Page 15 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

“Precisely! Mom’s miserable.”

Thick trees blur past the car windows as she turns onto College Road, the central activity hub in the small town. Most of the residents live much farther out, packed within the mountains or the forest, as if they don’t want to be bothered by campus life.

I can’t blame them. Not when it’s this school.

Noelle pulls into a lot in front of a small brick building. Strobe lights flicker inside, visible through the frosted windows, and a blinking green neon sign hangs off the front awning, clutching the fabric for dear life.

Lethe’s.

“Just one conversation,” Noelle says, shutting off the vehicle’s engine with a nod.

My jaw works from side to side, and I rub at it, my head pounding in anticipation. “Fine. But if anyone touches me, we’re out of there.”

“Please,” she snorts. “Like you’re that hot of a commodity.”

I turn my hands over in my lap; the bloodstains are long gone by now, but I can still see their shadow. No matter how many times I’ve washed them since, the memory of what happened five years ago never fades away.

Glancing over at her, I think back to what Dad said about there being two corpses he had to clean up that day, and then to Quincy’s words of caution .

Does Noelle know more than she lets on? Is that why she wants me in contact with Lucy—because she’s afraid for her too?

Shoving open the passenger door, I stretch my legs and climb out.

I pause, waiting for my sister. She doesn’t follow, instead scrolling through her phone while she remains buckled.

Clearing my throat, I tilt my head at her. “Are you coming?”

“Nope.” She grins, but it seems forced. “I’ve got a big audition tomorrow morning. Don’t want to jeopardize my slot.”

“So why do I have to go in?”

“Because your best friend is in there, and she deserves more than what she’s been getting from you.”

“Why do you even give a shit, Noelle? It’s none of your business.”

“As your older, wiser sister, it is actually my business. Plus, I love Lucy, and I’m tired of her being sad because you’re too stupid to fix things.” Her face grows solemn for a moment. “Don’t be an idiot and let the resentment foster. It won’t do you any good.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“How else does one gain wisdom?” Her grin wobbles. “I’ve realized some stuff while living out west, that’s all. Time is fleeting, and so are people. You have to latch on to them while you can.”

What the hell is going on with her?

She leans over, pulling the passenger door shut. A second later, the locks click into place, and she cracks the window. “Go get ’em, tiger!”

Growling under my breath, I make a mental note to get her back for this.

Whether it’s by somehow sabotaging her big audition tomorrow—honestly, she’s been out in California since she graduated from high school, and every audition seems to be her potential break until it isn’t—or forcing her to ride in the trunk while I drive home later, I can’t decide.

Both sound appealing as I make my way to Lethe’s entrance, the scent of sweat and cheap booze growing immensely the closer I get.

Not a great sign, considering the door isn’t even open yet, but oh well. I’ve made it this far, I may as well see it through.

I push inside and am met with low lighting and a wall of dancing bodies, writhing around as they either wait at the bar for service or stand just outside the illuminated dance floor in the middle of the big room.

Circular tables sparsely decorate the worn wooden floors on the edges of the crowd, and several bass speakers thump so loud at the front that the bottles behind the bar rattle on the shelves.

I swallow over the knot in my throat, unwilling to retreat, even though parties are the furthest thing from being my scene. Even Foxe’s in high school, I’d only tag along to be the designated driver and make sure no one tried anything with Lucy.

My heart thumps an uneven rhythm in my chest, echoing against my rib cage as I glance around for evidence of her.

I don’t even know if she’s actually here—Noelle’s notorious for bad intel, and this feels like one of those sloppy-as-fuck plans that she threw together at the last second for no reason.

Seriously. I don’t buy that my rift with Lucy was upsetting Mom. Maybe Noelle isn’t giving the woman enough credit.

Making my way to the bar, I weave through the throng of folks waiting in line, propping my elbows on the counter. Dozens of eyes swing in my direction, but I ignore every one of them.

I doubt they’d know who I am just by a single glance, but I don’t need to draw extra attention.

