Chapter XV
XV
LUCIAN
Just as I planned, the school population is thinning.
With each student who leaves, the faculty grows more tense.
Augustine is one of my family’s many patronages.
If there are no students left, the school will be shuttered and left for the next generation to rebuild if they so desire—just as they did more than a century ago.
Yet my actions aren’t entirely without repercussions.
I’m sitting by the table in my cottage, my laptop on the desk and my parents on the other side of the screen.
They’re sitting on a loveseat in one of the drawing rooms—my mother’s favorite because of all the dark wood and blood red brocade on the walls.
My father’s eyebrows are drawn together, my mother wringing her hands in her lap.
“Luce, what’s the meaning of all this?” my mother asks, her French accent peeking through when she calls me by my nickname. She isn’t the slightest bit upset, if anything she seems concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine, Mum.” I take a sip.
My father clears his throat. “Don’t lie to your mother.” He puts a hand on my mother’s knee, looking over at her with an affectionate look on his face. “She’s worried about you.”
Even after nearly thirty years, Bram Augustine and Mireille Beaumont are still deeply in love. My father worships the ground Mum walks on, and she showers us all—even me, the rebellious one—with unconditional love.
They famously met at the races.
My father’s family had been visiting France and decided to attend the Beaumont Cup on their last day. Mum calls it love at first sight, while my father says he was already in love with her before they even met. Whatever the case, they got married.
The fact that they were both from aristocratic families came second to their love.
“I don’t know how to explain it in a way you will understand,” I quip.
My mother tilts her head, lustrous black hair falling over her shoulder with the movement, her red lips pressed together in curiosity.
She wears a black dress embroidered with gold thread.
My father wears a matching top. His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly styled.
Aside from that, they only wear their wedding bands.
They’ve never been a couple for showy displays of wealth—even though they could. Eden’s gaudy engagement ring flashes in my mind and I have to bite back a grimace. It doesn’t fit her style; but she’s willing to take it from that monster if it means pleasing her family.
She thinks about everyone else but herself.
“Try us,” my mother coos. “You know you and I are very similar, mon doux Luce.”
Mum’s voice is my kryptonite.
Aside from the fact that my father raised us to treat her—and all women—with the utmost respect, Mum is easy to love. The pain in my chest from the whole situation is raw, but for the first time it feels like I’ve found some sort of salve.
“I love someone.”
My father grins. My mother’s confused expression turns into a smile.
“Who is he?” My mother says. “We’re still terribly sorry we couldn’t make it to Vivienne’s funeral—it was such short notice and your father and I were all the way in Australia, as you know—but is it because of how the school handled that?
I heard from friends that the ceremony was rushed.
Do you feel that your relationship will be in danger because of that?
” Neither I or my father can get a word in, but we don’t like interrupting her either.
Mum talks a lot because she needs it to keep her brain calm.
So, we listen. “Oh Luce, you know that your father and I will do anything we can to make sure you and your boyfriend are safe. If only we knew what danger Vivienne was in, perhaps we could have helped somehow…”
Her voice trails off, and now there’s grief in her eyes. My father wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. She rests her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest.
“Now darling, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Lucian hasn’t explained.”
I nod. “It’s a girl, Mum. I’m in love with a girl.” I set the teacup down. “Eden Lockhart, to be exact.”
Mum and dad share a glance. “Viscount Lockhart’s daughter? The one engaged to—”
“Yes,” I cut my father off. I can’t stand to hear his name. “She was mine first.” That’s kind of true, I suppose. “But her parents are forcing her to marry him, and that’s not even the worst part.”
“What do you mean?” Mum’s voice is airy.
I knead my brows. “He’s abusing her.”
The silence grows thick.
“I’ve rescued her more than once, but she keeps going back to him.” The fire in my stomach is burning the oxygen out of my lungs. “So I’m destroying the institution that’s forcing them together.”
They both nod, understanding.
“When you say abused…” My father’s voice is filled with a question.
I suck in a burning breath. “Bruises, cuts, everything you can think of. But she won’t leave him because her parents have given her an ultimatum. She needs to marry someone of equal or higher status.”
