Page 67 of Vying Girls

I nod helplessly, watching her go.

Was that our first fight? First and last hopefully. I can’t bear to see her sad, especially to be the cause of it.

I gasp when an arm grabs me and spins me around.

‘You’re not supposed to be alone,’ Nic says.

‘Chill out.’ I shake off her grip. ‘There’s like hundreds of people here.’

‘Not good enough.’ She gestures with her head. ‘Come on.’

‘Where?’

‘The Vaults. I’m not done yet and they obviously can’t be trusted with you.’

‘I don’t want to go to the Vaults.’

‘Tough.’ She takes my wrist again, tugging me on. ‘I need another bag.’

‘No, I think you’ve had enough, Nic.’

‘Don’t think I have.’

The vibe changes as soon as we get outside. The music becomes muffled, the tree boundary seeming more like a barrier than anything inviting.

I fumble with my phone as we track through the woods, posting in the group chat where we’re going. I’m not happy about this. Not even a little bit. There’re students weaving through the trees, but it still feels dark and lonely. Like Damien could be out there, watching us even now.

Doesn’t help when I notice Nic peering round. She’s trying not to make it obvious, but I’m ridiculously in tune with her, every sense of mine heightened when I’m in her presence. Months of being on edge will do that.

I suppose someone has to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t destroy herself. I did that a lot when we were kids. My little pet to look after. Always so malleable and obliging until one of her darker moods struck. Then she was unreachable to me. Exactly like now.

I expect another fight when we get to the boats, but the Charon doesn’t utter a thing. They just row on silently, creepy as anything. They could even be Damien. How would we know?

The mouth of the cave gapes wider. The boats ahead get chewed up by it. It’s disturbing how quickly they disappear into the black. It’s even less appealing when you’re not completely hammered.

Don’t get me wrong, I love dark aesthetics, but with this place, the vibes are justoff.

‘Literally hate this place,’ I mutter.

Nic doesn’t even acknowledge me with a glance.

We dock with a quiet thud, then it’s a tense walk through the tunnels until we emerge into the cavern. Nothing quiet in here. It’s heaving. Up on the ledge, Northbound Wolves are playing, two on guitars, one on drums. All of them in cloaks, masks and fake blood. I bet they get that shit everywhere. Only their torsos show they’re female, with blood-smeared abs and sports bras, trousers slung lower than necessary and showing v-lines.

I hadn’t given a second thought to what they looked like when I saw them with Haz, but now my eyes linger a little longer, appreciating their harsh femininity.

Definitely an aesthetic I can get behind, but I would absolutely not want to meet any of them down a dark alley. The masks work for the band, but outside of playing music, they’re pretty terrifying.

‘Didn’t know they were playing here tonight,’ I call to Nic.

‘Why would you? You’re not part of this place.’

‘Am now.’

For better or worse.

Nic still has a hold of me, pinching my t-shirt between her fingers. I might as well buy her a set of toddler reins. Make it more effective.

She’s peering round, this time with a sense of impatience rather than trepidation.