Periculum: Unus (Devil's Playground Book 1) Page 5

  “Okay, I admit that if things were different, he’s someone I could see being another notch on my bedpost.” I shrugged.

  In any other scenario this would have been a good excuse. They might’ve even believed it. Grace and Mel were all too aware of how I felt about sex and what I used it for.

  I craved something I continuously failed to find, always searching for the sickest kind of high to fill the gaping void inside me. They knew exactly what that something was, and the filthy reasons I wanted it. Because of that, and as the two people who knew me the best, they also weren’t buying the bullshit I’d just tried to sell them.

  I don’t know why I bothered. We’d been best friends since we could crawl, inseparable since our mothers stuck us in a baby pool together. There was very little I could slip past them without exerting a great deal of effort and implementing some superb acting skills.

  “I know it’s more than that, but until we figure a way out of this mess, I’ll let it go… for now,” Mel said, shifting her eyes to Gracelyn.

  Once we got out of here, it wouldn’t matter what I thought of him.

  I would never have to see Ciaran or any of these other people again. I would’ve pointed this out, but she was already onto her next target.

  “And I hope you don’t think you’re off the hook.”

  Grace looked up from retying the string on her terry-cloth shorts, her expression puzzled. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. And Kyrous.” Mel whispered his name.

  Grace’s hazel eyes whirled in her head. “Do we not have anything better to worry about? Not to mention I’ve known him all of five minutes. He’s not even my type.”

  As if he’d heard her, Kyrous glanced over his shoulder, but only for a brief second. She hadn’t lied, he really wasn’t her typical flavor. She liked the good, sweet, vanilla boys. I think they made her feel more normal.

  From what I’d gathered thus far, Kyrous didn’t fit into that box, but we also didn’t know anything about him aside from a name and that he had an identical twin.

  Giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe beneath his cold and seemingly emotionless exterior was exactly what Grace was into. I knew his appearance wasn’t a problem. The twins were more than ‘pretty.’ They had jawlines that would make Adonis weep, eyes uniquely their own, and flawlessly tan skin beneath a few tattoos.

  Kyrous specifically had a body that appeared to be just as in shape as Ciaran’s, if not a bit more ripped.

  His hair was goldish brown with a fresh skintight fade while being left slightly long on the top. He wasn’t anything like Grace’s usual type. The way he kept looking at her, though, was as if he wanted to eat my girl alive. But, none of that mattered.

  As she’d mentioned, there were much bigger issues at hand.

  “So, where are you from?” Mel asked Selena, smoothly changing the subject.

  “Nashville. How about ya’ll?”

  “Piedmont,” Grace answered. “We needed a girls’ trip.”

  “I wish that were the case for me. I was out here for my mama’s bachelorette getaway. I could’ve brought a friend, but they all know how much of a cunt my new ‘sister’ is.”

  “Is that why you’re alone?” I asked.

  She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jean shorts, nodding with a mischievous grin.

  “Yeah, I may or may not have been booted from the festivities.”

  “The joys of family drama,” I replied, laughing lightly.

  “We can relate to that so hard,” Mel sighed.

  Movement in an upper window pulled me away from the conversation. I let them get ahead and glanced up, trying to figure out what it could have been. A light cut on and then shut off. I searched the exterior, trying to figure out what the building was. An apartment complex, maybe?

  “See something?” Grace asked quietly, slowing to walk beside me.

  “Upper window. There’s—” I cut myself off, seeing a person pass in front of another window clear as day. They were wearing a dark hoodie and… was that a mask?

  “Whoa,” Grace mumbled, grabbing hold of my arm.

  “Whoa what?” Maverick questioned.

  I darted a quick glance at the window again, but it had gone dark, no sign of anyone being up there. I waited for them to reappear, but nothing happened.

  “I thought I saw something.”

  “Someone,” Grace clarified.

  “They said they saw something,” he announced.

  “Someone,” Grace reiterated.

  “Where?” Ciaran asked.

  “Up there.” Maverick pointed.

  Everyone stopped and lifted their gazes to the building’s upper windows, but they remained empty.

  Ciaran looked at me, whatever he was thinking obscured behind an expressionless stare. “You sure?”

  “I know what I saw. He was wearing a mask and a dark hoodie.”

  “He?” Margo enunciated.

  “I assume it was a guy…”

  Charon gave me a quizzical look. “Isn’t that sexist?”

  “Can’t call it sexist without being sexist,” Mel replied.

  “He was joking,” Kyrous intoned. “And if someone’s up there, they’re more than likely staring down at all of us just standing here.”

  “He’s right. Let’s keep moving,” Ciaran said.

  We returned to walking at a normal pace, and I waved off Mel’s questioning gaze.

  Every few seconds, I glanced back at the building, waiting for it to happen again, but it never did. I swallowed and took a small breath. There was no way I had been seeing things. Gracelyn saw him too.

  Whoever it had been was obviously screwing with us, which was the last thing I needed right now. I couldn’t handle mind games.

  If you started fucking with my head, I’d become a hazard to everyone. Most of all myself.

  “What is it?” Ciaran asked.

  I jumped, not realizing he’d fallen back to walk beside us.