A girl with a dark brown complexion and wide eyes skips over, her curly hair pushed back with a sparkling pink headband.

“Can I get you something?” she asks.

“A name?”

She smiles, displaying a full set of perfect white teeth. “Muna. Head of student relations and campus activity through the week and part-time bartender at Lethe’s on the weekends.” Extending her hand, she gives me a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

I blink at her offer and let my arms fall from the counter. “I didn’t mean your name.”

“Oh.” Her face deflates, and someone at my side snickers into their drink. “Are you looking for someone then? ”

“A friend,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

Muna tilts her head, studying me. “You don’t go here, I presume?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, most Avernia students trip over themselves when they talk to me,” she replies, reaching for a glass that someone sends her way. “Half the campus won’t dare look in the eyes of the Curators’ electoral body.”

“The Curators?”

“Student organization,” she tells me. “Kind of like Avernia’s version of Greek life. There are four orgs: the Curators, the Daughters of Persephone, Death’s Teeth, and Visio Aternae—but their name is incorrect. The founders came up with it, though, so for the sake of tradition it remains.”

“I see.”

“The Curators are by far the most prestigious. They’re invite-only, have the most alumni donors on their side, and the best networking groups.

Kind of stuffy compared to the others, but great for your résumé.

Visio Aternae is comparative, but way easier to get into.

They focus more on philanthropy and school programs.”

“And the others?” I ask.

“The Daughters of Persephone was created just a few years back by two students who felt some voices on campus were being suppressed. The administration does not like them.” She hesitates.

“Death’s Teeth… Well, no one really knows what they do or who they are.

Some say they’re anonymous vigilantes, other say it’s some kind of sex cult.

Mostly they just seem to vandalize university property, which is why they’re not officially recognized by the dean or higher-ups. ”

Interesting.

“But really, the only one that matters much is the Curators. They’re top dogs on campus for sure.”

“Hence the lack of eye contact.”

She points a long finger at me. “Exactly. Now, who was it you were looking for?”

“Lucy Wolfe. ”

Muna’s dark eyes go round for a fraction of a second. I reach up, twisting the stud in my left nostril, and wait for her to recompose herself.

“I’ll take it you’re familiar with her?”

Snorting, Muna nods. “Oh yeah. No organization will take her because she’s always clashing with the administration or because her grades are subpar. They don’t really mesh well with difficult students around here. Avernia likes order.”

My heart skitters to a halt.

Fuck.

So much for a clean slate.

“Oh, I’ve only met her once though,” Muna continues, leaning over the bar. “So take my account with a grain of salt. She’s nice but not really…”

“Approachable?”

“Right.” Her gaze narrows, surveying me once more. “Kinda hard to believe you’re a friend of hers.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, she hates everyone except that blond fashion design major. If you even try to recruit her for something she hasn’t organized herself, she’ll bite your head off.”

That sounds like Lucy, but I’m not really interested in spending my time in Fury Hill talking about her. I want to see her. “Any chance you know where she might be tonight?”

“I don’t think she usually comes to this kind of place,” Muna answers. “I can’t tell you how many Curator parties she’s turned down just since I’ve been VP. As the first freshman to win that slot, I try to invite even the outcasts—makes the org look better to the sponsors, y’know?”

My stare must turn hollow, because Muna shrugs and pulls away.

Instead of sitting around and wasting more time, I shoulder back the way I came, then set off for the bathrooms. The rear hallway splits in multiple directions, no more illuminated than the front area itself, and I pick the one on my right just so I don’t have to keep waiting.

Music pulses in my skeleton as I shove past couples making out and people standing in line to piss .

There’s a skinny door at the very end of the hall marked Exit , and I make a beeline for it, my annoyance causing me to twist the knob harder than necessary.

It swings open, the handle getting caught in the plaster with the sudden force, and instead of an exit, I’m practically shoved into another room.

Inside is a single leather sofa, a standing lamp in the corner, and a coffee table with several half-smoked joints on top. Two people sit on the couch—one the blue-eyed siren who’s haunted my dreams since she left town.

The other is a dead man.