Sancte Diaboli

What the hell happened last night?

I step forward, but he takes one back. “I can’t answer questions about The Kings and what I do, not the specifics anyway. Not unless—” He pauses, tilts his head and I watch as his eyes fall up and down my body. “—that happens.”

“Fine, but was it only your blood, or do I need to go get tested?”

He stares at me like I’m dumb. “The fact you think I would let anyone’s blood anywhere on you is enough to make me pin you down and fuck you until you pass out. Again. You’re just lucky it’s your brother’s ceremony tonight.” He points to the shower. “Go get cleaned up.”

I stalk off to the bathroom. “What am I going to tell Bishop about the blood?”

He smirks over his shoulder, hand on the door handle. “Bishop is well aware of my blood play.” Then he’s gone.

I turn on the faucet, waiting outside the shower until steam fills the air. I wince, looking down at the cut on my arm, but find myself smiling when I rub my thumb over it, memories of last night flashing behind my eyes. My heart swells and my cheeks burn as I replay everything. I didn’t think this feeling could ever exist.

I make my way to the mirror and swipe away the condensation with my hand. A scream tears out of me when a girl is staring back at me through the mirror, hair as red as her lips. Her makeup is smudged like someone has taken dirt and rubbed it all over. She stares blankly at me, unfazed, but when I spin around to ask who the hell she is, I’m met with nothing.

Poof.

Gone.

No one there.

I rub my eyes with the back of my hand. I’m going crazy.

I wash up in the shower quickly, still slightly spooked by what I thought I saw. Once I’m out and squeezing the excess water out of my hair, I notice the painting directly opposite the mirror. It’s a portrait of a young girl, using the colors red, black, and yellow. Maybe my mind had created a face on a whim. It makes sense.

I squeeze into some fresh clothes. A plain white Gucci tee and black torn ski

“’Morning!” She smirks, wiggling her brows.

“Please don’t start.” I move into the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding it fully stocked with food.

“Oh, I’m not.” She rests on the wall that separates the kitchen and the living room. “But I am mad at you for leaving without telling me.”

I sigh, pouring from a pot of coffee and scooting up onto the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you tell me why she needed you?”

I open my mouth, then close it. Had Madison not told Tillie that she was pregnant? There’s obviously a reason why she hasn’t, so I decide to once again tell a small lie. “I can’t say, but I’m sure everyone will know in due time.”

“All right,” Tillie says. “So much for my pact.”

My words get caught in my throat. I don’t want Tillie to feel that way, and although we haven’t spent as much time together as Bishop and me, but still more than Abel and me, the bond between Tillie and me is natural. It doesn’t need time. It doesn’t need nurturing or attention, because I know that without a shadow of a doubt, she will always have my back.

I rest my mug on the counter. “It’s just not my secret to tell.” I chew on my lip. “You can’t tell Nate. I’m serious, Tillie…”

She sighs, massaging her head. “Okay, no, don’t tell me.”

I cock my head.

“If I can’t tell him, then that’s why she hasn’t told me. She knows my big mouth with Nate.”

I chuckle around the lip of my mug. “Okay.”

“So, Scarlet chose your dress. Have you seen it?”

I shake my head. “No. Where are the boys?”

“They’re gone. We won’t see them until tonight.” My coffee curdles in my belly. Brantley didn’t tell me what happened with him last night. And furthermore, I miss him and I only just saw him an hour ago.

Tillie gestures out the door and we make our way over to the main house.

“So many toxic memories at this house.” Tillie shakes her head. “So many no longer with us.” I watch as a wave of sadness washes over her. We’re not quite at the main house when I find myself asking her.

“I don’t know much about yours and Nate’s story.”

She laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Well, it would take a lifetime to replay it all for you.” She pauses, her steps slowing. “You could say we lost important people.”

I don’t want to press the issue, so I grab her hand.

She smiles down at it but pauses when she sees the cut on my arm. “That creepy bastard.”

I turn my arm over to look and laugh. “It’s not that bad…”

“You’re into it?” she asks, an eyebrow quirked.

My cheeks heat. “A little.”

She nudges me with her shoulder. “You’re definitely my sister.”

We make our way into the house, where classical music is playing and people I don’t know are moving around everywhere.

Scarlet comes rushing out, grasping her hands together. “Thank God, Saint, sweetie, I need you in here to check your measurements.” Scarlet takes me, moving me into the large dining room where dresses hang off plastic hooks.

She points to another woman. “This is Elena, Madison’s stepmom.” Scarlet taps a long finger against her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, after nodding at Elena.

Scarlet scoops up her phone and pushes on a number before bringing it to her ear. “What is she wearing tonight?” She pauses, her eyes wide on me. I shuffle uncomfortably. “Are you sure?” Silence, and I look at Tillie. She shakes her head. “That’s never happened. Ever, Hector. Will this put a target on her?” Again, I widen my eyes at Tillie.

Who rolls hers, popping a potato chip into her mouth and taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Okay,” Scarlet says. “I love you.” She hangs up, grasping her phone to her chest. “Well, I’m going to guess that Brantley isn’t going to be happy with us, but you’ll be wearing Hayes tonight.”