I inhale sharply, my hands fisting on my thighs.Fuck. Me.He touched her. He actually touched her. He has no fucking right to touch her.
Devil or no Devil, he’s fucking dead.
“When I woke up,” concludes Josh sheepishly, “I was in my bed, back at my parents’ house, as if he knew exactly where I live, which bedroom is mine, everything about me. It was kind of freaky. And… Piper was nowhere to be found.”
I jump up suddenly, and he draws back in fear, but I’m no longer thinking about killing him. I have more important matters at hand.
Matters like, killing a Devil founder.
I’m already in my soldier outfit: camo pants, combat boots, leather jacket. The hoodie beneath is mine, but I never take it off. And in the pocket of my jacket is my white mask. I grab a second gun for good measure, because it’s going to be a lot harder to kill a Devil founder than it will be to crush an insect.
“You’re… you’re already going?” squeaks out Josh. “Don’t we need, like, a plan? What are you doing?”
“No plan,” I grit out. “I’m off to take back what’s mine.”
I exit the room, slamming the door shut behind me, so he doesn’t see me mouth the words, “And then I’m going to kill her.”
34
Piper
Nineteen years old
Ilook around the room, feeling more than a little nervous.
This is the first time Quill has invited me down here. Usually, he goes out of his way to make sure I stay away from Devil Tower. But maybe he wanted to do something different for my birthday.
Well, my birthday just happens to be on Halloween, and he definitely couldn’t have picked a creepier spot.
I’m in the sub-sub basement level of the tower, clutching a badge that I received along with a printed-out invitation. All very weird and spooky, but then again, hedidsay he wanted to do something special tonight.
I gulp, staring at the dozens of masks staring back at me. The people in this dark lounge are disguised, masked too, and I wonder where Quill could be.
It feels like everyone’s eyes are on me. Like I’m not supposed to be here. What the hell is this place, anyway? It’s decked out for a party, and yet, there’s no music, no one is talking, no one is moving… as though they’re all just waiting.
Behind me, there’s sudden loud chattering, and I see a stream of girls walk in. They don’t seem to be wearing costumes, and I breathe a little easier, since I didn’t get dressed up either, and I was starting to feel pretty out of place. But unlike me, who’s wearing a prairie skirt and a knit sweater and definitelynotfeeling very sexy, the girls have very tight-fitting outfits on, mini skirts or barely-there dresses that hug their curves. Their hair isfake, their teeth are fake, their smiles are fake as each waltzes up to a different guy and starts to… uhm.
I avert my eyes, clearing my throat awkwardly. I’ve never been one to judge other women. If anything, I envy those who are confident to dress in revealing clothes, whereas I tend to wear what one of my bullies once called ‘frumpy middle-aged outfits’. Then my dozens of bullies morphed to just one in freshman year of high school, and Quill never seems to care what I wear. Especially since last year. I guess it doesn’t matter what outfit you wear to the guy who’s planning on removing it asap.
I can’t help but worry about the conclusions I’m drawing about the girls who’ve just walked in. Not that I’mjudgingthem, but I can’t shake the thought that they’re prostitutes.
There’s nothing wrong with that. But itdoesmake me feel even more awkwardly out of place than before, as I edge back, feeling like the world’s most hideously dressed wallflower.
Where the hell are you, Quill? Why did you invite me here? What is all this?
By now, the invitation card in my hand has gotten wrinkled and moist from the sweat on my palms rubbing off on it and the way I’ve been keeping a firm hold on it. My cell phone has no service down here, and I curse at it.
I’m wondering whether I should just leave—even though I don’t want Quill to think I’m a scaredy-cat—when I hear a voice I recognize.
“Hey, Glasses!”
Liam.
I haven’t forgotten the way he always used to look on with a leering grin on his face when Quill used to bully me in high school. But ever since I started going out with Quill, he’s kind of faded into the background. Quill doesn’t let either of his friends around me. In fact, he doesn’t allowanyonearound me.
He’s crazily possessive, but I like it.
Still, Liam being here must mean it’s alright. HeisQuill’s friend, after all. The pasty blonde guy nods at me, and I follow him away from the main room, breathing easier as we leave the stifling, creepy atmosphere of the place, and enter a small, empty room, in which there’s one queen bed, and nothing else.
