“Such a shame,” Oscar sighs, leaving his iPad on the front seat of the Camaro as he looks up at the house. He rode with Hael while Callum tagged along with Aaron. “A Gothic Revival with an original kitchen and original bathrooms. It might’ve been worth a fortune, were your mother any less of a sadistic cunt.”

Victor pounds up the front steps as I eye them warily, wondering if they’re even going to hold his weight.

“If you don’t like this, Bernie, just speak up and we’ll find somewhere else,” Aaron says, smiling at me in that way of his, like his mouth is made of sunshine. It’s a different sort than it used to be. Freshman year, I might’ve said his smile was as open and bright as a summer afternoon at the lake. Now, he’s like the dusky, filtered light that percolates through tree limbs and decorates the shadowed forest floor with stars.

“First though …” Cal starts, slipping up beside me. His blue eyes meet mine, and I find an invitation there, one that I didn’t quite expect. I know he’s been waiting for me to decide, but I’m pretty sure I already have. Actually, no, that’s a copout. I’ve always known what I’ve wanted, and it wasn’t just the V in Havoc; it was every letter in their wicked, little alphabet.

But how I go about making that happen, I don’t know.

Victor is possessive. Aaron wants to skin him alive. Hael is … wrapped up in Brittany’s bullshit.

I exhale.

“First though?” I echo, and he grins, pushing his hood back, so I can see his face. His pink lips echo whatever dark thoughts are drifting through that head of his.

“Come see what we’ve brought you,” he says happily, his voice a velvety purr that has texture to it, like it’s more than sound. When Callum Park talks, I sometimes think I can feel it, kissing across my flesh and crawling inside of me.

I glance over at Hael, but he just smiles. He’s here, but he’s also … not. Yes, we had that talk—and that fuck—on the hood of his car, but where are we really? Waiting for a fetus’ DNA test and stuck in limbo.

“This should be good,” Hael crows, throwing his head back anyway and howling with laughter. He shoves his sunglasses up and into his hair, ruffling that red faux hawk of his as he opens the front door of the crumbling manor and then pauses, like he’s reconsidering. “Right,” he purrs, crinkling his eyes up as he smirks, “you don’t like the chivalrous shit.”

“Come the fuck off it,” Aaron snaps at him, elbowing Hael out of the way when he laughs and lets go of the door, leaving it to swing in our faces. Aaron stops it with his palm and lets Callum lead the way into the darkness, following after Vic and Oscar. Hael takes up the rear.

We head straight for the stairs and up. All the while, I’m wondering if we’re going to fall through to our deaths.

The place is hauntingly beautiful on the inside, but very clearly beyond saving. This isn’t a place you move into with hopes, dreams, a shoestring budget, and YouTube videos on how to DIY shit. No, no, this place is a shell, with holes in the ceiling and floors, sunlight trickling down and highlighting drifting brown leaves. Technically, it’s still autumn, but winter is right around the corner.

It’s cold in the creepy, old place, even in my leather jacket. I’m thinking about that, about my leather jacket, as the boys guide me down the hall and … into a room where an older gentleman is bound to a chair.

Oh.

Crap.

“Who is this?” I ask as the boys fan out around their prisoner, like demonic gods attending a dark ritual. But I already know who it is. I just want to hear them say it.

“This,” Vic tells me, putting his hands on the man’s shoulders and giving him a little shake. “Is Todd Kushner.” Victor gives me another anti-smile and then stands up straight, letting his hands fall to his sides. “He’s got earbuds in,” he explains, gesturing at the blindfolded man with the too-perfect skin. That was one of the things that always weirded me out about Todd, how smooth and babylike his skin was. Maybe that’s what he was really doing, drinking the youth of his victims.

However it happens, his youth doesn’t suit him at all.

“Earbuds blasting music, Vic should say. I Prevail, most specifically,” Callum corrects, mentioning one of my favorite bands. Whenever I hear the song “Gasoline”, I think of the Havoc Boys. It suits them, the mood of that one.

“What is he doing here?” I ask as I circle around Todd, noting that he, too, has pissed his pants in fear. Isn’t that ironic, how some monsters get so scared when their time finally comes to play victim? I have a feeling that the Havoc Boys wouldn’t cower like this, pee themselves and whimper like kicked dogs.

Not a chance in hell.

“That’s up to you,” Vic tells me, watching as I complete my circle and pause next to Oscar. It’s not like I’ve forgotten what his boss told me. “If they get the chance, each and every one of them will try to take you from me … Even. Oscar.” Hmm.

He moves away from me, which in reality, gives me all the information I need.

I look at Oscar, and his glasses flash as he pushes them up his nose, flipping me off at the same time. If he didn’t care about me at all, he wouldn’t move away like that. It’s an emotional response that makes me wonder what I could do, if I pushed him hard enough.

My mind flashes to that moment in the hallway where I persisted on touching his tie, until he finally let me.

“We could tell Eric we’ve kidnapped his father,” Callum suggests, shrugging his shoulders as he slips his hands into the pockets of his black cargo shorts. “But we’re of the opinion that he doesn’t care whether his dad lives or dies. So, a better choice would be to use Todd to convince Eric to come here.”

I can only imagine the tortures they have in store for the Kushners.

I don’t have to explain what happened to me there; they know. I told them all, when I was thirteen. I told them everything.

“We thought you could help with the phone call, act like you’re a girl that Todd’s rounded up for Eric,” Aaron adds, and I cringe slightly. I wonder if I’m suffering from my PTSD shit again. I’ve never been diagnosed, but again, kooks and quacks aren’t really in the budget of someone whose little sister doesn’t have shoes without holes in them.

I should probably dig up some of that money and buy her some. That was old Bernadette who buried that money, a Bernadette who was a lot more afraid than she realized. Things are different now.

“So, we use my voice to lure the pervert to a haunted mansion on the edge of Oak Park?” I ask, shaking my head. “If he chooses to resist his perversions, he escapes free and clear. If he doesn’t, he suffers, something like that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Hael says, snickering at me. “If he resists, we’ll just get him later. That’s pretty much it.”

I pause in front of Todd, and then reach out to remove his earbuds. I tuck them in my pocket and then slip the soggy wet gag down his chin, curling my lip and then wiping my hands on the front of the hideous white frock I’m wearing. It looks like something from Abercrombie and Fitch. I don’t quite feel like me without my regular clothes.

“Listen to me,” Todd starts, stuttering slightly as he moves his head around, like he can actually see anything through the black blindfold he’s wearing. “You need to repent. It isn’t too late. Jesus can always heal a sinner.”