by Amo Jones
Walking back down to the kitchen, I see Tatum is already sitting on the barstool, digging into her breakfast.
“Good to know you make yourself at home.” I laugh, going to where she placed my plate.
“Well, you know. All this food and no one eats it? It’s criminal.”
I snort, picking up half of a bagel. “My dad will be home this Monday.”
“Mmm,” Tatum says, licking mayonnaise off her finger. “Your house feels as empty as mine. No offense.”
“None taken, and it never used to be like this.” I bite into the greasy breakfast. “Anyway,” I mutter, swallowing my food and taking a swig of juice. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who eats this sort of food.”
“I never used to,” she says shyly. I don’t want to pursue what she meant by that, so I just concentrate on eating the rest of my food. After eating, we empty our plates and walk out the house, the direct morning sun hitting both of us. I pull down my glasses as she beeps her car. “Guess it’s school time! Oh, hey, about tonight’s party, are you going to text Tillie to give her the deets?”
“Shit!” I gasp, remembering that I had left my phone in my dad’s Caddy, which was still not home. I’d have to talk to Nate about that when, or if, I see him. “Erm,” I answer, noticing Tatum watching me as she slides up her scissor door. “Yeah, I’ll text her later today about it.” I want to ask her more questions about The Elite Kings Club too, but I’m afraid my newfound interest in the group would make Tatum suspicious.
We pull up to school not long after that. Tatum directs us into the private student parking, and we get out, walking toward the elevators that take us to the main lobby of the school. We’re late—no surprise there. Running down the hallway, I push open the door to English, and the professor looks up at me, startled from his scribbling on the chalkboard. “So nice of you to join us, Montgomery. Take a seat, and don’t make a pattern out of this.” I nod, mouthing an apology, and then look toward the only free space there is left beside Ally. She stares at me with a snarl, and I drop my books on my desk, sinking into my chair in an attempt to focus on my schoolwork.
“Madison!” a voice yells out from behind me, as I walk toward the buffet, picking up a tray.
Carter smiles, taking a tray and falling into step beside me. “So, ah, I didn’t know you were Nate’s new stepsister.”
“Oh no.” I roll me eyes, picking up an apple. “Don’t tell me you hang with them?”
He flashes me a boyish grin, and I take this brief minute to scan over his body. Strong, athletic, you can see he spends his extra time playing football. His floppy blond hair hangs short over his forehead, and his baby blues sparkle with a gleam. “Well, no... we roll in different circles.”
I take a bite out of my apple and point to his varsity jacket. “I see that.” I didn’t mean that in an offensive way, just... Nate and those boys dress with swagger. Their bodies are built like athletes, but I’d bet my last dollar that none of them would be throwing balls.
“So you’ll be at his party tonight, then?” he asks, as we reach the end of the line.
I spin around and face him. “Yup. Are you going to be there?” I ask as we head back to our tables.
He flashes me another boyish grin. “I think I’ve found my reason to be there.” Then he winks at me and saunters back to his table.
I’m still grinning from ear to ear and laughing under my breath when my eyes fall on a scowling Bishop. My smile instantly drops, and then Nate is pushing through people, heading straight toward me. “What was that about?”
“What?” I shove past him, my mood instantly changing. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit, Madi.” I ignore him and go to step toward my table, when his hand catches my arm, halting any movement. “Stay away from him.”
I shove out of his grip. “I should be staying away from you,” I hiss. “And by the way, where is my phone and my SUV?”
“Caddy is at home, and here’s your phone.” He tosses my cell toward me, and I catch it quickly before taking a seat on my chair.
“What the hell is that about?” Tatum mutters under her breath.
Nate comes next to me in a flash. “Come sit with us.”
“No.” I pick up my sandwich, unfazed by his presence, but fazed by all the attention he’s bringing to me.
“Fine.” He scowls at me, and then looks up to the rest of his hounds, letting out a loud whistle and then nudging his head.
No. Fucking. Way.
