it too.
“Why? Is that something to do with the Night People?” I breathed, hushed by the tension in the air.
Mila nodded. “Blake told you about them?”
“Yeah, but it’s just some legend, right?”
She swallowed thickly. “Yeah I guess…but those guys take it pretty seriously. And so does the rest of the school. The Night Keepers were four ruthless warriors, called upon to protect the Night People from the men who sought to claim this land. The myth says that they had hearts of stone and skin of iron. They built an army of nameless followers they called the Unspeakables.” Mila wet her lips, her eyes glittering and I couldn’t help but let the story infect me with its darkness. “But the Unspeakables weren’t just any men or women. They were traitors, liars, thieves and murderers. Anyone who had sought to hurt or betray the Night People. They were forced to do the Night Keepers’ bidding, stripped of their names and made to work in penance for their crimes until they were eventually absolved of their sins.”
“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