Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end, she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls. —J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Shallow, boring, tedious, ignorant, and insipid. I blinked, my expression softening as I watched them. Happy, excited, brave, wild, and in heaven. They looked seventeen. And suddenly, for a moment, I wished I was them.

“Don’t you know that you can have anything you want?” His eyes searched mine. “I’ll hurt anyone for you.”

“Abuse can feel like love.” I blinked, the voice so close that my ears tingled. Slowly, I raised my eyes to look at the side of Damon Torrance’s face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie draped around his neck. The whole class fell silent, and I glanced at Will next to me, seeing his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at the back of his friend’s head. Mr. Townsend approached. “‘Abuse can feel like love . . .’” he repeated. “Why?” Damon remained so still it didn’t look like he was breathing. He looked at the teacher, unwavering. “Starving people will eat anything.”

Because Godzilla was great. And Lolita hurt my head.

Homecoming. I groaned. Pretty sure slamming my nipple in a car door would be less painful. Or joining a gym. Or reading The Bell Jar in between bouts of banging my head on a wall.

If my spaghetti arms could lift more than a blueberry, that would be fantastic.

“Don’t be like that,” he cooed to Damon. “He was really flattered you approved of his taste in women when you adjusted yourself right in front of him at the sight of my mother.” “In a bathing suit, Kai!” Damon pointed out, looking at Kai over his shoulder. “I mean, what the fuck? Jesus.” I shook with a laugh, remembering that day last summer when we were all at Kai’s house. “And you all think I don’t have any shame,” Damon said. “If she weren’t your mom . . .” “My father would still rip your dick up through your stomach and out your mouth?” Kai retorted. Damon quieted, settling back into his seat and sticking his cigarette into his mouth. “Daddy’s boy.” Kai shook his head, but I saw the smile fade as he looked out the window. “Maybe we’ll stay in the area and go to Trinity instead,” Michael said, “so we can all be close to Kai’s mom.”

“Use your head,” he told me, carrying me into his room as if I weighed nothing. “You’ll need it to stay alive, because this is not how we end, Emory Scott.” Despite myself, I almost smiled. But I didn’t. No. This wasn’t how I ended. I had twenty-nine days.

Every little thing you could do made you feel stronger. I have this, so I don’t need you. I have that, so I don’t need you.

“Stay,” he said again. And something about how he said it made my insides shake a little. Slowly, I stopped. Stay.

Tears pooled in my eyes. I couldn’t stop him. Don’t. Please. I wasn’t a happy person. Not ever. I won’t be able to stop you.

There was a moment, though, when he held me, where he was me, and I was him, and we weren’t alone.

When the bus stops, get in my fucking truck. I breathed out a bitter laugh. Aw, someone’s lost his temper. Why? I asked. The next thing I know, the bus stopped, he yanked the earbuds out of my ears, and I sucked in a breath as he leaned into my face. “Because you’re mine,” he growled in a whisper.

“I like it here,” he almost whispered. “I like mystery. Sometimes I’m dying to know what happened that night, and other times, I hope I never find out, because it’s more interesting this way. Reality always disappoints.” He turned to me. “I think that’s why I’ve always liked this time of day best. People hide in the dark. They quench their thirsts in the dark. They build their secrets in the dark. We’re more ourselves here than anywhere else. I get to be me”—he swallowed, staring at me—“when nightfall is coming.”

“Come here,” he said. My heart dipped into my belly, and I could feel him in my hands. I looked at him, seeing him grind the steering wheel under his fist and breathing hard. “Come here,” he said again. I absently shook my head. “Why?” “Because I’m your man.”

God, where did he get off? He’s all like “Hey, babe. I’m”—insert hair flip and surfer boy tone—“Will Grayson. Should we, like, maybe get together and mate? We can totally honeymoon in Hawaii. I’ll put a stamp in your passport and make all your dreams come true.” Which, of course, we wouldn’t need our passports, because Hawaii was still in our own country! I growled under my breath, breathing hard as rain fell harder, blurring the road in front of me. I turned on the wipers, my brain calming a little. Okay, okay. He wasn’t that dumb. He wasn’t dumb at all. He would know Hawaii was in America. And he didn’t say like and ‘totally.’ I hooded my eyes, sighing. And he could be kind. And sweet.

“I’d never wanted anything more in my whole life,” Aydin went on, “and I was studying to be a surgeon who would’ve gladly cut off his own hands to have her.”

“Same parties. Same girls,” Michael mumbled. “I’m fucking bored.” “I know.” Kai let out a sigh. “I’m feeling it, too. I need something to happen.” “Something to obsess over,” Michael added. And then Damon chimed in. “We should kill someone.” Michael snorted, Kai rolled his eyes, and I plucked the cigarette out of Damon’s mouth, taking a drag and shaking my head. Michael whipped his uniform blazer at Damon. “I was thinking I need the season to start, you fucking psycho.”

