Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
NOLA
Most students who attend my school live in the Garden District, the same area my family does. But unlike everyone else, our house isn’t a big flashy mansion, which I’m very happy about.
I like our house. The pastel peach exterior and white trim accents make it look homey and welcoming.
While it is still a large house with six bedrooms, it is somehow cute and quaint.
The white and pastel colors keep it bright and alive.
The backyard is large enough for a pool and my greenhouse, which is all that I care about.
When I pull into the driveway, I’m relieved to see that my parents' cars aren’t there. Having the house to myself will make my plans for the night go a hell of a lot smoother.
Grabbing my school bag and new prized possession, I get out and head inside.
“Mom!” I call, kicking off my shoes and looking around the foyer for any signs of life. When I’m met with silence, I sigh with relief and head for the stairs. “Dad?” It’s a Friday afternoon, so the likelihood of him being home is slim, but it doesn’t hurt to cover all my bases.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, I listen. Nothing. Not a single peep. A smile curves at my lips, and my excitement boils back up.
Taking two steps at a time, I rush upstairs to my room.
When I open my bedroom door, I grin at the sight of Skittles. “Hello, my sweet baby boy,” I coo to my beautiful pet raven as he sits perched on the open windowsill. It’s as if he were waiting for me to come home, the glass pane pushed up, allowing him to come and go freely.
Tossing my bag onto the floor, I lay the jacket on my bed, and make my way to the other side of my room. “How was your day today?”
“Hi, Skittles. Pretty baby,” he replies back.
“Yes, you are.” I grin, petting his fuzzy little head. “Such a pretty baby.”
He makes a few little clicking sounds and rubs his head into the palm of my hand, his happy noises sounding almost musical. “Hi. Hi. Hi,” he repeats, making me laugh.
“Someone's a happy boy today.”
Skittles has been with me for a few years, ever since I rescued him as a baby.
I was out on my regular nightly walk when I heard the sound of something in distress. When I finally found the source of the sound, I found the cutest, fuzziest little baby raven. I assumed that he had fallen out of his nest while learning to fly.
I lingered, keeping an eye on him to see if his parents were nearby and would swoop in to help him, but after a half hour of listening to his cries of distress, I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then I realized he hadn’t moved from his spot, not even to walk around.
I quickly scooped him up and rushed him to the vet. Turns out he had a broken leg.
My heart hurt for the little guy. The vet told me it would be best to put him down as he would be vulnerable in the wild, and they weren’t in the position to take on the care of any wild animals at the moment.
I snatched him back so fast and spent the rest of the summer nursing him back to health, with the skills I learned from my dad.
After Skittles was able to walk on his own again, I had gained myself a raven-shaped shadow.
He’d quickly become attached to me, and I realized he was a very smart boy.
We’d spend hours every day learning new things, like retrieving items, coming back, and talking like a parrot does.
He became my best friend. My only friend, really.
But people suck, so honestly, I didn’t care.
Animals are much better companions, and I’ve never met a more loyal living being than Skittles.
It’s safe to say I’m one of those crazy pet moms. Only… probably worse.
“I have a big job for you today, okay?” I give him one last head scratch before crossing the room to my desk. Pulling the drawer open, I grab Skittles’ harness.
“I need you to find Jay-Jay, okay?” Skittles makes a clicking sound, tossing his head back. “Good boy.” I laugh. He lets me strap him into the homemade harness, fastening it into place.
It’s not meant to hold him back or keep him on a leash. Its purpose is to properly support the tiny camera strapped to his chest, the black straps blending in with his ebony feathers.
Once it’s snugly in place, I grab the laptop from my desk and bring it with me to my bed
Sitting down, I cross my legs, open the laptop, and pull up the camera feed. The screen fills with an image of me on my bed. Perfect.
Looking over at Skittles, I grin. “All good.”
“Skittles!” he screams. “Skittles! Skittles!”
Rolling my eyes with a soft laugh, I sigh, place the laptop on the bed, and grab the bag of dog food I have stashed in my bedside table. “You can’t have candies,” I remind him. “They’re bad for you. But you can have a treat.”
During the first week I was nursing him back to health, I was going through a Skittles kick. He liked the bright colors and tried to eat them out of my hand. That's how I settled on his name.
I give him a few pieces of kibble and sit back on the bed. He doesn’t wait for my command. Knowing just what to do, he flaps his wings and takes off out the window.