All seven of them drop their shit at the table, Nate resting comfortably beside me and Bishop sitting directly opposite me.
“I can’t do this,” I murmur to myself, shaking my head.
“Do what?” Bishop asks, eyebrow cocked. He leans forward, and whispers, “Wanna play a game?”
Tatum tenses and then looks to me. I ignore everything that’s going on behind me, my eyes remaining locked on Bishop’s dark, murky green ones. My jaw clenches. He leans back into the chair, and I stretch my leg out under the table, only for it to connect with his leg. His eyes twitch slightly before a grin appears.
Tatum clears her throat. “Um.” I look at her, leaving Bishop to continue his stare-down on his own. “Are you going to text Tillie?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, sliding it unlocked. “Yeah, I’ll text her now.”
“Two questions,” Nate starts, taking my sandwich and biting into it. I whack his arm with the back of my hand. “What?” He looks at me annoyed.
“Can you fucking not? I’m hungry. Eat this.” I throw him an energy bar.
“I didn’t eat this morning!”
“Well, that’s your own fault for not coming home last night. Eat. Give this—” I take the sandwich from his grabby hands. “—back.” He looks longingly at my sandwich, and I chuckle.
“Mmm.” I curve my mouth around it slowly, biting down on it. “So...” I chew slowly until I swallow. Swiping a drop of mayonnaise of the corner of my mouth with my thumb, I suck it off. “Good.” I laugh again, taking another normal bite, and then look around the table at everyone’s silence. They’re all watching me with mixed expressions. I look back to Nate, about to ask what the hell is going on, only his mouth is hanging open.
“Yeah.” He takes the sandwich from me. “No more mayonnaise sandwiches for you. Mmkay?” Then he shovels the remainder of what was left into his fat gob. I flip him off, looking back down at my phone. I scroll through the contacts until I’ve find Tillie, and send her a quick message.
Me – Hey, it’s Madison. Are you still on for tonight?
Tillie – Hey! I was wondering when you’d text. Sure, what time?
Me – Tatum and I will come pick you up after school if you want?
Tillie – Um, I can get dropped off.
Me – Are you sure?
Tillie – Yeah. Just send me your address and I’ll be there.
After sending Tillie my address, I look back up to Tatum. “She’ll get dropped off after school.”
“Back to my questions. Who is Tillie, and is she single?”
I throw a carrot stick at Nate and then go back to eating whatever is left on my plate. My eyes fall on Brantley, who has gone from scowling at me to flat out ignoring me, and then drift down to the rest of the guys, who seem to be eating and conducting small talk among themselves. My eyes eventually fall on Bishop... and... he’s staring at me again.
“You know,” I whisper, inching toward him with a teasing grin, “it’s rude to stare.”
He clenches his jaw, his eyes and face hard and unfazed. Then his mouth tips as he leans forward until his lips are a mere breath away from mine. “You know,” he whispers back, cocking his head, “I think you know how poor my manners are.”
I look from his eyes, down to his mouth, and then back to his eyes. Narrowing my glare, I slide out of my seat.
“Oh, come on, kitty,” Bishop taunts as I walk toward the trash can, dumping the rest of my food. “I know how you like games.”
I
flip him off over my shoulder and walk toward the girls’ side of the school, Tatum quickly catching up to me breathlessly.
“What the ever-loving fuck is going on with you and Bishop?” she asks loudly, gaining the attention of Ally and Lauren, who are stashing their books into their lockers.
“Shh!” I scold her, walking toward my next class. “I’ll tell you later.”
She stops, letting me carry on my walk toward my next subject alone. “You better!” she yells to my back.
I look down at my watch, seeing I still have some time to burn, so I decide to take a detour to the library. I haven’t checked it out yet, but it has been on my list of things to do.
