Page 133 of Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 1)
“Did you guys cut off Don’s balls?” I ask as Aaron approaches me, and his face pales. Even beneath the layer of makeup he’s wearing, I can see it. It’s true. It’s fucking true. “Jesus Christ.”
“You didn’t think we’d let him off easy, did you? Bernadette, I tried to warn you. We’re messed-up. Havoc is fucking messed-up. You just—” He pauses, clenching his teeth to stop the flow of words, like he’s just realized he’s about to reveal something important to me.
“I just what?” I ask, turning and getting in his face. “I just never saw it? You guys were fucked to me, but … you could’ve done worse. Why didn’t you?” Aaron scowls at me and tries to turn away, but I’m not letting him go. I’m onto something here, I know it. “Aaron, talk to me, goddamn it. What did Kali have on you? Why didn’t you guys fuck me up like you did Don?”
“Bernadette,” Aaron starts, turning back to look at me, the skeleton makeup on his face turning his visage into a grim one. But then he pauses and looks up, eyes darkening. I follow his gaze and see that the crowd’s parted to reveal a group of people standing near the front doors.
They’re all wearing grinning clown masks, bandages on their right shoulders darkened with faux blood. I do a quick headcount and come up with almost two dozen people standing there. It’s impossible to tell if they’re male or female, with their masks and dark clothes.
“Jesus,” Aaron grinds out as I feel my pulse start to pick up.
Shit.
This is what I was waiting for.
Havoc never gets a day off.
“Are those bandages supposed to be in support of Mitch or something?” I whisper as this EDM/dubstep rap comes on, blaring through the speakers as Vic moves forward to greet the new crew. Aaron clenches his jaw and looks down at me, like he’s considering spiriting me out the back door or something.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Vic asks, his voice booming out across the crowd. “Party crashers?”
“Havoc’s rule at Prescott High is done,” the leader of the gang says, his voice manipulated by a voice changer. “It’s over, Victor.”
“Is it?” Vic asks as several dozen people in the crowd remove plastic skeleton masks from inside their jackets, sweaters, and costumes, sliding them over their faces in solidarity. “If you want to rule that school, or this town, you’ll have to fight for it.”
“Gladly,” the leader says, and then he pulls out a weapon from inside his jacket. People start to scream and scatter as Aaron grabs my hand.
“I’m getting you the hell out of here,” he says, just before the first shot goes off, exploding one of the paper lanterns near the ceiling. Clown Dude—who I’m just sort of guessing is Mitch—has missed his shot. Instead of blowing Victor’s head off, he’s just been hit in the shoulder with Callum’s nail-ridden bat.
A fight breaks out as the two sides rush each other, like soldiers going into war. Several more gunshots go off as the Havoc crew meets up with the newcomers.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I grind out as Aaron tries to pull me toward the clown-covered archway that leads into the funhouse area. “I’m a part of Havoc, too.” I try to tear my grip from his, but his hands are like steel. I’m not going anywhere.
The music continues to blare as the room empties out, the floors already spattered with blood as the two groups beat each other to pulps. A few of the clown-masked assholes are heading our way, but Aaron doesn’t wait for them, yanking me into the funhouse.
The fog machines in here are insane. Paired with the red strobe lights and the myriad mirrors, it’s impossible to see. But Aaron manages to drag me through anyway, putting some distance between us and the party. At first, I struggle, but pitting myself against one of Havoc’s best fighters isn’t going to win us any wars. So I follow after him, convinced that as soon as we get outside, I can break away from him and make my way around to the front.
Instead, we end up stumbling into a round room filled with cackling animatronic clowns. Plastic caution tape lines the walls, and as Aaron goes to try the door, he finds it locked from the outside. So much for those guys Vic sent around to watch the back. They must be getting their asses kicked right now.
“Goddamn it,” Aaron growls out, using his bat to try to dislodge the heavy wood door. But it won’t budge, and we’re running out of time. Six of the clown-masked idiots stumble into the room, surrounding us. Aaron doesn’t hesitate to hand me his bat, whipping a gun out from inside his trench coat. “Don’t try me tonight, or I’ll splatter your brains all over the walls.”
