Atticus
HUFFS OF HOT AIR leave me with each press, each strain of my biceps. The toes of my sneakers dig into the dirt, and my palms form scattered imprints.
Push-ups have always been a part of my standard workout routine. The only new part about it is the location, and today I’m out front, nestled next to the fountain that sits before our estate.
I’m twenty reps in with only twenty more to go, yet the tension in me is not dissipating. Maybe I should ask Father to finally call the contractor—to build that gym add-on he’s been offering for years.
Maybe then I’ll garner enough strain from my exercise to numb me. Maybe it’ll give me more structure, something to plan and organize.
Anything at all to help relieve me of this torment. The torment of having no purpose, of being alone, of being empty.
As I switch from push-ups to sit-ups, the front door of the castle opens, and I can hear Abigail’s excited giggles and Julian’s calm nagging.
“No running on the steps, my friend,” he calls out, and as I sit up on the dirt, Abigail is standing before me.
“Hello, Atticus,” she greets, her smile blinding and infectious.
“Hello, little one. How are you?”
“Great! Julie and I are going to play hide and seek,” she tells me.
“Here.” Julian appears behind her, holding out a brand-new jump rope. “Atty said you needed one.”
Atty. I miss the days when Julian was still forced to call him Young Master Atlas. But that was before he committed suicide, sacrificing himself to unknown forces to save my brother.
I wish I could continue hating him, not just what he stands for. Unfortunately, that’s kind of impossible now.
“Thanks,” I mutter, accepting the new rope.
“Let’s play now!” Abigail insists.
“You go hide, and I’ll count to thirty,” Julian suggests. My sister immediately runs, disappearing around the side of the castle to undoubtedly hide in the blossoming gardens.
I return to my sit-ups, unwilling to further converse with Julian.
But he seems to have other plans, as he says, “Young Master Atticus, can we talk for a moment?”
I heave a heavy sigh, standing from the dirt and brushing off my joggers. “If we must.”
Julian just grins, as if my standoffish personality has grown on him and he’s having a grand time dealing with me. This makes me dislike his presence even more.
“Well, listen, Atlas’s birthday is on Monday, so we’re having a party in a few days. Your parents have already agreed,” Julian says. “It’ll be held here, and I invited some of my friends that Atlas wants to meet.”
“Didn’t he already meet your California friends?” I press, unhappy with the thought of them returning and taking up shop in my home.
I don’t know them. Not well enough.
Julian chuckles. “Not them. It was planned too quickly to ask them to buy plane tickets. I’m talking about my friends from town.”
My friends from town.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
“You don’t mean…” I stare at him, unwilling to say the name aloud.
“Yeah, the same ones I brought with me that night I broke in here to help Atlas. Cameron and Cassie.” As he speaks, nonchalant as ever, the world around me starts to spin. “Oh, and Hailey and Kim as well. Michael is still a bit too young for drinking, and it is a twenty-first—”
I tune him out. His blabbering is hurting my head, and I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that Cameron and Cassie will be here, and not by force. Invited.
“I don’t think—”
“Atlas is very excited,” Julian interrupts. “He’s always wanted to meet my friends.”
Images of sweet Atty staring out the second landing window, depressed as he watched Julian talk to his friends on the phone, cloud my brain.
He always wanted a lot of friends, but due to how isolated our family keeps itself and then his curse, he was never able to make any. Most people are normally pretty standoffish with us; they think we’re prissy.
I’m sure Atlas is very excited. Of course he would be.
Am I really going to ruin that just to keep avoiding Cameron and Cassie?
But keeping them from the estate is the only move I have, aside from blocking their numbers, which I did as soon as Atlas was cursed and I couldn’t waste a single second dwelling over the messages I received. I had to focus on him.
“Alright,” I murmur.
It is what it is. If Atty wants this, I can do nothing to stop it. To deny him.
“Whatever happened in the past, you should be here for your brother. Don’t hide away on Saturday,” Julian instructs gently.
My eyes narrow on him. How dare he insinuate that I would abandon Atlas just because I’m uncomfortable? I’m a man, aren’t I?
“Don’t presume to tell me how to care for my brother,” I bite out.
Julian is not fazed, only smiling softly as he stares at me. “I’m not trying to. If anyone else in this entire estate had done what I did, it would have been you. I do not doubt that you wouldn’t give everything for him.”
Oh.
This guy seriously needs to get out of my face. It’s hard to continue disliking him when he speaks like this, and disliking him is one of the only comfortable things I have left.
So, I say nothing.
After another moment of silence, Julian nods and turns in the direction Abigail ran, off to find her amongst the blooming flowers.
The sun is hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, just as it always is, and I can hear the waves in the distance. None of this distracts me from my irritation.
I hate losing my grip on control. I can’t stand being so vulnerable, so stripped bare, and that’s how it feels to stand in front of Cameron now.
With Cassie, it’s mostly just anger and mild betrayal. I was really starting to like her after all, and she sat there and debated my worth with Cameron like she couldn’t see it herself.
