Hallows: Eulalie

This Is Her House

Chiodos- All Nereids Beware

Ashley:

Dante is wearing black jeans with a black wife beater tucked into them. He has two thick gold chains around his neck. I'm pretty sure his belt buckle is made of gold as well. He's got an insane right sleeve. He has two grief bands tattooed on his wrist. An open book right above as it spills what looks like bats, demons, and music notes all the way up his shoulder. His silver hair is wet. It almost looks gray. His dark roots are coming in, but it only makes it look cooler.

"Walk with me," he motions for me to follow. He has another tattoo on his back. I'm not sure what it is. I look down at his bare feet. He reaches into his back pocket and takes a box of menthols out. He offers me one.

"No, thanks," I shake my head. "I don't smoke."

"Do you drink?" he asks.

"Not always,"

"So you don't pop pills, you don't smoke weed, and don't like cigarettes. What's your vice, Villanueva?"

"The piano," I answer.

"Nothing else?" he asks.

"There is nothing else. I wouldn't be here if there was," why am I being honest with this prick? It's probably because he scares the s**t out of me and if I lie to him and he catches me. I don't want to know what would happen.

"Your dad was in deep with some pretty sick people," he says after a while. We stop in front of the music building. He takes a seat where he was the first time I saw him. "Why did you take it upon yourself to save him?"

"He's my father. Don't you have one?"

"No," he shakes his head. "My father was a piece of s**t. He died like one too."

The way he says it with a little smile tugging at the edges of his lips makes my stomach knot, but I don't say anything to show him how much it upsets me. The way Chavela and everyone talk about him, tells me he might have actually done what he's implying. This guy might have killed his father.

"My dad isn't," I clear my throat. "He's just an i***t, but he's a good man."

"That's good," he nods and looks up at me. "I don't want you here, Villanueva, but we had a meeting and you slanging for someone else can present some problems for us. You have fifty-six k paid off already. You'll keep doing the same thing for me.

"Kelly thinks you have a talent for getting into s**t you shouldn't and that's her type of partner. So, if you guys get into s**t that pays out, you'll get a cut. She's going to teach you in your off time. Do as she says. She's my number one," he stands up and lifts a backpack off the picnic table. He shoves it into my arms the way he did in the car. "Do as she says and you'll be fine,"

"Am I supposed to thank you?" I ask. He smirks.

"That would imply I give two f***s about your opinion, Villanueva," he scoffs. "But you should. You know what happens to little girls like you at the hands of the Jimenez Cartel?"

"Is that concern?" I look up at him.

"No, I just paid two hundred grand for you. It better be worth my while. Go clean up the s**t in your room. If you put your hands on Aubrey or Tiff again, I'm going to be f*****g pissed."

"She s**t in my bed,"

"This is her house," he scoffs. "If she wants to s**t in your bed, she will. This isn't the Southside, Ashley. Rich girls don't settle debt with their fists and that's just about all you're worth. You're a f*****g dead girl. You're lucky her hair is insured. I don't like anyone touching my toys, little girl. You f****d up. The next few days of your life are going to be hell. No one is going to help you."

I don't move as he walks past me. His bare arm brushes up against mine and I flinch away from him. I look up to see him standing very close. His eyes look almost black from whatever he's on right now. I take a step away from him, not wanting to feel the coldness that spreads through me at his touch.

"Don't touch me," I say, averting my gaze.

"What are you?" he whispers. I look up at him, wondering what the hell he means by that.

"What? Mexican?" is that what he's asking me? What ethnicity I am?

"Go," he puts the cigarette back to his lips.

I don't hesitate to turn away and head back to the dorms. There's no one in sight as I make my way up to my room. When I open the door, the bedspread and the sheets are gone and new ones are sitting on the mattress. It smells like cleaning chemicals. I look around to find a card on my writing desk. I open it to find a tiny polaroid of Aubrey crying. s**t smeared all over her face. I laugh knowing I'm going to keep this forever.

That was gangster. Can't wait to see more. T. Percy.

Tamara Percy. She's one of Kelly's girls. I'm pretty sure she's into Reuben Whitmore. I've caught her staring at him a few times. She'd just smile and put her index finger up to her lips. I make the bed and spray it down with some body spray before laying my favorite tiger blanket over the whole thing to go to sleep. It honestly feels like I shut my eyes for a moment before my alarm goes off.

I get ready for the day and with the extra twenty minutes I have left, I hide all my good s**t in case Aubrey wants to come in here again. A tap at the door has me on edge. I open it to find Kelly standing there dressed in an all-black sweatsuit looking like a tiny Asian Paris Hilton.

"You ready?" she asks. "Leave the backpack. You won't need it."

She looks me over as I lock the door behind me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing. You just wear a lot of f*****g purple," she shrugs.

