The House of the Wicked (The snake and the raven #1)

7. August

August

one, two, three… fuck this

W ealth is fucking wild. Standing in the security hut in front of the mansion Ricky and Nora live in, I realize it’s probably a few feet smaller than the house I grew up in.

Two rooms, a bathroom, and a wall of glass that overlooks the gates. The guard house sits like a border between the property and the street. For a month straight, my mornings have started here; exactly the same way I’m starting today.

Swiveling in the office chair, the faces of the eight men on shift today stare back at me. Alley’s missing. Fuck knows where she is.

We’ve gone over everyone’s posts and responsibilities for the day, and now they’re watching me, waiting... For what, I have no idea.

Gesturing to the door, I snap, “Well, get the fuck on with it.”

The daily meeting is unnecessary, but they’re all dumb enough to test me, to push, and they need to accept that if they’re looking for someone to test, they’ll have better luck elsewhere. Sebastian—Bassey—is the only one who struggles with his natural urge to push every boundary he encounters. His lips twist in disgust as he throws one last scathing look in my direction. Glaring at his back as he marches his swollen body out of the guardhouse. Fuck.

I drag a hand down my face before digging my phone out of my pocket. Alley answers on the second ring.

“You better have a fucking amazing reason for not being here.” My words are clipped, short.

“Actually, I do. I had an errand to run for Gracious,” she whines.

“An errand?” I question, before rolling myself in the chair back to the desk. “An errand entailing what, exactly?”

“Adam is acting like the spoiled little Lord Farquaad he was bred to be. It’s pissing his father off.”

I grimace. Anyone stuck on Adam-sitting duty has my deepest sympathies. We haven’t formally met, but my second-hand experience tells me he needs to be managed carefully.

“Sucks to be you.” I grin, even though she can’t see it. “Ricky gave me four new jobs yesterday. I need to talk to you about them. In person .” Tacking the last part on just to be sure she understands I mean here—preferably now.

She blows out a breath. “I think I’ll be tied up here for at least another hour. Can they wait till then?”

“Yeah, an hour’s fine. Come to the house when you’re done.”

“You’re on princess duty all day?”

“That I am.”

The laugh that bubbles out of her is grating. “Sucks to be you too, I guess.”

“Does it?” I prop my feet up on the desk, leaning back in the chair. “I heard you don’t mind the princess all that much.”

“Y ou know, I really don't,” Alley says. “Plus, you never know when having a princess BFF will come in handy.”

“BFF? Really?” Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You know as well as I do these people don't see us as equals, Als,” I add softly.

“You might be right about most of them. But not her. Gotta go. The shit stain is on the move. Looks like he’s heading for The Basin.”

“Be careful.”

Tapping the side of my phone mindlessly for a few seconds… Adam’s going to be a problem. One that needs to wait. Pushing myself out of the chair, I leave the security hut—it’s time to get this fucking day started.

My walk across the gravel driveway is brisk. Entering the main house, I beeline for Ricky’s office, needing to check in with him.

His office door’s shut, and my knock is unnecessarily loud. No answer. I wait for a few seconds before trying the handle. If he’s inside working, it’ll be locked.

The heavy door slides open, the empty office spreading out before me. He’s not here. A part of me is relieved. Another—more dominant—part wonders what he’s doing, where he is, and more importantly, who he’s with.

My phone’s in my hand, staring at it, my fingers hover over the screen as I contemplate texting Gracious. Fuck it, ignorance is bliss. No part of me genuinely wants to know what Ricky’s up to. Knowing will only fill my mind with even more questions and I’m not in the mood to hunt for those answers, not yet.

Leaving the office and heading toward the kitchen, the eerie quiet of the house feels strangely comforting. I’m getting used to it. Grabbing a mug off the kitchen counter, my brain tries to make sense of all the buttons on the coffee machine. And then my entire body freezes. Straining to process t he loud splash, my feet move instantly.

In a flash, I’m out of the kitchen and barreling into the living room. Large floor-to-ceiling casement windows flank one side of the space, giving me an uninterrupted view of the garden, and today, an uninterrupted view of Nora in the pool.

She swims one length before climbing out. Her hand lifts as she waves to someone. Following the direction of her gaze to where Dima walks out of the staff cottage. A plate rests in one of her hands, a small canvas bag is clutched in the other.

Nora ambles over to the loungers, wrapping her wet body in a soft white towel as Dima approaches. Dima gives her the sandwich, saying something before handing Nora the canvas bag. Nora pulls the sides of the bag open slowly, like she’s scared of the contents. But after looking inside, she sets both the bag and the sandwich down and rushes into Dima’s arms, hugging her for a full minute before peppering her face with kisses. I don’t need to be an expert lip reader to make out the chorus of thank you’s flowing from Nora's mouth. Dima stands stoically, weathering the onslaught of affection in a way that makes me smile.

She pats Nora’s back, no doubt signaling the end of the hug and turns, heading back to her cottage. Then, Nora peels the towel off and sits on the edge of the lounger, grinning as she eats her sandwich.

It’s impossible to ignore the many glances she tosses at the canvas bag. What the fuck are they up to? What’s in the bag? I stand around for a few more minutes wondering before reminding myself that I’m not in the mood for hunting down answers today.

Turning away from the window, fully intending to head up to the security command room, when move ment in the shrubbery to the left of the pool catches my eye.

A sneer contorts my face as I press it against the glass pane of the window. Because my eyes have to be deceiving me, because there’s no way he’d be this fucking stupid, this fucking bold.

