Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

Movement catches my eye, and I look up to see the dark-eyed boy coming down the hallway. He looks relaxed, holding a green bottle by the neck and stopping at the entryway, leaning on the wall as he stares at me.

I lick my lips, feeling every hair on my arms stand up. I avert my eyes, embarrassed, but they keep coming back to him.

His black pants and leather shoes look like someone tried to dress him up, but his white shirt is partially untucked, and his sleeves are rolled up. His hair is combed, though, and I notice how thin his gaze is on me, as well as the striking arch of his dark eyebrows. I have the same arches, and my mom says they make the green of my eyes so piercing, but it does the same for his dark ones, too.

He takes a swig from the bottle—some kind of beer, I think, but he doesn’t look much older than me.

I hear a muffled argument from behind the door and look over at him again. My father seemed to know who I am. Does this boy?

“Are you my brother?” I ask.

His lips lift in slight amusement, and he doesn’t look the least bit shocked at my question.

Walking over to me, he stops, his legs hitting mine as he tips the bottle back, downing the rest of the drink. I watch the lump go up and down in his throat before he turns it over, stabbing the neck into the soil of the potted plant on the table.

He leans down, one hand planted on the wall above my head and the other one caressing my face. I rear back, but I have nowhere to go.

The beer on his breath hits my nose as he gets closer, and I feel a cool sweat break out on my neck. Is he going to kiss me?

His mouth hovers inches from mine, and he looks into my eyes. “Do you like snakes?”

Snakes? What?

I shake my head.

A spark of something flashes in his eyes, and he suddenly stands up, taking my hand. “Come on.”

He pulls me off the bench, and I stumble after him.

“No, wait,” I say. “I think I’m supposed to wait for my mom. I don’t want her to be mad.”

But he just keeps going, dragging me up the stairs, and I don’t fight. If I do, he might be mad, too. And if I make him mad, it could make my father madder.

He pulls me after him, his hold on my wrist making the skin burn a little as he rushes us around the bannister at the top of the stairs. Heading toward the end of the hall, he opens a door and pulls me through. I’m suddenly in darkness with only a small glow above. My heart is beating so hard I feel nauseous. Where are we?

The boy pulls me, and I follow, but my foot catches on something, and I stumble. I grab the back of his shirt to keep myself from falling, and I realize I’m on stairs. He continues up, and I grab the wall, trying to steady myself as I scale the steep incline. There’s a third floor to the house?

We come up to the top, and he opens another door, shoving me through. Chills spread down my skin, and I whimper under my breath, suddenly scared. What if my mom can’t find me? What if my father makes her leave, even without me? Why am I up here?

Will he let me leave?

I pull my sleeves down over my hands, fidgeting again, and glance around quickly. The messy room has a large, unmade bed, posters all over the walls, and some heavy metal song about wanting to “go to hell” playing on speakers I can’t see.

I inhale through my nose and catch the subtle odor of cigarettes.

As he heads over to his computer and turns down the music, I’m unable to stop the fear, but I also feel a sliver of admiration. Damon’s only supposed to be thirteen, and he’s drinking and smoking? He can do whatever he wants. Like an adult.

He turns around and crooks his finger at me, and despite how worried I am, I don’t dare refuse.

He takes my hand and leads me over to a long, wooden dresser, and I notice two fish tanks on top. One has sand with a large branch and a water pool, and in the other one there’s mulch with leaves and more branches. In the left one, I see a red, black, and yellow striped snake.

My heart skips a beat. That’s why he brought me up here.

“This is Volos,” he says. “And this is Kore.” He points out the white snake in the other tank, hidden inside a burrowed log. I look hesitantly, seeing the red splotches on its skin.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, worried that he’s going to remove them from their cages.

“Do they…bite?” I ask.