20. CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 20
Tilda
I turn over in bed, closing my eyes against the thumping in my head.
Fuck.
I don’t usually get hangovers this bad but I’d packed a lot away between the meal, after drinks, and that dodgy-ass vodka. Didn’t even occur to me that it might have been spiked.
Considering how many illegal substances were flowing through that place, it should have been a given.
All feels like a fever dream now. I knew there was an offshore club, everyone knows that, but I hadn’t expected a whole empire. Is the university even aware? They must be, surely.
I suppose any trouble gets paid off around here. The fact you even have to have money to gain admittance to that place suggests that.
I’m not sure I liked it. Just seemed seedy. Dangerous.
Nic suited it though. With her rumpled shirt, choppy, messy hair, she looked like a fiendish pirate amongst her crew. Right at home.
What a weird night.
I thought maybe, maybe, us getting drunk together might bridge the gap between us. I’d been thinking of Mum’s and Callum’s dogs. First time introducing them, it had been on sight, not dissimilar to Nic’s reaction to me. We had them locked in different rooms until one rainy afternoon when we took them on a walk together. Best pals after that.
The Vaults had been our rain, but clearly it hadn’t been distracting enough. Nic’s more stubborn than any dog.
My newest cut chafes against my pyjama bottoms. I pull them up, running an eye over the stark redness. Does she bring that knife everywhere she goes? I remember a similar selection on one of the tables. Insane to think they’re peddling weapons to students here. All of a sudden those dodgy Mafia rumours don’t seem so dodge.
I’ve no desire to go back. Not unless Nic invites me again which is highly unlikely. Shame she’s almost human when only on drugs.
I think about her in her tent, wondering how she got on this morning. Must be bloody freezing out there.
My cheeks heat upon remembering her rejection of me.
I hadn’t meant anything; I just couldn’t be arsed with the walk home. The tent was big enough that we could have both stretched out without touching.
Maybe she just hadn’t trust herself…
No. Definitely wasn’t that. She just got sick of me.
I snort, picking at my flaking mascara. Don’t blame her. I get sick of me too.
Across the corridor I hear a weight crash to the floor. I check the time. It’s a hell of a lot later than I thought.
I wonder if Haz has a sore head today too, hence the home workout.
So they have a bet going, huh?
Colour me surprised.
Wonder who’s winning so far.
Well, me, I suppose. Something I vow here and now to keep up.
Dickheads.
I eye the ceiling, wondering if Nic’s back yet. I want her to tell me more about this bet.
But first I need a drink, my mouth feeling like sawdust.
In the lounge I find Elly on the sofa, tucked beneath a blanket. I resist calling her out. I’m too fucked for a fight right now. Not sure I can handle the truth in this state. Plus, she looks too cosy.
‘Morning. Hanging?’
‘No,’ she replies dully. ‘Just… bleh.’
I frown as I step into the kitchen to fill up the kettle. Whilst it’s heating, I return to the sofa, lifting up the blanket and sliding under it.
It’s a wide sofa but we’re still touching down our lengths.
‘What’s wrong? Who do I have to punch?’
Elly smiles. ‘Well, that would be my family and I’d rather you didn’t do that.’
‘What about them?’
It occurs to me that I know nothing about any of these girls outside of Hazelhurst, like those versions of them simply don’t exist.
‘It’s just a lot.’ She blinks wearily. She has her glasses on, the frames skewwhiff in her reposed position. Gently I take them from her and set them aside.
‘Tell Tilda. She’s a fab listener.’
‘She’s fab at everything.’
I prod her shoulder. ‘No flirting. Tell me.’
‘I might have to quit,’ she says, closing her eyes.
I hear her sniff and realise she’s close to crying. Despite Nic’s little truth bomb last night, my heart clenches. A sad Elly is just wrong. I shuffle forward until we’re pretty much moulded together.
‘Why would you have to quit? What’s up?’
She groans quietly, like my question’s too complicated to get into. ‘There’s just a lot going on. And they need my support. But I can’t give it if I’m here.’
I open my mouth to reply, unsure what’s about to come out, when her phone vibrates somewhere between us. With a sigh, she reaches under the blankets and pulls it out. The time flashes up on the screen. If I don’t get a move on, I won’t be making my meeting with Mark.