“Wasn’t I?” she snipped. “Wow, you’re outstanding. Maybe for your next trick you can make fire and draw stories in the dirt about those funny holes in the sky that let the light in.” Huh? Holes in the sky? Oh, stars. Was she calling me a caveman? Little shit. I mean, I did do her literature assignment for her. Did she have any idea how hard it was to try to sound like an angry teenage girl with zero sense of humor?

“Show me some moves?” I asked, breathing hard as I removed my glasses. He stopped and straightened, scowling at me. “Why would I do that?” “What do you want in return?” He grinned, and I arched an eyebrow at him. I was pretty sure he didn’t want that. “A sandwich,” he said. I snorted, not missing the intended insult about a woman’s place. But it wasn’t a horrible idea. I’d have an excuse to be in the kitchen with access to the food. Even if someone kept an eye on me, I could hoard away something. It might come in handy if I needed to run or hide for an extended period of time. “A Philly cheesesteak sandwich?” I clarified, upping the ante. It wasn’t kosher, so I couldn’t eat it. It was one of the few rules I followed. But I’d make it for them. That kind of sandwich would take longer than ten minutes to cook, giving me plenty of time in the kitchen. His face lit up. “Really?” I held up fists, widening my stance as my answer. He smiled and took up position opposite of me, bidding me to attack. “Let’s do this.”

I don’t scream, because . . . “Because screaming doesn’t help,” he murmured. “Does it?” My heart thundered in my chest, but I remained frozen, staring up at him as he looked at my body and the bruises in the shapes of fingers wrapped around my upper arm. The scrapes on my legs and the blue and purple on my shoulders. “Because you get tired of being the victim,” he said, like he was thinking out loud, “and it’s easier to just let it happen.” He raised his eyes, meeting mine again, and my throat stretched painfully as his words burrowed into me. He loosened his hold, but I didn’t run. “To just pretend we’re in control of everything happening to us,” he told me. He blinked a few times, his demeanor completely changed, a troubled set to his brow. My chin trembled. “Until you can’t remember who you were before you started lying even to yourself,” he added. “Until you can’t remember ever smiling when it didn’t fucking hurt.” Tears filled my eyes, and I ground my teeth to keep my shit together. Abuse can feel like love. I remembered his words from lit class. Starving people will eat anything.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Damon asked. “That need kids like us feel that Will never will? That need to destroy anything good, because every man for himself, and if you can’t beat ’em, then join ’em.” He came in and caressed my hair, and my chest ached, like something wanted to tear out of it, and I just wanted the pain to end. Even for a minute. I wanted the control.

He’d bought me other things over the years, presents every time he’d spent his anger and the guilt crept in, and those things were also set about the room. Things I’d leave behind when I left, so that when he came in here, he’d see and remember everything, but I’d be gone. I dropped my eyes. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I gaped at him, hearing French spew out of his mouth like it was nothing. Guillaume was the French variant of William. Seriously? Frankly, I’d been surprised he even spoke English. Figured him for someone who communicated solely in emojis. But my grandmother smiled. “Parlez-vous français?” “Un peu,” he said, measuring about half an inch with his fingers. “Très, très peu.” She laughed, and that same smile that made him look like he was built for hugs spread across his face. He looked down at her, and I rolled my eyes. Un peu, my ass.

He dropped his eyes, stuck the lighter into his pocket, and let out a resolved breath. “Why are you so mean?” But he didn’t really want an answer. Turning away, he left my bedroom and headed down the stairs, and in that moment, my insides crumbled, because I knew I’d gone too far. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want him to go because I’d never hear from him again. I’d go to school tomorrow, pass him in the halls, but this time, he wouldn’t look back at me. I’d gone too far.

“I know someone like that,” I told him. “He couldn’t fight for the life he wanted until he was forced to fight alone. He held on to his friends and to his sister so tightly, he almost killed us, because in that moment, he couldn’t bear to see us leave, and he would’ve rather seen us dead.” Aydin’s gaze faltered, and I knew something was finally cracking in there. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to die here. Alone. “Did you ever forgive him?” he asked, his tone gentle for once. “Family does.” He blinked, something churning in his head. “But he had to submit.” The corner of my mouth quirked. “Family does.” Damon learned. He’d fucked up, but he learned. He’d hurt so many people so badly that he lost everything, but it was only then that he realized his pride was less important than everything he loved.

Holy shit. I groaned. God, straddle me, please.

“When you’re ready for me to finish that,” I said. “You come to me.” She dug in her eyebrows, gaping. “My bed is on the third floor.” I rose up, grabbing my jacket. “Come and ask me for it.” And I left, the appendage between my legs trying to tear a hole in my pants as Micah’s laugh followed me up the stairs. Along with the shatter of whatever vase Emmy threw in the drawing room that crashed two seconds later. That was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever had to do. Like harder than prison, detox, and the Doris Day double feature at the drive-in my mother asked me to take her to when I was seventeen. Combined.

off his

“You can leave. You can hide . . .” He slid in, burying himself to the hilt and filling me so wide and deep that I cried out just once. “But you’re going to be fucking mine someday,” he growled. “Come hell or high water, Emory Scott. You’re my woman, and you’re going to come home to me every day and sit at my table and warm my fucking bed.” He kissed me. “And you’re going to give me a Will Grayson IV. Mark my words.”