Sebastian lurks in the shadows, mostly concealed by the bushes, watching Nora. Something about his expression unsettles me. Unlike my own curiosity, his face is twisted in something close to malice. Lifting my phone, and opening the camera, my fingers spread across the screen until the frame is zoomed in, until he’s clear as day. After snapping several pictures of him, I text him.

August

Get the fuck back to your post before this ends up on Ricky’s desk.

Two of the pictures are attached to my message. Watching as he extracts himself from the bush, frantically looking around for me, our eyes lock and my fingers wiggle in a condescending as fuck wave. Frozen in my spot, my eyes track each of his steps as he sulks back to his post. Like Adam, he’s another problem—one I’ll have to deal with sooner rather than later.

Only when he’s gone do I move to leave. Aside from the work Ricky pays me to do, there’s a list of other things to accomplish while I’m here, and I’m already falling behind. Making my way up to the security room, I close the door and groan as my forgotten cup of coffee flashes through my mind.

The screens in the room are alive with activity. Different views from different angles in the house, Dima’s cottage—which must violate some privacy laws—and the pool.

A grainy black and white version of Nora is still sprawled out on the loungers. She stands and slow ly walks inside the house, emerging a few minutes later with a bottle of Champagne clutched in her hand. Princess indeed.

H ours have passed since I first stepped into the command room. I’ve watched every angle of the house, looked through both Ricky and Nora’s schedules for the week, and poured over the kill files Ricky handed me weeks ago. He’ll need an update soon.

The sun’s setting, and Nora’s still passed out on the lounger next to the pool. Her hair’s piled high on her head as she sleeps off what has to be an epic headache, judging by the empty bottle lying on its side next to her. I groan.

Fuck it. I can spend hours up here contemplating what to do, but the way Sebastian looked at her burned through any of my hesitation. I can’t leave her asleep out there.

After jogging downstairs, I skid to a stop in front of the living room windows. She’s not on the lounger anymore.

My eyes dart around the garden, frantically searching for any sign of her—there she is. Ass out, half her body bent over a bush, hovering in the far corner of the large green garden. Abruptly she rights herself, taking unsteady steps back to the pool.

Standing on the edge of the deep end, she takes several deep breaths. Readying herself... for what?

That’s when I notice them, the two dumbbells clutched in each of her hands.

What the fuck?

Movi ng closer to the window, horror lands like an anvil in the pit of my stomach as she casually steps off the deck, dropping into the pool, and rapidly sinks beneath the watery surface.

I take a second to react, but when I do, it’s with lightning speed. Racing out of the living room, my legs pump, pushing me forward as I leap down the stone staircase and into the garden.

The air outside is cold, but panic and fear demand all of my focus as I move closer to the swimming pool. Standing on the edge of the shallow side, the shadowy silhouette of her body moves toward the deep end. My heart gallops frantically as seconds tick by, and still she doesn’t resurface.

One, two, three... Fuck this.

I kick off my shoes and jump into the water.

It’s icy cold, enveloping me immediately, pulling me forward, like something more desperate than my instincts are pushing me to get her out. I dive and swim to her; the chlorine burning my eyes as my arms and legs work in unison, cutting through the water, trying to reach her as quickly as possible.

Fear clamps down on my limbs as a blurry version of her flickers like an apparition in front of me. Her mouth opens, a stream of bubbles rushes out and rises to the surface of the pool. Is she swallowing water? I push my muscles to move faster; I’m almost close enough to grab her.

My hands feel like iron as they grip the soft, cold skin of her arms. As soon as she’s in my arms, I pull up, forward—which direction exactly I can’t say.

One second, she’s at the bottom of the pool swallowing water, and the next we’re gasping for air in the shallows.

The flat of my palm hits the curve of her spine over and over again.

She splutters, “Sto—” Stop . She’s trying to tell me to stop. But her body’s more focused on coughing up the water currently in her lungs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I roar as she tries to pull away from me. But I hold on harder, my hands pressing into her shoulders as she attempts to jostle herself free. Anger surges inside me and I give up trying to rein it in as I shake her almost violently. I shake her like I’m trying to dislodge the words that are so obviously stuck underneath her need to wretch up water. “Jesus, Nora! What the fuck are you doing?” More shaking. More violent banging on her back.

“Get—” She sucks in a breath, finally. “—off me.” She pushes away from me.

“Answer me!” I demand, wading through the water, closing in on her again. Her dark eyes dart across my face and down my body.

“Get away from me, August,” she insists, fighting her way out of the pool. Every step she takes is an effort, like the water isn’t done with her yet. Well, it can get in line because neither am I.

Standing waist deep in water, I gape at her as she grabs a towel off the lounger and marches across the grass. Water cascades down her body, slickening the stone staircase as she storms toward the house.

Moments later, a strangled cry floats down from the house. That I hear it means she’s either upstairs in the loft, or in the living room. She’s furious, and I don’t give a fuck. I have no idea what she planned to do in the pool, but I’m not letting it go. Dragging my body out of the water, I march after her.

Her wet trail of footsteps leads me all the way upstairs, to the shut door of her bedroom. I knock. Louder. But silence is the only thing that greets me. Until a hoarse voice tells me to ‘fuck off and die’. I smile. If she’s well enough to cuss me out, I can leave. Fuck knows, I’ve had enough of this goddamn house to last me a lifetime. I slam my palm against the door one last time.

“Don’t do it again, Nora,” I demand at the wooden door.

“Go to hell,” she shouts from the other side.

I’m already here , I think, before turning and walking down the staircase and out of the house.