‘Tell you what, do you want to meet later on?’ I tap her on the arm, drawing her attention away from whoever’s messaged her. ‘Are you free? Around one, maybe.’
Elly smiles, a little of her old cheekiness shining in it. ‘A date with yours truly?’
‘Would that cheer you up?’
‘Heck yeah, it would.’
‘Alright.’ I disentangle from her, taking a moment to rearrange my pyjamas. ‘We’ll do lunch or something. I’ll even buy you a pasta pot from the shop.’
‘Pasta pot and a kiss?’
I narrow my eyes. ‘Don’t push it.’
I make up a tea for me and Elly and run mine back upstairs. Just as I step onto the landing, Haz’s door opens. She’s in joggers and a sports bra, her abs gleaming with the sweat of her workout, a towel slung over one shoulder.
‘Morning, beautiful.’ She smiles, a little ferally. She’s always like this after a workout. It’s like battle lust. She nods towards the bathroom. ‘Wanna share water again?’
‘You wish.’
Cradling my tea, I glance at the narrow staircase at the darkened end of the hall. I don’t know if Nic’s even around but I’ve got this dying need to talk to her in the sober light of day.
Making a decision, I plop my mug down on the hallway radiator and take to the stairs.
‘Well, she definitely won’t share with you,’ Haz calls after me.
I hesitate at the top. The tiny landing here is pitch black, two doors either side of me shut tight. Remembering the noises from the other night, I deduce the door to my left is her bedroom. I knock tentatively with a knuckle. No reply, so I do it again.
Probably still out in the woods. Probably frozen to death in that tent or been eaten by wolves. Hazelhurst Island is the only place in the country to have the creatures roaming free. Used to scare me walking through the woods as a fresher but I’ve never seen one of the grey beasts myself.
Deciding to be nosy, I nudge open the door. The room’s empty as I predicted, the bed neatly made. Super neatly made, the top of it folded down to expose the striped pattern on the underside.
Bet it wasn’t neat the night she had Skylar round. I stare at the large double, wondering which position they’d been in. Doggy style, I decide. With Nic reaching over Skylar’s body and grasping the headboard for leverage. Thus all the banging.
I swallow, pushing down the throbbing between my legs. Gonna have to do something about that soon. I need dick but there’s no one who comes to mind when I rack it. Maybe that pretty boy Natasha used to like, just to piss her off.
Nic’s room smells woodsy. There’s a candle on the windowsill. I cross over to it, intrigued to see what the view is from her window. It’s not so dissimilar to mine. There’s more sky up here, more of the castle to see. I pick up the candle and sniff it. It smells like Christmas and men’s aftershave, like the pine trees outside.
Weird how peaceful it is in here. I wonder if it’s the same when she’s around, drinking her expensive whiskeys, reading her books, listening to her moody music. Or does her psycho energy permeate the place, seeping into every crack and crevice like noxious smoke?
There’s a strange stillness to the room, like everything in here is just holding its breath.
Around her, that’s all I do.
‘The fuck are you doing?’
My heart jolts.
Shit, I thought she’d be out for ages yet. I hadn’t prepared to be caught trespassing in her lair. A twisty sort of panic claws at me.
I make myself turn slowly, still holding the candle to my nose. ‘Looking for you.’
‘I don’t like people up here.’
There’s a frown on Nic’s face but she doesn’t look at me as she crosses to her desk. It’s clear she’s just come from the shower, one towel wrapped around her body and a smaller in her hand scrubbing through her hair.
Replacing the candle on the windowsill, I shrug. ‘And I don’t like people being dicks to me for no reason, but hey-ho.’
She glares at me now, tossing the smaller towel onto her bed. Then she releases the larger one, letting it fall from her body to the floor.
I slap my hands over my eyes but it’s too late, way, way too late, the sight of her bony, shower-pink body all my mind’s eye can see. Never seen such an impressive bush. I have to clamp my lips together so the comment won’t blurt from them. All that leg hair used to shock me too. Now I find it strangely suits her.
My ears twitch when I hear her turn the lock in the door. My body tingles with awareness. I’m trapped in here now.
‘I’m waiting.’
‘For what?’ Despite hearing the rustle of clothing, I keep my eyes covered.
