Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Jonas

H ilary James.

Of all the girls in the school, I picked the perfect bitch. When I mentioned who my choice was to Jensen, he laughed, letting me know he was thinking the same person. She checks all the boxes that we need. Invisible and no one will miss her. I nominated her at the last thirteenth, but Jensen simply said it wasn’t her time. I never understood why until now.

While she’s been nothing but nice, tradition is tradition and someone has to be the sacrifice. It just so happens to be her.

She’s not the hot, outgoing girl that typically draws our attention, but those are the ones who will be missed if they don’t show up to class on Monday. Not Hillary, though.

I’ve done my research.

Foster kid, no known family, was found on the doorstep of the local church. Bounced from home to home, though it’s unclear why. She only got in here because of a scholarship that covers her tuition, meals, and boarding as long as she maintains her GPA—which she has.

She can’t stay on campus during summers or holidays. So she works in town at a local dive restaurant and sleeps at a homeless shelter or a run-down, bed bug infested hotel.

Yeah, no one’s going to care if she’s around after Friday.

I’ve been priming her for the last month. I even went to the extent of ensuring our professor teamed me up with her for our literary project. All it took was eating the professor out, making her scream as she came all over my tongue to do exactly what I wanted. Hell, I might even be nice and teach her husband a few tricks to keep her from stepping out on his ass.

Never doubt the quiet ones; they’re the ones that’ll gut you and fuck you senseless at the same time.

I make it to class right before Professor Miller begins her lecture. I toss her a wink, and she blushes, trying to stifle her giggle. Putty in my fucking hands. I head toward the back of the room, where Hilary is sitting. The only spot left open is right beside her.

Lucky me! It’s not like the other sheep in the class don’t know to make sure that happens; I made it perfectly clear a month ago. There is always to be an empty seat beside her, no matter where the fuck she sits.

She tested me on it. Switching up where she sat each class, with the same result.

“Hello, Hilary. How are you today?” I slide into the seat beside her, my legs splaying out, cradling the desk in front of me between them.

“G-g-good,” she stammers.

Leaning over, I whisper, “My place today. We need to work on our project. I want to ensure we both get an A.”

“What!” she says loudly, everyone turning in their seats to face us. One menacing glare from me has them all snapping their heads back to the front. Professor Miller clears her throat and continues her lesson, not once acknowledging the outburst.

“You heard me. We need to work on our project, and I have time today.”

“What if I don’t?”

She’s suddenly showing a bit of spunk and I like it. Feisty little firecracker. My cock twitches in my pants, suddenly wondering if we need to change our plan and find someone else.

But that tendril of thought dissipates with her next words.

“What time?” She quickly composes herself, tilting her head down to hide her face as she scribbles something on the paper on her desk.

“Five.” I reach over and tear off a piece of her paper, quickly scribbling the address on it. “Don’t be a minute late.” I place it on her desk then stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and head out of the class. The bitch of a professor doesn’t even say a word. Why would she? I’d end her if she did.

I know Jensen is at least in class. Hals is a different story. Not wanting to hang around campus, I make my way to my jeep. We need to talk about the weekend before Hilary comes over. Though she’s the final event of the evening, we still need to make sure the three other events go off without a hitch.

None of us wants to earn the wrath of our fathers. A vacation to hell would be more desirable than that.

Once I’m in my vehicle, I blare my music, the pounding beat of the song vibrating the seat under me, helping clear my mind for what’s coming. My head bobs with the song as my fingers tap on the steering wheel. All the anxiety about the weekend melts away. It’s the last one we have to report to our fathers, though we plan to continue the tradition. For us, the thrill of tasting the blood is far too great.

Before I know it, I’m pulling into the driveway of our house. Hals is home, his truck sitting beside me. Just as I expected, Jensen is missing. His motorcycle is nowhere to be seen. People think because I’m not into sports and wear glasses that I’m the studious one, but it’s actually Jensen.

I open the front door to see Hals sprawled on the couch, a plate in front of him while he watches sports highlights from the weekend.

“Where’s the nerd?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food, pieces falling on his lap.

“She’ll be here at five.” I plop beside him, putting my feet on the coffee table, and swipe the beer from his hands. “When is Jensen coming home? We need to finalize the plans for Friday.”

