Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Kade
Dmitri, Logan and I stand in the parking lot of The Nightfall, the restaurant/drug den owned by Mario Lipinski, Nickoli’s snitch.
It’s midnight. Devil’s hour.
The three of us are wearing our skull masks as we watch the place go up in smoke. The fire flicking out around the building like the flames of hell bathes us in an amber glow, making us look like we crawled straight from the darkest corner of the underworld. Like Hades’ finest demons.
This isn’t the first building we’ve burned in our reign of malice, but it is the most satisfying.
We waited until the restaurant closed and the security guard left before blacking out the security cameras and dousing the place with gasoline.
One flick of a match and it was all over. The building never stood a chance.
The flames remind me of the fire at my parents’ villa. The doom-filled fire that burned away all my hopes that they’d survived.
That fire left behind a sea of bodies.
My parents were burned beyond recognition. The only way Mom’s body was identified was via her dental records. Dad couldn’t be identified. I was told that the coroner had to make an educated guess as to which body belonged to him.
I ended up in the hospital with fractured ribs for over a week. When I came to it was my aunt and uncle who hit me with the news of my parents' deaths.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to hear.
Tonight feels like a small victory, if only for a fleeting moment.
I can just imagine what Mario will do when he discovers his beloved building is reduced to nothing but ashes. I came here the other week to check the place out and put a face to a name.
He’s one of those hotshots who thinks he owns the world because he built the restaurant from the ground up. It will be interesting to watch him try to do the same thing again. I planted evidence and other shit that made it look like he torched the building himself to get the insurance money.
I also alerted the feds to his drug activities so they’ll be crawling all over him come morning.
It’s over for him and the beginning for me and Nickoli.
The flames rise higher and although it excites me, I’m more enticed to see Isabelle when I get back to campus.
“Whoo hoo!” Dmitri shouts.
I bump my fists with his.
At that moment the wail of police sirens sounds in the distance. That’s our cue to leave.
“Come on, guys.” I cock my head. “Let’s get out of here. Cops are coming.”
We head back to where we parked our motorcycles and hop on. Just as I rev my engine I feel eyes on me.
I stare in the direction the pull is coming from and spot a lone motorcycle on the hill across from the restaurant. The motorcyclist sitting on the bike is staring right at me. He’s wearing a helmet so I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to see him to know who he is.
Alek.
He was watching us. He followed us.
I can’t concern myself with his suspicions tonight. Definitely not right now. I suppose he’ll ask me about this incident soon enough. We've essentially been caught red-handed, even with our masks on.
Looking away from him, I speed down the road. Dmitri and Logan follow, then we ride the hell away.
When we return to campus we celebrate with a few drinks and a game of pool, then part ways for the night.
The guys head to their apartments, and I go to see the girl.
It’s nearly three in the morning but Isabelle is there in the art studio, working on her sculpture.
Today she’s wearing a baggy jumper and a pair of denim shorts that catch the immediate attention of my dick.
Her hair is in a messy bun and loose tendrils fall about her cheeks. She’s completely engrossed in what she’s doing, looking like a woman on a mission.
A mission to get into Cambridge.
When I finished my training I looked into it a little more. I can’t hack a system like Dmitri can but I can do things like check the school records.
Isabelle has an interview with the Lord Chancellor on Monday and that sculpture she’s working on is the last thing she needs to get into Cambridge.
There’s no doubt they’ll accept her when they see it.
I’m not the kind of guy who appreciates art but even I have to compliment her work. What she’s done is a masterpiece. And no matter what I feel about Isabelle even I have to acknowledge how talented she is.
The sculpture looks like it could have been done by any one of the great artists this world has ever seen.
It’s of a girl running through a meadow, and everything has been done with such precision I’m having a hard time believing it’s not a real person. The only thing that shows its inanimate nature is the total white color.
Since the sculpture is roughly twelve feet tall Isabelle has to stand on a ladder to work on it. That also gives me a view of her long legs and her round ass.
After a few minutes she climbs down the ladder and grabs her thermos from the table. But it seems that the lid wasn’t on properly so the drink spills all over her sweater when she goes to open it.
“Damn it,” she hisses under her breath, her voice piercing the still silence.
Cautiously she looks toward the main window, probably checking to see if I’m there, or the others.
I’m in the alcove by the archway and the window I’m looking through is covered by darkness, so she wouldn’t be able to see me even if she tried.
Tonight isn’t one of those nights when I want her to see me. Instead I want her to feel me.
Once she seems satisfied that I’m not around, she takes off her sweater.
At the sight of massive tits in a lacy purple bra my fucking dick hardens, feeling like it might pop.
She’s what you call a late bloomer, so when I first met her, her chest was almost flat. By senior year her body started changing and guys started noticing her more. I started noticing her.
Summer came and went, then college started and she arrived looking like this. Like a goddess. Walking temptation in a Lolita doll dress.
By the time she walks over to her locker and takes out a black sweater, I’m pitching a tent. And my arousal doesn’t go away when she covers up.
The state of my dick gives me a very rude awakening, with a truth I loathe more than anything.
I want her. It’s a truth I can’t deny. No matter how badly I want to.
It’s a fucking truth I’ve always known. Right from the moment I first saw her all those years ago. But given what I know about her, wanting her was never a problem I expected to have.
Maybe it’s the closeness, the constant watching her after trying to avoid her for so long. Then I made the mistake of touching her.
I put the blame on all of it. Everything I’ve done in these few short weeks has made me want to do more with her body than simply screw with her mind.
I want to fuck her.
I mustn’t.
No matter what the fuck emotion messes with me, I must never get that close.
Isabelle drinks some water then returns to working on the sculpture for another hour before she climbs back down the ladder and studies her work.
“You’re looking good, lady. We’re all done now. Here’s hoping you get me to England.” Her voice is filled with the desperate kind of hope you hear in a person who’s eager to live their life and be free.
The same hope fills her beautiful autumn-colored eyes and at that moment the darkness inside me whispers a truly, truly wicked idea. The whispers grow louder and the idea takes shape in my devious, twisted mind.
Isabelle packs up her things and leaves, taking the long, safer way back to her apartment. The way that’s not through the woods.
I head back to Erebus with this new idea singing in my head.
Sorry Lolita, you’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.
Time to play a new game.
One that’s going to make you hate me just as much as you want me.