Pushing open the double doors, I walk into the smell of worn paper, sound knowledge, and history, and it instantly warms my heart. Pulling in a deep breath, I close my eyes and exhale softly, unleashing any bad juju I had by leaving it at the library’s door. There’s just something magical about a library. It’s like a portal to many different worlds. We have one ready to be set up at home. My dad at least made sure to get a house with a library in it, so all I have to do is fill it and furnish the place. I’m sure I could do it anytime I want, with my dad’s little plastic friend, but I want to make sure we really are staying here before I put down roots like that, and also without getting too attached. I’ve never let myself get too attached or too comfortable with where we have been, because I’ve been afraid. Afraid, because anytime I start getting comfortable, Dad would uproot our life and we’d be moving somewhere else. Do I know what Dad does for work? I mean, we all knew he is wealthy and came from old oil money, but he also has shares in different establishments, not only in the United States but in Europe as well. Money has never been an issue for me, but having an actual home has.
After giving the librarian a polite wave, I head toward a dark, cozy corner tucked away behind History. After dropping my bag to the table that sits in front of the plush LazyBoy, I start on my trek of finding something to humor me for the remainder of lunch. After doing big circles around, I find myself down the Historical Folklore aisle.
Tilting my head, my eyes run over all the worn brown spines until I’m drawn to one with a circle symbol on. I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s familiar. I just can’t pinpoint anything I have ever seen before. Slipping my finger on the top, I slide the heavy, long book out and carry it back to my seat. Crossing my legs underneath me, I run my fingertips over the cover of the book. The embroidered circle emblem with a double infinity inside of it. So simple, yet so familiar.
Opening the cover, the title page reads, Secrets are weapons, and silence is the trigger. – V. S. H.
I read over that phrase a couple more times. So vague. With a roll of my eyes, I flip the page, skipping the table of contents.
1
The Calling.
The somber side of me knew what was to come. When I felt my baby’s first kick, I knew. Knowledge wasn’t one we liked to hold onto very well in our world, not when The Chosen go by facts alone, not knowledge. Impulse actions, not knowledge. Consequences be damned. My child was to be one of The Chosen. He would be one of the originals. This corrupt pact that Humphrey had begun was only the beginning for generations to come. The firstborn sons of each chosen family. Dirty, spilled blood would then be passed down on to their hands.
The Calling. This was the calling.
“Madison, is it?” The librarian looks down at me, and I snap the book closed as if I had done something wrong.
“Yes, sorry.”
She points down to her watch. “Lunch is over. It’s time to head to class.”
“Oh!” I gather up my bag. “Can I borrow this?”
She looks at me, the sides of her eyes crinkling. “Sorry, honey, that’s a part of the section we don’t allow to check out. You can come in and read it anytime you like, though.” I hand it to her, and she walks over and slides it back into its slot.
Damn. I really wanted to read the rest of that book and I don’t even know why. It’s not a genre I usually read, far away from dystopian or vampire romances, but I really want to read whatever the hell is in that book. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I nod. “Thanks.” And then I walk out of the library. As soon as the doors swing closed, I inhale my problems I had left at the door.
Great.
“SO SHE SAID SHE WOULD be here?” Tatum quizzes, rummaging through my closet with a bottle of Moet in her other hand. It’s 5:00 p.m. and she’s already started drinking. I fear she might be going to bed early tonight.
“Yes!” I hit my phone, dialing Tillie again. This time, she picks up.
“Sorry! I got caught up and I had to do....” She pauses, brushing me off. “Shit. I’m almost there.”
Hanging up my phone, I toss it onto the bed and buzz Sam to let her in as soon as she gets here, just in case we don’t hear her knock. Nate hasn’t come home, again, but he did text to say that they’ll be here soon to set up whatever it is they need to set up. My dad is going to kill us. I made it my duty, this time, to go around the house and put away any expensive items. Our house is still rather empty, even though Dad hired a few people to come out and unload boxes to make it more homey for me, which I’m used to. He’s never been a home parent; Sam practically raised me. Even when my mom was alive, they were both almost always away on business, and now that I look back on it, my mom probably followed him around like a lost puppy in hopes to keep him on a leash.
