Malum part 2

Tillie

Sweat drips off my body as I kick the speed up to level 14 on the treadmill. My legs run at a pace that I didn’t even know they were capable of, my eyes going out the front glass windows. “Love Lies” is pulsing through the speakers that are set up in the gym. I left my headphones somewhere and it took me about twenty minutes to figure out how to work his flashy speakers. My thighs burn and my legs ache as I power through, the timer reading 1:34:09. An hour and a half of solid ru

Movement catches my eyes to the right, near a bush of flowers. I narrow my eyes, but only make out a bright contrast of white between bushes.

What the fuck was that?

It almost looked like…

“A ghost?” I yell, hitting the treadmill off. My feet stop ru

Not a ghost.

A girl.

I climb off the treadmill quickly, making my way to the glass window. Can she see me? She has the whitest hair I have ever seen in my life. It can’t be natural. She has a round, baby face, and a very, very, petite body. She’s wearing a white sundress that clings to her, while hanging off her all at the same time, and her hair looks to be in an intricate French braid, dangling delicately all the way down to her tail bone.

I tilt my head, but in an instant, her eyes snap up to me.

I still. Either entranced in her pure, i

“See a ghost?” Brantley asks from the doorway.

I jerk, turning my head over my shoulder slightly. “Maybe.” I shrug. “Who is that?”

He comes up beside me and I physically feel the air shift between us. When he doesn’t answer, I bring my eyes to him.

“Bran?”

His jaw clenches, his thick fists burying into his pockets. “Just a girl.”

“Just a girl?” I ask. “Can I ask who and why she’s here?”

He turns on his heel and storms back out of the gym.

I want to stand here and watch her all night, and I could, because she’s that beautiful. It’s like watching an angel play the harp, you’re entranced, but skeptical. Brantley storms over toward her and her face drops.

I watch the exchange from afar but feel their emotions like they’re being hammered into me at speeds I ca

Her eyebrows furrow, but she yanks her elbow out of his grip. She doesn’t look angry, she looks—confused.

Her eyes come up to the glass again and I shit you not, I feel her breathing down my neck. This girl is insanity. I’m instantly intrigued, yet a big part of me wants to keep this secret. I want to keep it for Brantley—even for her.

I take a swig of my water and start to step backward, realizing I look like a creeper.

My phone buzzes near the punching bag and I reluctantly make my way toward it, sliding it unlocked.

Nate—Tell Brantley you’re coming with him tonight.

My fingers hover over the keys as I think on what to reply with.

Me—Where to?

Nate—A meet. And bring that fucking book.

Me—Have a new girl that needs rescuing?

Nate—Yeah.

Me—Who?

Nate—You.

I stand there, reading the word over and over again until my eyes close and it flashes behind my shut lids in neon white pulses. You.

I grab the rest of my shit and make my way downstairs, back to my room. I pass Daemon’s room and see him lying on his back on top of the mattress.

I sigh, my heart resting to a light strum.

Pushing his door open, I knock on it gently. His face tilts to me.

“Hi.” I enter, leaving the door open.

“Princessa,” he whispers, his eyes closing and opening. “Are you—okay?”

I nod, pursing my lips together. “Why? Daemon, why didn’t you tell me?” I take a seat on the mattress, tucking my hands under my thighs.

He exhales. “That’s not the important part.” His English is getting better.

“What do you mean? You knew me, Daemon. I had a crush on you.”

He nods, his smile tightening. “As did I.”

I lick my lips. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

He inches up from the mattress, his hand resting on my cheek. “That’s a good thing, Princessa. Very good.” His hand comes to my chest and I wince. “Heal.”

I place a kiss on his head and leave him to rest. He rests a lot. I hope he’s okay.

I have a shower once I’m back in my room and scrub up in triple time, ru

Shoving on some light ski

He’s waiting for me in the lobby, wearing a hoodie, dark jeans and a shit-eating grin.

“Why are you smiling like that and why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like the reason?”

He chuckles. “Come on. You need to get ready for the meet.” I let him take my hand as he leads me down the dark hallway, passing door after door. I need to explore this house one day. Not today, but one day. We reach the end to a second dining area, a more private one. A crystal chandelier hangs delicately from the ceiling and there’s a large rectangle table with dark red chairs surrounding it.

“Hello, dear,” Scarlet says, pulling out boxes of what I recognize as makeup.

“Hi!” I haven’t seen her or Elena in a while, and a part of me feels guilty that I haven’t made the time to see Elena. I mentally mark it in my brain to visit her.

Scarlet has always been beautiful, and you can really see the striking resemblance between her and Bishop. Does she know about Abel? Probably not. Does she know about Hector? Honestly, I’d like to say no, but I’m not naïve. I see the cracks in these people where others would see silk.

“What’s going on?” I look between her and Brantley.

Brantley takes a seat. “You need to get painted to come with us, Princessa…”

“The meet? I wasn’t painted last time…”

Scarlet pauses, her hand in the air as she continues to dip her brushes into the SFX makeup.

“That’s because you weren’t technically supposed to be there.” Brantley’s tone is smooth.

“No woman is supposed to be there.” Scarlet raises an eyebrow at me. “But you’re different.”

So I’ve heard.

I take a seat and watch as she brushes strokes of black and white over Brantley’s face.

“What’s the meaning behind that?” I ask, gesturing to the face paint. “I know people do it for Halloween, but I never understood why The Kings do it?”

Scarlet continues on Brantley’s face. “Well, the reason why The Kings have always done it is a lot simpler than why people use it during Halloween, or even why they celebrate it for All Saints Day. We use it as a way to express to our men that we all die.” Scarlet’s eyes come to me. “The wives of The Kings learn to apply this to their husband during meets. It’s our way of telling them that they’re not immortal. Their flesh is still human, and their black hearts still beat.”