15. Mackenzie
The next day,I’m walking through the corridors of this den of iniquity, masquerading as an establishment of learning, and trying to avoid eye contact with everyone, when I see a familiar figure. I run over to my friend and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around, and so many expressions flit across her face, it’s like watching a movie reel of emotions. I stand there for a few seconds, terrified which one will win.
“Mackenzie,” she says, her tone reserved. “I’m glad you’re back. And safe.”
It’s hardly the effusive welcome I was hoping for. Then again, can I really blame her?
“I’m so glad to see you, Camile. Truthfully, I really am. I hope we can be friends again, and that you’ll forgive me for all the craziness.”
“It’s not a question of forgiving you, Mackenzie.” She smiles sadly at me. “It’s just that I don’t want to be around those guys. I don’t think it’s safe. If you’re going to be hanging with them all the time, they’ll take you over.”
“No, they won’t,” I say with a forced laugh. It sounds fake as hell, and I want to wince at myself.
“Oh, but they will. They’ll swallow you whole. You’re already becoming their pliant little toy to play with.”
I flinch as if she slapped me. Her words are so close to the bone. They’ve called me their doll, haven’t they? They talk about how much they enjoy toying with me. Does she see that? Does everyone else? Am I going to be nothing but a laughingstock if I let this insane pact go ahead?
“Ouch,” I say with a smile. I try to keep my tone and expression light.
“I really like you,” she says. “I’m just scared of them.”
“They would never hurt you. Not if you’re a friend of mine.”
“You think you can control them?” She glances around, making sure no one’s close enough to hear what we’re saying. “Mackenzie, you can no more control the wind. Those men are elemental. Hell, how can you control them, when they can’t control themselves?”
She makes a damn good point, and one I don’t have an answer to.
“Can we meet for coffee later?” I ask. “Please?”
She bites her bottom lip but then gives a brisk nod. “Okay, a coffee can’t hurt, I suppose. Meet me in the cafeteria around six?”
“I’ll be there,” I say.
I glance at my watch and realize I don’t have long before I have to get to my next lecture. I need the restroom before then.
I wave at Camile and, feeling lighter, head to the student restrooms.
It seems so odd to be falling back into the routine and mundanity of academic life, when I know out there is a man gunning for me, and in here are three men who want to own and control me. Half the time I feel unreal.
I drift through my life as if I’m living in a dream. Some days I feel like I’m separated from the real world by thick glass. Everything seems slightly muffled, and I honestly feel so unmoored from reality that I wouldn’t be shocked to see a unicorn prancing down the hallway.
I use the toilet, wash my hands, and reapply my lipstick. After all, appearances are everything. I might be falling apart on the inside, and mentally and emotionally on very shaky ground, but I will be damned if I will let the rest of the student body here know that.
Act as if.That’s what I told myself when I first came here, and that’s what I intend to do. The Devils call me their Duchess, and I’m going to use that regal energy like a cloak around me to protect me from the gossip and stares.
So what if people think I’m the Devils’ plaything? They could write a scarlet A on my back, and I would still hold my head high as I walk these hallways. There’s very little I can do to control my fate right now. There are so many opposing forces crushing me, and my mother, squeezing me so I can’t breathe. The one thing I can control, however, is how I appear to other people. They won’t get to see me break.
No one gets that.
Mind made up to accept the Devils’ offer but brazen it out and screw everyone else and their judgmental asses, I smile at myself. A real one that reaches my eyes and lights up my face in the mirror.
“You’ve got this. You’re a bad-ass duchess, baby.” Then, on a whim, I poke my tongue out at myself and leave.
I walk out of the bathroom and glance down the corridor.
About to turn away, I pause and look again. At the far end of the hallway is Camile, and surrounding her are two of the Vipers from West House.
She hates them, doesn’t she? Just like she hates the Devils. What is she doing with them?
They crowd her, and she tries to move back but hits the wall behind her.
What the hell?
One of them shoves his hand up her skirt. I can’t believe what I am seeing. Camile is obviously not a willing participant in this.
She twists her face away from him, and I swallow, panic rising in me as I watch him lick her ear. Camile scrunches her face, her eyes closed tight. This is not a game she’s enjoying being a part of. This looks very different to me than what goes on between me and my Devils. She’s scared, maybe even disgusted. The other Viper wraps his hands in her hair and tucks her head back, until it is at what appears to be a painful angle. He says something to her. She nods desperately, as if agreeing to something in the primitive hope it will make them leave her alone.
It seems to work because they laugh, and the one holding her hair lets go hard enough that she bangs her head on the wall.
They walk away, still laughing to themselves.
What the hell was that? I race down the hallway toward her and, when I reach her, put my arm around her and pull her to me. “What was that about?”
“It’s nothing,” she says.
“Camile, tell me.”
I still have my arm around her, and she makes a small, annoyed noise in the back of her throat. She struggles and pushes me away, so I let her go.
“Seriously, Mack, just leave it. I need to go. I’m late. I’ll see you at six.”
She turns and runs down the corridor away from me. I watch her go, so many questions swirling in my mind. If the Vipers are bullying my friend, will the Devils help her? If she’s in the same kind of position as me, why has she been so hard on me about all of this?
Is it because of the way the Vipers are treating Camile that she’s putting her own issues and baggage onto me? Is that why she disbelieves me when I try to tell her that although the Devils terrify me, at the same time I feel strangely safe with them.
We need to talk, but I know if I try, she will shut me down.
I think when we get our coffee, I’ll try to keep things casual and friendly, and once she trusts me again, then I can try to steer the conversation to what I saw.
I need to get to class.
My phone buzzes, and I look at it to see a summons from Dom.
Meet us at the Den at three. I checked your schedule, so I know you’re free.>
My stomach flip-flops, and I’m not sure if it is in excitement or dread.