Now I’ll be faced with both of them, against my will, and it’s all out of my control.
What a horrible start to my day.
Inside my room, safely hidden away, I sit on the edge of my bed and sulk. What I need to do is shower and prepare for dinner, but I’m too tired. Too mentally exhausted and disappointed.
I would do anything for Atlas; that is true. If I had found the truth before Julian, I would have jumped from the cliff without hesitation. Instead, I read the Nigrum Librum, the Black Book, and sacrificed my soul to a demon.
A whole decade of my life, gone in a flash.
I haven’t set foot in the chapel since then. I’m terrified to know what will happen to me when I do—will I burn immediately? Will an unseeable force shove me out?
Granted, before Atlas’s curse, neither me nor him were very religious. Sure, we believed as all Chastians do and would sometimes attend a Sunday service with our family, but nothing more.
But after the curse began, the two of us became very devout. Very involved. We’d pray after the incubus would visit, and sometimes I’d even go alone, on my knees as I begged God to spare my little brother. To end his suffering.
God never listened. Or maybe He did, and He sent Julian to us. Either way, I’m unhappy.
My eyes lift to the top drawer of my dresser, where the Black Book is still nestled. I need to ask Julian where he got it so that I can return it. Something in me hates that it’s here, in this room with me still, while the rest of me is hesitant to part ways with it.
Why? I’m unsure. It’s unholy, a pure form of dark magic.
How Julian managed to obtain it, understand, and utilize it when Father and I spent months searching that dusty old altar room is beyond me.
Finally motivated to shower by the sheer irritation of spending too much time thinking of Julian, I stand.
Only, as I do, I spot a pair of sneakers sitting by the far window of my quarters.
I have several pairs, but the ones I’m looking at now are my old running shoes, ones I haven’t worn in about a year. Yet there they sit, taken from my closet and covered in drying mud.
My eyes trail away, noticing a few half-visible footprints on the ground leading to the door. I know for certain that Hannah cleaned the hardwood of the second floor just yesterday morning, so how…
Was it Abigail again? Has she formed a nasty habit of sneaking into my bedroom while I’m away, breaking and dirtying my things?
Certainly not… Abigail has always been a good little sister, if not a bit too wise for her age. And there’s no way any of the help would have done it. Atlas, maybe? Julian?
I guess there’s only one way to find the answer.
I shower quickly, changing into my evening wear and heading to the dining room.
Everyone is already seated, with Father at the head of the table as he speaks to Jeremy.
“We need to fly to New York, then,” he’s saying as I take my seat next to him. “If there are inconsistencies, we need to investigate.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy agrees, his spine straight as he listens to his boss.
“Is there something wrong with Portline?” I ask, reaching for my water.
“Nothing for you to worry about, son,” Father insists, waving a dismissive hand at me.
“But I can help. If you only let me—”
“No business at the dinner table, my loves,” Mother cuts in, her hand rubbing affectionately at the back of Atlas’s head as she speaks.
“Yes, dear,” Father concedes.
I huff. Clearly, something is up, and I want to help. I can help. I’m desperate too.
Anything at all to distract me, to give me a purpose. I’ll fly to New York alone if it’s asked of me—if I’m allowed.
“Are you excited for your party, darling?” Mother asks Atlas, her kind blue eyes assessing him.
“Yes, thank you,” my brother responds softly. “I’m excited to meet Julian’s friends.”
“They’ll love you,” Julian tells him. “Susie was obsessed with you the moment you guys met. I wish she could come.”
Atlas gives him a small, private smile. “Me too.”
Abigail shifts in her seat next to me, frowning. I’m certain she won’t be allowed to stay in the estate with a bunch of strangers here drinking, so I assume this upsets her.
Right as I’m about to comfort her, I remember what I planned to do at dinner.
“Everyone,” I interject, projecting my voice enough to garner the gathered company’s attention. “Has anyone been in my quarters lately?”
“Your quarters?” Father repeats, his brow furrowed.
“Yes. I found a pair of my old sneakers covered in mud. I haven’t worn them in months, and it seems someone has snuck in there and dirtied them and my floors,” I explain.
“Abigail? Atlas?” Mother questions, looking between the two of them.
“I haven’t gone in there,” Atlas says.
“It wasn’t me!” Abigail insists.
Huh. Okay.
“Well, I’ll meet with the staff members and ask, then,” Father tells me. “Are you sure you didn’t wear them and forget, Atticus?”
It’s an absurd question. I would never forget muddying my shoes and leaving them out in the open. I am a meticulous person.
“I’m sure,” I say.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he promises me.
I stare around the table, eyeing each culprit, but no one seems suspicious. In fact, the only thing I’m seeing is my mother asking Abigail how she’s enjoying the end of her school year, and Julian and Atlas as they exchange a secret, undecipherable look.
Atlas looks pale, his eyes wide as he stares at our attendee. And Julian looks pained, his lips pursed as they communicate without words.
Odd.