Chapter 11
CONNER
Because my face is in my phone as I’m walking, I run straight into someone as I round the corner. As luck would have it, that person is the one asshole I’ve encountered since setting foot on Dark Island.
“Watch where you’re going, street rat,” Reynold sneers.
“You must be so proud to quote the insults of a Disney movie,” I quip as I shift to adjust my trajectory and walk around him.
Reynold moves to block my path. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?”
“You’re nobody,” I say, reflecting my boredom with him in my tone. “Your parents are somebody, yes. You are nobody.”
His fists ball together. “You need to respect your betters.”
“You going to teach me a lesson, Reynolds? Please, by all means, do. Just know that I’ve been playing hockey since I was three. I’ve thrown down with guys a hundred pounds bigger than me. If you think you have that kind of strength, hit me.”
Reynold doesn’t attempt to. I give him several minutes to come up with a reason I’m not worth hitting. “You can disappear,” he sneers. “He’ll throw you away eventually, and when he does, no one will miss you when you’re gone.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say. “Even if Jude and I stop seeing each other, I have more friends here than you do, despite your family being members of this club, and I’m brand new under this roof as a visitor.
No one likes you. You’re here because your family has money.
If you disappeared, no one would look. If I disappeared, they’d notice. ”
If I didn’t have an enemy in Reynold Hildreth before, I do now. I can see his hatred shine out of his eyes as he stares at me.
Just to show him I’m not threatened by anything out of his mouth, I pointedly move around him and walk away while saying, “There’s a difference between coming from important people and being an important person. You’re only one of those things.”
“You need your throat slit,” Reynold growls.
“Are you going to do it?” a man asks as he comes around a corner right in front of me. I don’t recognize him, though he’s stupidly good-looking.
I stop and glance back at Reynold. If hate had a face, his would rival that of my parents’ in my mind.
“Careful,” the man says. “You’ve been walking a fine line for quite some time. We’ve removed you from the island for causing problems in the past. Don’t think we won’t do it again.”
Reynold turns on his heel and walks away. I’m surprised he’s not stomping like a petulant child. When he vanishes around the corner, I turn to the handsome man. Handsome. Might be a word out of use, but it certainly has a vibe to it, and this man is that vibe.
“Liam Kriss,” he introduces as he offers me his hand with a smile. I take his hand, noting that the same strange mask I’ve seen around here is peeking out of his sleeve, tattooed on the back of his hand.
I meet his eyes. “Conner Langley.”
“Ah. Jude’s friend. I’ve heard about you,” Liam says.
“I’m not sure if that’s good or not.”
He laughs. “Jude’s never brought someone to the club before. Trust me when I tell you that kind of news travels quickly.”
“Oh.” I have nothing to answer this with. My stomach does a little dance as we walk down the hall.
“Arek says you’re a DIK alum.”
I look at Liam. “Yeah. Did you go to Longwood?”
“I did. I’m a DIK alum too. There are quite a few of them here going back several generations.”
“No kidding. I didn’t know that.”
Liam’s handsome smile turns to me as we enter the dining room where most of the castle’s residents are currently eating breakfast. “Half the guys in this room are DIK alums,” he says, nodding toward the table. “The other half are DIK’s RDU chapter alums.”
“Does that mean it’s a requirement to be a part of DIK to be a member of the club?” I ask. “Also, I didn’t know there was an RDU chapter.”
He grins and pulls out a chair beside Jude. Liam gestures for me to sit, and like a damn gentleman, he slides my chair in for me as I do before taking a seat beside me.
“Liam,” Jude greets, clapping his shoulder behind my back. “Stop trying to woo my man, will you?”
Liam winks, but he addresses my question instead of Jude. “Not a requirement, no. It’s somewhat reversed, in fact. Members of Dark Island often attend schools where there’s a DIK chapter. Anticipating your next question, there are half a dozen around the world.”
“No shit.” I look around the table, my eyes stuck on the girls. Kole is a special circumstance, but otherwise, DIK is a fraternity. Men. “Are there sorority chapters?”
He chuckles. “Yes—Sigma Upsilon Kappa.”
I laugh. “SUK.” That’s hilarious.
“You made it,” Zephyr says, gripping Liam’s shoulder on his way by. “Didn’t think you’d be here in time for the race.”
“Of course,” Liam says. “I’m looking forward to seeing Moll drown the competition.”
“Speaking of the race, I’m going to check on the Hacker-Craft,” Moll says as she gets to her feet. She deposits her cloth napkin on her plate and heads for the door.
“Eat,” Jude instructs. “I’ll take you to check out the Hacker-Craft before we head out to get in place.”
I’m honestly not as smitten with the old boats as it’s clear everyone else is.
I much prefer something modern and sleek.
