Grimmstead Academy: Submission Page 4

  I hated how good it felt to be pinned between his desk and him, how much I liked the feeling of his hand on my waist, the tingling feeling creeping up my spine with each word he spoke.

  “Well?” he asked, intent on me. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, Felice, don’t keep me waiting any longer. Are you a lamb, or are you a lion?”

  “I…” My voice came out soft, hardly audible. “I don’t know.” And that was the truth.

  He brought both hands to my face, cupping my cheeks as he tilted my head up toward him. Suddenly the height difference didn’t feel so large. “That’s all right,” he murmured, staring at me like I was a project he desperately needed to solve. “I don’t mind helping you find yourself. It’s what we do best in Grimmstead.” His face inched closer with every word, until our noses grazed. “But in order for me to help you, I need something from you, first.”

  “What?” I couldn’t get the word out quickly enough.

  Victor answered me with a single word, and before that word could register in my head, his lips had found mine, devouring me whole from the inside out, kissing me in a way I knew I’d never been kissed before.

  His answer?

  “You.”

  Chapter Four – Dagen

  I stared with a worried heart at the closed door. The lights were still off, but at least the ground had ceased to shake. I pounded at the door, calling out for Felice, but I got no answer. She shouldn’t have gone out there alone. I should be with her. I…

  Amongst my thoughts, I heard it: thump, thump. The familiar sound that lingered in my head at all hours of the day. The sound that drove me crazy. The only time in recent memory that it stopped was when I was touching Felice.

  Maybe it was nothing more than a fluke. Maybe I’d been too focused on something else, on someone else, to bother to hear it. Maybe it was still there, and I simply overlooked it.

  But I sincerely doubted it. I was almost one hundred percent sure it was due to Felice. She was the key to my sanity, and now she was out there with Bram. Bram was a wild card, an animal wearing a man’s body. When he escaped Koda’s confinement, it was never good. Bad things always happened. Though a selfish part of me wanted Felice to stay here with us forever, with me, I couldn’t stomach the thought of Bram hurting her in any way.

  I began to pace the room. I’d tried the door handle, of course, fiddled with the lock too, but regardless of what I did, the door didn’t budge. Something else held it shut, locking me in here.

  What was I to do?

  I moved to the bathroom door, slamming a fist on it. Adrenaline and worry pumped through my veins; so unlike me, but I couldn’t help it. With Felice out there, she wasn’t safe. I had to find her, had to keep her locked away until Koda or Lucien could get control of Bram.

  “Ian,” I called out to the other man, “we have a problem.”

  “Yeah,” his muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “I can see that.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I knew better than to judge. I heard things; Ian saw things. Grimmstead brought out your fears and made them real; it gave you what you desired most just before cruelly yanking it away and laughing. Well, as much as a building could laugh.

  What did I desire most? Quiet. I wanted the quiet. I wanted to not hear that constant thumping noise, and I could get that by touching Felice.

  I’d never been one to ruminate over touching any other person, but now…now it was an urgent need. It was for a purely selfish reason why I wanted to find and save Felice. She was still alive; if she died, there would be no telling what would happen. If she’d still make the noise stop, or if she’d only intensify it.

  “I need to get out of this room,” I told Ian, “Felice is out there. Bram’s going to hurt her, possibly kill her, and I won’t let that happen.”

  “What are you going to do? You’re not exactly the biggest man around,” Ian said, his voice coming through the door labored, as if speaking right now took all his energy. He coughed. “If you go out there, Bram will just kill you, too. It’s better to let her go—”

  “Don’t you dare say that,” I hissed. “Don’t be so selfish, Ian.” I knew, though, I spoke to a wall. Or, technically, a door. My words would never sink in; he’d refuse to listen, because of what he had going on. His fears. His problems. I let out an incredulous chuckle, wondering why the hell I was bothering to talk to him. “Never mind. It’s clear the only person you truly care about is yourself.” The bitterness was plain in my voice; I didn’t bother to hide it.

