Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

I snort into my glass, smiling politely at someone who’s passing by. He’s wearing a suit and looks important. Although most people here do. “Have you slept with him?” I ask casually, people-watching discreetly.

“Yes,” she huffs, crossing her arms in front of herself. It looks cute on her because Ophelia is anything but. She’s powerful and loyal, and strong as all hell. But she also has a softness to her that I’ve connected to from day one. “And it was annoyingly good.”

“Well,” I say, running my hand up and down my arm. “The bad ones usually are.”

“Hey, are you cold?” she asks, turning to face me while carefully taking my orange juice.

“Yeah.” I shiver, tightening my grip around my belly. “I can’t shake it.”

“Well,” Ophelia says. “As long as it’s not in your bones, girl. Then we good.” Her words stop my shivering briefly.

“What do you mean in my bones?” I start noticing how people are dressed. Without jackets and big fluffy coats. My skin is warm, but the inside is cold, and I can’t get rid of the goose bumps that have risen over my flesh.

Ophelia drinks the rest of my OJ, waving her hand. “When you feel a coldness that rushes through your veins, that’s Death’s energy, but don’t worry. You’re clearly cold on the outside, too.” She raises her hand to my forehead as her skin turns an unnatural shade of gray. “Oh.”

“Yes,” I growl under my breath. “Oh.” I gasp, just as my body turns rigid. “Abel.”

“Shit.” She places the empty glass on top of the food station beside us. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Why?” I snap, my eyes flying around the place in a panic. “It’s Abel. Ophelia!” I yell as she moves me through the sea of people. Sweat falls down my temples and my vision goes hazy. “Ophelia, the baby. What’s happening to me?” I can’t seem to grasp reality as I hear doors closing in the background.

“Hey! Hey!” Ophelia lays me down onto something soft, but it’s hot there, too. I don’t know where I am. Where am I? “Shit.” There’s silence, but then I hear the swirling of trees. Like leaves brushing in an angry, violent storm that’s threatening to close in.

“What’s happening?” I manage to whisper incoherently.

“Brantley, we’re in a room. Third door down. Get in here now!”

Darkness. An endless room filled with darkness. No light in sight. I reach forward but touch nothing. I move sideways and bang into nothing. I run forward and I’m met with nothing. There’s absolute silence as I stand still, catching my breath from running.

Nothing. I’ve dissolved into nothing.

My hands come to my belly, and a soft cry leaves my lips. No. I don’t want to die. Please. My legs give way and I collapse onto the ground, curling my knees up to my chest.

“Killing me only gave me a direct line into your head. Isn’t that beautiful? Bishop, Brantley, and Nate—not getting everything they want for once. See—” I feel her now. Her presence. Even though I don’t see her, I feel my heart pound against my chest and a slight breeze blow over my cheek. I think I hold my breath. “The road will always lead back to them.”

“Get out of my head,” I whisper, closing my eyes and deciding to keep them that way. “Get out of my head.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Veronica whispers, and I feel an ice cube slide over the nape of my neck. “How sad, that they can kill me, but I can still exist in the deepest and darkest part of your brain.”

“You’re not real—” I shake my head. “You are not real.”

“But I am—where it matters, at least.” She must move closer because her voice is almost close enough to taste. “And better yet? I’m going to be here until the day you die. To twist you. Torment you. Play with you. I can’t promise it’ll be over quickly, you see, now I’m pissed.”

My stomach rolls. “No.”

“Oh, yes.” Veronica laughs, and food almost rises in my throat. “Or maybe I’ll never kill you. Maybe I’ll leave you like this, stuck. Though, I really do need to destroy that baby in your gut.”

“No!” I scream so loud my throat bleeds.

She laughs, ignoring me. “They thought they won the fight between us the second they killed me, but all they did was start it.”

“What did I ever do to you?” I whisper through the burning flames in my throat. “Why?”

“Simple, really. I’m going to strip Brantley of any and all happiness that he could ever have.”

“You started his wrath, you stupid bitch. You did this to yourself! Don’t you dare blame him!”

“Aw, how sweet that you’re sticking up for your boyfriend. This was always the plan, Saint. Do you think a twelve-year-old girl wants to give birth, hmm? Do you think I wanted to be fucked and raped and prodded as soon as I hit puberty?”