Page 15 of Created in Chaos
“That’s not what you were saying an hour ago,” he taunts, which shuts Nova right up, but it doesn’t conceal her death glare. “Come try yours on, lamb, or would you rather get naked first?”
“I am not getting naked under that thing!” Her eyes are wide as she looks at me.
“Those are the rules, sorry.” Lucian shrugs his shoulders helplessly.
I shake my head and mouth, “He’s lying,” causing Lucian to reach over and punch me in the arm.
“Damn it, this might have been endurable if I knew she was bare under that robe and I had some place to keep my hands warm.” He ducks deftly when a pillow from the bed goes sailing toward his face.
“My body is not your pocket.”
Lucian tosses his head back and laughs so hard, he has to grab hold of his stomach. I can’t remember the last time he seemed so carefree. “My pocket pussy.” He continues to chuckle.
“I swear to God, Lucian, if you start calling me your pocket…I will strangle you with a pink ribbon and shove a fluffy tail up your butt after you’re dead, then post pictures on the internet for everyone and their momma to see.”
Lucian abruptly stops laughing and eyes Nova. “That was oddly specific. You’ve put far too much thought into that, but thank you for the idea. I’ll go shopping as soon as we get home. I won’t be sharing the photos of you—alive and well, mind you—with the ribbon and fluffy little tail up your ass, but I will have a book printed so I can look at it often, lamb.”
Another pillow hits the wall behind his head, this one with a louder thump. “I’m going to smother you tonight while you’re sleeping.”
“Already up to sitting on my face. I’m impressed.”
She lets out a growling huff and spins to stomp toward the bathroom with the robe in hand. Once the door slams, my brother looks over at me. “She’s too mad to be scared now.”
“I think we could have found a better way to distract her,” I reply.
“Nah. Did you see the way her eyes lit up and notice the shift in her breathing? She’s in there right now, thinking about what my tongue will feel like inside her.”
“I think she’s thinking about all the ways she could murder you, but whatever you want to tell yourself.”
NOVA
I’m reluctantly grateful for the stupid robe when I walk behind Lucian and in front of Nox as we make our way into the school. Our hoods have been up since we were driven off Morningstar grounds by one of their security officers. I’m only feeling slightly claustrophobic, and considering I have to keep rebreathing my own warm air and I’m not hyperventilating, I’ll call it a win for the time being. Thankfully, the lighter mesh falling from the hood allows me to see and get a scant amount of fresh air.
Our footsteps are nearly silent on the stone floor as we file into the school. I look to the right and left without being too obvious, because strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to be here, but I haven’t been in the school in a couple weeks, and I’m wondering if being here will trigger a memory of some sort.
The place is as empty as a tomb and just as quiet. I spy the coffee shop and Union but feel nothing. There’s no pull of a memory or even the fear I was worried would seize me. Nox puts a little pressure on my back, urging me forward with his palm, causing me to hasten my steps to keep up with Lucian.
Nox informed me that speaking isn’t permitted until we reach the chamber, but even then, it’s uncommon for anyone other than the current president to speak unless they all recite the Cadieux Creed…or the corrupt credence, as the brothers call it. I reminded them this is cult crap, and neither of them argued.
My breathing begins to deepen when we file into a line with other robed individuals and are fed into a dark hall. The light scuffing of soft-soled shoes turns into a chorus of sound, helping to detract from the eerie silence. I’m close enough to Lucian’s back that I could reach out and touch him, but I don’t dare. It would admit a weakness to him and break expectations.
As we continue forward, I notice the group ahead of us curve down a hall, then step through a door I know to be marked as closed. Now my breathing picks up. For some strange reason, going underground seems daunting when I wouldn’t have balked at it before.
I lower my head to watch my feet, but instead, I see the black cloth swaying with every step. My throat feels too tight, like I need to force myself to swallow but my body isn’t cooperating.
Nox eases closer to me so with every step, some part of our bodies brush. It keeps me focused on my next movement and making sure we don’t trip each other instead of thinking about the rapidly approaching descent.
The curving stairway is lit with actual torches and has a rope handhold secured to the wall through large iron rings every few feet, but no one reaches for it, including me. I’m not sure what good it would do anyway, considering if I fell right now, it would create a domino effect and take out everyone below me.
I keep my eyes trained on Lucian’s wide shoulders so I’m not tempted to look over to the right, where there’s a yawning abyss of darkness spotted with twinkling firelight far below. I’m already worried about walking back up these stairs. I really hope I won’t be expected to keep up this pace.
By the time we reach the stone floor far beneath the school, I’m too relieved to allow myself to be afraid of what awaits us. The line up ahead has disbursed into smaller groups. Clearly, they recognize each other some way or have a meeting place planned out. I follow Lucian through the huddled figures, past several large pillars, and into an expansive chamber. The walls are adorned with more torches that reflect off the walls of golden tiles, which shimmer like the inside of an oyster. Heavy wooden chandeliers hang from the impressively high ceiling with even more flickering flames. I have no idea whose job it is to light everything, but they deserve some kind of medal.
Huge tables are placed in the spacious area like some sort of weird dining hall with fancy high-back chairs. Most of them are empty, but some have figures already seated in them. Lucian leads us up toward the front, where there’s an elevated throne showcasing the only individual not wearing a hood—my grandfather. I would bet my Porsche the petite figure at his side is Astrid, my grandmother, but she’s covered from head to toe just like the rest of us.
Lucian is convinced Rory is president in name only, and that Astrid, the true Umbra, is running the show. I can’t discredit the idea. I don’t know either of them well enough to judge. I was a little surprised to find the Umbra blood comes from my grandmother and Rory took her name to continue the family line. Had my mother been here, he never would have risen to power. She would have been the leader, but in her absence, Rory took the seat.
I glance up, looking at Lucian after he pulls out a chair for me to sit in, but I can’t read a response behind the cloak, so I just lower myself slowly, half wondering if he’s going to yank it out and laugh when I fall.