Page 8 of The Devil

Owen and I glance at one another, not being entirely sure of who he’s asking; it’s not like either of us owns the place. Eric’s wide eyes and searching expression eventually have me answering just to stop the awkwardness of the situation.

“Sure,” I reply, “we’re just gardening but I guess it’s ok. Not that it’s really my place to answer for.”

“Great,” he grins, before taking off his shirt to reveal a dark red vest that seems to make his dirty blonde hair appear a little darker than before. “Tell me what I can do.”

I don’t make it easy on poor Eric because I have him helping Owen with the more physically challenging jobs for most of the morning. By lunchtime, he has the same coating of sweat that Owen often does and appears to be over the whole gardening thing. I can’t hold it against him though; hehasworked hard and clearly wasn’t expecting to. However, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by Lucius’ non-appearance and makes no attempt to leave.

Feeling bad for making him work so hard, I offer to make everyone some lunch. Owen declines, having his usual lunchbox of last night’s leftovers and a flask of herbal tea. Eric, on the other hand, jumps at the offer with an expression that reminds me of a golden retriever when being shown a big, juicy steak.

Eric suggests we eat out on the decking and with the parasol casting a decent amount of shade over the table, I nod in agreement. Kicking off my flip-flops and pacing over to the sink to wash my hands, I suddenly become overly aware of someone watching us. I can’t see him, but I know he’s there, like a gathering of thunderclouds before the storm actually hits; it’s unnerving. Eric isn’t fazed at all, but when his expression turns into a gradual smile, I know he feels it too.

“Hastings?” Eric utters, confirming my suspicions while washing his hands next to mine. He purposely brushes his skin against my fingers under the running water, still smiling to himself. “Thought you’d never show up.”

I turn my head to see Lucius leaning up against the larder cupboard door, hands in pockets and with his signature pissed-off expression. His eyes are narrowed at the both of us and his smile is almost angry at the scene playing out before him. I wither a little under his gaze; he’s making me feel like I’ve been caught sneaking out by my father on a school night. Something I’ve never done, by the way.

“Eric, Topolina,” he utters, nodding to both of us before pushing off from his leaning stance and sauntering over to where we’re standing. I manage to move in the nick of time under the guise of going to get a towel to dry my hands. “Have we been making…friends?”

He says ‘friends’ like it’s a dirty word, one that he finds hard to push out through his lips. I make the decision not to answer, opting to get on with making some lunch so I can avoid both the question and his intense gaze. Eric, however, is not so quiet on the subject, but I get the feeling that this is the way these two communicate with one another - contempt and disdain, laced in mockery, but with a kind of mutual respect that others don’t wholly understand.

“Sure, something like that,” Eric replies in a highly suggestive manner. His inclusion of me in their sport makes me want to hit him square in the jaw, but instead, I audibly sigh before taking my collection of food out to the table on the decking, effectively leaving them alone to piss around the floor inside.

I have no choice but to listen to their lowered, dulcet voices talking from inside, but have no desire to try and make out their individual words. I have a feeling that if I did, my calm serenity would be smashed to pieces and an angry bull would take over my senses. Instead, I watch the hazy afternoon sunshine highlighting the numerous insects and plant seeds that are filling the air above the swimming pool, all while daydreaming about nothing in particular. My peace is soon shattered, however, when both Eric and Lucius saunter out through the bi-fold doors to join me. As soon as they take up their seats, my mouth freezes mid-chew and we all glance at one another with different expressions. Eric is enjoying the new development, aka me, Lucius appears to be angry about it and I’m feeling horribly uncomfortable by having these two for company.

“So, you kept this one quiet,” Eric breaks the steely silence with his smug smile and theatrical nod over toward me, even though his eyes are on Lucius. I feel like I’m a lifeless mannequin, possessing neither the voice nor the ears to engage in any kind of communication between them. Lucius enjoys the scowl I plaster on my face, not least because I’ve been referred to as ‘this one’. Not that he says anything, he lets his face do the talking for him.

“Is she gonna be here for tomorrow’s event?” Eric asks Lucius, who is now staring at me with a quirk of his lips.

