Luckily, not everyone at the party is a maniacal psycho, and I end up sitting around a table with a bunch of drunk football players, kicking their asses at various board games. I’m laughing so hard, my stomach hurts, and for the first time since I got to this school, I almost feel normal again.
Inside though, I know it won’t last long.
And I’m right about that. Around eleven o’clock is when the shit starts, and Creed comes sweeping through the lodge and onto the deck. He turns the surround sound system off, and the entire crowd goes quiet.
“Derrick Barr,” I hear him say as I scramble to my feet and push through the crowd until I’m standing on the deck, finding Creed facing off against this huge guy in a red football jersey. I move around the circle that’s formed until I can see his face. He’s not smiling.
“Shit, here we go,” Zayd murmurs, clearly drunk. His eyes though are still sharp. He takes another drink from his plastic cup and then lifts it up in a salute. “Good riddance, Derrick, it was nice knowing you.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, but Zayd just shrugs, standing so close to me that I can feel the heat from his body. Underneath the slight smell of alcohol and tobacco, I get a whiff of geranium and sage, this sweet-and-savory scent that makes my nose tingle.
“Creed’s about to destroy someone,” he says, and then pauses, like he’s just thought of something. Zayd turns fully to look at me, cocking one dark brow. His hair might be sea green, but his brows are still black. “When Creed decides it’s time to end someone, he does it with one clean cut. Tristan, he likes to play with his food. I’ve never seen the pair of them fail before… except with you.” Zayd cocks his head to one side. “Holy shit. Except for you, huh, Working Girl?”
I purse my lips at the nickname, but turn my attention back to the scene on the deck.