  “Nothing.”

  He waved Gracelyn past him so that we could be side by side.

  I nodded to let her know it was okay. Now in step with me, he draped an arm around my shoulders whilst continuing to look straight ahead. I probably should’ve moved away from him, but I didn’t. Being tucked against his side gave me a sense of comfort.

  “You’re an extremely touchy feely kind of person,” I mumbled.

  “I’m actually the complete opposite of that.”

  “I’d be more inclined to believe you if you weren’t touching me right now.”

  “Maybe I just like touching you, and you like it too.”

  Uh? What was I supposed to do with that admittance? “I’m not sure that’s reciprocated on my end.”

  “That’s twice now,” he said quietly. He dropped his arm and rolled his neck, cracking tense muscles. “Can you do me another favor?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “Don’t lie to me again.”

  What the hell? When had I lied to him a first time? How did he know I was doing so now? I stared at the back of his head as he reclaimed his leadership position, leaving me with lungs full of his intoxicating scent and a loss for words.

  I wanted to demand he get his ass back here and explain what he’d meant, but with one slight turn we were at the Blight House.

  Despite it being the first natural sound I’d heard since walking through the city, the piano music didn’t encourage me to want to enter whatever this place was.

  Of course, there wasn’t any other option. The road beyond was barricaded by concrete hedges with iron bars extending from the tops of them. This only solidified how I felt from the second we stepped through the gate that trapped us in here.

  We were mindless sheep being herded to our eventual slaughter. I studied the place we were to enter, knowing it would be a waste of time for us to go backward.

  The building was all brick, the words BLIGHT HOUSE spelled out above the entry doors in largely illuminated bubble letters.<
br />
  “Do we just go in?” Margo asked, looking to Ciaran for instruction.

  “Let’s see,” Maverick replied, walking up to the doors. He grabbed their double handles and pulled, easily opening both. A classic moonlight sonata spilled out into the night. The aroma of various foods flowed behind it.

  Maverick glanced over his shoulder at us with a boyish grin. “That answers that.”

  He walked inside as if he lived here, waving at us to follow. We did—slowly. The girls and me, Selena now included, cautiously trailed in after everyone else.

  A large chandelier hung from right above us, showcasing a square shaped foyer. The old-world styled floor was shined and polished, and dark demask like wallpaper covered the walls.

  There was a grand staircase and wide hall straight ahead. Both had been effectively blocked off with various junk and stacks of chairs. Once again, we had to go left, where the piano music was coming from a speaker system.

  Slowly filing in one by one, splitting into two lines, we entered a dining room. The table was covered with white linen. There was a fancy dish and silverware in front of every high-backed chair.

  A variety of entrees ran from one end of the table to the other, a ham in the center.

  Heather plucked two strawberries from a silver bowl, giving each a slight squeeze before taking a bite of one. “These are fresh.”

  She didn’t need to eat any of the food for us to see that, especially not knowing where it came from. Everything looked recently prepared, visually appealing and of good quality. Round golden goblets even contained what I assumed was wine.

  “What on earth?” Susan questioned, bringing her weathered manicured hands to her cheeks.

  “Looks like someone was expecting our eventual arrival,” Kyrous stated.

  I began to look for any type of clue that would help us determine why we were supposed to come to this place. All the windows were covered by thick drapes, giving a deeper sense of privacy to the room.

  Spotting a wax figure like the one from the guard shack in the back-right corner, I walked over to it, noting this one was dressed up like a butler. It looked so lifelike, as if it could’ve been a real person.

  I guess that was the point, though. He was holding a metal server’s tray. Right in the center of it sat a second tape recorder.

  “Guys,” I called to get their attention.

  “Hit play,” Mel urged, coming to stand behind me.

  I glanced past everyone else crowding around me to Ciaran, who was staring intently. Not at the tape recorder or wax-figure, but at me. Licking my lips and promptly ignoring the way his eyes tracked the movement, I hit play.

  The entire room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of what we might hear next. The voice that began to speak was identical to the one we’d heard on the shuttle.

  Mold. Rot. Beautiful decay.

  Someone, anyone, take a seat.

  Have a bite, relax with a drink.

  Blight House offers you a feast in exchange for an eternal sleep. Indulge just once, and you’ll be free to leave.

  There was a soft whirring sound at the end of the last sentence, and then the tape cut off.

  “I’m shit at riddles. What does any of that mean?” Margo asked.

  “Don’t eat the food,” Kyrous answered, his tone flat.

  “Too late,” a strained voice carried from the rear of the group.

  We all turned, finding Heather partially leaned over the back of a chair. Only one strawberry was in her hand, bitten nearly to the stem.

  “Heather!” Abby yelled, snatching the remainder of the fruit away.

  “Is that the only thing you ate?” Leonard asked, moving to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist like he was going to attempt the Heimlich maneuver.

  Heather’s mouth fell open, no words coming out, sucking in a jagged breath instead. Leonard stepped away, his eyes widening as he stared at her face. An audible pft came from the passing of gas as she began to urinate on herself.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Mel asked. I could’ve thrown something at her for failing to hide her morbid curiosity. Luckily, no one noticed. No one other than Grace and me, that is. Gracelyn took hold of her hand and moved her out of the way as almost everyone rushed to Heather’s side.