  It was as I turned and started moving away that I heard the door crack open. Not all the way, but just enough Ian could peek out. “I care.”

  I folded my arms against my chest, shaking my head. “Do you? Do you care? It certainly doesn’t seem like it right now.”

  Ian was quiet for a moment, and he was slow in opening the door all the way. When he stepped out, he looked a bit paler than usual. His normally tan skin was pallid, as if he’d been getting sick in the bathroom. His blonde hair was rumbled a bit more than usual, his blue gaze less clear and more hazy. “I care,” he repeated, turning his head down and staring at his hands, as if his hands held the answers. “Do I look…wrong?”

  I blinked at the strange question. Sure, he didn’t look one hundred percent right, but to go so far as to say he looked wrong… “You look fine, Ian.” He looked like he needed some rest, but we all did, especially after this day.

  He let out a thoughtful sound, flipping his hands to now stare at his knuckles.

  Ian did not like talking about it, but I could put the pieces together, even as I kept hearing the thump, thump, thump in my soul. Ian’s curse was one of the most vindictive of them all. It was what he could never have, what he desperately wanted above all else.

  Life.

  A handsome face. A body that could stand to take in any substance he could get his hands on. A life full of debauchery and vices aplenty, orgies and drugs and spirits. Ian wanted the one thing his real life would never have given him.

  And now he was stuck in Grimmstead, like we all were, forced to live it every day.

  I felt for him, I did, but right now the only thing on my mind, other than that God-awful sound, was Felice, and how she was out there with Bram. Maybe she ran into Payne, or Lucien, but I knew better than to hope and take the chance of sitting cross-legged in here and waiting.

  With a sigh, Ian’s hands dropped to his sides, and he lifted his gaze to me. “Okay. Then what do we do? I assume you, being the know-it-all you are, tried the door,” he said, moving around me, around the bed, heading towards the door I was sure was locked.

  “Of course I tried the—” My words halted the moment I watched Ian open the door as if it had been unlocked the entire time.

  Ian’s blue gaze flicked back at me, and he gave me an unimpressed look.

  I let out a scowl as I moved out of the room. “The door wouldn’t budge before.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure, sure,” Ian spoke, giving me a slap on the back. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

  Ian and I were not buddies, but now wasn’t the time to argue with him. Now was the time to scour each and every nook and cranny in this place and find Felice.

  We got to work, and although Ian suggested we split apart—because we’d cover twice as much ground that way—I refused. Numbers were the only way you could overcome Bram, and even then, it was a toss-up. Somehow he was stronger than a typical man, like his muscles were infused with whatever force that kept him locked away in Koda’s mind most of the time.

  No splitting up.

  My thoughts about how foolish splitting up would be only intensified tenfold the moment we took the stairs to the ground floor. I figured Payne had mentioned Lucien, so there was a good chance someone was near his office.

  But then, that would require Payne to actually be alive.

  Which he most definitely wasn’t, since I currently stared down at his severed head on the carpet. His eyes were open,
his mouth ajar, as if he’d been either screaming or trying to reason with Bram as he sawed away at his neck.

  “Is that…” Ian trailed off as he hurried down the stairs and stood beside me.

  I made no moves to pick up the head. “Payne,” I finished, frowning to myself.

  Thump, thump, thump. It grew louder all of a sudden, and for the next few moments, it was the only thing I could hear.

  “Well,” Ian mused, and I struggled to hear what he was saying over the noise in my head, “it looks like Bram is in a good mood today. Maybe he already filled his quota of murder for the day.”

  At that, I shot him a look.

  “What? There’s nothing wrong with hoping he doesn’t want to go slashing up this pretty face. Oh, and by the way, I’m talking about me, not you.” Ian studied me. “Your face is handsome enough, I suppose, but if the world was allowed to take a vote, I think we both know I’d win in a landslide.”

  I could only stare at him, wondering why he thought it was a good idea to start rambling now. I said nothing as I turned, moving away from Payne’s severed, bloodied head, and started toward the hall where Lucien’s office was, along with the room that was off-limits to us. And the basement. I sincerely hoped he wasn’t down there.

