Chapter 17
CONNER
Over the next several days, the Van Dorens stick close to me. I’m not sure if they’re expecting someone to come out of the woodwork and haul me away at knifepoint, but I think they’re making their position very clear. I’m protected.
Liam isn’t around anymore. Maybe he’s still wherever Matty is. Maybe he’s gone. Sometimes late at night, I imagine that I can hear Matty’s screams echoing off the walls.
Reynold is gone as well. Moll doesn’t look concerned that her brother is suddenly missing. Does she even notice? Does she care? Will his family do something if he vanishes?
I promised Jude that I wouldn’t ask more questions, but they burn in my head.
I’m dying for answers. However, Matty is never far from my thoughts.
I can hear his screams readily enough when I close my eyes.
I remember the way he appeared out of his damn mind as he begged unseen entities to leave the bodies where they are.
More than that, I remember very clearly that I was fucking close to losing my life.
To being murdered. I’m not in a hurry to have my life in the hands of murderers again.
Nothing I said mattered. It was a battle between them, and for several terrifying minutes, it was an even draw as to how many wanted me dead and those refusing to let it happen.
It’s weird, though. Everyone carries on as if it never happened. As if there aren’t hidden doors and lost passages within the castle. As if it doesn’t hide a secret society filled with ghosts and… bodies?
“Next race in a week,” Paul says. “We’re letting Chokecherry choose the boat this time as long as they choose within the next couple hours.”
“Going to prove they’ll lose even when they’re the ones organizing the race,” Darwin says.
“I’m guessing they’re going to choose the Hickman Sea Sled. It’s their favorite. They’re convinced that they almost win every time they use it,” Moll says.
“We all cheat. Clearly, that’s why they don’t win,” Zephyr says.
As they talk about the upcoming race, I wonder if these other boat clubs on neighboring islands also hold secrets like Dark Island. Do they have secret societies hidden within their walls?
“Do you ever get together with these other clubs? Like boat parties or something?” I ask.
“Nah,” Zephyr says. “We stick to ourselves.”
“So there’s no meetup like… a bike week or car week?
” I think about the small town next to ours that was overrun with motorcycles for a week every single summer.
My parents’ church always sent us out on a mission to get the bikers to repent of their heathenous sins, get rid of their bikes, and turn to god to pray for their souls.
“Not on the St. Lawrence, no,” Paul says. “There are other places that do. Lake Superior, I think.”
“We’ve always talked about taking the houseboats along the river to join one of the big get-togethers,” Zephyr says.
“But unlike bikes or cars, it’s more difficult when we’re talking big boats.
We either haul them with enormous trucks or try to navigate the rivers and canals until we get to the correct destination. ”
“You have no desire to socialize with anyone from other clubs,” I muse. “How snobby.”
My comment is met with laughter.
“Ding, ding, ding,” Paisley says.
Darwin taps his nose with one finger and points at me with his other hand.
I laugh too, shaking my head.
“Honestly? It’s kind of exhausting hobnobbing with others. Here, we can be ourselves. We’re friends. We don’t have to be on, you know?” Paul says.
“Both groups are filled with… this is going to sound elitist, but I don’t mean it like that,” Zephyr says.
“But a lot of the boating clubs, especially in Alexandria Bay, are made up of very wealthy and prominent families from all over the world. Which means we have an appearance to maintain when in public and meeting others. Always networking. Always representing. Always needing to maintain an image and not be a poor reflection on our families, the companies, and our associations. Think of Jude.” He juts his chin in Jude’s direction.
“Hockey is something you understand, so you get that Jude’s image is always the first thought as soon as he leaves his house.
There are eyes everywhere, waiting for him to fuck up.
For him to say something that can be interpreted negatively.
For something he says to be repeated out of context.
The summer is short, and we tend to spend these months on Dark Island because we can just turn off and not always watch what we’re saying or how we dress or who we’re seen with. ”
“That sounds exhausting,” I agree.
There are several nods of agreement.
“That was long-winded,” Arek says. “You could have just brought up hockey to begin with.”
Zephyr tosses a dinner roll at Arek. Arek doesn’t bother to swat it away. He lets it hit his shoulder.
Axl pulls up a chair at the table we’re gathered around, and everyone shuffles to let him in. He tosses a bag onto the table. Paisley and Flourentine dive for it. I watch with amusement as they wrestle over it, grinning the whole time.
Shaking his head, Axl hands me a much smaller paper bag and winks. “There’s a chance you won’t get one otherwise, so I brought you one.”
I open the bag and find a… cookie? Reaching in, I pull it out. “Don’t take this as me not being thankful, but they’re fighting over cookies?”
“If you don’t eat it now, I’m stealing it from you,” Jude says.
Arek leans across Axl and grips the hand holding the cookie, shoving it in my face. Laughing, I take a bite. Immediately, flavor bursts. It triggers all my salivary glands, and I’m practically drooling as I chew.
“Oh my god,” I say through chewing and take another bite before I’m finished with the previous. “Did you add crack to this?”
Axl laughs. “No. I didn’t make them. The other half of the VD quads are here, and they always bring some of Uncle Oakley’s cookies. It’s a secret recipe that he and Uncle Imry came up with that they can’t keep in stock.”
“Wait. You sell cookies? Like Girl Scouts?” I ask.
Axl laughs. “No.”
