Page 1 of The Devil's Hunt

1

ONE

MILA

“Come on, Mila, you have to go out tonight. This is one of St. Mary’s biggest parties of the year.” Lacey, my overzealous and beautiful blonde roommate’s voice rang through my ears like a siren as she tried to coerce me into attendingthesocial event of the year at St. Mary's University—a private college full of prestige, and a place where the rich and powerful sent their children, competing in an unspoken battle for power. It was a Catholic college everyone dreamed of going to. We were the ones that everyone wanted to be, the ones that the outside world couldn’t touch. There was so much money wrapped up in this school, it was like Hogwarts. You had to get a special letter of admittance to attend, which only meant that Daddy had to fork out a pretty penny to get you on the waitlist, and then even more money to pass the final approval process.

My father had spent most of his life working hard so he could one day splash his money around at parties and have something to brag about to his wealthy buddies. That he had a child attending one of the most exclusive universities in existence just gave him more fuel for the fire. He dreamt of having a son who would follow him into the world of stocks and bonds, but instead, he got a daughter whorefused to break rules and was a pink-wearing, animal-loving book nerd who had no interest in joining the corporate world of assholes and pricks. When he realized his dreams of passing on his trading business were doomed, he found St. Mary’s—a place where his cash could buy anything…including my freedom. He paid exorbitant amounts of money just to put me on the waitlist—enough money to wash his hands clean of me, but also boast about the esteemed school his only child was attending.

He was running for governor of New York, so as of late, he liked for me to attempt to try and win over the rich and famous old guys or their sons in order to gain their favor. I hated every second of it. But I knew that he could ruin my life with a snap of his fingers. Send me away to a place far worse than St. Mary’s without even batting an eye. The walls of privilege around me were impenetrable, imprisoning my freedom and crushing my dreams of living the life I wanted—the lifeIwould choose.

As Lacey whined in my ear about how I had to attend, that in my two years of attending St. Mary’s, I had gone out only once, and that disastrous night ended with me retching endlessly until my stomach felt as though it had been wrung inside-out and cast aside. Even the memory of that night made my stomach churn and bile rise in my throat.

“You can’t stay cooped up, hovering over your books for four years. You are literally my only friend who is a virgin, and you’re about to be twenty-one on Halloween. Which just so happens to be the best time to dress up like a slut, fuck somebody random, and do the walk of shame back to your dorm room, like every other girl here,” she argued.

“Hey, leave my virginity out of it. And for the record, I like my books, and I like doing my homework.”

“Ok, virginity aside,” she huffed and sat next to me, cradling my hands in hers and pouting her lips, determined to change my mind. “Will you please go to the bonfire with me tonight? At the very least, you can babysit me and make sure I don’t end up in Chad’s bedagain.” She grimaced and exaggerated a shiver like she was disgusted at the thought.

We both knew she wasn’t.

Chad was her vice and usually who she went home with when she couldn’t find anyone else. With her peppy personality and his lack of brains, they oddly fit really well together.

“Also, you know that the next couple of weeks is wheretheyscope out prospects for their Halloween Hunt. If you don’t go, you won’t even be considered.”

Theywere the elite of the elite at St. Mary’s, protected by more money and status than a celebrity. The Halloween Hunt, better known as The Devil’s Hunt, was an event that was talked about every year. This was a cult-like, fucked-up Halloween event that included a masked hunt where, when you were caught, you were eitherChosenor sent home. There were rumors that those who wereChosenbecame sex slaves for several of the elite, and that there was some sort of perk to being their slave. You got to be part of the best parties, the status, the money, and the mind-blowing sex—or so I heard.To me, it just seemed like a way for powerful men to fuck around and have someone at their beck and call, objectifying the female gender just like old times.

What could possibly be the perk of being used as a sex slave?

Along with the rumors of this brotherhood cult engaging in orgies, the rumors of murder and sacrifice to appease whatever dark deity they worshiped spread rapidly, and when people went missing in town or girls disappeared, everyone on campus assumed it was because of this mysterious society that went by many names. The one that seemed to stick, however, was The Brotherhood of Darkness—the masters of fear and enslavers of souls.

I didn’t want to be considered as a prospect, but at the same time, I was curious about what happened to the Chosen. If that meant I sat through one of the bonfires to not only make sure Lacey didn’t get murdered in the cornfield, but also see if she was chosen to attend The Devil’s Hunt, then I would. If only to know if the rumors were true or if it was all just urban legend, because I loved that girl, butone thing she couldn’t do is keep a secret. And this super-secret brotherhood cult bullshit, I was sure, would have stories her big mouth wouldn’t be able to keep to herself—especially when it came to her best friend.

“What do you say, Mila? Will you be my date to the bonfire?” she begged insistently, her perfect face contorted into a pout.

She was committed, I’d give her that.

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach, but I bit back my apprehension and nodded.

“Fine. I’ll go,” I sighed and slumped down into my chair.

Her eyes widened in delight, and she jumped up, letting out a squeal that made my ears ring. “Yay! You’re the best friend ever!”

“But only to make sure you don’t get killed by an ax murderer,” I protested half-heartedly.

“Yes! Now, let’s get you dressed in something moremodern,” she said, sweeping her gaze disapprovingly over my plain black sweater, dark jeans, and toes tucked into black cat-printed slippers.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I asked defensively, crossing my arms over my chest and tucking my feet farther beneath myself.

“Nothing if you are going for the frumpy cat-lady thing. This doesn’t scream ‘sexy, young, studious babe ready to have a good time and maybe make out with a hot college boy at one of the hottest parties of the century.’”

“But I am not trying to make out with a hot college boy,” I insisted weakly.

“The night is still young!” she declared with a mischievous glint in her eye. “To my closet, young Padawan. Let me transform you.”

She yanked me up and dragged me to the vanity of her boudoir, where she lathered my face with more makeup than I had ever worn before. Bottle after bottle and tube after tube was caked onto my skin, but she refused to let me look in a mirror until she was finished. I expected to look like a circus clown by the time she finally stepped away. She curled my hair and then started pulling dresses over my head. I objected to every single one, but there was no use arguingwith her; besides, I didn't have the heart to crush her spirit, and my protests fell on deaf ears, anyway. I think she had me try on over twenty dresses before she clasped her hands on her mouth and was speechless for the first time in her life.

“What?” I exclaimed.

---