AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That’s a nice thought, Mackenzie. But it doesn’t matter.” She wrings her hands. “I can’t go on like this. If I hadn’t seen Eli at that audition, I’d have run into Bertram St. James on Vault’s opening night, or Alec LeMarque demanding a lap dance in a VIP room. I have to face up to…” she shudders. “To what’s coming. I’ll quit Stonehurst on Monday, before I’m forced to leave.”
“You’re not quitting Stonehurst,” I growl. “And you’re not going back to Nero. You’re staying here with us.”
Her eyes widen. “How do you know Nero? Why was Elias Hart at his club? You can’t get mixed up with that man. He’s dangerous. He—”
“We know exactly who he is,” Claudia says. “And that’s why we’re going to make sure he never hurts you again.”
“That’s very nice of you, but there’s nothing anyone can do.” She tugs the hoodie down over her legs, hiding away her skin as she shrinks into herself. Claudia’s mouth twists at the edge. She gets that look when she’s retreating into her memories. I know she’s thinking about Brutus’ assault. My fingers curl into fists. I know the guy is dead, but I want a magic spell to bring him back to life so I can murder him all over again – nice and slow and sober this time, so he can feel everything.
Claudia slides out of her chair and sits down between Ms. Drysdale and me, gathering her teacher into her arms. Ms. Drysdale’s body stiffens for a moment – this is a weird reversal of roles for all of us – but then she relaxes into Claudia. Her ragged breath brushes my shoulder.
“I’ll pay.”
The certainty of the voice startles me. I glance up at Gabriel, who leans against the doorframe, his arms filled with bags of potato chips and candy.
He nods to Ms. Drysdale. “Whatever you owe that bastard, I’ll pay it.”
“H-h-how do you know about the debt?” Her voice chokes with panic.
Claudia exchanges a look with me. She wants to tell the truth. I shake my head. She frowns. “I overheard you talking with Nero at school.”
“Great. I didn’t think it’s possible to feel more humiliated, but I was wrong.” Ms. Drysdale doesn’t look up from her knees. “You’re kind, Gabriel, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I didn’t hear you ask, but I’m doing it anyway.” He sets the food down on the coffee table and leans over, his hand touching her cheek. His eyes search her face, and she looks up at him. Gabriel has that power over women. “Unlike these trust fund brats, I have my own money, more than I know what to do with. No one is looking over my shoulder at what I spend it on. I was probably just going to buy Lars Ulrich’s art gallery, anyway. This is a much more sensible use of funds, and Claudia is always after me to be more responsible.”
“Who’s Claudia?”
Shit. Gabriel looks away. “Fuck.”
“No, don’t apologize.” She rubs Ms. Drysdale’s back. “You’re trying to do a beautiful thing. It’s not your fault she’s caught up in all this.”
“It’s not your fault, either,” I remind her.
Those icicle eyes bore into me, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. She looks at me the way I used to look at myself after we buried Mom and Felix, when the injustice of it burned in my veins, when my father and I clashed over every word because we both believed the wrong son was dead. Because I wanted to hate myself and I wanted him to reach through my grief and drag me back to him.
Claudia blames herself. Nothing I say will change that. She knows that paying Ms. Drysdale’s debts won’t stop Nero’s games. She wants to preserve the innocence of Mackenzie’s last lie – that she and Ms. Drysdale are teacher and student and nothing more.
I know that if Antony were in the room right now, he’d haul her outside on her ass to stop her from pulling another innocent fly into our tangled web.
But Antony’s not here, and all I see is my girl tying her tongue in knots trying to keep a secret that won’t save any of us. Not anymore. Mackenzie Malloy doesn’t have the power to help Ms. Drysdale, but Claudia August does.
I untuck Claudia’s hand from the blankets and lace my fingers in hers. “Buckle up, Ms. Drysdale, because this is one wild story.”
Claudia
“I promise it doesn’t hurt.”
I stick out my tongue. “Liar.”
Tiberius can’t help grinning as he lays out the pieces of the tattoo machine on the dining room table, although the grin might have something to do with Ms. Drysdale curled up on the couch opposite us, reading a book while Queen Boudica makes herself comfortable in her hair. We told Ms. Drysdale everything (well, the Reader’s Digest version. I left out the trail of bodies we’ve left behind us. History is written by the winners and all that). She hasn’t run away or called the police, and she spent most of last night drinking a line of Gabriel’s signature gin and tonics while Tiberius massaged her feet, so I guess she’s one of us now.
Tiberius tears his eyes away from her and holds the gun up to my wrist. I flinch my hand away.
“Relax. It won’t hurt more than a scratch from that kitten of yours.”
“Meow.” Queen Boudica stops clearing between her toes long enough to admonish him.
“It’s not the pain I’m worried about.” I can’t help but glance at the illegible scrawls over Tiberius’ bicep. “It’s your artistic ability.”