‘For whatever the fuck it is you want.’
‘Nothing much. Some idle conversation. Since you’re so good at it and all.’
There’s more rustling, then the sound of muffled footsteps, and then a warm, heavy sensation as she pushes into me.
‘Tilda, fuck off,’ she whispers into my ear, filling my nose with the spicy scent of her shower gel.
I take my hands from my eyes, blinking away the blurriness. She looks different with wet hair, slicked back from her face like some Grease extra. Such a curious mix of masculine and feminine. Sometimes I look at her and see only a guy and then at other times, like when she’s wearing that long peacoat of hers or one of her black turtlenecks, there’s an air of femininity about her. I know she goes by female pronouns, but she’s got that whole genderfluid thing down to a T.
She’s dressed in a white thermal top today, nipples peeking starkly from the textured material. Wool trousers hang from her hips. She usually wears them for uni. I wonder if she’s in at the same time as me, if she’d want to walk over together.
I snort internally. Not likely.
Crossing to the door, she holds it open, waiting for me to exit so she can finish getting dressed. When I fail to move, feeling a perverse satisfaction at how being in her space so clearly nettles her, she nods to the doorway. ‘Quick before I throw you.’
I don’t push it any longer. I have to go get ready too. Refusing to acknowledge how my pyjama bottoms have crawled back up my ass, I leave her room. She reaches out just as I pass, grabbing my arm so she can aid me on my way.
I stumble as the door slams shut, catching myself on the bathroom doorframe, and— fuck —I didn’t even ask what I went in there for.
Oh well.
Taking hold of the banister, my legs oddly shaky, I retreat downstairs to safety.
I can press her more about Elly and Haz’s bet later.
Nic
Air still ringing with the slamming door, I sink onto the bed, eyes never leaving the plane of wood.
She didn’t see it, the miniature African mask tacked there, the same one forever inked on my thigh. She didn’t see that either, not even when I dropped my towel and dared her to.
Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t recognise it. She looks into her past every time she looks at me and still doesn’t see. Despite all the hours we sat on the conservatory floor praying to that mask, dedicating spells and incantations, our childish imaginations running rampant.
Fuck knows what happened to the original. Never saw it again after we left.
When I saw an exact replica in a shop on a girl’s holiday, I snatched it up, the only souvenir I returned home with.
It’s like having the devil pinned on the wall. Maybe it was that bastard thing that called her back to me.
I stretch back over the bed, the pull of my groin reminding me of what I started in the shower.
Right before being interrupted by the sound of someone breaching my domain.
With a sigh, I slip my hand inside my boxers, reacquainting myself with my wetness. It’s not the first time I’ve wanked to that mask. Better it than Tilda’s face. More and more it’s coming to me when I least want it.
Sometimes I do—in those moods where I need something to hurt. That feeling, crawly and thorny and unbearable, marks my first foray into the sexual world. It’s familiar in some fucked up way, my body thoroughly, irrevocably conditioned. Wanking to Tilda gives me that feeling. The lesser of two evils when compared to the first person to bestow it. There’s nothing but a black hole when I think of them.
This mask, everything it represents, is a better alternative.
It’s not long until my thighs are quaking. Eyes at half slit, the mask’s pattern blurring like a kaleidoscope, I gasp out my orgasm.
I lie there for a while afterwards, long enough to be late for uni.
Unfortunately not long enough for Tilda to have left the lodge.
She’s tying her boots when I enter the kitchen, a smile stretching her lips when she spots me.
Damn last night. Now she thinks we’re buddies or something.
‘Off to uni?’ she asks.
‘Kind of the only thing to do around here.’
She huffs out a breath. ‘You disproved that last night.’
I rub my forehead. ‘Last night meant nothing.’
She grins like I’ve said something salacious. ‘Wanna walk two paces behind me? Then you can pretend we’re not walking together.’
I show a palm in a I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck gesture.
She leaves first, tossing me a smile over her shoulder as she walks ahead.
‘Not waiting for the others?’ I can’t help but ask. They’ve been joined at the fucking hip since stowing her away in the spare room.
‘Got a one-on-one,’ she calls back.
And that’s the end of any conversation I’m willing to have.
