Violent Chaos

Excerpt

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Bodhi

The Day Isla Died

“Mr. Cavendish,” Mr. Fitz said, pulling my attention from the assignment. “Collect your things.”

It was hardly my first time to be sent for discipline, yet somehow, I doubted this was anything I did. Still, I packed away my books, slung the book bag strap over my shoulder, and made my way to the front of the room. Mr. Fitz held out a small square of paper with my name on it. The orange slip was a summons to the front office.

“Have a good day, Mr. Cavendish.”

“Thank you, sir.” I pushed open the door and strolled out of the literature class. The only thing I enjoyed was the Chaucer bits because the older English was amusing. I didn’t have to wait too long at the office to find out what this was about, however: Counselor Donnaghan waited in the hallway.

He was both my academic and disciplinary advisor. While I wasn’t fond of him, I respected him. He didn’t lie to me or generally pander to the family name. “Mr. Donnaghan?”

The soft sigh he exhaled told me everything. I almost didn’t need the explanation he braced to offer me. “I was going to take you to my office for this, Phillip.” It was definitely bad news. “But you already know.”

“My mother?” It was a guess. It might have been my great-grandmother, though she wasn’t as elderly as the title suggested.

“I’m afraid so, son.” He put a hand on my shoulder. It was an offer of comfort and support.

A myriad of reactions spilled through me, as though a stopper had been pulled and they fell through me and then away again.

“I am very sorry, Phillip. So very sorry. There’s a car coming to pick you up. I was told the service would be private, so you won’t have to worry about any public spectacle.”

A frown tightened my brow as I compartmentalized the data.

“Do you want to go back to your room to pack anything?” That question registered faintly, and I shook my head once.

“No, sir. Thank you.” I was on autopilot.

Mr. Donnaghan frowned, and I could practically read his desire to get me to talk in his expression. He didn’t pursue it. Instead, he walked me through the school to the administration buildings and then to the ellipse. We weren’t there long before a car pulled in. The driver was just another of the faceless masses who served the family anonymously.

“If you need anything,” Mr. Donnaghan told me, “anything at all, just call.”

“Thank you, sir.” I wouldn’t need anything. I wouldn’t call. This was a family matter.

A private matter.

I would take care of it myself.

The Day I Met Her

“Phillip, son, I’m sorry,” Leopold Benedict told me. “I wish there was more we could do for you.” He and his wife seemed very kind. They’d attended the private funeral, though they’d sat far away from the family. My father had only offered him the barest form of civility.

That intrigued me. It was only after the funeral and after I began to dig into Mother’s death that I found out Mr. Benedict had been visiting her. A year later, I found out about the letter. A letter he refused to give me. A promise he’d made to her. A promise he wouldn’t break.

I respected the concept, I did.

But I wanted the letter.

If he wouldn’t give it to me, I’d break in and steal it.

The Benedicts owned multiple properties. I worked my way through the ones in the city and on the coast before Der Sonne. Der Sonne’s security was impressive, but it had the same blind spots so many wealthy homes had.

Staffing.

Getting in wasn’t the problem. Benedict’s butler was a cagey one, and I gave him a wide berth. It was late in the evening, the family was out at an event, and the staff was scarce. It shouldn’t have surprised me to find the letter secured in a safe. It took some actual effort to get it open.

The code, though, was on a business card tucked into the back of a painting of his wife. I put the card back once I had the safe open. I ignored everything else except for the stack of letters and other papers. I could barely mistake my mother’s handwriting for anything else.

I returned the rest of the papers unreviewed. Benedict was entitled to his privacy and his secrets. This secret, however, was mine. Sliding the envelope into my jacket, I cleaned up and headed for the door. A shuffle of a step pulled at my attention as I left Benedict’s office, and I locked eyes with a tiny little pixie on the stairs.

The heart shaped face beneath the cloud of dark hair and wide eyes was a punch to the throat. She tilted her head, studying me then the library then back to me. I put a finger to my lips and she grinned. The sheer trust in that smile didn’t belong to me. Shouldn’t and yet—I recognized the desire to never betray it.

When she mirrored the action, putting her finger to her lips, I winked and then made myself leave.

Oddly enough, that image imprinted itself in my brain, and I started keeping a distant ear and eye out for my little pixie.

Particularly when she never betrayed me.

Ever.

The Day I Saw Her Again

“Phillip.” Surprise decorated her voice, and it echoed the mild shock rippling through my system. The fact Graham and Reed were here didn’t surprise me, even though they kept circling her like a pair of jackals intent on keeping everyone else away.

“Elaine Benedict,” I greeted her, crossing the room to kiss her on each cheek. Better to let everyone know they were not going to be messing with her. I liked the Vandals. PPG had reminded me of Lainey B, and now I knew why. They were friends. It was hard to hide or ignore. Not that I had any desire for either.

I also liked Freddie, and he trusted most of the people in this room. Acceptable endorsement. Still, as the conversation broke down the upcoming fight, I kept an eye on all the players.

Lainey B was wading into this war.

That meant the rules had changed.

end of excerpt