It’s true, my dad has never been one for commitment, and I’m surprised he hasn’t already found another mistress, but that side of him has never impacted me or how he parented me. Yes, he’s an absent parent, but I’m not bratty enough to give him a hard time about it. I’m well aware of his hard work and how I wouldn’t have the life I have if he didn’t. But if I’m honest, I always wondered what it would be like for my dad to be a middle-class working man. One who fishes on the weekends, is always home by 5:00 p.m., and watches the game on TV while tossing back a cold beer.
I stand to my feet, brushing off my pants, and walk into the closet to help Tatum find something to wear before she has a breakdown.
“Why don’t you just wear the dress you bought at the mall?”
“Because,” she whines, “I’m almost certain I’ve gained three pounds since then.”
“Tatum?”
“Yes?” She groans into her hands, looking all distressed. I almost laugh. Almost.
“That was two days ago. Not possible.”
“Maybe not for you.” She eyes me up and down.
“Hey!” I whack her with the back of my hand. “I’ll have you know that if I didn’t watch what I eat, I would be the size of a house. Dude—” I grab onto my hips. “—they jiggle a bit.”
She pouts, and then we both burst out laughing. “Well...,” she says, handing me the bottle of champagne, “let’s just do the alcohol diet.”
I take the bottle from her, slipping out of my skinny jeans and hoodie. “And what’s that diet?” I ask, standing in my bra and lace panties, bringing the rim to my mouth and tossing it back until the bubbles are enticing my taste buds.
She waves her hands, freaking out over a black sequin dress. “Well, we get so drunk that we no longer care about our weight.”
I laugh, taking another swig and pointing to the dress she’s holding and contemplating. “Deal. By the way, wear that dress.”
She nods and then spins to look me up and down. “By the way,” she mimics my tone, her eyes eating up my skin, “you have a fucking banging body, Madi. What the fuck?”
I turn beat red and change the subject. “Wear the dress.” I bring the wine back to my lips.
My bedroom door swings open, and I turn around with the bottle of wine pressed to my mouth, expecting Tillie to walk through.
It is Tillie. But she is not alone. Fuck.
“Holy shit!” Hunter gasps. Nate halts the door from opening any more, and then Bishop strolls in, his eyes licking all over my skin, making me feel even more naked
than what I already do.
I squeal, dropping to the ground and ducking behind my bed. “Oh my God! Everyone but Tillie, get the fuck out!”
Bishop watches me, his head tilting until his eyes twinkle in mischief.
“Hey!” I point at the door. “Get. Out!”
They leave, but not before Hunter halts, his fingers gripping the edge of the door. “Just for, you know, future reference, what were you two—”
Bishop drags him out of my room by the back of his collar, and Tillie slams the door in all their faces.
“Jesus,” I mumble, getting back to my feet. “Fucking pack of unruly wolves.” Tillie is still watching the door when I burst out laughing.
“Sorry about that. I should have warned you about my stepbrother and his pack of...” I pause, attempting to find the appropriate word for them. “Of exactly that—wolves.”
Tillie turns to me and smiles. “No problem at all.” She looks down my body. “But seriously, can I have your boobs, because mine are like tiny lemons compared to those scrumptious things.”
We all laugh as she steps in closer with her bag propped over her shoulder. “I’ll get ready here.”
I nod, handing her the bottle of wine. “As you can see... we are far from dressed.”
Tatum nudges my hip with hers. “Ignore Madi. She’s a little...” She circles her index finger up near her temple to emphasize my edginess. “...crazy, because she didn’t get to go shooting after school.”
“Shooting?” Tillie asks, pulling out some clothes from her backpack.
“It’s a sort of hobby of mine.” I smile at her, and she grins at me.
“That’s badass. I’d love to learn one day.”
My back straightens at the opportunity to find someone, a friend, who is maybe interested in something I do. I know Tatum and I have grown extremely close in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, despite my thinking we couldn’t be friends, but Tillie seems like the center of Tatum and me. Sort of like... a bit of each of us.