She seems to forget I’m there as we weave through the forest, the trees a lot friendlier looking than they’d been last night. I focus on them instead of the girl walking through them like a witch at home in the woods.
When we enter the castle, I hope she’ll fuck off up the stairs but she continues on towards the quad. The benches are dotted with students bundled in their coats eating lunch. The Christmas tree stands tall, the lit fairy lights glowing dully in the sun.
I see Blakely in the distance, loitering in the cloister’s corner. She’s looking in our direction but those grey eyes are solely on Tilda.
I huff. Get in line.
How do they even know each other? The only link I see is me.
She waits until Tilda’s within reach. Then, extending her arms, she neatly hooks a drawstring bag over her head.
I stop, hearing people tut behind me.
A few metres ahead, Tilda struggles. A futile task given the size and strength of Blakely. She spots me, tossing me a small smile as she tightens the strings. Then, like Tilda weighs nothing at all, she puts her over her shoulder and ferries her off.
I continue on my way. Guess Blakely won’t be joining me for today’s lecture.
I can guess what that was about. That asshole Charon probably snitched. They really do run a tight ship over who can enter the Vaults.
Tilda’s not in any real danger. They’ll likely shake her up a little, make her sign an NDA. I had done the same at the beginning of last year—though admittedly under a lot less duress.
The Charon might have snitched on me too, and undoubtedly Tilda will, but my name around here’s fucking gold.
I feel myself smirking as I jog up the stairs to the lecture theatre.
Yeah, I hope they shake her up good.
Tilda
I’ve never held the desire to know what an animal in a trap feels like, but I imagine it’s close to this.
The air in the bag is hot, the skin of my face damp with my own frantic breaths.
We’re not on the smooth cobbles anymore, haven’t been for a while. I stumble over forest floor, boots tripping on roots and rocks. I swear she’s guiding me to the most treacherous paths, a hand between my shoulders pushing a little too hard to be helpful. I’ve given up asking why the hell she’s doing this. Don’t even know if she’s got the capacity for speech, the fucking brute.
I just concentrate on not passing out or having a panic attack. I can just about see where the trees meet the sky through the thin bag. Thankfully we’re heading inland otherwise I’d think she was leading me to a clifftop to toss me off.
Some kind of hazing? Something Ryan’s cooked up? Or Nic, even. She was there trailing me the whole time. Whatever they’ve got planned, I hope it’s not too awful. I really am a pussy deep down. Pain only feels good when self-inflicted.
Sounds are different now. Birdsong tapers off, my feet falling on what feels like woodchips. My gut tells me we’re approaching a house. Not my lodge though. We’ve walked too far for that.
Poor Elly. My meeting would have finished by now. She’ll be wondering where I am. I’m sure I can feel my phone vibrating in my bag.
I trip over a step Blakely could have warned me about but I’m honestly too cacking it to complain. The air changes, growing heavy. We’re inside. With a vicious tug, the bag is pulled from my head.
I blink at my new surroundings. It’s a lodge like ours, though much larger and swankier. Like the ones down by the lake. That would make sense given the direction I was marched in.
I run a hand through my hair to settle it, taking stock of the new people around me. Most of whom I recognise.
‘Got a thing for kidnapping, haven’t you?’ Aurelie says, watching us coolly. She swings a water bottle from one hand and doesn’t seem too concerned at witnessing an abduction.
That’s less surprising than who else is here.
‘Fina, take Aurelie upstairs,’ Margot says. She’s hastily putting on a blazer as if there are more important things at hand than my potential murder.
The only one I don’t recognise—an angry-looking girl in black leather and silver chains—reaches out for Aurelie who neatly steps away.
‘Don’t bother. I was heading downstairs for a workout.’
She enters through a door, the other girl at her heels. The door slams shut. Then it’s just the three of us—me, my kidnapper and my lecturer who I’m starting to think is dodgy as shit.
‘A little uncalled for, Blakely, but thank you. God knows I’ve not got time to be scouring the island.’ Margot stands before me and folds her arms. ‘Last night. Who took you?’
Yeah, no, I’m no snitch.
I give a silent shake of my head, to which Margot rubs her forehead and sighs.
‘I just don’t have time for this.’ She sweeps a hand at the kitchen table. ‘Pick up that pen and sign that sheet there.’