Something that feels safe. Half of the boats Jude showed me, including the Hacker-Craft that Moll was triple-checking for the fiftieth time, didn’t look like they should float at all.
The Hacker-Craft has a huge front end, and Moll will be sitting in the back.
While I can’t say where I’ve seen it, this is the kind of boat where the front practically glides on top of the water, where the heavier back is just below the surface with the motor.
I imagine Moll has to stand as she drives, just to see over the front as it hydroplanes on the surface.
We’re on a 1960s party boat. It has a name. They all talk about these boats as if they’re living people. I don’t remember the name. Something I avoid saying out loud because I’m sure it’ll offend them. Again, living people. Embodied in boats.
Paul is behind the wheel as he maneuvers us along the St. Lawrence River to get into a good spot to watch the race. There are almost two dozen of us on the boat as we pull out of the boathouse. Even though Liam stated he wouldn’t miss the race, he’s not on the boat.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to point this out as I look back at the castle, but my eyes lock on the figure standing on the terrace watching us. Reynold. What makes a man so nasty and hateful? Hmm. Maybe he shares the same religion as my parents.
The thought makes me snort, and I turn away.
There are more than a dozen boats littered in the outlet up ahead.
Not docked but buoyed into a stationary position.
They all have flags waving in the sky overhead.
I stare at them as we pull into position and drop anchor.
Our boat is the biggest. The others only have half a dozen or so people on board.
“The flags are boasting their club,” Jude says, pointing to ours. It’s a triangle, a sea of blue with a white castle tower. There aren’t any words on it. That’s it.
I look at the others and note that they’re all a combination of the same few colors: white, blue, red, and yellow.
“A couple generations ago, Dark Island formed an unofficial racing league with Chokecherry, Carleton, Wolfe, and Grindstone,” Jude says, pointing out the four others. It doesn’t take me long to note that there are others here that aren’t one of the five flags.
“It’s a big spectator sport, huh?”
He laughs. “It was much more popular in the fifties when it was ridiculously dangerous.”
“Interesting that you’re still using the old boats that you’re saying are ridiculously dangerous.”
Jude grins. “We’re careful. We have a lot of safety rules in place.
Three guys from impartial islands inspect the boats to make sure they meet the parameters we set forth as a league.
We race around islands instead of buoys because it’s safer than making a tight turn.
While you can still lose control, there’s more control in a wider turn. ”
“Are there crashes? Deaths?”
“Not in many years,” Jude answers, shaking his head. “Like I said, we’re careful. This is supposed to be fun. Not life-threatening.”
The five boats that will be racing roar to life, and Jude points them out. Ours is a natural wood color. Dark. There’s a bright red one with a beautiful finish and shine.
“That’s Chokecherry. Say what you will about their sportsmanship, but they know how to finish a damn boat. Their boats are always fucking stunning.”
The roar of the engines has me joining everyone at the front of the boat to get a better look.
I can’t tell where the signal to start is, but five boats suddenly leap forward on the water.
Immediately, the noses all seem to move from lying comfortably on the water, with a portion of them underwater, to a foot or more above it as they come speeding toward us.
Moll isn’t in the lead. She’s third right now. As they get closer, I find myself screaming along with everyone else on the boat. Not just everyone on our boat, but on the boats we’ve joined.
They cruise by like bullets, and we watch their wakes.
The waves rock us from side to side so roughly that I grip the rails.
I lean over, trying to keep sight of them.
By the time they reach the island designated as the turning point, I can barely make them out except for the bright, shiny red of Chokecherry.
Jude points to the place where they’re going to come out again, and I watch, transfixed.
Moll still isn’t first, but she’s second, and they’re flying.
I swear, Moll’s boat isn’t touching the water at all.
It’s kind of terrifying. They speed past on the lane a couple hundred feet away and then disappear once more around the island they began beside.
Moll still isn’t first when they come racing around the corner. My heart jumps into my throat as I see how the boats practically skid off course as they turn. I’m sure that’s not the terminology, but that’s what it looks like to me.
I’m screaming my head off like everyone else is.
Hollering Moll’s name as they fly by. Once more, they take the bend, and while I can’t see how they come out of the corner, I know that if someone is going to crash into someone else, it’s going to be there.
How absolutely terrifying. And in a place where we can’t see.
The boats go around the same track for five laps.
Moll stays firmly in second place right up until the second half of the last lap when she somehow pulls out ahead and takes the win.
I cheer with the club, adrenaline making my heart race.
My god, I can’t even imagine what Moll is feeling if my blood is pumping like it is and I’m just sitting on the sidelines, watching.
“See?” Zephyr says, beaming. “Moll always takes the win with the Hacker-Craft.”
I grin. That was fun.