Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
SUMMER
H ushed laughter and voices echo from both directions in the dark house. I head left, sliding along the fancy wood floors, making little to no noise. I keep my mask on, as if it somehow will keep me invisible, even though my heart rate alone would betray my presence.
I pull my clutch off my shoulder and grab my phone, but I have no missed messages from anyone. I head down a dark hall and push open a large double door, hoping I can find a bathroom and regroup. Or better yet, find Lincoln and be done with these games. If this is where Lincoln lives, then where the fuck is he?
Instead, the door opens up to a large, impressive dark room with an elegant bar in the corner. The plush couches are filled with people, chatting and relaxing. Some people are wearing masks, some aren’t.
It’s the descendants of the town’s founders. These are the people Dani believes are part of a secret society that murders people. This is, of course, all according to Dani’s research over the past few weeks on the people that live in this town. On those that she thinks were involved with her father’s false conviction. If I didn’t bear a mark on my thigh, I would have thought she was insane.
There are enough people in here that no one notices me walk in, with my mask on and my hair tucked in tight so nobody can identify me.
Not that I mean anything to these people.
To me, it just looks like a party—normal college kids, doing normal college things. Everyone is mingling, drinking, or…making out on the couch.
A couple of scantily dressed girls are sitting on the laps of their men with their dresses pulled up over their thighs and, to my extreme relief, none of them are kissing Lincoln. Their masks lay lazily in their hands as if meaningless, and the music is much lower than it is outside.
Each girl is kissing her own partner, then they kiss each other, and then they make out with the guys again.
My face heats beneath my mask, but it’s dark so I can’t get a good look at them. I can tell by the way he chews on his lip and watches his girlfriend like he wants to destroy her, it’s Xander. That and his arms are flexing and his tattoos are a clear marker.
He is a complete juxtaposition from Dr. Garcia, who is so petite and, even in her old age, pretty. Minus the darkness, which they both have in spades.
I stare at Xander and his girlfriend, at what they are doing, as heat pools in my lower belly. I watch him grab his girlfriend and pull her in for a kiss.
The guy next to him notices me, and Xander stops kissing her as our eyes lock. His features seem darker in this house. He gives me that slick smile and his girlfriend turns to face me. Heat fills my cheeks as I capture all their attention.
“Fuck,” I whisper, and I turn to run.
“Hey,” Xander yells, pushing his girlfriend off. “We just want to talk to you. We know who you are.”
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I flee back toward the front door. If I can get outside, I will be invisible among the crowd and Xander won’t find me. I didn’t come here to talk with Xander, and since Lincoln is nowhere to be found, it’s time to find Dani.
When I run to the door, the two guys from earlier are there, blocking me. Apparently, they let me in but have no intentions of letting me out, so I veer up the stairs instead, running up the curled ornate staircase leading to the rooms above.
I stall, catching my breath at the top of the stairs. Dim lights shine on a blood-red carpet in a long hallway with a few doors on either side. I turn, and am only met with silence and dust, so I tiptoe down the hall as the floorboards creak beneath my feet.
I decide to explore.
My eyes are immediately drawn to rows of photos lined up on the wall, similar frames to the one downstairs. As I carefully examine each old black-and-white photo, some dating back over a hundred years, I eventually stumble upon one that catches my attention. It is a picture of Dr. Garcia, adorned in her graduation gown, proudly receiving her degree. Her dark hair, neatly parted down the middle, gracefully cascades down to her lower back. She looks youthful in this photo, and it’s hard to believe she was around twenty at the time.
Her beauty is undeniable, but the way she gazes directly into the camera is almost unnerving, like a cold stare that chills me to the bone.
As if she’s saying, I see you , and the welcome isn’t friendly.
I notice pictures of Xander and others I don’t recognize, assuming one of them is Xander’s mom, who I realize I know nothing about or what happened to her. My breath catches when I see a photo of Lincoln next to Xander. Lincoln barely looks eleven, and I stare at him for way too long as my one memory flashes back at me. I stare at his eyes, trying to decipher who is inside there, staring back at me.
It’s Mikael, I decide. It can’t be Lincoln, because this sad-looking boy staring back at me is not wearing glasses. It’s also the boy I remember seeing.
I move down the hall and another picture stands out to me. I take in a tall, handsome boy with wavy sandy hair next to her holding a guitar. Dimples I can’t look away from. Emotion rushes through me as I stare at his familiar face. Such a kind face, so many of his features trickled down to me. So many times I spent bouncing in his arms as a young child.
Tommy Landry…my papa.
He was such an incredible man, even though I haven’t seen him in years. My father and he had a falling out and quit speaking. I lost my relationship with him because of it.
He is still alive to this day, nestled in a small quiet town a couple hours away from here.
The woman standing beside him takes my breath away. I gasp as I behold the sight of my stunning grandmother, Didi. Her hair, her eyes, her face, all white.
I’ve only ever laid eyes on a single photograph of her before, but it never could have prepared me for this moment.
She passed away before I was born, so I never had the chance to know her. But I have an indescribable connection to her.
I inherited partial albinism from her, although it only affects my hair and skin. My eyes are blue, my eyelashes are dark, my skin and lips have a hue.
She was born with winter in her soul.
Her hair, her skin, every single feature is a brilliant white.
She’s standing between my grandfather and Dr. Garcia. Dr. Garcia is kissing her cheek, and my grandmother is smiling. My grandfather stares down at her adoringly, and they all look…happy. I refuse to believe they were behind the slaughter of 1979.
But the death was real: the blood, and the carnage left behind. Someone or something was behind it.