“Yes,” Arek corrects. “Daddy-O does. He and Uncle Imry have an online bakery, but they only sell when they want to.”
“Like food trucks. You have to watch their social media feeds to find out when they’re posting new products on their website, and it’s first-come, first-served,” Orev says. “These are the favorites.”
“You’re not fighting for your own,” I note, licking my fingers.
“We can have them whenever we want,” Arek says. “Daddy-O makes them whenever we ask.”
“I’d weigh four-hundred pounds,” Paisley says as she licks her fingers, too.
“He doesn’t make them for you when you want them?” I ask.
Paisley shakes her head. “Nope. Only his kids. Otherwise, he’d end up baking them all year long, and the bakery is a hobby more than a business. They make huge batches at Christmas; otherwise, only when their kids ask for them.”
“We’ve been known to bribe his kids to ask for them sometimes,” Axl admits.
“You’re coming to the opening of the new dorm, aren’t you?” Paisley asks.
Her eyes are on me, but I have no idea what she’s talking about. Something that must be obvious because she laughs.
“The Van Doren Prep School?”
“Sorry, no idea what you’re talking about. Is this another club I’m not a part of?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. Grandpa Jalon built a school on the land behind the Estate for us when we were kids. Most of the structures were built early on, but weren’t finished.
They were shells, maintained so they were always ready to be finished when needed.
This is the last expansion before we’re at capacity. ”
“Prep school. So, K through twelve?” I ask.
“Pre-K through twelve,” she corrects.
“You have a boarding school in your backyard,” I muse.
She grins. “Grandpa Jalon spoils his family.”
“Speaking of family,” Axl says and shifts in his chair to look at me. My heart jumps. Please don’t ask! “Jude says you’re looking for a job.”
“Looking might be a little strong. I’m being highly irresponsible and not looking right now,” I say.
He chuckles. “Fair enough. What’s your degree in?”
I sigh. “Liberal arts.”
Axl grins. “Alright. What’s your passion?”
“This is going to be a very predictable conversation,” I note.
“Hockey,” he guesses, and I nod. He mimics my nod. “Playing hockey? Any other aspects of hockey interest you?”
I glance at the rest of the table. They’re watching. Listening. Nibbling on the spread still covering the table. The cookies Axl brought are gone, but there’re other things to munch on.
“Would you prefer a private conversation?” Jude asks. “That’s fine if you do.”
I shake my head. “No. Not a big deal. I don’t know. I know it sounds a little stupid, especially the more I say it, but I didn’t think of a future at all where I wasn’t playing hockey. I don’t have any idea what else I might be interested in.”
“What did you imagine doing after hockey?” Jude asks.
“Loophole, right?” I ask. “I didn’t think that far ahead. Hockey was the first step. I figured I’d have time to think about it while I played.”
“Certainly set yourself up for failure, Lang,” Arek says.
This time, several rolls are pelted at him. Orev laughs at the look of demure amusement Arek gives the table.
“I did,” I agree. “Thanks.”
“How about you come to the dorm opening, and while there, I’ll bring you to the office complex, and we’ll see what’s available? Maybe we can find something you’re interested in,” Axl says.
I’m about to tell him not to worry about it. I’ll figure it out. But then I remember what Jude has told me a few times now. Only a fool refuses help when it’s offered, and they need it.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Axl smiles.
“Where are my cousins?” Paisley asks, looking toward the door.
“Right here,” Axl, Arek, and Orev say in unison.
“The prettier half of the quads,” Paisley says.
Axl shrugs. “I was handed the bag of cookies, and they disappeared.”
“I don’t know,” Moll says, studying Arek and Orev. “They’re pretty when you squint.”
“I’ve never had any complaints,” Arek says.
“To your face,” Zephyr says. “You give the impression that you could freeze the air in their lungs. No one is going to insult you to your face. You’re actually dogs.”
“Don’t say that.” We all shift to look at the voice that spoke.
One looks like a damn supermodel. She has that perfect appearance of flawless skin, sparkling hair, and subtle though immaculate makeup. She’s tall, with long, lean legs for days.
The other is beautiful too and certainly looks a lot like the first, but there’s a darker shadow to her appearance. Her hair is darker. Her skin is darker. Her eyes are darker. Her lips are painted blood red.
The taller of the two wraps her arms around Arek and Orev’s shoulders, hugging them on either side. Then she sits on the arm of Axl’s chair. Axl wraps his arm around her waist. The other shares Paisley’s chair with her.
“This is Rosalie,” Paisley says, hugging the cousin beside her. “She is Adalaide.”
Adalaide gives me a smile. I’m surprised by the deeper tone of her voice when she speaks. “Hi. You must be Conner?”
I’m equally enchanted by her voice as I am by her appearance, even if it’s not what I expected. “Yeah. I’m going to choose to believe you’ve only heard positive things about me.”
She grins. “I’ve heard things,” she says, winking. She turns to her brother, and the sun reflects off her earring. Blue, pink, white. Adalaide shifts a little more, hiking her skirt up, and I catch a hint of a No Face tattoo on the top of her thigh.
Jude takes my chin in his hands, turning my face to him. “Stop drooling over Ady. You’re only allowed to drool over me.”
My cheeks flush as I glance back at her. She’s smirking at me. I might flush a little further.
“There it is,” Arek says. “I knew you’d be hot when you blushed.”
I roll my eyes. Ass.