Page 3 of The Devil's Embrace

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No, no! Of course not.”

“Relax.” He dropped an arm over Calix’s left shoulder and leaned in, his warm breath gusting across his mouth. “I’m only teasing. Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. But not here.”

Calix frowned when Heathe pulled away and glanced around them as if to make sure they weren’t being listened in on. Suspicion swirled to life in his gut, but he tried banking it down. All his memories of the older guy were good ones. He’d been student body president of his class, had volunteered for several charities, and no one had ever had a bad thing to say about him.

Heathe wasn’t the type of person he needed to be wary of, it was just old habits unhinging their maws, threatening to swallow him whole.

But he wouldn’t let them.

He’d never go back to that weak, frightened place again.

“That sounded weird, didn’t it?” Heathe must have seen something on his face before he’d gotten a hold of it because he chuckled awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. “Here’s the thing, it’s about…” he glanced around once more and then bent to keep his next words between them and said, “the killer.”

Calix’s brow winged up. No one was supposed to know he and Troya were here investigating a string of odd murders. That was half the reason they’d been ordered to attend the reunion in the first place, to give them a believable cover.

“I’m close with the chief of police,” Heathe explained. “And I also happen to have known one of the victims.”

“Okay.” This wasn’t exactly the time or the place for this, but it wasn’t like he could ignore a potential lead. He downed the rest of his drink and then set the empty cup on the table and motioned toward the side exit of the school gym. “Let’s go find somewhere quieter we can discuss this.”

“I think the third floor has been cordoned off,” Heathe said as he turned and led them out and toward the east stairwell. “We should be able to have privacy there.”

Calix considered going back and getting Troya, but the guy was in the middle of a crowd. If he walked up to him, he’d draw attention, which wasn’t something they wanted at themoment. With any luck, whatever Heathe wanted to talk about would help speed up the case so they could solve it quick and get out of here.

He stumbled a bit at the top of the stairs, pausing with his hand on the railing as he tried to recenter himself.

Heathe frowned. “You good?”

“Headrush,” he said. “Probably the alcohol.”

“Oh yeah. I didn’t even think about that. Look, if you want to do this later at the station, I totally get it. We can—”

“No,” Calix stopped him when the other man went to descend the steps. “No, it’s all right. Please,” he held out a hand indicating he should keep going, “after you.”

The sound of their footsteps clipped down the hall as they made their way to one of the classrooms furthest from the stairs. The whole way, his head ached, a strange feeling overcoming him rapidly so that by the time they’d stepped beneath the threshold leading to the empty room, he was swaying dangerously on his feet.

Calix’s legs went out from under him, and he fell into an easel, taking the wooden object down with him as he hit the ground. He stared at the contraption, his mind struggling to place it as his blurry vision started to wink in and out.

By the time he realized what it was—and more importantly,wherethey were—it was too late.

“What’s…What did you do?” The drink. Cal struggled to sit up, his body refusing to listen. He found himself sprawled out on the cold, tiled floor, blinking up at the ceiling instead. He had a decent tolerance when it came to alcohol, which meant the cup he’d been handed had to have been spiked. “Why?”

“Just doing as I’m told.” Heathe stepped closer and started undoing his belt. “Someone asked me to lure you here and make you pay for what you’ve done. Any idea what thatcould be? Oh, good, it looks like you do. That’ll make this easier then.” His fingers went to the button on his jeans.

Fear zipped through Calix as the realization of what was to come dawned on him. Adrenaline kicked in, and he tried to get away, managing to flip onto his stomach and crawl a few feet before all of the energy drained out of him at once.

Whatever drug he’d been given, it was working fast. He fought against unconsciousness, panic, and actual horror, but his mind wasn’t strong enough to keep his body in check. He was already slipping into a dark abyss when he heard Heathe’s next comment, as though spoken from very far away.

“Ever been fucked up the ass before? I really hope not. I like it when they bleed.”

Chapter 2:

There were only snippets of consciousness.

Someone whispering something unintelligible in his ear.

Darkness.

A heavy weight on top of him.

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