Page 69 of The Prom

“Last night?” I play dumb and she sighs.

“At Angela’s. Say hi to lucky number six.”

She confirms my suspicions, and I smile with concern. “How is your leg?”

“Sore, but there is no lasting damage. It looked worse than it was. The paint didn’t help, but as I planned the entire distraction, I was careful to put out the flames before any serious damage occurred.”

“You risked your life for me—why?”

“Because I’m hoping you can save mine.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you aren’t scared of her yet.”

“Angela?”

Her expression dims and fear twists her smile.

“Last night was pretty tame. A test if you like.”

“You call that tame?” I raise my eyes and she nods, misery etched on her frown.

“Angela uses fear to control her slaves and your invitation was issued the minute she had something to use against you.”

“What was your sin?”

I’m curious about this woman because I’ve never seen her before. I don’t think she’s a teacher. I haven’t seen her in the staff room.

“I’m her maid, for want of a better word. Housekeeper, if you like.”

Her heavy sigh rumbles through the darkness as she whispers, “I was a student here not long ago. Close to graduation day, my parents died in a car accident and I had nowhere to go.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I reach out and touch her arm in a show of compassion and she nods, biting on her lower lip as she blinks away the tears.

“I don’t have any siblings and neither did my parents. No grandparents, anyone really, and I was alone. We rented our home, so I had nothing. My parents lived hand to mouth and subsequently, I had nowhere to go. Angela took pity on me. She helped me through a terrible time and when the academy closed for the holidays, she told me I could stay here with her. She would employ me and give me a home and I was so grateful I didn’t think twice.”

Her voice is full of regret as she hisses, “I should have taken my chance at homelessness. It would have been the better option.”

Fuck! Hearing her story boils my blood because this is shit Reapers are used to and have heard a million times before. Most of the women who enter our world follow this route in. Destitute, down on their luck, every single one of them with a sad story totell. They are usually running from something, and this woman is a prime candidate for a seat at our table.

She smiles regretfully. “It began as it should. A kind woman helping out another in her time of crisis. I was given housekeeping jobs and a small set of rooms as my place to live. Angela was a good friend. She checked in on me and often invited me to eat meals with her. Then I began to feel a little strange. Huge parts of my memory were missing. I couldn’t remember what day it was sometimes and what I’d done the day before. I was confused and Angela assured me I wasn’t sick and it was just the effects of my grief. She gave me pills to help, and I had no reason to believe she was being anything but kind. I relied on her. My headaches were getting worse, and she arranged for a doctor to call. He confirmed it was a reaction to my grief and issued more drugs to help with that.”

Her eyes flash as she hisses, “It turns out the doctor wasn’t even qualified. It was a man as twisted as Angela. A person that stars in my nightmares because it wasn’t a doctor she called that day. It was the devil himself.”

Her story sickens me but is a familiar one. A young vulnerable woman, exploited by people with no morals for their own gain, and I can almost guess what happened next.

“I was soon addicted to the fake prescription meds. It was as if I couldn’t get through the day without them, and Angela was the only source of my happiness. My mind was all over the place and I would do anything for a fix. It began gradually when she told me she loved me and wanted to care for me. She kissed me like a lover and I responded to whatever she dished out. I was lonely, desperate for affection, and inevitably it led to more. We became lovers. I wanted to please her, fearful she would send me away and I would do anything – Idideverything to keep my place by her side.”

Her smile is sad and I clench my fist as I imagine what she has been through.

“Angela controlled every aspect of my life and I was glad of it. I would do anything and soon I was drafted into her sick game.”

She shifts closer and her voice is so low I almost can’t hear her. “Once a month, I accompany her to a house not far from here. It’s always on the last Saturday of the month. Angela meets that man along with several others and it’s not liquor they bring as an offering, it’s a person like me.”

She heaves a desperate sigh. “They call themselves serpents and their victims prey. The idea is to groom a person into becoming their slave. The gathering is graduation day for their students before they send them out into the world. They are littered throughout the country as well. That one man traveling to all of them to oversee their allegiance? Angela works for him and brings many members to the society through her team at Rockwell.”

“Team?”

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