me like he was, I don’t know. Afraid.

  “Saint…” Brantley’s voice tapped through my straying thoughts.

  “Why is your face painted like that?” I felt like the longer he stayed away, the more he aged. I almost had to bend my neck to look up at him now.

  “It’s Halloween…” He drops down onto the sofa behind him.

  “And?” I didn’t understand the statement.

  He refused to answer now. Bored with my questions, as per usual. And as usual, he’d simply just not answered it. “When did you start sleepwalking?” His eyes traveled down my body flagrantly. He took his time with it, though, with slow, almost blatant carnality. I recognized the look. I’d seen it in movies before. I just knew that’s not what he was trying to do. This was just Brantley.

  “I don’t know.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “It doesn’t happen every night.”

  His hand wrapped around the backs of my thighs, though they were covered by his massive hoodie, before pulling me closer to him. “How often does it happen?”

  He had his head tilted up at me, his knees wide. If I moved closer, I’d be between them.

  I didn’t. I remained frozen to the spot.

  He didn’t care, because he pulled me in closer, wrapped his fingers around my chin, and tilted my head so that my eyes collided with his. Like comets racing through the sky.

  Thunder clapped in the background and I jumped backward, just enough to slip out of his grip. “I don’t know. Once a week?”

  He seemed to study me even closer. I wondered what he was thinking in t
his moment. Why I felt like he was screaming at me while simply speaking to me.

  “Why do you do that?” he finally asked, his fingers flexing in the palm of his hand.

  “Do what?” I whispered, still awed by the art that covered his face.

  “Jump away from me when you get scared.”

  “Aren’t you scary?” I asked, even though I knew I was being ridiculous. I’d always felt safe around Brantley. I guessed I wanted to know his answer.

  He stood, and suddenly I shrank. “Scary?” He grinned when I looked up at him. “Nah, that’s not the right word.”

  “Then what is?” I said just as he passed me. He stopped at the threshold between the sitting room and the main foyer.

  Turning his face over his shoulder just slightly, he smirked. “I’m something. But that’s not it. One day I’ll tell you.”

  He left, the front door closing in his departure. Then it was just me in this house. This cold, empty house. An empty vessel with no soul.

  I pushed backward, reaching for the collar around my neck. “You need to take me home…”

  “Mmmm,” Brantley murmured. “I don’t think I need to do shit.”

  I stepped backward again, pulling on the lead. “Let fucking go of me!”

  He glared up at me, unamused. “Cute. B, this one fights…”

  Bishop laughed around the cigarette in his mouth. “The best ones always do.”

  The other guy, who I now knew was Nate, flicked a knife between his fingers, his eyes on mine. They were wicked and bright. He was so pretty it hurt. “We like the fighters better.”

  “Truth,” Brantley murmured, tracing the tip of a small switchblade up my inner thigh. “Because they leave battle scars everywhere.”

  I tugged on the lead again, fear creeping up my spine and clinging to the back of my neck. I screamed, I pulled, but no one heard, or they just chose not to listen. The music got louder, the brash tones of “Killpop” from Slipknot playing.

  Brantley chuckled, leaning back in his chair. He released the lead, smirked up at me, and mouthed, “Run.”

  I did. I spun around and bolted, heading straight for the clearing of the meadow behind the house. My legs moved fast, thanks to all the cocaine I snorted. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, but the music wasn’t disappearing. If anything, it was getting louder. My heart thrashed in my chest, sweat pelting down my sides. I needed to just run to a safe area where I could call my dad. He would fix this. He would always fix this, and these fools are so. Fucking. Dead. They didn’t know who the fuck they’d messed with. My anger rose and rose higher until I was falling forward. Mud smudged my lips, dirt was in my mouth, and my head was thumping. I could taste metal at the back of my throat, but it wasn’t strong at first, not until warmth spilled from my lips. I reached backward, but caught nothing, until arms were under mine, tearing me to my feet.

  “This one’s dramatic. Let’s take our fucking time with her.” Bishop smirked, his fingers wrapped around my chin to tilt my face to his. “Do you know who we are?”

  I opened my mouth, but blood spilled out instead of words. Laughter swam around me in the shadows of the night, between the cracks of the trees. The music was still so loud, and then I realized I hadn’t run far at all.

  Saint

  I’ve harnessed the dog collars around them and shoved on a baseball cap before the sun has risen the next morning. I like starting my day before the rest of the world awakes. The air is always untainted, untouched, and unlived in. I grab my AirPods and my phone before closing my bedroom door. It’s not until I’m passing Brantley’s room that I notice his door is slightly ajar.

  I pause, pulling on Kore and Hades to stop them from tugging on the lead. They love running about as much as me.

  Taking a slight step backward, I push open his door farther. Mainly to make sure nothing is out of the ordinary, not that anyone or anything could get past our guards, but his room is never open. I’ve only ever seen inside it once in my life, and that was when I was eight years old.