And the answer is yes, in case you were wondering. I did, indeed, train my pet raven to follow the guys.
When I said I was obsessed, did you think I was joking?
Because I wasn’t. Not. At. All.
While I wait for him to find the guys, I wash up and change into something more comfortable.
Pulling my blinds shut, I grab my phone and hook it up to the speaker. Scrolling through my playlists, I pick the obvious choice.
Slumber Party by Ashnikko starts to play. I sing along as I move around my room, tidying up a bit, giving myself something to do while I wait.
Every few seconds, I look over at my laptop, checking to see if Skittles has found them.
Sometimes I watch the feed, fascinated by the bird's eye view. If I could pick a superpower to have, flying would be my choice.
It reminds me of the videos of people who put cameras on their outdoor cats to see what they get up to during the day.
Skittles only wears the camera when I need him to.
It’s too expensive to risk it being lost or damaged.
Plus, at the end of the day, he’s still a wild bird, and I want him to enjoy life, coming and going as he pleases.
There’s a very small part of me that never stops worrying that something might happen to him while he’s gone, but for the most part, he likes to stay home or around the house.
I’m jamming out to the middle of the song when I notice the camera feed shake before going still. Skittles has landed, and from what I’m seeing, it’s in some kind of warehouse.
Quickly, I pause the music and climb onto my bed. I grab my laptop, placing it on my lap, ready to watch.
He landed further away than I’d like, but I’m not complaining. I’d rather him be out of reach, a safe distance away, than be captured or hurt.
I unclick the mute button, and am hit with the sounds of screaming that screech through the speakers at an ear-shattering volume. A grin takes over my face.
Mr. Robinson sits strapped to a chair, and Sylas, Wesley, and Jasper stand around him.
I watch Sylas’ lips move before twisting down into a frown. Shit, he’s too far away to hear what they're saying.
But I can hear Mr. Robinson’s desperate sobs of fear, so I guess that will have to do.
“Alright.” Excited anticipation bubbles through my veins as I lock in on the scene before me. “Let's do this. Make it hurt.” I grin.
Apart from the occasional shout, it’s pretty quiet on my end.
Disappointed, I place the laptop on the bed next to me and curl onto my side.
Sliding my arm under the pillow, I get comfortable as I wait and watch.
I turn my music back on for some background noise, opting for Ashnikko’s newest album, Smooshies. I’ve had it on repeat for months now.
I watch the screen, transfixed, and wishing more than anything that I could hear what they’re saying.
But I’ve got a pretty good imagination, so I think I can guess what they might be saying.
Sylas’ mouth moves as he speaks, and the menacing look of glee transforms his handsome face. “You touched our Lola girl. Now it’s time to die,” I say in a deep voice, speaking as if I were Sylas.
Mr. Robinson starts to shake his head, and my lips twitch in amusement. Huh. Maybe I am right.
Jasper leans forward, getting only inches away from my teacher's face. “You touch what's ours, and there’s a price to pay,” I say at the same time Jasper starts to speak.
Mr. Robinson says something, and Wesley's lips curl as he shakes his head. “That's where you're wrong. I know what you planned to do to her. That will only happen over our dead bodies. Which will never happen, because we will live forever!” I break off into a crazy laugh.
Okay, so Wesley only looked to have said a few words before he stopped talking, but I bet he was thinking it. Crazy laugh included.
I guess the talking part is done now because the three of them move away from him and over to a table.
Oh shit, I didn’t even notice that until now. My interest is piqued. I sit back up, lying back against my pillows, and prop my laptop on my legs.
It’s about to get good.
Ashnikko continues to play through my speakers, adding the perfect background track to the show on screen.
Mr. Robinson's shouts become loud enough for me to hear again, and he begs for them to have mercy and give him another chance. A zing of giddiness sparks through me.
I can’t believe this is really happening, and all because of me. They’re doing this for me. Because he messed with something that didn’t belong to him… me.
I belong to no one, except these men. My men. My everything.
I fucking breathe for them, and I’d do just about anything they asked of me.
But that would require them to actually come near me. It’s best that things stay this way… for now. It makes it easier to do what I’ve been doing.
Sylas grabs something from the table and holds it up. I watch as pure terror causes Mr. Robinson’s eyes to widen.