"Do you like wearing black or is that approved apparel from your boss?" I scoff. She laughs.

"I don't know anymore," she admits. "You should put a deadbolt on that,"

"I should," I agree.

Kelly and I walk through the school and march right out the front gate. A part of me thinks she's doing it so everyone knows I'm with her now. The looks I'm getting certainly imply it. The only person who gives me a little wave is Tamara. I smile at her but don't say anything because Aubrey and Tiffany were standing right behind her with their eyes on Kelly and me. They don't look happy in the slightest.

The black Tahoe from last night is back. There's a Japanese man dressed in a suit and tie standing outside of the car as we approach. He opens the door for us. Kelly makes me get in first and then follows behind me. My heart skips a beat when she pulls a black box from under the passenger seat and opens it to reveal a small 22. revolver She offers it to me and I give her a look that hopefully says like f**k I'm touching that thing. She groans and takes my hand.

"Look, I'm going to need you to carry this s**t at all times. You never pull it out in school. I don't care what is happening. You got that? You are to be armed at all times when you leave school. Do you have any weapons?"

"No," I shake my head. She lifts her hips and produces a butterfly knife. From where? I have no f*****g idea. Those pretty girl sweatpants are tight as hell on her. I take it when she offers it to me.

"How are you still alive?" she chuckles. "Didn't Chave teach you how to defend yourself?"

"I know how to defend myself."

"Yeah, that scrappy s**t isn't going to work here, baby face. You gotta protect your hands, Ashley. You have a f*****g gift. One these bastards will try to kill you for. Aubrey was just f*****g with you for taking Tiffany's place in the pageant but you made s**t personal last night when Dante walked through that door. I'm willing to bet Tiff is raging about you working for us now."

"I thought she was dating Halestorm,"

"Yeah, and she'll probably marry him one day. It's not going to stop her from f*****g with Dante," she shrugs. "These people aren't like you, Ashley. Their image is everything to them. Aubrey is crazy but Tiffany is-" she shakes her head. "She's a cute little b***h that bottles up all her rage until, boom. It detonates. Anyone caught in that s**t is done. Don't get caught in it."

"Okay," I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why me?"

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"I mean why am I here?" I ask. Her icy blue eyes look me over and she shrugs.

"I wanted you here," she says. "Look, I'm at the top here because I got a cool last name from my old man but I was raised in Tokyo. My mom was a high-end w***e for the Yakuza. So it was either suck d**k for the rest of my life or kill. I know what it's like to be forced to survive. Working for Dante has opened up some really great opportunities for me. I'm already getting Ivy League offers and I got another year of this hell hole.

"The thing about being new to this s**t is that these people grew up being what they are. There isn't any room for them to change. Us, we adapt to our surroundings. We learn and perfect what they can do and apply it to what we know already. It's fun once you get the hang of it. I don't want another princess at my back, Ashley. I need a real b***h. One that won't run when s**t hits the fan. That's why you're here."

"You can call me Ash," I nod. She smiles.

"Dante said you didn't like it,"

"Dante is a f*****g asshole," I roll my eyes. "He's not allowed to call me that,"

"See," she grins. "I knew you were the one," she bumps me with her elbow. "He is a piece of s**t,"

"But?" I smile, looking over at her.

"But, he's different. You know when you're a little girl and you hear all these stories about the evil king and the princess is scared of him, but when she's actually standing in front of him all the legends kind of just melt away and he turns out to be a cool guy?"

"Yeah?" I laugh.

"He's that king," she smiles. "Yeah, he is a f*****g monster, but it's not without reason. Blackstones are all-I don't-know legends I guess. And he's no different. It's just who they are."

"And you're the princess in this story?"

"Nah," she shakes her head. "I'm more like the King's right hand. He gets into all kinds of s**t and when he needs help I'm the person he calls,"

"That sounds lonely."

"It works for us," she shrugs. "Besides, I'm no d**k sucker. Even if he is the king. I would rather die than ever let a f*****g man ever tell me how to use my body. I got issues," she taps her head. "I can't be a princess even if I was born one," she looks down at the gun in my hand. "You know how to use that?"

"Yeah," I nod, taking the black box from her so I can load the gun. "My dad wanted a son. When I was a little girl, we'd go on hunting trips. I'm good with rifles, handguns, knives, and wire."

"What's your preference?"

"Fighting," I admit. "There's just something about taking someone down with my bare hands that makes me feel-"

"Alive?" she smirks when I can't find the right word. I nod.

"What about you?"

"Mmm," she hums. "I don't really have a preference. As long as I get to f**k s**t up. I'm good. Which is what we're doing this morning. We're going into New City to f**k with the King Shark. He owes Dante some money and he's been dodging our collector. After, Dante wants you out of this s**t," she pulls on my t-shirt. "We're gonna get you some new threads. He said you can keep the purple just work with us a little,"