  That basement creeped me out. None of us were welcome there.

  If Payne’s head was there, it meant his body was somewhere else. They’d have to be reunited, but first thing was first. Find Felice, find Lucien, lock Bram back inside and give Koda the reins.

  Every time Bram escaped, Koda felt awful afterward. I could understand the guilt, especially considering Bram’s favorite hobbies. Knife play, murder, torture, the like. Koda wasn’t like that. He didn’t take pleasure in another’s pain.

  I rounded the open door into Lucien’s office, freezing when I spotted him in his chair. His large body was motionless, and right then, the electricity decided to return, illuminating the room. Beneath his suit sat a gory torso, his stomach stained in red from what appeared to be a stab wound.

  “Fuck me in the ass,” Ian muttered once he saw, “Lucien’s dead, too. How long until he—”

  “I don’t know,” I said, because I didn’t. These things could not be predicted. “We have to find Felice.”

  “If she’s still alive,” Ian whispered, frowning to himself. He might act smooth and confident most of the time, he might be cocky and arrogant in how he viewed himself and his looks, but deep down, he did care. He cared about finding her as much as I did.

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll start on this floor, check every room, and make our way up.”

  “And if she and Bram are currently playing a new game of murderous tag outside?”

  “Let’s hope they’re not. No one can outrun Bram.”

  At my words, Ian’s eyes closed, and he let out a long breath. “Fuck. We really do need to find her.” When his eyelids lifted, firm resolution sat in his gaze. He was ready to get to work, and I managed to nod.

  Ian really wasn’t so bad, when he was trying. Most of the time, he acted like he didn’t care, but I thought his problem was he cared too much. He cared so much he simply shut down and refused to acknowledge it.

  Not a good way to live, but who was I to judge? I often forgot to shave because of the noise. Most nights I couldn’t sleep, but I bet Ian couldn’t, either. We were…more alike than I realized.

  Thump, thump.

  One thing was for sure: we had to find Felice, and we had to find her quickly.

  Chapter Five – Felice

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It’d been days since then, and yet Victor had made no other moves on me. Heck, I hardly saw him; he was too busy with the children. He taught them together, and my job was to tutor them individually later on in the afternoon with whatever they were having trouble with.

  You know what was strange, beside the whole kiss thing? The fact that I never saw any other adults on the property. I knew there were, but it was like they purposefully kept away from me.

  Hmm. Maybe Victor had told them to steer clear of me. It seemed like something he’d do: domineering, controlling, authoritarian.

  He and I needed to have a long talk about that.

  Later. Right now, I was supposed to be tutoring Payne, but he didn’t show up to the room where I did my work. I waited ten minutes for him to arrive, and when he didn’t, I got up and looked for him.

  The first boy I ran into was Dagen. He was busy walking down the east wing’s second floor, his feet skidding to a halt the moment he saw me. His eyes widened, and he started to turn the other way, to go the opposite direction as me—to run from me.

  Oh, no, he wouldn’t.

  “Dagen,” I said, my voice stern, causing him to freeze. “Have you seen Payne?”

  The raven-haired, black-eyed boy was slow to turn to me, saying, “If he’s not in the house, he’s usually in the forest.” His gaze was wide behind his glasses, his cheeks flushed.

  “Thank you.” I stared at him for perhaps a few seconds too long, but that was to make him realize that I was an authority figure here. He had to listen to me, not run from me. Once I was certain our little staring contest had gotten through to him, I turned on my heel, my intent to leave the building and head to the woods behind it.

  Somehow, I just knew. My gut told me I’d find Payne there, that it’d be pointless for me to search the house.

  I headed right outside, rounding the big stone building. I was a woman on a mission, a woman with a purpose…or at least I was, before my boot caught on something in the grass, something large that I apparently was too focused to glance down and see so I could avoid it.

