“Oh baby,” Jimmy starts, stepping up on me like he thinks I’m examining the costume for his benefit. His hands slide up my waist, and I do what we like to call at Prescott High the poor girl turn. It’s called that because when some skeezy guy comes up to you, thinking you’re nothing but southside trash, and he puts his hands on you, you can spin around and carefully extract his unwanted grip at the same time. It seems flirtatious and fun, so it doesn’t trigger the worst guys right off the bat.

And it’s such a sad fucking thing to do that it makes me sick. Put your hands on me, and I have the right to put my goddamn hands on you. Don’t touch people that don’t want to be touched. If you really need to learn no means no then you should check your privilege at the door and shut the fuck up.

Jimmy accepts the poor girl turn, laughing and downing the rest of his drink. When he backs up toward the door and heels it shut, locking it behind him, I know that one of only two things is going to happen in this room.

Either I’m going to fuck James Barrasso, or I’m going to kill him. Because if I try to leave now, he’s going to force the point and I’m going to be left with no choice. My phone is on the table in the entryway, a terrible place for it to be, no doubt.

“Why don’t you put that little costume on, and I’ll show you what’s missing when Victor takes you to bed.” Jimmy takes a careful step back, leaving me just enough room between him and the bed behind me to put the costume on without touching him. I feel his breath on my skin though, his eyes following the movements of my breasts.

“You say his name so dismissively, but we’re here because he’s a problem. Your father wouldn’t have sent goons to a high school after-party if that weren’t the case.” Jimmy’s face changes slightly, but then he lets out a harsh laugh, like he can’t believe I just said that to him. I keep going, tossing the maid costume behind me and onto the bed.

I guess I should be scared. I think that a sane person might’ve realized there was always a third option: that James Barrasso, the son of a gang I didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago, might actually overpower me. I’m just not wired that way, to consider that kind of failure.

“And don’t you think it’s sad?” I continue, fingering my planchet necklace. Maybe the spirit board really can conjure evil spirits and demons because James Barrasso looks just like one right now. “That a bunch of high school kids murdered your father’s men? Or that he sent you here to spy on us? That he asked you to see if you could fuck some information out of me?”

“What the hell is your problem?” James snaps, stepping toward me like he’s used to intimidating people smaller and lighter than him. He grabs me by the back of my hair, and I let him, so I can sneak my hand up my dress to grab the knife. It falls easily into my palm as Jimmy gets in my face with a snarl. “You’re a cheap whore who fucks a bunch of wannabe gangsters. You think that makes you special, bitch?”

“That’s not what makes me special,” I breathe, realizing that I’ve already made a mistake, but one that can’t be corrected. It’s too late now. “It’s how afraid of me you are.”

I intend to swing the knife up and around, putting it through his arm to get him to let go of me. If you cut the flexor tendons, your opponent can’t grip anything.

“He’s handsome,” Kali whispers in my ear, a ghost that I can’t seem to exorcise. “I’d fuck him.”

To exorcise her, that means exorcising my own inner demons, the ones that seem louder and louder the shorter my list gets. Once my mother’s been properly Havoc’d then what? I’ll have to face myself?

Somebody’s been working on picking the lock, and the door swings open with a creak. Callum is standing there, his black hoodie reminding me of the dark cloak worn by death. All he needs now is a scythe.

“Bernie,” he says with a smile as Jimmy backs away from me, his gaze dark and full of hate. I’ve blown it, I realize as I keep the knife hidden inside the baggy sleeve of the hoodie dress. Shit.

“Crazy cunt,” Jimmy growls as he storms off, pushing past Callum.

Cal lets him get into the hallway before he turns and throws his elbow into Jimmy’s stomach so hard that he chokes and stumbles, falling into the wall and then collapsing to the floor.

“Put the knife away,” Callum whispers as I move up to stand beside him, loving the way Jimmy’s struggling and failing to find his feet. I do what Cal says, noticing Oscar standing in the shadows at the end of the hall.

“Fucking wannabes,” Jimmy chokes as he finally uses the wall to get his feet. The look he throws back on Cal is cocky with a dollop of fear. He’s trying to act like he isn’t afraid right now. He really should be. I wonder if his father knows how easy it would be for Jimmy to die here tonight? He must, sending him into a murder mystery party surrounded by enemies. “Your girl was about to get down on her knees and suck me off.”

Callum just keeps on smiling in that enigmatic way of his, and I see a visible shudder ripple through Jimmy.

“No, she wasn’t,” he says, just like that, nice and simple. Cal bends down and puts his hands on his thighs, his tone patronizing. “Now, keep going before I decide to end this party early by revealing just who the murderer actually is.”

Jimmy scowls, storming down the hallway but then startling when he runs into Oscar. Not sure he even saw him through the shadows; the hallway lights above us are bright but there are no lights on in the entryway. It gives this optical illusion that there’s nothing beyond the end of the hallway but the depthless dark.

Oscar shifts out of the way as Cal and I move down the hall toward him.

“I had a knife in my hand. I think I was going to kill him,” I admit, but the reason I sound so sorry isn’t because of that douchebag kid that thinks his father’s gang makes him hot shit. It’s because of Kali, and they both know it. I feel like I’ve let them down, like I’m not as much of a Havoc girl as I thought.

“I wonder if we should?” Oscar asks, but Cal is already shaking his head.

“There are men all over this property,” he says, lighting a cigarette in the dark. “We shouldn’t kill anyone.” Cal pauses, breathes deeply, smiles again. “Here, I mean. We shouldn’t kill anyone here.”

I remember how terrified he looked on Halloween night, when he killed Danny Ensbrook with a baseball bat studded with nails. Callum is a careful monster. He’d never leave blood on the floor of a too-white art gallery.

“I can’t stand seeing Victor with that girl,” I tell them, glancing over and finding them both staring at me. Oscar’s head is tilted down just slightly, and I know he can see me above his glasses, a blurred figure with bloodred tips for hair. “My jealousy of his pretend seduction sort of ruined my own pretend seduction.” I sigh and reach up to ruffle my hair. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “Though, based on my limited interactions with the creep, I don’t think he knows much.”

I open my eyes.

“Just a spoiled prince,” Oscar muses and Cal nods, like he’d already had that thought about James Barrasso.

“Pathetic,” he agrees, reaching down to take my hand. I love the way he does that, reaches for me like he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch me. His palm is hot, violence brimming in the center like a ball of dark magic summoned to the surface of his skin. “There’s nothing here worth anything. No people, no information.”