Chapter 2

Thorn University

Taylor

"Taylor," Steffan's voice is gentle. "Hey there, Little Mouse. You've been singing the same hymn for over an hour." His blue eyes search my face as his brow furrows.

Soren violently shoves his twin from me. "Let her be. If singing that bullshit gives her hope, then let her fucking have it. She can sing it all damn night if she wants." His large palm cradles my cheek. "Sing. If you find comfort, then you sing until you can finally relax enough to sleep. Okay?" His touch and voice are so soft. Such a stark contrast to how he is when he speaks to anyone else. Why is he so sweet to me, but no one else?

"Don't," I whisper to him as a giant tear escapes my eye. "I'll only bring you death."

His dark chuckle at my threat sends a chill through me. "Oh, sweet one. I am death. I'm the Grim-Fucking-Reaper."

"Seriously, Soren." I roughly wipe my eyes and sniffle. "Since I've come here it's been one body after another. All around me."

"Welcome to the Underworld." He extends his arms and makes a show of looking around. Then his eyes soften as he takes my hands in his. "This is nothing new. I saw a man bleed to death before my balls dropped."

"Weren't you a late bloomer?" Steffan deadpans.

"You're the one who got to have a childhood and bloomed late." Soren's voice holds no resentment, only a statement. Yet there's still an uncomfortable silence at his admission. Typically, he doesn't throw their one-sided childhood out there. I blame it on all the tension that's been weighing on everyone. I worry it's finally reaching a breaking point.

Lee. Chanda. Kali. All three are missing, as well as over half the fraternity and pledges slaughtered. The FBI is now involved. There was nothing the police department on our payroll could do; this time there were too many bodies, and too many instances. The break that the sheriff has been waiting for finally happened.

It all rests on Steffan Carmichael, the president of the Delta Pi Theta fraternity. The head of the Carmichael House. The future of The Illicit Brotherhood.

So young to have all this pressure. My heart breaks for him. Instead of exploring and living his youth to the fullest, he has to keep the FBI from uncovering too much about the secret society.

Plus, the Concord heirs, who are equivalent to royalty in their society, need to be rescued. Questions need to be answered about why they also abducted Kali.

Emotions are high with death lurking around every corner. The threat of their world being uncovered. Poor Steffan can't have a normal life with friends and lovers. I'm weirdly entwined in all this somehow, and his twin is… Well, Soren is another constant battle for Steffan.

Then there's Lee. His childhood best friend, partner in crime, turned lover. We all care about Lee, and are part of a relationship with him, but Steffan loves him. Their bond is incredibly deep. I don't know how to comfort Steffan right now. If Lee were here, he would. That's who Steffan would be asking for advice. Those two understood each other and always seemed to be in sync.

Is Lee still alive?

That's the question we are all asking ourselves, but are terrified to ask out loud. The Angel Maker has left very few victims alive. Which is why I sing and pray. Until they tell me the next step, or part of our plan, I have to cling to the familiar tune from my childhood. Back when things were simple, and monsters weren't real.

"Ah, Miss Lake," an FBI agent steps up to our circle. He calls my name, but his eyes look over both of my boyfriends. I can only imagine how they look to him.

With them death staring at the poor guy, I look to the officer. "That's me."

He nods, "I have a few questions for you, Miss."

"Can it fucking wait until we clear the scene here?" Soren sneers at the man. I'll give him some credit that he doesn't flinch under Soren's anger.

"Our tech staff needs to get her fingerprints and DNA before you're able to leave. She's the last one to give a statement."

"She can give her fingerprints and DNA, but we'll wait until tomorrow to visit the station and give her statement. She's a little shaken right now, if you can't tell," Steffan jumps in, smoothing things over like he always does.

My brain is slow to process all that they are saying. The stench of blood, and the vision of death is still so fresh in my mind. "Fingerprints? DNA? Why would I have to do that? We weren't even there."

"It's a standard procedure, Little Mouse." Steffan wraps his arms around my shoulders, his fingers gently playing with my hair.

The agent looks from Steffan to me, and I can read the way his expression changes. "It is a standard procedure, Miss Lake. But I do have to tell you there are concerns as two of the three people who are missing have a significant relationship with you. It is imperative that you come in for questions."

"And my brother already told you, she will." Soren steps up in front of me.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. These incidents around Blue Rose are being taken very seriously. If there is any information that we are missing, we need to know about it." The other agent jumps in. He looks older, probably been doing this job for a longer period of time.

I can't think of anything else to say. It's like time is crawling by, and I'm just getting more and more irritated that we don't have answers. All that can be done right now is to give my cooperation. The more people searching for our friends, the better, right? "Okay. Tell me what I need to do."

Much to Soren's dismay, I decide to take the trip to the police station now. I can't wait until the morning. I don't want to waste another minute of time in helping find Lee, Kali, and Chanda. What is it that they say, the best time to find a missing person is within the first forty-eight hours? Normal, right, except that I'm pretty sure the serial killer we've been running from all year never leaves their victims alive past a few hours. Which means time is definitely running out for my friends and boyfriend. The third part of my soul. He is the calm in all our storms.

