The way he said it, we all knew the truth. Faye de Winter was anything but mediocre. That was why she had to go.
“We’re going to have to perform with her in ensembles.” Titus was talking himself into action. He needed to believe the lie – and he’d tell himself these fairy tales until they became facts in his mind. “She’s going to drag down the reputation of the entire school, if Madame Usher bringing her here hasn’t achieved that already.”
“It won’t come to that.” Dorien’s eyes fixed on the ceiling. He made a good show of pretending he didn’t care, but that haunted look in his eyes gave him away – it was the same look he got when he sat down at the piano, when the music took him over, and it was the reason women flocked to him more than us. Faye de Winter had got under Dorien’s skin, and that in itself was interesting. “We need to get rid of her.”
I shook his head. ‘Why bother? She’ll eliminate herself with her masterful grasp of Vivaldi.”
Titus laughed. Dorien did not.
“It’s her first day. It’s probably nerves.” Dorien waved a dusty glass bottle in front of my face. “And the syrup of ipecac I put in her wine.”
“The what?”
“It’s this stuff the Victorians used to use if someone was poisoned to induce vomiting. Clare found all these strange old bottles in the chest in her room. I kept this one – thought it might come in handy one day.”
Titus clapped Dorien on the back as he passed the joint back to me. “You’re such a shit. No wonder she ran away so fast.”
“That’s fucking hilarious.”Dorien is dangerous. Right now he’s on your side, but never forget he could do that to Elena if you cross him.
“It was Heather’s idea, and we’ve got a ton more where that came from. We’ll make sure Faye leaves Manderley by the end of the semester. Nothing will come back to us.” Dorien sat up again, grabbing the joint from Titus and hanging it from his lips. “This is our territory. We’re invincible.”
Invincible.I used to believe that. The three of us playing sold-out shows in London, Vienna, Berlin, the press dubbing us The Bad Boys of Baroque and unwittingly showering us in a mountain of beautiful women, the promise of bigger and brighter things to come. I’d sure felt invincible then, but then Dorien and I fucked it all up, and now we were all prisoners.
“Here’s what Heather and I decided. No one is to talk to her. Don’t acknowledge her. Don’t insult her. Just act like she isn’t there.”
“Wait, why is Heather in on this?” I glared at Dorien.
He looked away. “Drop it, Nicolescu. She’s got a stake in this, too. She’ll keep your precious hands clean for Elena. As far as you’re concerned, Faye’s ghosted. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Dorien’s wrath was one thing. Dorien making plans with Heather and not sharing with us? A shiver ran down my spine.
Faye de Winter better watch out, Dorien had her in his sights – he planned to enjoy toying with her, and the Prince of Darkness liked to break his toys.
Chapter Ten
Faye
After another excruciating meal with the students, during which they all acted like I didn’t exist, I slumped back to my room. My stomach and throat still burned from whatever Dorien put in my wine, and I barely picked at my food. As soon as I could excuse myself, I loaded the dishwasher and escaped to my room.
The stuffy air in the attic clung to my clothes. I pushed open the window to let a fresh breeze circulate. Voices and laughter rushed up to greet me. I peered down to see the students gathered around a table at the edge of the garden. Heather looked up and saw me. Her nose turned up as though I gave off a bad smell. Sighing, I stepped away from the window, flung my clothes on a chair and collapsed on the bed in my panties, letting the breeze brush my clammy skin.
The stomach cramps had mostly subsided, replaced by a dull ache. Whatever Dorien had slipped me in the wine, it seemed like I’d be better in the morning. But if they were spiking my wine on the first day, what fresh horror would wait for me tomorrow?
I pulled my phone from my purse and I was halfway through a text to Mom when I remembered, she wouldn’t answer because she was in a coma. My beautiful, vibrant mother who’d brought grown men to their knees in the boardroom and on the dance floor had been felled by some mysterious illness, and I had no one left to talk to. It didn’t seem as though I was going to make any friends at this school.
Instead, I rang the hospital and checked in with the nurse on duty. She’d been settled in okay – Madame Usher had been as good as her word and moved Mom to their best room. There was no change to her condition.
I scrolled through my contacts list, looking for someone to call. I had a few friends I’d hung out with in high school, mostly fellow music students, but I’d ghosted them when Mom got sick. Amelia moved to Boston to study architecture, and John was backpacking across Europe. I’d seen their pictures on Facebook, but we didn’t really talk anymore. I had my excuse, but I was still a shit friend. I hadn’t been there for them at all since school finished, and I couldn’t call them now when I needed them.
Fuck it. I tossed my phone on the bed in disgust. I was Marguerite de Winter’s daughter. I could handle a few rich dickweasels.
I rolled over and picked up the battered paperback I’d shoved in my bag for the drive. It was this reverse harem romance set in a creepy gothic school called Miskatonic Prep. The main character, Hazel, is bullied by three rich kings of the school, but she holds her own and there’s something about her that’s not 100% normal—
Creak.
I jerked my head up at the noise. “Hello?”
Creak, creak, creaaaaak.
