Chapter 5 Xave
XAVE
Damon wobbles on his feet a few times as he stands, but the determined look in his eyes tells me he’s going to be okay. He just needs some time to process everything that just happened.
Leaning back against the side of the cabin, he closes his eyes and tips his face up toward the sky, and I can’t stop from giving him a quick once-over as he sucks in a deep breath, then slowly lets it out.
Damon and I might not be friends, or even friendly, but he has a unique look that makes him stand out. While most of the students at Silvercrest are all about high fashion and always looking like they just stepped off the set of a photo shoot, Damon has chosen to go in the opposite direction.
Not to say that he doesn’t take care of himself or he doesn’t put effort into his looks, because it’s obvious he does both; it’s his choices that make him different. And in our world, being different isn’t usually celebrated.
Objectively, he’s a handsome guy, and his “I don’t give a fuck what people think of me” attitude and the resting bitch face he’s known for fit perfectly with the vibe he has going on.
His curly brown hair is so dark it looks nearly black, and it’s cut in a way where it’s short on the sides and long on top, so his curls always look a bit wild and chaotic while perfectly framing his angular face.
I’ve always known he has blue eyes, but now that I’m up close, I can see that they’re actually a mix of bright azure and ice blue.
Is that natural? Or does he wear colored contacts?
His features are classically handsome and have an almost elven quality to them with his straight nose, perfectly shaped dark eyebrows, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips.
He’s not big and bulky like a lot of guys, but it’s obvious he puts a ton of work into his physique and has long, lean muscles.
He’s only about an inch and a half shorter than me, and he probably weighs twenty or so pounds less.
All of that isn’t especially unique, but the small silver stud under the center of his bottom lip, the thin silver ring through his right nostril, and the crystal stud earrings glinting off his earlobes are definitely unique for the average Silvercrest student.
I’ve also seen flashes of tattoos peeking out from under his shirts when we’ve been at the same parties and events, but I have no idea how many tats he has or what they’re of.
Tattoos aren’t uncommon at school; my twin cousins are perfect examples of that with their full sleeves and multiple side pieces, but facial piercings are completely out of the norm. As far as I’ve seen, Damon is the only student who has any.
Add in that he’s known for wearing black clothes and black boots, and he has a sexy, metalcore look that gives him a bad boy vibe while still having an air of innocence around him, thanks to his baby-smooth skin and the striking contrast between his dark hair and bright eyes.
He’s also known around campus for being a snarky asshole who likes to party, which is something we have in common.
He blinks his eyes open, and I look away before he can notice me creeping on him.
It’s still a bit of a mindfuck that Damon and Helix are the same person, and I’ve been following the career of my classmate for years while having no idea it was him.
“So, what now?” he asks, still leaning back against the wall like he needs it to stay upright.
“Now we gather what we need, then get the fuck out of here.”
“Get what we need?”
“Evidence, supplies, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, okay.” He pushes off the wall and squares his shoulders. “What do you need me to do?”
“How about we do a quick look around the cabin and see what we find?”
“Okay.” He makes a “go ahead” gesture. “After you.”
The cabin is small and has only four rooms in it, not including the cellar. We start in the main living area, then methodically move through the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.
It’s obvious the cabin hasn’t been their home base for long, and other than dusty furniture and random odds and ends scattered about, there isn’t much in it.
We find some paperwork, a couple of backpacks, and supplies like flashlights and a bunch of spare zip ties.
There’s also a small cache of guns and ammo in the tiny bedroom, but nothing else of interest.
After loading up all the papers and weapons into a bag, we head back outside.
“Do you want to stay here while I check the cellar?” I ask, slipping the laptop into one of the backpacks.
He looks between me and the open cellar doors a few times, then shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”
I hand him one of the massive metal flashlights we found and take a smaller, less powerful one for myself. There’s no electricity running to the cabin, and no generator, so I don’t bother searching for a light as we descend into the room that was our temporary prison.
The space is completely empty, and the beams of light illuminating the dusty floors and concrete walls as we walk around the small area don’t do much to turn down the creepy factor.