  I hold my breath as I take in the décor, completely ignoring the fact that he’s laid out half-naked on the top of his bedcovers. The walls are the darkest shade of black that I’ve ever seen, with tints of blue flecked through, and all of his furniture is simplistic in the same shade. His ceiling is the same color as his walls, and his large California king-size bed looks more like a double up against the vast size of his bedroom. The bedside tables are a minimalist dream, with handless entries and smooth matte black finishes. The carpet color is a daunting black charcoal, the rug at the end of his bed once again that same menacing shade. Everything is black. His curtains, his bedding—every single thing is some shade of black. His curtains are drawn closed, the silent vent the only sound moving through the room. It’s so cold in here.

  So cold compared to the rest of the house.

  When Hades starts moving into his room, I’m shaken back into the present. Tugging on his lead to carry on with what we were doing.

  “I’m fucking surprised he even still recognizes me,” Brantley murmurs, his voice dripping in sleep.

  “Sorry, I just needed to check why your door was open.”

  He moves his arm above his head and peeks at me. “Is that unusual to you?”

  “Yes.” I say, taking the two steps backward. “Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  He pushes himself up and pats his bed, whistling at Hades. I release his lead so he can run to Brantley, which he does. Fast. Brantley’s smiling, rubbing behind his ear as Hades curls up beside him.

  “I guess he hasn’t seen you much lately,” I say absently. And by lately, I mean maybe only a handful of times over the past couple years.

  “Has that been a problem?” he asks, grabbing my attention back to his face.

  I clear my throat. “For the dogs and Medusa? Probably.”

  “Medusa is a fucking snake. Your snake. She’d eat me before she’d remember who the fuck I am.” He continues to rub Hades and I watch silently as he and his dog coexist. I’ve only ever seen Brantley smile the way he does when it’s at Hades. He loves that dog more than anyone. If he ever argued that he wasn’t capable of love, I’d show him Hades.

  “Our snake, Brantley.”

  “False, I bought her for you.” He ignores me, his focus solely on his dog.

  I wonder absently if I should confront him about what Tillie told me last night. It has been stirring deep inside my gut since she told me the news, and I don’t know how to digest it without asking him. I’m not good with secrets.

  “Saint…” he calls out, and I bring my eyes to his.

  He’s in front of me now, handing me Hades’ lead. I tilt my head up at him, leaning it on the doorframe. His hair is scruffy, his lips swollen even more so than they are naturally, his pale skin slightly flushed around his high cheekbones from sleep. He blinks, and his ink-colored lashes fan out over his face, a complete contrast to his skin color.

  “You zoned out. Again.”

  “Just thinking.” I test the words on the tip of my tongue. Taste them, sample the syllables that lurk there. Will I still be able to swallow them well after I’ve said them? Or would I risk the chance of choking?

  He’s silent for a few minutes before I watch his lips curl around his next words. “About?”

  I hold my breath, tingles rushing to my cheeks as my fingers flex in the palm of my hand. He’s watching me too closely. His dark orbits are circling around my gray. Like a power struggle between good and evil. Tilting my head, I lose my train of thought as I drift closer toward him. Is he coming closer, or is that just me?

  Kore yanks on the lead, slapping me out of my haze. I flinch back, shaking my head. “I better take them for a run or they won’t behave.”

  Brantley shrugs carelessly, stepping backward while keeping his attention fixed solely on me. His eyes fall down my body—the second time I’ve noticed him do this—before coming back to my face. “I forgot about that hoodie…”

&n
bsp; I reach for the hem of the oversized hoodie he put on me all those Halloweens ago. I shrug, unashamed. “I prefer it with my tights.”

  He pauses, licks his bottom lip, and then if I’m not mistaken, the corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. Only slightly. If I had blinked during that moment, I would have missed it.

  He taps Hades on the back and points to me. “Go with Mommy. Daddy’s got shit to do.”

  I lean down and squeeze the lead in my hand. I want to say something, so I do. I’ve never had a problem asking questions. “Will you be around all day?”

  He chuckles, turning to face me from the side. I watch as his hand dips beneath the waistband of his sweats. I try really hard to ignore the way his veins pulse over his muscles from flexing them, but I’m human, not that it would matter if I wasn’t. I’m sure Brantley could even work his way into a vampire’s bed. “I’m trying to figure something out…”

  My eyes snap to his. “What’s that?”

  He turns to face me, and now somehow, I’m even more aware of his thick muscles and tight abs. “I’m trying to figure out if you’ve always looked at me this way.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “In what way?”

  He does a really good half-smile. “Like you wanna eat me…”

  My mouth turns dry, my tongue stuck to the top. I release it. “I—what?”

  His smirk turns into a laugh, but not a loud one. He stifles his obvious desperation for it by curling his lips between his teeth, but his shoulders give it away because they can’t stop jiggling. “Go for your run, Mommy.”

  I turn to exit, grabbing the door handle without looking back.

  “Oh, and Dea?”

  I pause, squeezing the handle with one hand while holding the two leads with the other. Brantley continues, “You can look at me like that all you want, but it won’t be me who will end up being the feast.”

  I close the door behind me and continue down the hallway, pushing my pods back into my ears and pulling out my phone. Once I’ve hit the front door while opening Spotify, there’s already a guard standing on the other side.