Page 139 of Priest and his Anarchist

Wind pushes the swing with a creak as if time itself couldn’t remove the ghosts that still wanted to reside here.

With a heavy clunk, the key slides into the slot like a missing puzzle piece. I twist it, pressing the door open and into a narrow hallway decorated with moss and growing ivy.

My foot stops over the threshold when the marking etched into the wood draws my attention. The EKC emblem flies over most people. Most usually assume it means something edgy, but it is more sinister than that. The simplicity of city buildings before the truth of what lies beneath. In dark, heavy strokes, the skull is scratched through the wood in angry lines. It’s notNew York, the logo symbolizes everything that we touch. It’s the embodiment of our society. It simply saysLong live the EKCbecause for as long as you can see us for what we appear to be, you’ll be blinded by what’s below the surface.

Perdita.

Riverside.

Our schools.

All of our schools.

Soon, that pretty island Halen got from Pop would be the gateway.

The very blood that runs through every King’s veins.

“Wasn’t sure whether you’d come.” Pop is waiting for me on the other side, his face withered around the edges as he dodges the passages of time. Even when he handed the gavel to Dad, he took it with the knowledge that Pop would always have a place within the Kings. He lives and breathes it in a way that’s disturbingly difficult to tear away. No one wanted to take him away from all that he’s known, especially not Dad, because when Pop is bored, he does crazy shit. Shit like try to kill my mother.

“Stella fell down a fucking hutch, so I need to pull her back out.” Twisting, I shift dust off the logo, my finger grazing the deep hollow lines. My chest feels tight, the tension in my muscles strained enough to snap. “I can’t fucking believe this has been neglected.” Rage. It fills me like acid. “Why didn’t Dad open it?”

Pop shifts through, kicking the door closed behind himself until the heavy metal locks back into place. “Your father had his reasons, I’m sure. What happened with Stella? She get lost?”

“No.” I blow out a cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from my mouth. “She was being an idiot.”

“You pushed her?” Pop raises a brow.

“She talked too much.” I follow the footprints that lead down the hall.

Pop doesn’t bother to hide his laugh. “I’ve never been prouder in my life than seeing you with the gavel.”

“Dad?” I ask, stopping outside a door where the footprints stop. Someone has been here, and it doesn’t look like a size—whatever Pop’s is—in Oxford leather.

He follows but doesn’t engage or fuel my suspicions. “Your father taking the gavel made me proud, yes, but it was different.”

“Because he hated you?”

He stands beside me, his brows pinching in when he notices what I’m looking at. “Yes. He hated me for most of his life. It doesn’t matter. I deserved it. When you were born, my own selfishness thought I’d been given another chance.” He shuffles to the side. “No one should have been in here.”

Like an overworked puzzle, I shuffle the pieces around in my head, hoping to see them clearer. “Where do they go to?”

Pop shoves his hands in his pockets. “Everywhere.”

“And what did you find about who is currently running it?”

“No one, son. I found nothing and no one.”

Why did she keep looking at me like I had the answers to all the questions? I didn’t. God, I was so sick of her. I wanted Darling back. Her reckless laugh and the way she’d look at me in challenge. Even at a barely memorable age, the holidays passed slowly, and each time I had to see Luna, it was a reminder of what therapy had forced away.

I hated her. I hated whoever it was who fixed her.

“Priest,” Luna whispered, tucking her hands beneath her pillow. Why was she annoyingly soft? If I yelled, she’d flinch. Or cry. I hated that I thought she was pretty.

“What?” I snapped at her, pulling my focus off her face and staring up at the ceiling. We’d come to Aspen a few times over the years. Our parents thought that if they forced us to all bearound each other, we’d like each other. I had no problem with the rest of them.

I just hated her.

I hated the way she made me feel every time she looked at me. I wanted to tear her eyes out of her head and throw them off the cliff.

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