I run my eyes over it before taking hold of the pen. ‘What am I signing?’
‘Breathe a word and you’re dead,’ Blakely supplies.
‘Yes, thank you, Blakely. On your way, please.’ Margot nods at the sheet. ‘A slight magnification but it is for your own best interests and for the good of this institution.’
‘But…’ I think back to last night, remembering the knives and the fighting and the weird sex rooms. And this woman, this lecturer , knows all about it? ‘There’s illegal stuff there.’
‘Yes. Hence the NDA. Sign it, Matilda. You’re in my taster, aren’t you?’ She tilts her head. ‘Doesn’t have to be that way.’
I raise my eyebrows, turning back to the NDA. Of course I’m going to sign it—I’m a pussy, remember?—but shit, threats as well? The hell is this university?
‘Good girl,’ she says as soon as I’ve penned my signature. ‘Back to campus now.’
I hesitate, still struggling to catch up with this whole situation. ‘So, now I’ve signed it, does that mean I can go back?’
‘No skin off my back.’ She slides the paper into a briefcase before picking it up and rushing from the door. She doesn’t spare me a second glance.
‘You should come watch me fight,’ Blakely says. For someone so big, she’s good at hiding there in the shadows.
‘Already did a bit.’ I blow out a breath, residue adrenaline making me feel weak. ‘Skip the bag-over-the-head thing in future, please.’
She doesn’t bother replying. From the fridge she pulls out a premade shake, like the ones Haz likes to drink, and heads in the direction of the other two. ‘Have to find your own way back.’
As soon as she disappears, I bustle from the lodge, taking out my phone to call Elly. She’s already called me twice. The thought of making her even sadder by standing her up makes me want to lob a brick at a window.
‘Hey,’ she says on picking up.
I screw my eyes shut at her dejected tone. ‘Hey Elly, I’m so sorry, I’m on my way now. Oh my god, this fucking day. You won’t even believe it.’ I put a hand on my heart where it’s still pounding.
She chuckles quietly. ‘You good?’
‘Yeah. Just. Still down for lunch?’ I cross my fingers that she’ll say yes, suddenly desperate to be enveloped in her chill, cosy presence.
‘Always. You know I once had a girl stand me up twice and I still went on a third date.’
‘I swear I’m not standing you up.’
‘No foul. Get you a pasta pot instead?’
‘Please. I’ll be, like, fifteen minutes.’
I make it in ten. I don’t know what kind of look I have on my face but she’s holding out her arms before I’ve even opened my mouth.
‘You’re not good,’ she says, squeezing me tight. ‘Tell Elly.’
I breathe out a laugh, feeling better than good now I’m cushioned against her soft, warm body. It’s not so dissimilar to how I used to feel when Ryan held me, his height wholly eclipsing and making me feel small in all the best ways.
Is that what this is? Just filling holes with these girls so I don’t lose myself to my own desolation?
It’s not a nice thought, that I might just be an exploiting, lonely loser.
I tip my head back to look at her. ‘Some fucker kidnapped me!’
She cradles my cheeks, searching my face. ‘Oh, yeah? Who am I punching then?’
‘Nic, I think. It was all her bloody fault.’ I peer round, suddenly remembering exactly what an NDA is. ‘Have you ever been to the Vaults?’
She snorts. ‘Nope. Too poor. Wouldn’t go there anyway. Haz has. Hated it.’
‘Nic took me. Last night. Super dark place. Don’t know who found out’—probably that poor fucker Nic held a knife to—‘but they made me sign an NDA.’
Elly frowns. ‘Well, now I really don’t want Nic going there.’ She holds me tighter. ‘Or you.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Not really my place. I’ll stick to baby bopping at Vipers.’
‘You stick with me and Haz, okay? Nic’s got demons. You don’t wanna get possessed by them too.’
I nod as she tucks me under her arm. That girl’s got demons alright, but so have I and last night, if just for a little while, they seemed to fit.
‘I’ve got us food,’ Elly says as she leads us off. ‘Wanna go find a rock and look at the ocean?’
I sigh happily, pushing all thoughts of dark things away. ‘Who in their right mind would stand you up?’
‘I know, right? Boggles the brain.’