Chapter 7 This is the Part Where You Scream
THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU SCREAM
SEVEN
It only took me twenty minutes to change Atticus's mind from absolutely not to just this once. And that's how I know she's got him wrapped around her little finger.
So here he is, skull mask back on, dressed all in black with long sleeves to cover his tattoos and a hood to cover his hair. Grumbling about how this is a terrible idea when I know damn well he wants to crash this party as bad as I do.
"Is that her tail up ahead?" I ask, seeing the familiar black SUV.
Atticus sighs. "Yep. Masks stay on no matter what. Got it?"
"Got it," Eli replies.
I adjust my black gloves and my Ghostface mask, grinning beneath it as we step out of the borrowed vehicle and onto the lawn of the Alpha Sigma Phi frat house.
"Sev," Atticus growls as I pull out my hooked blade.
"What? It could be fake."
"It's not." He snatches the blade from my hand.
"Hey. That's part of my costume."
"It looks too real," Eli agrees, taking Atty's side as he shuts the car door behind him. "You'll get us kicked out."
"You guys have to learn to have a little fun."
I put my hands on my hips and survey the view.
“I still can’t believe our heist masks went viral,” Eli mutters, adjusting the position of his on his face.
“We’re internet famous now, boys.” I grin. “TikTok icons.”
“Not exactly ideal,” Eli grumbles. “We’re criminals.”
“Iconic criminals,” I correct him. “There’s a difference.”
“There’s really not.”
“Back me up here, Atty.”
Atticus shakes his head, eyes scanning the lawn. “I’m not participating in this conversation with you two.”
I grin. “That’s not a no.”
Eli scoffs. “That is absolutely a no.”
“Fine, have it your way, but I’m going to enjoy my five seconds of fame.” As I say it, I race up to the nearest group of partygoers, huddled together from the cold, and spook the hell out of them. I revel in their screams, laughing as I make my way to the front door while Eli and Atty lag behind.
The inside of the frat is a punch to the senses. Hot and red and reeking of beer and cheap liquor. But I was right. There are a fuckload of fuckheads dressed up as the Menage a MaskTok bandits.
No accounting for taste, though. It's all cheap knockoffs, nothing but poorly painted bits of pressed plastic. My mask is the real deal. Bought it at auction a couple of years back. This puppy was actually worn by Billy in the first movie.
I rub my hands together, searching the intoxicated populace for a very specific face in a very specific and very handpicked costume.
Where are you, my beautiful victim?
A cheer rises from the room on my right, and I cock my head, making my way over when I see a familiar flick of dark hair.
The doorway is blocked by people standing around to watch as Aurora banks another shot at the table, knocking two balls into the same pocket to a chorus of applause.
Her friend, Maisie, jumps up and down, telling the person next to her that that's her friend, and I smirk.
"What is it?" Elijah asks as he comes up behind me.
"Found her," I say, then swat his arm and jerk my head down the hall. "Let's go around. There'll be a better view from the other side of the room."
I hustle down the hall and around through the kitchen, coming up into an all but vacant dining room that leads into the front room where the pool table is at another angle.
Just in time to see my girl sink the eight ball and win the game.
I clap louder than anyone else as the cowboy kneels before her, and she takes the hat from his head and places it on hers. Effectively stealing his crown.
But…I don't like the way he's looking at her. Like she's the next prize he intends to win.
I'm not insecure.
I'm not.
Just competitive.
Behind me, Atticus growls when the cowboy takes her hand to press a kiss to the back of it, but she yanks it back before his lips can connect to a chorus of oooohs from the party.
That's my girl.
"I got it," one guy says to another next to me, showing him a small half-gone bottle of bubble-gum-flavored vodka.
They're a pair of copycats. One in Ghostface and the other in a skull mask.
"'Kay, quick before they notice."
One takes the vodka from the other and tucks it in his fake tac vest as they rush from the room.
I share a look with Atticus, but he's already moving to follow them.
I don't want to walk away from Ro, but we can't leave it.
A few more minutes won't kill me while we make sure these fuckers aren't about to spike some chick's booze, because pathetic as they seem, I don't think they're the bubble-gum vodka type.
Eli's glowing mask cocks to the side as he follows us, and I realize he didn't hear. "Couple of assholes," I explain. "Give us a sec. Keep an eye on Ro."
He nods, staying behind.
I rush to catch up with Atty, who stalks our mimics through the kitchen to a basement door. I pull it open and see the plain wooden stairs going all the way down, but no sign of the dickheads we were following.
Atty locks the door behind us before we pad down on quiet feet. It never ceases to amaze me how deadly silent he can be despite his size.
It's too bad Atty won't let me kill them if they're doing what I think they're doing, it'd draw too much attention to this party—and to us—but he'll let me have some fun. The kind they won't remember when they wake up after I'm done force-feeding them the roofies they intended for someone else.
I put a finger to my mask when I hear them whispering in the space around a storage shelf, and Atticus comes to listen next to me.
"Hurry up, before they notice it's gone."
I peer through the tiny gaps in the packed shelves, watching the one in the Ghostface mask break two capsules over the rim of the bottle, letting the powder fall and dissolve into the alcohol.
My back heats, and I wish Atty hadn't taken my blade.
I give him a glare, but for these assholes, I won't need a weapon.
"Remember, Aurora's mine," the Ghostface says, and Atticus and I both snap our attention to the two dead men on the other side of this shelf.
"Yeah, I wanted Maisie, anyway."
Oh…
A shiver rolls down my back, and a shuddering breath passes through my lips.
They picked the wrong girl.
I don't need his permission anymore, but when Atticus nods, I'm glad to know we're on the same page. I think he's going to leave me to it, bow out, and head back to the party and Ro, but he stays.
I cock my head at him, gesturing to the soon-to-be corpses.
You want in?
Another nod.
I grin beneath my mask.
It really is starting to feel like old times.
"Gentlemen!" I shout as I step from behind the shelving and pluck the mask from my face. "Great party."
They hide the bottle and share a look.
Ghostface takes off his mask. I recognize him as Aurora's classmate. The one who brought her binder to her apartment that first week. Bailey.
"Who the fuck are you, man?" he asks. "You weren't invited."
"I've got Ghostface," Atticus says.
"But I wanted him."
Atticus pulls the skull from his face and pushes back his hood, and I think Bailey might've actually pissed himself at the expression on Daddi's face.
He tosses the skull mask and cracks his neck. "He's mine."
I shrug. "Dead is dead, I guess."
"Wait, what are you doing?" Bailey shouts as his friend backs away, but there's nowhere to run.
Atticus advances on Bailey, and I take my time stalking his pal, reveling in the smell of fear permeating the air.
"Please," he mutters through his mask, and I think it might be cathartic to kill someone dressed as Atticus. I might enjoy it a little extra.
"Don't beg." I roll my shoulders back as the thrill of the hunt pumps extra blood into my muscles, lacing my tone with venom. "This is the part where you scream."