“No!” Lucius and I both cry out in unison.

“Helena is not into parties, are you, Topolina?” He pauses for a moment before linking his fingers together and resting the tops of his index pads on his closed lips. “She’s more into books, far too intelligent for the likes of you, Eric.”

“Intelligent enough to talk for myself,” I say to both of them with a cold edge to my voice. “You realize women have voices nowadays? There’s no need to pretend I can’t use my own ears or my own mouth to communicate, right?”

Lucius laughs softly against his fingers at the same time as Eric raises his hands in a defensive stance, though still with amusement written all over his smug features.

“You’re quite right,” Eric says with enough charm to bed Cinderellaandthe step-sisters, most likely at the same time. “I was merely…hopingI would see you there, Helena. I didn’t mean to offend you by talking over you.”

I offer him a smile with an ounce of gratitude, choosing to not pick up on his obvious attempt to use me to get at Lucius by telling him he ‘hoped’ I would be there.

“Matthews, if you’re planning to get into this one’s panties, I’m afraid you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” Lucius casually stretches his arms up into the air, causing the bottom of his shirt to lift and reveal his tightly packed abs under his mostly smooth, dark skin. “She’s not going to drop them for you, plus…”

“Plus…?” Eric smiles, probing further with great delight.

“Plus, she’s off limits to you,” Lucius replies with a casual shrug.

It’s enough to have me shoving back my chair before I set about stomping inside, feeling beyond furious with both of these assholes and theirmy-dick’s-bigger-than-your-dickrepertoire. If I could go back in time, I would have sent Eric packing when he first showed up. Hell, I might have even considered going to camp over this infuriating trip.

Chapter 6

Lucius

I enjoy the sound of my little mouse angrily slamming the door behind me and even allow myself a small smile over her angry outburst. Eric must do too because his laugh is offending my ears with its usual loud and obnoxious volume. He has always been brasher than me, though normally, I can forgive him for his lack of sophistication. At school, I was the dark, brooding asshole while he was the lighter, football-playing hero. He was widely known for being the angel to my devil. Ironic, given the guy is more fucked up than I am. I have had to clear up after his messes on more than one occasion. What little Helena doesn’t realize is that I’ve just saved her neck by warning Eric away.

Helena Carter is an intriguing little mouse, especially in comparison to the rest of her family. Truth be known, I was initially only interested in sinking myself deep inside her virgin pussy. I’m sure I would have forgotten about her the next day; it’s who I am and what I do. No mousey, little, shy girl was going to change that, least of all a Carter. It’s not that I mind Paul’s new wife, she’s perfectly fuckable, but her daughter is somewhat more annoying. What’s worse is she comes with a little pack of other irritating wannabe whores. Paul tells me to play nice and to let them come to my little social events, but I couldn’t care less about any of them. But I find myself being irritatingly intrigued by Helena, being that what most girls pass for interesting, doesn’t appeal to her at all. Apparently, it would seem I like this in a girl, and I especially like it in a girl who looks like she does.

My social gatherings are about three things for me - booze, hash, and pussy. Hardly original but it’s the perfect combination of timewasters in which to lose myself, preferably into a state of mind where I don’t need to think about anything or anyone for at least a few hours. Most of the attendees are likely here for the exact same reason. No one comes for meaningful conversation or to find their significant other, and it’s definitely not the kind of scene for our little Helena to witness. I’d no doubt end up having to get her ass out of some compromising situation, which would not only piss me off but also get me into serious trouble with Paul and his new bride. I would rather ask one of Merial’s mindless friends to come and discuss the theory of evolution than have to listen to Paul tell me what a disappointment I am. After so many times of hearing the same speech, it fast becomes tedious.

“So, she’s off limits, is she?” Eric asks, interrupting my inner thoughts by trying to ascertain whether or not I’ll let him try and fuck our new house guest. I won’t of course, though something tells me the shy little mouse wouldn’t touch him with a heavy articulated truck anyway. “I could do with a new bit of skirt to chase after. You know the last girl I slept with down this way claimed we’d already fucked each other before? I had no idea!” He proceeds to mimic an explosion going off inside of his brain. If only.

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