“It seems all Peregrine-Ashford men are the same. It’s an open secret that Evadne’s hospitalization and the stroke that took her life were caused by her husband’s harsh…
treatment.” Mum looks down at manicured nails.
“It’s a shame his viper of a son got to her before you could.
Why did she choose him over you, Luce?” She swipes a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“I know you’re no Casanova, my love, but were you nervous to approach her?
You’re quite a handsome boy—if she was looking for someone of a similar status, then I don’t see why she would choose him—” The disgust in her voice is evident. “—over you.”
The silence is thick.
But I break it.
“She does like me.” I blink back the memories of her sopping cunt on my lips.
“She told me point blank that if things were different, I would be the one. You know that I keep a low profile at school. I go solely by Mum’s name because I don’t want the added scrutiny.
She doesn’t know…she doesn’t know anything about me, about our family.
She thinks I’m just another student.” I huff.
“I refuse to tell her because I couldn’t live with myself knowing that she chose me out of necessity. ”
“You love her, though,” my father says. “Sometimes, love comes in unconventional ways. Even in arranged marriages, it’s possible. And if her situation is as dire as you say…”
“No, Bram. I understand him. Luce cannot be her savior. No man can do that for a woman,” Mum interjects, catching my eye. “In abusive relationships, it’s always easy to cast judgement, to wonder why someone would stay. But the truth is, she has to want to leave. There’s nothing Luce can do.”
My father squeezes Mum’s hands.
I know they’re both thinking of the way they met.
Mum’s abusive family—even though it looked perfect from the outside— and my father fighting for her at every turn. Mum wanted to leave, though.
That’s the difference.
“That’s why I shall destroy the institution. If she wants to marry him, she’ll have to do so knowing that the faith that led her down this path is entirely a farce,” I say flatly. “She knows all his dirty secrets, and still wants to walk down the aisle to him. Well, she knows all but one.”
My father quirks an eyebrow, Mum’s lips part on a question.
“That’s actually the reason why I took your call,” I continue. “I need a favour.”
Augustine is dying at my hand.
A whispered confession here. A public breakdown during Mass there. A fire that rips through a wing of the Boys’ Dormitory, razing the floorboards like holy wrath. And most recently, a pulpit that catches fire mid-sermon, everyone in attendance too scared to put it out.
The infection has sufficiently spread.
To anyone else, this might feel like a victory.
But this was all just my first act. The second? Oh the second is the one I’m looking forward to the most. You see, I’ve kept a list. Not a written one. I’ve never spoken it, either.
No, this list lives behind my teeth, between my ribs.
The boys who bled Vivienne dry—even though I have no proof of it, I just know their stupid little cult had something to do with it.
The same ones who stand by while Silas plays god.
I’m certain they know how he treats Eden, in fact—I caught them laughing the day when Silas left Eden crying in that classroom.
Cedric.
Max.
Alistair.
They will be my second act.
CEDRIC - 18:10
He isn’t hard to find.
After all, he thinks himself safe because he and his friends stand at the pinnacle of the school’s hierarchy. There were whispers of screams coming from the catacombs last night, another sacrifice I presume—though for what, I can’t be sure since there hasn’t been a Communion. No body was found.
Which can only mean one thing.
And that makes this all the more fitting.
I will be Cedric Crispin Langley’s reckoning.
Cedric’s in the gymnasium after house, earbuds in, lifting like he’s got something to prove. I watch him through the frosted glass window, arms straining, his fucking face as a red as a tomato. At first glance, most people would think Cedric formidable—menacing, even.
Well, that’s if they don’t know him.
Every Langley in his bloodline has a reputation of service to people in the House of Lords and Military service. Yet here he is—carving up girls and drinking their blood at the behest of a cultish secret society. Out of them all, he disappoints me the most.
We were fast friends in preparatory school.
Until Silas Peregrine-Ashford IV happened.
As I stand there watching him, my blood starts boiling. His form’s all wrong. All show and no discipline. Typical of someone who takes orders from Silas.
I slip in through the side door.
Quiet. Fast.
I’m behind him before he notices. I don’t have many words for Silas’ lackeys. I’m just here to give them a taste of their own medicine.
My syringe is already primed.