8. Irrational Asshole
8
IRRATIONAL ASSHOLE
KRYPT
That little fucker touches my Remiel. Hands on either side of his face through the window while they strategize their next move. I throw a rock at it, shattering the glass to get them moving. Cain’s hands drop, but I don’t breathe easier.
Menace laughs beside me, his wicked smile hidden beneath his black and blue mask. Menace has a history with Cain, and he was more than willing to join me tonight. Because I need Cain out of my way, and Menace is an eager hunter when it comes to the tattooed one.
“They’re gonna go out the back,” he says, pacing in anticipation of the hunt. “Fuck, I hope they can run.”
“Remiel is mine,” I remind him.
“Like you burning his house down in order to chase him through town didn’t make that obvious,” Menace mocks. “You ready, Krypt?”
I’m trembling with restraint. Waiting until my scared little hero makes a run for it. He’s going to try to save his friend, unable to live with the guilt if something happens to him, but Menace will keep him busy. Remiel is all mine, and I can’t wait to capture him.
I smile behind my mask, the only place I’m comfortable smiling. “Been waiting for this all day.”
Menace howls into the fire-lit night as Remiel’s house is almost totally engulfed by flames. Through the window, the two of them scramble, grabbing anything they can use as weapons to protect themselves. Smoke fills the kitchen now, and with one last look in my direction, Remiel runs through the house, pausing only once to mourn the loss of everything he owns.
My turn to howl. I’m coming for you, hero.
Menace stalks at my side as we make our way to the back of Remiel’s dying house. He looks at me as we glimpse them skirting through the gate at the back to weave through the neighbour’s backyard.
“Cain Carson!” Menace yells, just to scare him. “I’m coming for you!”
Remiel whimpers up ahead. It makes my dick twitch.
Through the gate and into someone else’s yard, I watch them slink through to the side of the house. The owners peer through their windows with fearful eyes, but they’re safe in there. I usually follow the rules. Usually . Burning a house down just to force the owner outside isn’t considered rule-following, but fuck it. I’ve been an irrational asshole since my deal with Remiel Sauder.
When we get to the front of the house, Remiel and Cain are running down the centre of the street. People in horror costumes creep under the streetlights and run at them, but with a growl from me, they back off. They’re adrenaline junkies, people who want to tempt fate and take their chances on the streets during Initiation Night. Anyone actually initiating is wearing a black mask like ours but with a black face, no colour assigned to them.
We pick up our pace, jogging after them. Their anxiety makes them clumsy, slowing them down enough that it’s easy to catch up.
“They’re going to Cain’s house,” I say.
“We’ll catch them before they get there,” Menace answers, looking at me. “We’ll cut them off on Crucifix Street.” He veers to the right and I follow, cutting through a playground and a few yards.
Camped in the shadows of Cain’s house, I watch a small person in a black mask stalk a girl from her car. She’s just trying to get to her front door, but the initiate throws a dagger, and it embeds in the girl’s back.
Selena Sauder stalks her prey, standing over Sally Davies’ bleeding body. The youngest Sauder kid has a good chance of making the cut this year.
“Time to separate them,” I tell Menace when Cain and Remiel come down Crucifix Street. “I’m taking Remiel back to Vile House.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure his friend has a good time,” Menace says, and then we part ways. I stay in the shadows and Menace walks right out onto the street, snatching Cain from behind. “Look what I caught,” Menace shouts while Cain flails, trying to hit him with a bat. “An artsy one!” He runs his hands over Cain’s bare, tattooed chest.
Remiel has a kitchen knife, swinging it at Menace to free his friend. Silently walking up behind him, I grab his wrist and twist it until he cries out in pain and the knife falls to the sidewalk. Remiel hits me, his fist landing against the front of my shoulder. The pain radiates up my neck and turns my vision crimson.
“Fuck. You!” he seethes, trying to break free of my hold on his wrist. “You fucking cheated!”
I did. But winners don’t always win by playing fair. I wrap my arm around him from behind, snugging it up to his throat until he can’t breathe.
“Calm down,” I whisper in his ear.
“Let Cain go!”
“Mmm, this one is mine,” Menace says, dragging Cain away. “Have fun.”
“Cain!” Remiel shouts. “Fuck! I’m sorry, Cain!”
I glance across the street, but Selena Sauder already sees us. She sees me with her brother, and she’s unpredictable enough that I don’t know what she’s going to do. When she takes a step in my direction, I tilt my head at her in warning. Her fingers tighten on her dagger hilts, but she bows her head and drags Sally by her hair, taking her to the backyard of Vile House.
Remiel is crying now. “Please,” he begs. “Please don’t hurt Cain.”
“Cain is fine,” I tell him. The way he squirms in my hold is almost as hot as when he pissed himself over the dead body. My cock thickens, and I don’t hide it. I press it against his ass and firm up my grip. “Ready to run, Remiel?”
He sobs but tries to choke it back. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking bargain. This isn’t what I agreed to!” He lets anger win, and I like that even more. Scared and pissed off about it is sexy.
I bend down, press the hilt of a blade against his palm, and whisper in his ear, “Run.”
But he does something that surprises me so much I stumble back a step. Remiel spins, pressing that blade to the fabric covering my neck. “You fucking run,” he snarls at me.
Oh, fuck me. Yes. For the first time in my entire life, arousal so strong and so violent consumes me, filling me until I’m shaking and hard. It damn near renders me useless, but when Remiel steps forward to press the dagger to my throat even harder, I almost come in my pants. I wrap my fingers around his trembling wrist.
“Fight me all you want, hero. Maybe I’ll bury you with Ophelia Hargrove after I’ve had my fun with you.”
