Still, it’s better than what it could be, and I know better than to take little things like housing for granted.
“I love it. Thank you, Nana,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her waist. She startles in surprise, a soft noise escaping, before she hugs me back just as fiercely.
“I missed you, kiddo.”
“I missed you too.”
I don’t know how long we stay that way, but it’s long enough for Gabriel to clear his throat from down below. At least, I’m assuming it’s Gabriel. He seems like an asshole.
“Well…” Nana steps away and fidgets with the tie on her bathrobe. “I’ll let you settle in for a bit. Is there anything else you need? Anything at all?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I reply, my mind already elsewhere. At this point, there’s really only one location it wanders—to them.
“Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Polo is a great cook. Absolutely divine. If you don’t need anything else…”
“Get back to your boyfriends, Nana. I’ll be fine,” I assure her, my eyes latched on the immense trunk sitting at the foot of my bed.
“I love you, sweet girl. Always remember that.” With a tenderness I’m not used to seeing, let alone experiencing, she kisses my forehead. She trots over to perch herself at the edge of the hole and, forgoing the ladder, jumps into one of her men’s arms.
Honestly, I don’t know if I’m disgusted or proud of her relationship with three significantly younger men. I suppose that I should be happy for her. Love is love, after all, and they’re four consenting adults.
But damn, if it isn’t strange to see my nana getting her rocks off with three men only a few years older than me.
Once more shaking my head, I drop to my knees in front of the ancient chest before me. The black paint is chipped and turning a rustic red with age. A single lock secures the contents, a green tint surrounding it.
Licking my lower lip, I open my palm and aim my hand at the lock. The entire chest begins to vibrate as I push my magic into it with the intensity of a lightning bolt. After a moment, the lock drops to the ground with an audible clank and the lid flies open.
I peer inside at the contents, a wicked grin pulling up my lips. The first thing I see is a picture, freshly printed. My four tormentors pose for the camera, scowls marring their hideously handsome faces. With the pad of my thumb, I trace their features before pulling my hand away as if their pictures alone are poisonous.
“School starts tomorrow, boys,” I say darkly, removing object after object from my chest. Newspaper clippings. Photographs. Needles. An ancient spellbook. And then, finally, the four dolls I made just the month before. They almost resemble gingerbread cookies in shape, the brown fabric pulled tight over stuffing. Simple black buttons make up their eyes.
But wrapped around each of their necks, distinguishing one from another, are four different colors of hair. Red on one. Blond on another. Black on the third. Brown and purple on the final one.
“Let the games begin,” I whisper under my breath.
Come hell or highwater, the Devils of High Groves High School will pay.
Chapter 2
I wake up early on the first day of school, sliding out from beneath my covers and stretching my taut muscles. It’s still dark outside, the moon a tiny crescent shape in the velvety black sky.
Jumping to my feet, I make quick work of brushing through my white blonde hair. I debate whether or not I want to place it in a ponytail before deciding to leave it down. Nana has hung my dresses from one of the lowest rafters, and I quickly grab a long-sleeved black number with a sweetheart neckline. A splash of pink lipstick and some blush on my cheeks complete the look. As I gaze at myself in the mirror over the dresser, I can’t help but compare myself to the old me, the younger me.
I’m still the exact same but…different. I barely recognize the girl staring back at me. The only thing that has remained consistent is my amber eyes, burning like the flames of hell flicker within their depths. They were one of the many things that the students of High Groves Middle School bullied me for.
Freak, they said. Ugly. Unnatural.
For the longest time, those words would cut deep, flaying me open until I stood unloved and unwanted amidst a sea of monsters. But now, they ricochet off my skin, off my armor. I’m stronger because their taunts made me this way. You can only truly understand joy once you’ve experienced immeasurable pain.
Steeling myself, I blow a kiss at my reflection before grabbing my backpack off the ground.
Polo moving about the kitchen surprises me when I stop there to grab a quick breakfast to go. The smell of bacon sizzling on the stove assaults my senses first, followed immediately by the enticing, addictive scent of coffee brewing.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe, gliding towards the pot.
“Cardinal told us you were a coffee addict,” Polo says lightly, scooping eggs and then a few pieces of bacon onto a plate. He slides it across the counter until it rests in front of me. “Gabriel went to pick it up last night.”
“Oh,” I murmur, suddenly feeling awkward. Still, I can’t deny the relief I feel at having the cup of liquid gold in front of me. Fuck, I have an entire arsenal of cheesy nicknames for coffee. Pretty sure I wrote an entire journal of them. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen is modern with granite countertops and top-of-the-line steel appliances. I half wonder if Nana bought all of these supplies when she discovered I would be staying with her. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least, if I’m being honest with myself.
“We wanted to,” Polo says firmly. Silence ensues as I sip from my mug and dig into the fluffy scrambled eggs. Nana is right—Polo cooks like a god.
When the man in question begins to wring his hands, I realize he wants to say more.
“Yeah?” I ask, quirking a silvery white eyebrow.
“I know this is weird for you,” he blurts out, and I gift him with a dry look. He gulps once before stubbornly forging on ahead. Man has balls, I’ll give him that. “We all just want you to feel comfortable. I know it’s not conventional… Okay, listen. We love your nana, and she loves us. It’s weird, I know, and not just because of our age difference. Though, technically, it’s not as much as you believe. We want you to feel comfortable here with us. We want to be a part of your life in any way you’ll allow us to.”
That’s just a whole bunch of nopes. Honestly, I can’t deal with this—them—now. What my nana does is entirely up to her, but I can’t say it’s not fucking weird.
“It’s fine,” I say evenly, when it appears as if Polo is still waiting for a response. “Just…just don’t let me see anything, okay? Like when she answered the door.”
Because yeah, the image of Christian groping my grandma is forever burned into my retinas. I might actually need bleach for that, thank you very much.
Polo has the decency to appear sheepish.
“Sorry. That’ll never happen again. It’s just…Cardinal had just finished a spell…” He trails off again, raking his fingers through his brown hair.
I lift up a hand to stop him from speaking. “Say no more.” Please, for the love of all that’s dark and gloomy, say no fucking more.