At the station I'm led to another room, away from Steffan and Soren, where my fingers are dipped in black ink and placed on different cards. My cheek is lightly scraped with a large cotton swab which is then placed in a sealed plastic bag. For one second I panic, and wonder if they'll use my DNA against me. Could I somehow be framed for murder of The Illicit? I have to remind myself over and over that Soren and Steffan will be watching, and waiting. Nothing can happen to me. I'm not living in a conspiracy. There is just an evil psycho on the loose. I answer all the questions about the day from the beginning to the end, leaving out the explicit sexual acts that happened on the beach while we were gone during the time of the murder. I answer questions about Kali and our relationship. I explain how she's my best friend, my roommate, and how we both ended up at the beach house. It doesn't get bad until they ask about my late boss, Lois, my ex-boyfriend who is "missing"—so they must not know Alex is dead. And lastly about my first roommate at the beginning of the year, and how Kali became my roommate right after. The trip down memory lane is jagged, twisted, and by the end of it I can feel how tired I am. How mentally and emotionally exhausting this all is.

When they're done with questioning me, I'm escorted to another room, where an older woman is waiting for me this time. Her smile is kind, and her eyes are assessing. I take in her spiral-curled gray hair, turquoise-framed glasses, and burgundy suit. She looks very put together, classy. I glance down at myself and realize I'm still wearing my blood-smeared sundress. My hands tighten in my lap.

"Are you a lawyer?"

The woman shakes her head, "No. The department couldn't pay me enough to take on a role such as that in this town."

Her words make me smile for the first time in hours, and I almost feel guilty that my lips would betray me that way. I can't possibly be happy, or even think of laughing. Not after everything that has happened. After everything that has been lost. I roll my lips together, fighting the urge to start humming my comfort hymn again. "Can I ask why I'm here?"

"My name is Trissa Lamar. I'm a clinical psychologist and I specialize in emotional trauma. I work with individuals who have experienced tragedy, grief, loss, in ways that are not considered normal," she answers.

"Normal? How do you mean?" I ask, my heart dropping.

"Death happens to all of us. It's a part of life. And while I have colleagues who give counseling to those who experience grief, my role is different. You aren't here because your grandmother passed in her sleep, or your father died in a car accident. You have experienced trauma from an event that is not natural in nature, an event that has resulted in death," she explains. While her words sound clinical, her demeanor never changes to anything except the warmth I felt when I first walked in.

"I'm Taylor, by the way." I sniffle, not even aware that tears were pouring down my cheeks.

"It's nice to meet you, Taylor. Although, I wish the circumstances were different."

I nod my head, and reach for one of the tissues on the table. After dabbing under my eyes, I ball the tissue in my hands. "Me too."

"Tell me, have you been offered the chance to talk to anyone about what you have experienced? I must say usually I would have been contacted sooner by any other school in the area, but for some reason Thorn University has been keeping a tight rein on the multiple situations here," she says to me, her moss-green eyes peer at me over the rim of her glasses.

I want to clam up. Shove all my secrets down, protect, protect, protect. Except her words hit me in the gut. Besides my guys and Kali, I have never talked with anyone about what has happened. The fear, the death, bodies gutted or exploding. Just the memories alone send shivers down my spine.

"No, I can't remember being offered the chance to talk to anyone."

She hums and glances down. I notice she has a notepad out but isn't taking any notes. "Today has been a long day for you. I can't imagine the loss you're experiencing. I'm just going to give you my card. Taylor, I am here to talk if you would like a person outside of your friends, family, and school to share your experiences with. I understand you have your family, and a boyfriend, and I'm glad you have that support. But if you ever think you need someone impartial, I am always willing to talk. I'll be working with the University, and meeting with several students over the next couple of months. Please stop by at any time."

"Thank you, ma'am," I murmur and slowly get up from my seat.

My legs shake and tears cloud my vision again. I don't know if I'll be allowed to talk with her, but I wish I could. I've reached my quota of death and loss. I want to be strong for the guys, but I can't help but feel that I may not be cut out for their world. And that thought alone is devastating.

Once I make it back to the lobby, I find Soren and Steffan right where I left them. Soren is matching me in our blood and gore, his eyes glued to the ground, a frown on his lips as if the tile offends him for being the sickly green color it is. Steffan is leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other with his head tilted up. He is the only one who grabbed fresh jeans from the vehicle before we left, but his t-shirt is still just as bloody. Both of them are so similar, yet so different at the same time. They each call to separate parts of my soul and heart. My feet move toward them. Steffan glances over at me first, and opens his arms, ready to hold me. I need it. I need his warmth and his stability just as much as I think he needs me.

Steffan wraps his arms around my body, and I shove my neck into the space between his chest and his forehead. Somehow I manage not to cry, or cause a scene, in the police department. Soren moves, and a second later I feel his body press into my back, and the lightest touch of a kiss on my shoulder.

"We got you," Steffan's voice vibrates through my chest and his arms squeeze.

"Did they do anything to you, Little Mouse?" Soren asks, his voice so low, I almost miss the iciness in his tone.

I shake my head, "No. They were nice. They offered me grief counselors if I want one."

Steffan stiffens, and Soren mutters curses under his breath. My lips tug in a smile, imagining them having to walk me to my therapy appointments. I want to laugh thinking about them sitting down to talk with Trissa as well. "Several students on campus are going to be called in to meet her. She seems nice."

Soren groans at my words and I pull out of the hug. With each of them touching some part of me, we make our way to the front doors, set to head home. The Alabama air feels stale when we exit the building, but I take it deep in my lungs anyway. It's harsh with the smell of swamp, and dirt, and a hint of floral. Which is so different than the coppery scent of blood and the aroma of coffee from the building we were just in.

"Let's get back," Steffan directs us. "We need to look at this from other angles." Soren and I agree. Right as my hand connects with the door handle, a woman's voice calls my name. I freeze, my body turning toward her. A new sense of horror and shame fills me.

"Mom?"