Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,90
hundred years to the mansion of a governor or someone equally as grand. Two spiraling staircases lead to a second-floor balcony that overlooks the lobby below. In the direct center of the room, basking in the light of the chandelier, is an assortment of old-fashioned, high-backed chairs that could’ve been plucked straight from an antique store or an estate sale. They sit comfortably on a circular, cashmere rug embroidered with intricate golden strands. There’s a grand piano as well, directly adjacent to a waterfall spewing multi-colored lights. As I watch, transfixed, the light changes from a light green to a brilliant purple and then to a dusky blue.
I have no idea how Kastros was able to convince the school to pay for all of this, especially after we had tryouts to limit the number of kids who could come. But then again, he’s a scary motherfucker when he needs to be.
At some point during the drive, the car holding Akor, Van, Zolroth, and Adam fell slightly behind. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Akor decided to impulsively take Adam to see the biggest ball of yarn in the continental United States. I think I read that’s in Kansas…about six hours away from our hotel.
“Alright!” Raz claps his hands together as he glowers down at us. And when I say “down,” I mean it. He quite literally towers over even the tallest person—which is William, by the way, followed shortly by Wade and then Darrel. “We’re going to check you all into rooms. Stay here, and stay out of trouble.” He directs the last statement with a pointed look in my direction. If I’m not mistaken, his scowl deepens even more, especially when his eyes flick to William chatting with Tim.
Kastros scowls as well, folding his huge arms over his even bigger chest, before stalking towards the reception desk. Raz, after a lingering look at me, follows after his friend.
The others all but collapse where we stand, dropping to the ground or perching on their luggage. I’m just about to do the same when I feel a skeletal hand squeezing down on my shoulder. Her acrylic nails would be easy to spot anywhere, painted a dark blood red. Janie sneers down at me before quickly plastering on a tight-lipped smile.
“Katrina,” she coos, her voice saccharine sweet while simultaneously dripping with menace. It’s like a pretty-colored acid that cascades across your skin, leaving nothing behind but bones and guts. “We need to talk.”
“Not without a witness,” I blurt before I can stop myself. Her eyes flash, and her grip tightens to the point of pain as she glares at me.
“Now, please.” She practically yanks my arm out of the socket as she drags me away from the group and towards a hallway housing the public restrooms.
And a perfect place to murder me without anyone there to see it…or stop it.
When she reaches the end of the hall, she releases me like my skin is toxic and spins on her heel. A glower mars a face that would be beautiful if it wasn’t currently twisted into an imperious, haughty death stare.
“Stay away from William,” she hisses.
“Excuse me?” I physically stumble back a step as if her words are a blow to my chest.
“You heard me, bitch. Stay away from my man.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t you have enough guys fawning over you?” She sneers at me like I’m nothing more than a bug beneath her shoe. How is it possible that she makes me feel so small with one look? “I mean, seriously,” she continues on, pacing, “you have Zolroth so desperately in love with you that he doesn’t see other girls. And the teacher—Kastros? Are you fucking him too? Even that gym teacher can’t stop staring at you throughout class. And I saw the counselor watching you when you weren’t looking in the hallway. Is your vagina golden or something? It’s not fucking fair! Why do you get all of them?”
Her words send my head into a tailspin as I blink rapidly at her. In love with me? What? She’s obviously delusional, her jealousy blinding her from the truth, making her see things that aren’t there.
“Janie,” I begin, attempting to place a hand on her arm. Honestly, I don’t even know why. For reasons I can’t fathom, I feel the irrational need to comfort her. There’s real pain in her eyes that not even her anger towards me can obscure. “I’m—”
“Don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry,” she snaps, pausing her pacing so I’m gifted the full