Angry God

“Finish the fucking sentence.” I loathed myself for giving her yet more power by wanting to know what she had to say.

“Our arrangement is over. Don’t come to my room. Don’t talk to me if you see me in the hallway. Stay out of my business. We’re done. And you never asked me—I know, I know, not that you care.” I heard the whine of the ancient door opening, and Len took a step out. “—if I believe in ghosts, too. But here’s your answer: I do, for the exact same reason you do. I don’t believe in literal ghosts, but I believe our past unleashes dog-shaped demons upon us, and they chase us, and that’s what keeps us running. Moving. Living.”

I said nothing, not really in the mood to correct her and tell her I hadn’t asked whether she believed in ghosts or not because I knew the answer already. It was what made her presence bearable. When we were in a room together, all our ghosts were waiting on the other side of the door. I could hear them.

“My ghost is my mum. I lost her when I was very young, and I vowed to never love someone as much as I loved her, so I wouldn’t have to go through the pain of losing them, too. Losing her almost broke me. But because I don’t get attached to people, I wasn’t scared to get in bed with the devil himself. I finally realized I can’t fall in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I should give you the time of the day,” she paused.

I could make out the shape of her head as she shook it.

“As it happens, I really shouldn’t. Now, take me to my room and lock my door after you. I don’t want to see my father.”

I did as I was told.

I left her with a bottle of water, two Advils, and a scowl.

“Goodbye, Spencer,” she said, watching from her bed as I locked her door and slipped the key back into her room, protecting her from myself.

Yeah, good fucking riddance.

The boy snored softly when I entered his room.

He was in the upper bunk bed, in the boys’ dorms on the third floor. The lower one hadn’t been occupied, so I guessed his roommate was hooking up somewhere. It was embarrassingly easy to find him. Fairhurst kept his name on his phone’s contact list along with a picture of him, the sloppy fucker, and I had access to every single detail on Fairhurst’s phone now, thanks to The Fixer.

I was feeling a little unhinged and a lot trigger-happy from my encounter with Len earlier tonight, but I doubted it was the reason I nearly tore the boy’s head from his spine when I clawed at his throat and brought his face down to mine. I wore a hoodie, a black ball cap, and a black bandana on my lower face.

His eyes popped open in the dark, frightened, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Out,” I hissed.

I wasn’t hot on using too many words. He wasn’t supposed to pick up on the American accent. I squeezed the back of his neck, bringing my point home. He nodded frantically, jumping to the floor with a thud and grabbing a hoodie from the back of his chair by his desk. He slipped into his slides, then waited for instructions. I poked my knife into his back from behind and opened the door for him, forever the fucking gentleman. Once we were out in the hallway, I followed closely behind him. Four in the morning or not, there was little room for error.

We took the stairway up to the fourth floor, to Fairhurst’s bedroom. I knew he was staying in London tonight because he’d said as much after I got back downstairs from Lenora’s room and made excuses for her. Edgar had looked wrecked, Arabella triumphant, and Poppy was bawling. Harry said he’d deposit Lenora’s present at her door and take her to dinner when she was feeling better.

Inwardly, I told him I’d die a thousand deaths before I let them spend one-on-one time together.

When the boy and I reached Harry’s room, I picked at the lock, broke in, and closed the door after us. I opened the double doors of Harry’s walk-in closet and motioned for the kid to get in.

“G-get into the closet?” he stammered, rubbing at his arms. It wasn’t even cold.

I nodded curtly.

“W-what will you do to me? I’m just…I’m not… We’re not together or anything like that. I didn’t know he had a boyfriend. He was just a pull.”

Sure. That’s why he was here. Because I wanted Fairhurst’s cock all to myself.

“In,” I snapped, poking the knife in the guy’s throat.

He scurried into the closet, turning around and looking at me expectantly. I knew he was a senior. I knew his name was Dominic Maples, that he was originally from Edinburgh, that he’d been fucking Fairhurst for a year now, since before he was legal. Of course, dangling it in my enemy’s face was futile at this point.