  I stepped closer to Ciaran, both of us watching the whole scene play out like a picture reel.

  Heather knocked the chair backward and keeled over, grabbing her stomach, coughing and gagging on seemingly nothing. Her nose began to run, tears streaming from her eyes.

  Strings of saliva and red chunks of vomit spewed from Heather’s mouth, landing at Margo’s moccasin clad feet. I struggled to keep my face free of disgust, wincing when she fell to the floor with a loud thud.

  What can we do?” Abby cried, crouching down in a valiant attempt to help her.

  Her body broke into a fit of convulsions and foam coated her lips, reminding me of a rabid dog,

  “What is happening to her?” Susan panicked, trying to keep her still.

  Abby screamed Heather’s name hysterically. More urine saturated the floor, soaking through her thin leggings.

  The convulsions grew so extreme she looked as if she were possessed, like a demon was fighting to rip her apart so it could get out.

  Her body arched, lifting off the floor with a spine-cracking force, eyes rolling back in her head. When she fell limply back to the ground, death had snatched away her lifeline.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She was lying in a putrid mess of urine and cardinal red throw-up. Abby ignored all of this, hugging her friend’s body and sobbing so loudly the piano music became nearly impossible to hear.

  I’d do the same if it were Mel or Grace in Heather’s place. Fortunately, they were perfectly fine. I was no good with this kind of thing, therefore had no words of comfort to offer. I sincerely wished I did, but I just wasn’t wired to be empathetic.

  Death never fazed me, and I’d always been impartial to someone’s emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be this way. I loathed the version of myself who could so effortlessly handle these things.

  I was working on being a better person, but I hadn’t made it far enough to be believably compassionate. I wouldn’t say that I was heartless exactly, but I needed to give a semblance of a damn about you for empathy to kick in. So, it was better I kept my mouth shut.

  Thankfully, Margo and Susan seemed to have the sympathy part under control, because it wasn’t just me not offering any.

  “What in God’s name was in that food?” Leonard questioned, repeatedly running a hand through his hair.

  “God had nothing to do with that. That was some lethal ass poison by the looks of it,” Charon answered.

  I placed the recorder back on the butler’s tray, risking a glance at Ciaran. He was already staring at me; he’d only stopped to watch Heather die. Now he was paying no attention to the dead girl a few feet away from us.

  “You don’t seem too shaken up,” he remarked. It almost sounded like a taunt.

  “Because I’m not,” I muttered, saying a bit louder, “Neither do you.”

  I wasn’t entirely sure what there was to be ‘shaken up’ about to begin with. Yes, someone had just died. I was looking at her body. I was breathing in the stench of it. That didn’t change the fact that what Heather had done was beyond stupid. Who decided to pop some random ass fruit in their mouth after what we’d been through—were still going through?

  I didn’t trust anything or anyone around me, aside from Mel and Grace. Especially the ocean eyed mystery with the darkened aura that was slowly sucking me in.

  The piano music ceased abruptly, and a clunking sound echoed from the foyer at the same time a heavy black curtain slid across a track on the ceiling.

  Behind it was a solid oak door, not a window like I’d have expected.

  “I’ll check that out,” Leonard volunteered, nearly running from the room. He’d been staring at Heather’s body, looking as if he’d p
ersonally killed her. Within seconds he was back, shaking his head and speaking beneath his breath.

  “That was the sound of the front door locking us in; we can’t go out that way.”

  “That’s not anything to be shocked about,” Mel replied.

  “What was the point in us coming here?” Gracelyn asked, massaging her brow.

  “I think it was for that.” Selena nodded at Heather, crossing her arms tightly over an ample chest.

  “We came here for my friend to die?” Abby snarled, lying Heather back down on the floor. She gently removed her glasses and closed her eyes.

  “I doubt it was any one person specifically,” Kyrous responded, his tone cool and collected. “The recording made that rather clear.”

  “That’s true. I think whatever way this went, somebody had to die,” Maverick shrugged.

  “Any person that would have been dumb enough to eat this fucking food would be lying on the floor beside your little friend,” Ciaran stated.

  His tone was as disinterested as it had been when he mentioned the people that’d died on the shuttle.

  This was one thing he and I had in common: being callous and detached. I’m not sure that was a good thing, but at least I knew how to keep my mouth shut. He could have faked some compassion.

  “What is wrong with you people?” Abby yelled. “Do none of you care?”

  “Of course, we do,” Margo comforted, wrapping Abby in a hug.

  “We’re all a bit on edge right now. Maybe we should just take a minute to relax,” Leonard suggested.

  He couldn’t be serious. Relax with a dead body while breathing in vomit and piss mixed with the aroma of honeyed ham? Yeah, that was going to be a hard pass.

  “I think we should keep moving.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend, Abby. I know that means absolutely nothing right now and you’re hurting, but I don’t want to stay here,” Gracelyn said, pumping out some commiseration for all of us.

  Abby turned more towards Ciaran and I, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “And go where? What about Heather? We can’t just leave her here.”