my grandmother. One of them kisses her neck while the other cups her breasts. The final one tilts her chin to the side to kiss her lips. All of them are heavily muscular with chestnut brown hair and emerald green eyes. They look to be in their mid-twenties, younger than Nana by over forty years.
And they’re also butt ass naked.
“Not now, my pets,” Nana coos, slapping one of them on the ass. “I have my granddaughter over to visit me.”
“For fuck’s sake…” I curse, diverting my attention towards a hanging plant. Charles’s face is beet red as he focuses on his feet.
“I’ll just be...um...going...Miss Peony,” he stutters, finally raising his head to meet my gaze. There’s a question emitting in his eyes, one he doesn’t dare say out loud.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him softly, pulling him into a tight embrace. Fuck, I’m going to miss the old man. A lot. I might actually cry—which is an oddity by itself, considering the fact I haven’t cried since middle school.
“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers in my ear. “Anything at all. Someone to talk to. Someone to listen to you. Even just someone to raise your spirits.”
“I will,” I promise, rubbing his back.
With great reluctance, I force myself to step away from the man who has been more like a father to me than my own has. I’m stunned to see tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away before I can comment.
“I need to go back to your mother,” he announces, already turning back towards the sleek car still idling in the driveway. “Call me when you settle in.”
“Will do.” I lift my hand in a cheery wave as he begins to back out of the driveway. “Be safe!”
I watch him until he disappears in the twisting landscape of maples and oaks. The farther away he gets, the more it feels as if my heart is physically crumbling into thousands of pieces.
“I always liked Charles,” Nana says, seemingly oblivious to the men lathering her body with attention. With a roll of her eyes, she grips the hair of one of the men and pushes him away. He collapses onto his ass, eyes blinking rapidly as if coming out of a daze. “Enough. This isn’t appropriate behavior for my granddaughter to see.”
“You don’t fucking say,” I mumble.
“Ignore them,” Nana whispers conspiratorially. “They’re just a bunch of horny dogs.” Despite her crude words, she stares at them fondly, almost reverently. “That’s Polo, Christian, and Gabriel,” she introduces, gesturing to each one.
“Um...hi?” Because, really, how else am I supposed to greet my grandmother’s much younger boyfriends?
“Pleasure to meet you!” The one she introduced as Christian exclaims, extending a hand. All I can do is eye the proffered limb warily. Heaven only knows what he used it for.
“Peony,” I answer, lifting my suitcase helplessly in the air as an excuse not to shake his hand.
Polo, standing beside Christian, smiles warmly and offers me a nod, but Gabriel merely glares and grunts. Oh, boy.
“Let me show you your room.” Nana—in her usual dramatic fashion—sashays away from her lovers and towards a grand staircase situated in the center of the parlor. She pauses abruptly and raises one gray brow. “Are you coming?”
With a huff, I begin to trudge after her—ignoring Christian’s offer to carry my suitcase—and my eyes devour the ostentatious interior greedily.
The walls display a hint of color, now faded with time—ghostly mosaics and shredded paintings propped over the pale, orchid-colored walls. Tall marble vases dot the ceramic-tiled floor, each holding clenched buds withering in their bug-riddled refuse and overgrown grass. A five-tiered chandelier hangs from the ceiling, covered in a fine layer of dust. From what I can see, there are no televisions or any modern electronic appliances.
There better be a fucking coffee maker, or else I’m going to riot.
Nana continues to lead me up the stairs until we reach a ladder leading to an attic, already pulled down. I eye the dark hole in trepidation, memories once more coming to the forefront of my mind.
The steel walls of the locker seemed to steadily be shrinking like a vise. Each breath I took had my chest constricting. My hands brushed the cold door, currently locked shut.
“Please let me out,” I sobbed, pounding my fists against the steel. Through the slates, I could see their grinning faces, nothing but mirth and wicked excitement reflected back at me.
Shaking my head, I reluctantly follow Nana up the ladder, the wood in desperate need of sandpapering.
“Home sweet home!” Nana cheers once my head finally breaches the hole. She’s standing in the center of the desolate room, a wide, enigmatic smile on her face. “Well? What do you think?”
I think…
That this is going to be a long fucking school year.
You can tell that Nana and her men at least tried to clean it, but I still catch a myriad of spider webs hanging from the low rafters. It’s a large space, at least horizontally, though there are some sections where I’ll need to duck down in order to get by. A single triangular window rests against the similarly shaped wall. Ambient sunlight pours through, mixing its light with the single bulb hanging from the wooden ceiling. There’s a bed directly beneath the window with fresh blankets and pillows. Besides that, there’s nothing but a dresser, desk, and nightstand. It’s cute and practical, but not necessarily homey.
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’ll go: 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. Without another word, she perches herself on the edge of the hole, and, forgoing the ladder, jumps into one of her men’s arms.
Honestly, I don’t know if I want to be 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. There’s a single lock clasped at the front, 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. The four of them are posing 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 had 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, 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 darkly.
Come hell or highwater, the Kings of High Groves High School will pay.
CHARMING DEVILS