  I fell, the trip so abrupt I could do nothing to regain my balance before tumbling to the ground. An oof escaped me, and as I rolled to my backside, I sought to see just what had tripped me in the grass. And when my eyes landed on it, my breath caught in the back of my throat.

  A shoe. A burning shoe. A tennis shoe I’d seen before, on a boy’s foot. It was a shoe I’d seen many, many times.

  My stomach coiled, my heart beginning to race as I studied the red and orange fabric. Still burning, though the grass around it didn’t catch fire. The scent of ash filled my nose, and my whole body grew warm.

  Crap.

  What was happening? That shoe couldn’t be real. This…this had to be all in my head.

  But if it was…what did that say about me? Was I hallucinating? Delusional? I didn’t understand. Was it my dumb conscience trying to convince me I’d made a mistake by doing what I did? Well, if that was the case, it was way too late. There was no taking back what I did, no undoing it.

  I hurried to get back on my feet, leaving the shoe behind as fast as I could. The woods behind Grimmstead were made of tall, thin trees; it was night and day, like someone had drawn an imaginary line and said the trees couldn’t cross it. The sun shone brightly overhead, and yet in the woods, not a single ray of light punctured the tree branches and made it all the way to the leafy ground.

  A shiver ran over me, but I was pretty sure that was just because of what happened mere moments ago. That stupid shoe. Ugh, it would drive me nuts the more I thought about it. I never wanted to see that shoe again. How did it even get here? How did I not notice it sitting in the grass as I walked?

  I didn’t understand any of it.

  Deciding to shake it off, I took my first step into the woods. So far, I’d steered clear of it, but something told me Payne was in there.

  Oh, that one. Payne was a boy I couldn’t put my finger on. Sometimes I worried he was too curious about things he shouldn’t be. When he’d asked me if girls bled every month, he’d been serious about it. He wanted to know. Just like he wanted to know if saliva really did help heal a wound faster, how much blood a person could lose and still live…the freaky questions went on and on.

  No, something was definitely wrong with these boys. Every single one of them, and yet Grimmstead was their home, and we had to make it the best it could be for
them. They had nowhere else to go.

  Maybe a hundred feet in, the trees were cleared, and I spotted small stone piles arranged in an almost ritualistic way. Payne was near the clearing, and my heart immediately dropped the moment I saw what he was doing. He had a noose and a black, furry animal in his grip.

  Midnight.

  Payne was going to hang Midnight.

  The cat fought the boy’s grip, but it was like every scratch and bite did nothing to dissuade Payne from his goal. Or maybe he didn’t feel pain. Ironic, considering his name.

  After the initial shock wore off, as I watched him grab Midnight by the scruff of his neck and start to tie a rope around him, I shouted, “Payne!”

  The boy was too focused on the cat to have heard my approach, and he jumped when I said his name, losing his grip on Midnight. The cat darted away after letting out a hiss and a growl, leaving Payne and I alone.

  I stormed over to him, my hands on my hips. Hard to keep them there, but I knew if I laid a finger on this boy, I’d want to do nothing but drag his sorry butt to Victor and have him punished. Surely Victor could do something.

  Killing animals was one of the worst things you could do. Pretty sure it was one of the beginning signs of a serial killer in the making.

  “What were you doing?” I demanded. My eyes spotted empty jars sitting on the dirt near the tree he’d strung up the small noose. Jars and…a knife? What in the world…? So he wasn’t just going to hang Midnight—he was going to cut him, too.

  Payne looked almost ghostly in the shadows. The veins in his neck were visible, his hair looking thin—but I was fairly sure that was only because of how white it was. And when I said white, I meant white. Not a light blonde. No yellow to be seen.

  “I was going to drain him,” Payne answered with a shrug. He made no moves to lunge for the knife, which was good, because the last thing I wanted was another Bram situation. “And then bury him.”

  “What…” I glanced behind me, at the piles of stones, and then it dawned on me. Those stones weren’t for decorations; they marked the graves of other animals Payne had killed. Or drained. Or whatever.