Miscreants: Next Generation (Badlands 8)

PROLOGUE

Pray to the devil.

Devour flesh.

Kill for survival.

For thrills, too, if that’s what you’re into.

Where I come from, all of this is as ordinary as the sky being blue.

My world—the Badlands—is made up of dark fantasies and endless terrors. You must pick a brand of evil and dedicate your life to it if you want to survive.

Holding out hope that things will change is foolish. They won’t. No one is going to be arriving as a savior. Heroes don’t exist here, but there are plenty of villains to choose from.

You can befriend a clan of cannibals. Work the farms that skin people alive. Join some other faction that’s managing to thrive. It doesn’t matter, as long as you find some form of allegiance. Very few can make it on their own.

I’d heard what things had been like before power shifted, before the depraved and corrupted paved the future for a new way of living. I won’t bore you with the logistics; you’ll get to witness that firsthand.

As for me and where I fit in?

I was born a Savage and taken by another. The whole situation is complicated and chaotic, just like we are.

Like our story is.

Samael is as wicked as they come, the epitome of a beautiful nightmare.

Crazier than crazy.

Sicker than sick.

The only man I’ll ever love.

And my best friend.

He’s my fiercest protector and my greatest enemy.

I’m his peace and his torment.

Ours isn’t a tale of benevolent, tender romance. It’s bloody and ruthless. It’s pain and sorrow, at times unforgiveable and enraging. It isn’t poetic or butterfly-inducing, but it is a love story. A love story about a girl and a boy, forever tied together in a beautiful purgatory of exquisite carnage.

PART ONE

“There is no greater love than the love the wolf feels for the lamb-it-doesn’t-eat.”

Hélène Cixou

CHAPTER ONE

Four years prior

Do you know the tale of Icarus and sun? He was warned to stay away, that it was dangerous. He knew this, and yet he still chose to get close. In the end, the very thing he longed for is what cost him his life. I thought that was tragic.

Of course, the mythology behind it was probably more complex than that, but I preferred to believe he did it for a romanticized reason—like forbidden love.

Although, the ending would be sad no matter how you looked at it.

If my mom hadn’t given me a book of Greek myths, I wouldn’t have read about him. Out of the whole collection, this was the story that stuck with me the longest.

It reminded me of a certain boy I knew.

I was warned about him, too.

They painted him as a miscreant without directly saying the word. I was made out to be an angel that needed to be protected from his degeneracy.

If they knew that all the caution tape used to divide us only encouraged our rebellious curiosity, would they have done anything different?

Would it have mattered?

Just like in the story I couldn’t get out of my head, Samael and I ignored all the warning signs and red flags.

There was only one thing I didn’t know yet.

Which one of us was Icarus, and who was the sun?

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I rubbed at my face one last time before creeping out from behind the building.

I’d been hiding here for the past fifteen minutes, thanks to that asshole Francis.

I darted across the grass and stepped onto the walkway, pretending I’d been walking along it the whole time. Not seeing Bella or my brothers around had a sense of relief washing over me. They would’ve asked too many questions. It was embarrassing enough being so easily overtaken by him; I didn’t want to have to explain the situation to anyone.

I hurried the rest of the way to Samael’s, waving to the few acolytes I happened to pass. He and his family’s unit sat closer to the main house where Bella and her parents lived.

Reaching the front door, I smoothed down my shirt and then went inside. I never bothered to knock. Mom would have a stroke if she knew that. She was an etiquette tyrant. I caught the storm door before it could slam itself closed, pulling the oak one shut too.

I twisted around and jumped slightly, finding Samael practically right in front of me. I hated when he did this—moved about like a freaking ghost.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re late,” he remarked passively before turning away.

I followed him down the entry hall, scowling at his muscular back.

“Is Bella here?”

“No.”

“Then isn’t she the one late?”

We rounded the corner and went down the wide step that led to the family room. We were going to our usual hangout—the den that was Samael’s exclusive space.

No longer in the main hall, the light coming in from the windows allowed me to see him better. His hair was damp, making it appear darker than it already was with a bit more curl than usual, indicating he’d just gotten out of the shower.