Remiel is about to reply when someone in a Krampus costume rushes at us. I snatch the dagger Remiel has against my neck and fling it, hitting the Krampus’ head dead centre. He falls to his back, dead on impact, bleeding out at my hero’s unsteady feet.
“Oh my god,” he whispers, shocked.
“It’s Krypt, actually,” I give him my name and grab his hands, tying them behind his back. “And I’ll be your devil. Not your god.”
“Kryp… Keegan?” he asks.
I knock him the fuck out.
Because it’s Initiation Night, I have a job to do. I leave Remiel bound and gagged at my feet and stand with the other nine Vile Boys in the clearing behind Vile House. Random people litter the ground at their feet or lean against their legs with rags shoved into their mouths.
The lower-ranking members are out cleaning up the town and removing any evidence they find, protecting our secrets from Moros citizens who will wake up in the morning to blood staining the streets.
Director wears his mask, black with a gold face, and greets all the initiates who made it back.
“Congratulations on surviving Initiation Night!” His modulated voice echoes through the clearing despite the mist hanging in the air. “And welcome to Vile!”
A small army of black-masked initiates stare back at him, their offerings on the ground beneath them. Murder is not required to join Vile House—it’s not even encouraged—but a sacrifice is. Not that we’re going to murder their sacrifices, but they need to prove their hunting abilities. Vile House keeps Moros going by being feared. We’re here to keep the town in check, to build onto the history of it, and keep outside forces from infiltrating our ranks. And while they’re hunting for a sacrifice, we’re breathing down their necks and scaring them until they either succeed or quit, not cut out for it. So many quit, running home to give up.
This year, the hunt wasn’t just for sacrifices. It was for a man named Benton Wentworth. A billionaire trying to buy Moros from the county—the county doesn’t want our crime stats on their reports, so they’re trying to sell us off. We’ve had Wentworth in the cellar for a bit now, and earlier tonight, just as the sun was setting, he was set free to try to earn his way out of Moros for good.
Unfortunately, he didn’t make it. He sits at Monster’s feet, bloodied and broken. He’s whimpering, trying to beg for freedom because he learned a few valuable lessons tonight. One, Moros can’t be bought. Two, his money won’t save his life. And three, Monster is the last person he’ll ever want to see again.
“For generations, Moros has remained ours!” Director goes on, his voice warped. “And this man tried to take it from us. But like all others before him, he failed, didn’t he?”
The initiates cheer. Selena Sauder cheers loudest. Her blond-ish hair trails down her back from beneath her black mask. She looks at me, noticing her brother at my feet, but it doesn’t stop her cheering. Atta girl.
“And you’re here to initiate because you want to become a protector of Moros. Like them.” Director motions to the ten of us, and every head in the clearing swivels to take us in. Our identities aren’t known, but our masks are, and we’re like royalty around here. Everyone who makes it through Initiation Night wants to be one of us. One of the ten. We’ve all stood where they are, thirsting for where we are now.
I remember my Initiation Night. The ten at the time were so feared that my knees were weak and my heart beat so hard it made my teeth chatter. But the adrenaline had been everything. The hope, the desire to be something more than a person with a dead family and a sick mind. I wanted to be put to use, gain a purpose, and revel in the town that morphed me into who I am. I know that’s what every one of the black masks is feeling tonight. That spark of hope that they’ll get to become a part of Moros history that so few do.
“Tonight, we celebrate! And we show this man what Moros really has to offer.” After tonight, if he survives the party, he’ll be set free to warn others away from here. His claims will draw attention to crimes that can’t be proved, and like always, we’ll survive it. “Monster, bring him here,” Director demands.
But Monster doesn’t give up his prey easily. He’s possessive of the billionaire, snapping at anyone who dares take him away. Director can’t control Monster, but Ransom can. In his red mask, Ransom steps in front of Monster, tilting his chin with two fingers. The tiny maniac is wound tight, but whatever Ransom says to him has his body stiffening but his chin dipping. Director takes the man at his feet, and Ransom stays at Monster’s back, arms tight around his chest to keep him in check.
“Masks stay on, and no one is permitted inside the house, but everything else is a free-for-all. Let’s show this man a good time and give him plenty of stories to take home!”
It’s nearly three in the morning, but the party will go until the sun rises and a new day falls on Moros. Menace is ready to leave to get back to the tattooed one he has tied up in his room, so I give him a nod as he pushes by me. Remiel groans as I pull him from the ground, but before I get far, his younger sister is in front of me. Her blond hair bothers me, but her audacity to approach me bothers me more.
“What will you do with him?” she asks.
“Whatever the fuck I want.” I pull a calling card from my pocket, Remiel’s name written on the back. “He gave his life to me.”
If she recognizes my voice, she doesn’t show it. With a nod, she crouches down, face in front of her brother’s. “What have you done, Remi?”
He groans but says nothing, not coherent enough to form real words.
“Keep him alive,” Selena says to me. “He’s already battling a curse.”
With a nod, I throw Remiel over my shoulder and carry him inside Vile House. On my way to my room, I bump into my brother, wearing his black mask with a white face. We’re the second set of blood brothers to ever be a part of the ten at the same time. The first was our great-grandfather and his brother.
“You know what you’re doing with this one, Krypt?” Riot asks.
I nod. “Might need your help with one of the names on his list.”
Riot nods and hands me a joint. “Soren?”
“Soren,” I confirm.
Riot lifts his mask and looks at me with a face so similar to mine, eyes full of storms instead of monsters. He grins, nodding. “Soren Sauder,” he repeats. “Dead?” Riot has always had something against Soren, so this will be interesting.
“Controlled.” I walk past him and take Remiel to my room.
It’s about time he learns whose face hides behind my mask.