“That shit is crazy,” I breathed a laugh, but Mila didn’t return it.
“There might only be three of them, but Saint, Kyan and Blake act like they really are the Night Keepers of Everlake. They’ve even laid claim to the sacred stone down at Sycamore Beach.”
“What stone?” I frowned.
“Its this huge obelisk in the sand; its carved with markings of the Kotari tribe and tells the story of the Night People and how the Keepers came to save them. The legend says…” she dropped her voice an octave. “Anyone who dares touch the sacred stone will have their soul bound to the Night Keepers for the rest of time. They’ll be Night Bound.”
“How’s that different to the Unspeakables?” I narrowed my gaze.
“The Night Bound choose to be in servitude to the Keepers. They willingly sacrifice their soul to be everything and anything the Night Keepers desire. Forever.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “So what happens when someone touches it?”
Mila shook her head. “No one has ever dared, Tatum,” she whispered. “The Unspeakables have it bad, but being Night Bound would be pure hell. Saint, Kyan and Blake don’t play nice. Everyone fears that stone like it’s a bomb waiting to go off.”
“Great. I’ll avoid the rock then,” I laughed. “Sounds like I should avoid those guys too.”
“No way. If you’re in with them, this whole year is gonna be the best one of your life. But if you’re not…” She shrugged.
“What? Do they sacrifice you to the Night People or something?” I snorted, but she looked at me deadly seriously like that was no joke.
“Worse, babe. Far fucking worse.”
“Come on, they can’t be that bad. Blake seemed like a nice guy to me.”
She laughed like I was insane. “Calling him nice is like calling the devil pretty. If you’re on his shit list, he’s got a heart more vicious than a butcher’s. Though the fresh meat he likes the taste of isn’t cow, it’s human.”
I laughed in denial, breaking off another piece of chocolate. What she said did not add up with the friendly guy who’d just led me here. Sure, I could tell he thought he was the shit. But I couldn’t imagine him being cruel to someone. Then again, apparently I was a terrible judge of character.
“I guess I’d better be his friend then,” I said with a smirk and Mila laughed.
“Lucky for you, I already am. So you just bought yourself a free ride, new girl.”
Tick, tick, tick.
That fucking clock was about to meet the grey brick walls which surrounded me with the force of a HGV colliding with a minivan.
Tick, tick, tick.
Every. Fucking. Day.
I lay still in the ice white, eight hundred thread count organic cotton sheets that surrounded me and fought the urge to grind my teeth to dust as I waited for six am to tick the fuck around. This was the worst time of the day. When the rage which lived within me had spent the night feasting on my blackened soul and dragging up the things that fed it.
I slept in a bed that cost more than some cars, in sheets which were hand woven and changed daily, in my own private temple with the most picturesque view imaginable, and it didn’t make a bit of difference. I hadn’t slept through the night in…ever.
The mellow sound of Debussy’s Clair de Lune finally spilled forth from the speakers hidden behind my headboard and I exhaled slowly as I opened my eyes.
The vaulted roof of the church I’d claimed for my own personal quarters opened out above me, the thick beams of the rafters tapering up towards the heavens. They said money couldn’t buy you everything, but I sure as shit in a diaper hadn’t found much it couldn’t. I’d taken one look at the dorm they’d allocated me when I arrived here and told them fuck no. I wasn’t sharing a room with anyone. I wasn’t sharing walls with anyone either.
And when my family had threatened to remove me – and their contributions – from the school, Headmaster Brown had come up with the solution. This church had fallen into disrepair and was in serious need of a makeover. With a donation or three from my parents, this place had been ready within the week.
And really, an old church was the perfect place for a Saint to live, although the people who worshiped at my altar didn’t tend to be the pious types. But I gladly took service from girls on their knees five times a week all the same. Though not here. Never here.
The Temple was my safe haven. No one crossed this threshold aside from me and the other Night Keepers. And my personal maid, Rebecca, but she came and went like a ghost whenever I wasn’t here so I liked to pretend the place just kept itself spotless and ignore her existence.
I sat up, running a hand through my tightly curling hair as I looked out of the enormous stained glass window on the far side of the church which was in the shape of a crucifix. My bedroom was on the balcony level of the old church and wooden railings sat beyond the foot of my bed where I could look down at the level below.
The classical music washed over me and I took another deep breath. And another. My morning ritual had been this way for as long as I could remember.
I waited for six am then I worked on rebuilding the carefully constructed walls I kept up around my heart and soul at all times.
As the song came to an end, I slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants as I moved toward the edge of the balcony.
Blake and Kyan had beds here too. Their rooms were downstairs, to the back of the building and they slept here unless they found a girl to fuck. Then they went somewhere else, anywhere else, I didn’t care where so long as my sanctuary stayed untarnished.
I leaned my forearms on the wooden bannister and looked down into the open living area below. The huge room was decorated in grey tones which screamed man cave. There wasn’t so much as a scatter cushion or scented candle in sight, and that was the way I liked it.
Kyan was sprawled out on the five seater couch like a fucking animal. His dark brown hair fell loose around his face and he’d pulled his shirt off to reveal the myriad of tattoos covering his skin. His black jeans were unbuckled and his hand was stuffed inside them, firmly cupping his junk as he slept.
I’d told him more times than I could count not to fall asleep on the fucking couch, but did he give a shit? Not one. Not even a fucking rabbit dropping of a shit. If I didn’t know he’d welcome a brawl, I’d kick his ass for it, but the dude lived to fight so I’d only be rewarding his behaviour by giving him a beat down.
I bit my tongue and looked down at the dark skin of my chest where the black ink of one of my two tattoos curved over my pecs in swirling script. The days are long, but the nights are dark. And didn’t I fucking know it.
My other tattoo lay on the back of my neck, a tribal arrow with feathers hanging from it to mark me out as a Night Keeper. Blake and Kyan had their own marks too, each of our arrows slightly different but similar enough to be clearly linked. And with them on show on the backs of our necks at all times, it was clear to everyone else exactly who and what we were. Brothers bound in ink and sworn to each other in blood. We may not have been related, but they were the only two people in this world who I actually gave a damn about and so help anyone who ever tried to come between us.
I padded down the curving staircase on bare feet, eyeing Kyan irritably as I went.