Page 51 of Satan's Spawn

I’ve learned enough about the Sigil of Baphomet to know what it can mean.

“I’m not scared of you, Crayton Shaw,” I say with very little convincing, still honed in on the two black eyes peering out from his collar.

This has him chuckling under his breath, right before he grips my jaw tight, forcing me to look up at him.

It hurts, and I know that’s the point.

“Who’s the liar now, hm?” Crayton doesn’t even blink as he awaits my response, like the most natural human function is somehow beneath him.

“Leave me…the fuck…alone…you psychopath.” I grit out through a pained jaw, trying my hardest not to appear terrified, even though my heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

The sound of the door opening makes me jump, but Crayton doesn’t budge with the newcomer’s presence. Instead, his face lowers to meet mine, forcing me to hold my breath.

To close my eyes.

“It’s too late for that. You lost your chance.” He says through a deadly whisper, his lips trailing to my ear, making chills erupt down my entire body when he adds, “There’s no escape for you now, Little Ghost.”

* * *

“I’m tellingyou the truth, sir,” I plead with headmaster Beaumont, who’s sitting with his back straightened in his chair after one of the hallway monitors escorted me to his office for skipping class. “I was only back there because someone spray painted my lock black. I couldn’t open it.”

Did I want to spill the beans about the bullies? No.

Do I have a choice now without risking getting into trouble? Also no.

“Well, Mr. Shaw told Lawrence here that you were the one who convinced him to cut class.”

Of course he did.

The chastising of headmaster Beaumont’s statement tells me this guy already has his mind made up, and it’s fucking unbelievable.

Actually, no, it’s totally believable, I would expect nothing less from a man who has a picture up in his office of him shaking hands with aCillian Shaw.

Who I’ve learned from Felix is Crayton’s father, a real estate mogul and property owner in the city.

I glance at the framed photo again, rereading the name engraved on the golden plate along the bottom, and piping hot anger zings through me.

It couldn’t be more obvious this man’s got a soft spot for Crayton’s family.

Or at least their wallets.

My anger isn’t enough to miss how stark the differences are between Crayton and his dad, though.

Dark hair, deep olive skin, and much more slender than his son.

Hopefully those aren’t theonlydifferences.

“That is a flat out lie, sir.” I try my hardest not to hiss. “Crayton was already there when I entered the stairway. Smoking nonetheless.”

Fuck him, and fuck not being a snitch. This guy wants to lie to throw me under the bus, I can return the favor tenfold.

“That is quite an accusation, Miss Dawson.” If this guy had pearls he would be clasping them right about now.

“It’s not an accusation, it’s a fact. Just like it’s afactsomeone painted the lock on my locker black so I couldn’t open it. Why are we not talking about that?” I fold my arms over my chest.

Because my family hasn’t been shelling out money for this school for God knows how long.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Miss Dawson.” The headmaster’s voice is tired, as if this conversation is one he’s had over and over again. “I fully intend to look into who vandalized your locker. In fact, I will have Lawrence follow you right after this to inspect the damage.”