I swallowed. “So, are you . . . like a . . . like a serial killer, then?” He grinned. “Are you afraid?” “Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t be?” He shook his head. “No.”

“Always act as if you knew it was coming the whole time. Pretend it was part of the plan. You move with the storm, Emory. Calm, quiet, patient, and then . . . Then you happen to him.” My chest rose and fell in steady breaths as I whispered, “I happen to him.” “He may hit you again,” he breathed out, “but he will never hurt you. You will smile, and then . . .” “I will happen to him,” I whispered.

“You’re Lilith,” he whispered against my skin. “You can’t be burned if you’re the flame.”

“They’re releasing Godzilla vs. Kong soon,” I told him, kicking off my shoes. His chest rose and fell in front of me, and I gazed at all the skin my fingers hummed to touch. I balled my fists. “They’re both heroes,” he replied. “The ending will be ambiguous, Emory.” “No.” I shook my head, pulling my shirt off and dropping it to the ground. “The directors have stated there will be a clear winner.” He stared at my body, his breathing growing ragged. “What the fuck?” he griped. “Fucking writers.”

“Emmy,” he panted. And my heart started to shatter, hearing a younger, happier Will Grayson begging me to let him hold me again.

He growled, glaring down at me. “Taking advantage of a man who’s been in prison is low. Really low.”

getting shallower as the pleasure built. “I want to kiss you,” I whispered. “On the lips.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

“Alex?” She threw up her hands, striking a pose, and I popped up, grabbed her, and pulled her into a hug as we collapsed back to the bed. Oh, my God. “What are you doing here?” I cried. She clamped a hand over my mouth, quieting me as she shook with a laugh. “Missed you, too, little stick,” she whispered.

“You’re going to remember this, Will Grayson,” she said, sounding all tough. “I blew your mind tonight. Even if for just a minute.” She turned over, giving me her back, and I smiled, smoothing the hair off her face and neck. You’ve been blowing my mind for forever.

I stepped away, but then I dropped my eyes to her back, seeing the bruises and scrapes. How did she paint her back? Did her brother help her? I doubted it.

“A year,” I said, hardening my eyes on her. “He’s been gone at least a year, and you knew that when we talked last summer.” “Well, what were you going to do?” she fired back. “Care?”

“It was just once.” I walked around him, toward a desk. “That’s what we agreed to.” “I don’t remember that conversation. Was I present for it?”

Winter Ashby stood next to him, fastening a helmet. I tensed, about to wonder what the hell he thought he was doing out here with the kid. But as she climbed on behind him, he looked over his shoulder at her, something written in his smile I’d never seen in him before. Tenderness. She wrapped her arms around his waist and she squealed as they sped off out of the square, disappearing down a street. I had to smile a little, remembering the pirate ship and how I’d sounded exactly the same last night. I loved that feeling, too, Winter Ashby.

And although I feared what I’d feel tomorrow in the light of day with a clearer head, I couldn’t push the dirt in fast enough tonight. I wanted her to fucking die.

“Maybe I’ll return the favor someday.” He stood back up. “When you’re ready to deal with him.” His eyes fell down my body, taking in all the bruises he’d already seen. “I’m a loose end,” I pointed out. “Why didn’t you kill me when you saw me see you there tonight?” He looked like he was thinking about it. But instead, he asked, “Why didn’t you run when you saw me?”

“I have a sister,” he told me. “Her name is Nik, but everyone calls her Banks.” He met my eyes again. “If something happens, and I can’t be there for her—if they arrest me for this—you need to go to my house and help her. She doesn’t have anyone else. You understand?” Huh? “You’re asking me?” I looked at him, confused. “Why?” He had tons of people he could count on. But he just turned around, shut off the water, and raised his arms, smoothing his hands over his hair. “I’m not sure anyone else would’ve helped me bury a body,” he murmured.

I’d loved Emory since the moment I laid eyes on her when I was fourteen.

I grabbed her glasses off the nightstand, slid my arms under her, sheets and all, and swept her up into my arms, taking her to my room with Alex and me. There was no fucking way I was taking my eyes off her tonight. She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, her eyes on me the entire way up to the third floor and to my bed. God, who the hell brought her here? She was ruining all my plans.

I wouldn’t chase her again. She wasn’t one of us. She would never fight for me. I swallowed the lump and drew in a long breath, exhaling the pain in my gut. Damon stood up and pulled up his jeans. “I’ll be in the showers.” He sighed. “Again.”