Once the room is clear, we head back outside, and Damon puts the flashlights away while I close the doors.
“How do we get out of here?” he asks.
“They left their cars just past the trees over there.” I point to the area I mean. “We just need to get their keys, and we’re good to go.”
He flicks his gaze to where we were held at gunpoint, and where the bodies of our attackers still lie. “Did you find any keys when you were clearing the cabin?”
“No, but you can stay here and I’ll—”
“It’s fine.” He zips the backpack he’s still holding closed and slings one strap over his shoulder. “It’s fine,” he repeats. “I can handle it.”
“Have you ever seen a dead body before?” I ask as he falls into step beside me. “When it’s fresh and not prepped and in a casket.”
“Does my mother’s body count?” he deadpans.
That’s pretty much the last thing I expect him to say, and I’m so surprised I almost trip over my own feet and have to do a weird shuffling step to right myself.
“She died when I was eleven. I found her,” he elaborates, his tone impassive, like he’s telling me about some random, inconsequential thing that happened to him as a kid and not finding his mother’s body.
“I’m sorry,” I say reflexively.
“Thanks. It was a long time ago.”
We stop a few feet from where the men lie, and some of the color drains out of Damon’s face as he looks around the scene.
It’s not as grisly as some of the ones I’ve encountered, and there isn’t nearly as much blood as there could be since I made sure to take shots that wouldn’t be too messy, but it’s still three dead guys next to a firepit, and that has to be shocking for someone who isn’t used to this kind of thing.
“You’ve done this before?” he asks as I kneel next to the asshole who had the gun and start rooting through his pockets.
“Search bodies, or be the reason there are bodies?” I ask and pull a phone out of his front pocket.
“Both.”
“Yes.” I tap the home button to flash the phone up, but I can’t unlock it because it’s passcode-protected. That’s fine, I know people who can. “Does that freak you out?” I power down the phone so I can toss it in the bag with everything else we’ve scavenged.
“Not really.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m sure it should, but it’s not like I haven’t heard the rumors about you and your cousins. I’m guessing they’re true?”
“Most of them.” I pull a brown leather wallet from the asshole’s back pocket and flip it open.
“Who are they?” he asks, nodding to the bodies.
“Not sure,” I tell him as I look through the wallet. “Will it freak you out if I pull up their masks so I can see if their faces match their IDs?”
“Probably, but go ahead. I’ll deal.”
Carefully, I lift the asshole’s mask, then quickly pull it back down. He’s the same guy as the IDs in his wallet. Doesn’t mean that’s his real ID, but at least it gives me a starting point.
“Do you think these guys were pros, or opportunists?” he asks.
I move over to the next guy. “Honestly, I’m thinking opportunists.
Snatching us from the rave out in the open like that was risky, even with us drugged and helpless.
And it doesn’t make sense that only one of them had a weapon when we found other guns in the cabin.
Pros would have had weapons on them, even if they expected us to be zip-tied.
And they didn’t bother tying us up again before taking us out of there.
Those are rookie mistakes. But whatever.
It made my job easier only having to deal with one armed asshat instead of three. ”
Damon watches silently as I riffle through the guy’s wallet, then check to make sure his ID and face match. I find his phone and use his fingerprint to unlock it.
“Definitely an opportunist,” I say after checking a few things on the phone, including his map app so I can see where the fuck we are. “This isn’t a burner. He’s got a full gallery, contact list, texts, apps. No professional would do a job like this with their actual phone on them.”
“What are you doing?” he asks as I turn off the phone.
“Shutting it down so no one can ping their locations when we start moving.” I pull a set of keys out of his pocket and give them a little jingle. “Bingo.” I shove the keys in my pocket and do one more sweep of the body to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
“Do you know why they grabbed you?” he asks as I move over to the last guy and start patting him down.
“I was a bit distracted with having a gun in my face while they were questioning us, but it didn’t sound like they knew who you really are.
So it’s not like they knew they could get a ransom for you or anything like that. ”