Chapter 3
OLLY
Ispent the rest of the night awake, tense, filled with paranoia, and on guard for the three masked asshole intruders.
Once I was convinced that they had actually left the property, I raced back inside and tore through the house, ensuring all the doors and windows were locked, while my heart pounded like a racehorse at one of the derbies.
After calling my mother unsuccessfully and deciding not to call the cops, I grabbed every knife from the kitchen I could carry, and a bat I found in one of the hall closets, and took them back to my room, before pushing all my heavy dressers in front of each door to barricade myself inside.
Even then, I didn't feel safe, and sleep evaded me, though some part of me knew they wouldn't return, but I was just as afraid of the nightmare reappearing as I was of those unhinged psychos.
Now, the bright sunshine is streaming in through the large windows as my bleary eyes try to focus, and I release a loud yawn.
Fuck, today is going to suck ass. I'm already so tired, and who knows what this day will bring.
Here's hoping there's coffee in the kitchen I can guzzle, or pour over my head, and it's none of my mom's decaf shit.
I need a jolt of something. I get myself up, push the dresser away from the door to the ensuite, and rush through getting ready, and all the while, a large, sharp chef's knife sits next to me on the marble counter, ready to stab anyone who tries to walk through the door.
Fuck them if they think they will make me cower in fear.
I'll stab each one of them, before I cut off their cocks and feed them to each other.
The image of me severing their cocks, and forcing them down their unknown throats, brings a smile to my lips as I braid my long hair.
Once I'm as ready as I'm going to be for the day, I push the other barricade out of my way, exit my room, and make my way tentatively, and cautiously, down the long hallway toward the staircase.
I stop at the top of the landing, using my senses to determine if anyone is in the house with me, all while holding one knife firmly in my tight fist, and having another stowed in the waistband of my tights.
I'm not taking any chances with those masked assholes, or in this fucked up, creepy house, with all the bizarre painted portraits on the walls, of people with expressions that look like they have fists shoved up their asses.
I make my way down the stairs, and toward the kitchen area, as the sound of someone moving around in that space prompts me forward, but causes the hair on the back of my neck and arms to stand on end.
My hand becomes clammy, holding tightly to the knife as my heart rate increases, but I refuse to release my tight grip on it.
Fuck 'em up and ask questions later, my mind demands.
I nod my head in complete agreement with my less-than-sane thoughts.
I step into the doorway, prepared to do some damage to the inhabitant, just as a short, bulky, gray-haired, older man walks past me, mumbling to himself gruffly about savages.
Without lifting an eye in my direction, he nods his head.
"Good morning, Miss. I'm Joffrey, the Weyburns’ housekeeper.
Breakfast will be served shortly, if I can find anything edible left that those heathens haven't consumed, that is. "
Housekeeper? This place has one of those?
I sweep my eyes around the ostentatious space; what am I saying?
Of course, this house would have a housekeeper.
Frankly, I'm surprised there isn't a butler standing at attention in a tux at the door. The tone of his voice, and the evident irritation at the ‘heathens’ he’s referring to, makes the corners of my lips rise as I hide the blade behind my back.
"Now, what have they done with all my knives?
Damn demons." He scowls, and it's freaking adorable.
He continues to mumble to himself with irritation, as he searches the counters and drawers for all the knives I know are stowed in my bedroom right now.
I keep my mouth shut, refusing to confess to the theft, and step forward into the bright cream and walnut space, discreetly placing the large chef's knife on the gray and white marble counter when he's not looking.
There is no way I'm giving up all my weapons.
So far, this guy seems harmless, with his bright blue bow tie, and suspenders featuring yellow ducks, but those are the ones that cause the most damage.
The ones you never suspect will hurt you.
I've had that lesson taught to me repeatedly in my short lifetime on this shitty planet.
"What heathens?" I question as I move further into the room, keeping him in my sight, and the wall at my back, so no one can come up behind me without my knowledge. His head pops around one of the pantry doors, and his bright green eyes meet mine with a quirked, bushy, gray eyebrow.
