Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,143
whispers against my ear. I shiver, but I pretend it’s because of the frosty autumn air and not his voice. Maybe we both know that's a lie?
The limo stands out in the weed-ridden gravel where the rest of the partygoers' cars are parked, but it's definitely not the nicest car here. There are Lambos, Ferraris, and Maseratis, but then there are also Altimas, Mustangs, and Camrys next to the rusted-out shitboxes that belong to the kids at Prescott. Here and there I spot a vintage beauty that reminds of Hael's Camaro; it's sort of a thing at Prescott to fix up old cars.
“Everyone's here,” I remark, studying the mixed bag of vehicles. “From Oak Valley Prep to Fuller High to good ol’ Prescott.”
“Everyone’s here,” Aaron confirms, but he doesn't sound near as excited as Hael or Callum or even Vic. He doesn't want a confrontation tonight. Pretty sure he's the only member of Havoc that doesn't though.
We head for the open front doors, the music booming out into the cold, dark night. Several students are gathered around outside, smoking joints or snorting coke. They watch us carefully, warily, like a pack of coyotes might study a pack of wolves. We're all predators, but they know if they make the wrong move, we'll tear them apart and spatter the frosty forest floor with their blood.
Inside, the old mansion is a crumbling mess. Doors are missing, wallpaper is peeling, and the floor is made up of chipped and broken tiles. Stacey and her girls have worked their magic though, filling the place with Halloween décor that they probably stole from Hobby Lobby or some shit. There are tall vases filled with fake black roses, black and purple streamers, and some animatronic ghoulies that are probably worth a fortune. Yep, definitely looking at a lot of stolen loot in here.
I blink through the green and white strobe lights, and the sea of low-lying fog from the half-dozen fog machines in the corners.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see all five boys waiting behind me in a loose ‘V’ formation with—aptly enough—Victor at the head. They’re all holding their black bats, trench coats fluttering in the breeze. Hael’s bat is dragging on the floor as he throws back another mouthful of vodka and passes the bottle to Aaron. His bat is strapped to his back as he smokes with one hand and drinks with the other. Callum has his slung over his shoulder while Oscar clutches the base of the bat in one hand and balances the end in his palm. Victor puts the end of his on the floor directly in front of him and folds both hands together on the base.
The entire room takes a breath when we walk in, and even though it’s hard as hell to see in here, I know everybody’s looking.
“You like what you see?” Stacey asks, appearing on my left side in a sleek white dress, pointed black fingernails, and a ghostly gray wig. Her face is painted into the perfect mix of macabre and elegant, but I have no idea what she's supposed to be. She is, however, wearing a very pretty and very expensive tiara on her head. The Langford girls have been busy lately, I see. It takes a lot of work to pinch something that nice. “We've thrown the party in Havoc's honor.”
“Smart,” Vic says from behind me, his indomitable presence a sensation I can’t ignore. “You know how to pick the winning side, don't you, Stacey?”
“Always,” she says, her black painted lips curving into a smirk. “Can we offer you something to drink? Eat? Smoke? Snort?”
“Nah, we’re good,” Vic says, lifting up the black vodka bottle and taking a swig. He passes it to me, so I can do the same, and then puts one big, skeleton-patterned hand on my shoulder. His breath teases my ear as he leans in. “Stay close tonight, babe.”
I shrug his hand off. I can take care of myself, but I’m also not stupid. My eyes scan the room for any signs of Mitch’s crew as I take a huge drink of the vodka. My head begins to swim with the kiss of alcohol as my gaze sweeps the grinding bodies of dancing students. The rest of the Havoc Boys clear paths through the crowd, looking for trouble.
The costumes tonight run the gamut, from the usual—vampires, serial killers, slutty nurses—to the unusual, like the girl in the red wig who’s dressed up like Yona from a reverse harem