My grandparents, Tommy and Didi, lived in this old house, I realize. Dr. Garcia knew them so well. I try to breathe as the realization of what I’m looking at settles in.
Chaos, 1979, is written in ink on the bottom of the photo .
The years match up perfectly.
Something creaks behind me, and I lurch back. Two men stand at the end of the hall to my left, wearing masks, hidden in the deep shadows of the hall. My heart startles and I reach for the closest door, twist the handle, and step into the dark while slamming the door behind me. Luckily, I’m able to twist the lock in place.
I stumble back, falling in the dark bedroom. My heart races and my body trembles as the door handle jiggles. The room is completely dark, but my eyes slowly begin to adjust. A heavy buzz courses through my skin, as if my body is turning into liquid.
Fuck…
The drink they gave me must have had something in it.
I slam my hand over my mouth as heavy footsteps stop in front of the door.
“ Sum—mer,” Xander’s voice is deep and brooding. He raps his knuckles hard on the door, causing me to flinch. “ You sneak into my house, and you don’t even want to say hi?”
I instantly hate him. Everything about him.
This is a game…an enjoyable game for him. They are just a bunch of spoiled rich kids who think they can do whatever they want to women under the guise of a secret society .
When it seems like they pass by, I look around the dark room, the buzz of the party still outside.
The door opens and I take a step back just as Xander stares at me standing in front of him, like a lamb to the slaughter.
The edges of his mask curve into a smile. “Are you going to run?”
I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of a chase because that’s what I suspect they want me to do. His nameless, faceless friend walks in after him.
“Damn, she’s hotter than I thought she’d be,” the smaller one says under his mask.
Xander leans in and stares at me under the cold, dead eyes of the burlap mask. “And bold,” he says. “Are you feeling brave, sweetheart? Or are you just going to sneak around my house uninvited?”
I cross my hands over my body, feeling very exposed in my short dress. “I didn’t sneak in here and you know it. You lured me. Where is Lincoln?”
He steps toward me, and I fall back on the soft bed behind me. So incredibly soft, I run my fingers over it.
What did they give me?
“You’re pretty fucking stuck up, aren’t you, Summer Landry?” he says. For whatever reason, he hates me and he knows who I am. He can tell from my last name and the picture of my grandparents on his wall.
The relationship his grandmother had with my father.
“What the hell do you want from me, Xander? I don’t even know you.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the spice of his cologne.
My heart rate is extenuated because of the drugs coursing through my system. I pull off my mask so I can breathe.
His eyes draw to my white hair and his head tilts. “You don’t belong here. You’re not one of us. I don’t care who your father is. Open your fucking legs; I want to see what that fucker did to you.”
My mark. He’s talking about my mark. My fingers instantly cover it and my mouth gapes open. “I don’t think so.”
He grabs my knee and I try to kick him, needlessly, because he merely swats me away.
I stiffen as he grips my leg. “Is that why you drugged me when I came in, so you can take my clothes off easier?”
He snorts. “Believe it or not, sweetheart, I have no desire to fuck you. The drugs are because I’m a nice guy and it will make it hurt less.” He jerks his head. “Hold her down, man.”
Panic settles in. I kick hard, flailing my arms. My nails meet flesh as I scrape Xander’s friend’s arm with everything I have, digging my nails in as hard as I can.
“Fuck, man,” he cries out, pulling his arm away. “She made me bleed.”
Xander shoots him a look, and he pins my wrists and wraps a powerful arm around my mouth. I go to bite him, but he anticipates it and shoves his hand over my mouth, depriving me of oxygen.
He leans down and whispers, “I’m very good at inflicting pain. Don’t fucking test me.”
I go slack, knowing it’s pointless to struggle. Eventually, his grip loosens, and I take deep breaths in and out of my nose.
Xander runs his hand up my calf and smiles when my body finches and tears well in my eyes, despite the orgasmic sensation running through me that seems to settle between my legs.
He pulls my dress up, his face unreadable. His gaze travels down my body, his attention drawn to the prominent mark on the apex of my thigh, right next to my panties.
He chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “He really fucking marked you. Son of a bitch.” He raises his head, his black holes for eyes flicker. “I hope he fucks that attitude right out of you before he kills you. If you were my woman, I’d have you in line by now.”
“Well, thank god I’m not your fucking woman,” I seethe. “Lincoln is so much better than you.”
He yanks his mask off and shoots me a look of complete revulsion, as if my very existence is a source of torment for him.
He raises his chin and chews on those damn lips. “I’m not talking about Lincoln, sweetheart. You’re a fucking dead girl walking. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what you’re doing to him. Get the fuck out of this town, Summer. That’s your only warning.”
What the hell am I doing to him ? Last I checked, I’m the one who got carved up at the rave, stalked throughout my entire teenage years and ravaged in my sleep.
I give him an icy stare and the smaller guy finally takes his hands off me.
I jerk away and scramble up, glaring at him. “I don’t respond to idle threats.”
He rises and peers down at me, pure steel raging from his eyes just as a shadow looms behind him, and I make eye contact with Lincoln in the doorway.
Xander shakes his head, his jaw flexing. “You really have no idea what you’re a part of, do you?”
I attempt to keep my breathing steady. “I’m here to see Lincoln. I’m here to talk to him, that’s it.” My eyes are steady on Lincoln, but Xander still doesn’t notice him.
Xander scoffs, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “You’re destroying him by being here. If you don’t leave, Lincoln Kennedy won’t exist anymore. And he doesn’t care about you because he doesn’t care about anybody. He’s a robot. He’s incapable of feeling anything.”