"Oh, you haven't had the displeasure of meeting the banes of my existence yet?
!" He lets out a huge, miserable sigh. "Probably best. They would have made a horrible first impression on you anyway.
" He turns, grabbing various items from inside the pantry, and placing different boxes of cereal on the counter before me.
My eyebrow rises at the different selections, everything from a kid's cereal with marshmallows to some healthy cluster shit, filled with what looks like seeds.
Do we have kids in this house, too? I really have to question my mom on all of this.
"I'm sorry, miss. It looks like this will have to do for this morning.
I was away for a few days visiting my niece, and they seemed to have ransacked the place of food.
" I realize he has a little bit of an accent, and it's incredibly charming.
He's an irritated leprechaun. Once the thought crosses my mind, I can't unthink it, and have to forcefully swallow the chuckle that wants to escape my lips.
I somehow doubt he would be too impressed with the comparison.
"Coffee, if you have it, will be enough.
I'm not a big breakfast fan." I take a seat on one of the wooden island stools, and let my eyes trail across the room.
Last night, in my panic of grabbing weapons to defend myself, I hadn't paid attention to the kitchen's state in the semi-darkness.
The place looks like a bomb went off, with crumbs, half-eaten food on the counters, and various cups and beer bottles lying around.
When did they make all this fucking mess?
The kitchen for sure didn't look like this before I went to bed.
Savages is too gentle a word to describe them.
"Is my mother or Gerald here?" A part of me hopes my mother is here, so I can question her and express my dissatisfaction, once again, that she has moved us here into a stranger's house without giving me any background information, not that it will change anything, and another part of me hopes I don't have to see her new douche of a husband.
The guy gives me the fucking creeps, with his dark, penetrating gaze that always feels like he's dissecting me.
The only part of this whole moving situation, and living with a man she knew for a few brief weeks before marrying him, that doesn't make me rage like a toddler deprived of sugar is that it brings me closer to my goal.
It's the only reason that, at twenty-two, I agreed to come with her.
Well, that and the free tuition that douche promised me to complete my degree.
Poor chicks can't be choosers, bitch, and those with student loans up to their eyeballs should swallow their pride, and take the offer of help, I remind myself.
"Not to my knowledge, Miss. Mr. Weyburn's vehicle is not in the garage, and I haven't heard any other sounds besides yours." Joffrey places a cup of coffee, sugar, and cream before me, before continuing to mumble as he cleans up the kitchen disaster.
"Heathens?" I question, trying to bring him back to the original subject, as I wrap my hands around the steaming cup of coffee, and let the delicious aroma soothe all of my hackles.
I need information on who those three were last night, and why they thought it wise to attempt to frighten me.
Who are you kidding, girl? We were shitting our fucking pants, well, if we had pants on, my mind mumbles.
"Ah, well, that would be Cross, your new brother, and River, and Damon, his beastly best friends.
The three hellhounds of Soule, Massachusetts.
They're very unruly and disobedient fellows.
They're also unfortunately prone to destroying everything, and everyone, they come into contact with.
A horrific plague on humanity if you ask me.
" His sparkling green eyes meet mine as his lips tilt down in a frown.
"If I were you, Miss. I would steer clear of the three of them.
They're completely unhinged on a good day.
Devil spawns the lot of them, no offense to Mr. Weyburn.
" With his cryptic warning, he walks out of the kitchen area, mumbling under his breath about what else they probably destroyed while he was away.
I’ve never met Cross; neither one of us attended our parents' very impromptu wedding.
In fact, I can't remember seeing a single picture of the guy around here when I moved in.
That's strange as fuck, who doesn't have family pictures in a house they're living in, and what happened to Cross' mom?
Everything about this situation is getting weirder and weirder.
What the hell has my mom dragged us into?
I take a deep sip of the fragrant, strong coffee, and get a glimpse out of the corner of my eye at the time displayed on the wall clock.
SHIT! I'm going to be late for my first day of college.
I have to go right now, and put off the mystery of what the three in the masks look like until later, so I can kick their asses.