Hals picks up his phone checking the time. “Should be here in like twenty or thirty minutes. The dads will be calling at three-thirty, so he won’t miss that. Not with the way his dad’s riding his ass. I’m not sure why since it’s our fourth year of doing this.”

I take a swallow of the beer, then rest the bottle on my leg as I rub my fingertip along the glass surface. “Yeah, I’ll be glad when we’re free from them and we can do this the way we want.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth. I’m sick of them having to approve our selections like we’re fucking kids.” Hals snatches his beer back, splashing some on his hand as he does.

“I hate that we have to hear them preach about why we’re doing it. I could recite the fucking thing word for word,” I grumble.

“Good, when we have kids and it’s their time to pick up the torch, you can give it. Fuck, go ahead and practice it now.” He laughs. The prick thinks he’s being funny, but I’m going to beat him at his own game.

I stand and move in front of the television, blocking his view.

Clearing my throat, I remove my glasses and give my best impression of my father.

“We’ve been upholding this tradition for five generations. When it first started, it was just random days. A way for our families, bonded in their love, controlling their lust for blood and violence, to ease their deep-seated desire. Each generation strived for perfection, and with your grandparents’ fine-tuning, we saw no need to change anything, as you won’t either.”

I clear my throat again, pausing for a moment as I pretend to gesture toward the picture of our grandfathers, each of them covered in blood and wearing their mask of choice.

“Dude, you look just like your old man.” He’s doubled over, laughing.

As I’m about to open my mouth to start again, Jensen opens the door, stepping into the living room. He stops mid-step as his gaze shifts between us.

“What the fuck is going on?” He drops his keys on the table and his book bag on the floor.

“Just practicing my father’s speech for when our children come of age,” I say in all seriousness.

“Then I came home just in time.” He laughs, shuts the door, and steps over to the couch, sitting beside Hals. “Please continue,” he gestures.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah.” I shake my head, returning to character.

“It was our fathers who took it to a whole new level with their love of horror movies, specifically Friday the 13th . Now we have designated days within the year where our killer nature and love of the classics can mesh. We have always kept it to our three families, though others longed to be like us, to share our royalty. They just weren’t worthy enough.”

Both Jensen and Hals are in stitches from laughing so hard. Each of them is as sick of hearing this speech as I am.

“Four people, four deaths. Each of us picks someone who we feel deserves to die. One by one, we exact our revenge until three are gone.” I stop mid-speech for an exaggerated pause just like my father, who seems to think it gives it some dramatic effect.

It doesn’t. More than anything, it’s annoying as fuck.

“Leaving us with the fourth, a female. We take our turns fucking her as she bleeds out on our cocks until she takes her last breath. At the end of the night, our mask of choice is cleaned and put away until the next time the thirteenth rolls around.”

I take a deep breath, gearing up for the final spiel.

“This year marks your last thirteenth; there will be no more. When your male children come of age and go to our alma mater, they will uphold the tradition, as a new generation comes into succession.”

I bow as if I just put on the best performance of my life on Broadway.

“Except this time they’re wrong.” Jensen’s deep voice fills the room. “We have no intention of giving up this high. We’re going to ride it out until our dying breath, no longer under the grip of their control.” He’s voicing what each of us has felt since our first kill. “We’ll rule how we continue this. We’ll no longer be bound to a certain day, because of our grandfather's stupid obsession with a movie franchise.”

While our fathers believe our murderous virginity was taken our freshman year, it was long before that. Since we hit twelve, we’ve been killing. First, it was animals as we honed our skill set. Then when we became teenagers, we’d sneak out into the dark of night, ridding the streets of its vermin. It’s why we always go after those who’ve harmed others. Think of us as vigilantes for justice.

Well, except for Jensen. This year, he’s choosing to settle a personal vendetta. We’re okay with it; we all hate the fucker.

“I’m getting another beer. Who wants one?”

They both nod, but before I leave the room, Jensen’s phone rings—an annoying Joker laugh, linked to his father’s number.

“Answer so we can get this over with. The charity case will be here soon,” I remind him.

“Dad, so nice to hear from you,” Jensen speaks before his father can say anything.