Cold Death Mary Stone (most read books TXT) 📖

Good. Punctuality was a must when planning.

I tapped off the alarm on my way out of bed and headed straight for the shower. The warm spray soothed me a little too much, so I turned the lever down until the water turned icy cold. The shock on my bare skin reinvigorated me enough to dry off and go in search of clothes. After sparing a few moments to peruse the closet’s offerings, I selected a pair of gray slacks and a gray, blue, and white pinstriped shirt. Even with no public appearance on the agenda for this morning, there was no excuse for a shabby appearance.

Headmistress Letitia had taught me that.

The walk down the hall and through the living room was silent and shrouded in shadows, with only a few stripes of weak early morning sunlight creeping in through gaps in the boards. Instead of heading to the kitchen for breakfast as my usual routine dictated, I went to the door and used the key in my pocket to turn the lock. A click later, and I was outside, rubbing my arms against the frigid morning air as I strolled past the winter-brown grass, intent on the tiny structure squatting on the far side of the yard.

The lawn triggered a rush of memories. Once upon a time, I’d been a little boy, content to dig in the dirt for worms and roll my thrift-store trucks around the postage-stamp yard of the house my mother and I had shared. In those early days, I’d still had a mother who’d loved me. We’d struggled to make ends meet and been poor in possessions, but we’d had each other, and I’d believed that was enough.

And love very well may have carried us through life, if not for the foolish man who’d swooped in and bedazzled my mother with wealth and material objects. She’d transformed before my eyes. Her love for me hollowed out and rotted, a casualty of her new husband’s disapproval.

Another cold gust cut through my shirt, rousing me from my sordid past and planting me firmly in the present. That was all ancient history and of no consequence now. I’d procured a suitable replacement for my distant mother, at least for a while.

I stomped a dried leaf on the pathway and savored the satisfying crunch beneath my shoe, delighting in the reminder of how a finger felt when snapped beneath my hands, or a wrist. I continued on to the wooden shed, humming as I unlocked the door and ducked inside to reach the refrigerator. Two eggs, a slice of ham, and a piece of bread went onto one of the clean plates stacked on the collapsible metal table. Mission complete, I locked the door behind me and carried the plate back to the house to cook.

The eggs sizzled as I added them to the hot pan, but it was the sweet-savory aroma of ham that brought me back to that morning at the academy…

My eyes drank her in from across the crowded cafeteria. Her hair gleamed like a freshly polished shoe when those burnished copper waves caught the light, all sleek and tidy, without a single strand out of place. As always, her outfit was immaculate too. Crisp, with no wrinkles or creases, like she’d come straight from the dry cleaners, with the overall effect somehow both reserved from the buttoned-up collar and yet also enticing with the way the fabric skimmed her curves.

I pressed the lever to fill the cup with orange juice while my stomach did that funny flip it liked to perform whenever she was around. Not that I blamed my body for the reaction. She was the perfect representation of femininity, her appearance a how-to guide for the way women should look.

She played the little game we’d been forced to adopt in public. Ignoring me completely or letting her gaze skim over me as though I wasn’t there. But as I carried my tray into the dining area, her blue eyes connected with mine. Once, and excruciatingly brief. Just long enough to send the message, loud and clear.

I kept walking, my heart swelling to twice its normal size.

Tonight. Our training would continue tonight.

On my way to the usual spot at a table near the back wall, I approached three boys from my year. They elbowed each other as I drew closer, and the two seated closest to me sneered.

I ignored them. Impudent idiots. They were so far beneath me that they weren’t worth the bother.

That thought vanished when one of them muttered something under his breath as I passed, his eyes narrowed with malice.

I stopped and slowly turned in their direction. “Excuse me, I didn’t quite catch that. Can you say it again?”

Two of the boys exchanged uneasy glances, but the loudmouth only sat up taller. “You heard me. Freak. Perv. Everyone knows you’ve got a boner for the headmaster’s wife.” He practically spit the word out this time, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

Heat blazed through me, and my hands gripped the tray so hard, the plastic rattled with my anger. A hand curled around my shoulder before I could react. “Whatever is going on here, gentlemen?”

All three of the other boys’ gazes flew to Headmistress Letitia, who’d managed to creep up behind me without my knowledge. Fear widened their eyes before two of them stared at the floor. Only the one who’d insulted me was brazen enough to maintain eye contact. “Uh, nothing, Headmistress.”

“Mr. Kingsley, is that true?”

Her perfume reached my nose, musky and sweet, and the hand still resting on my shoulder infused my entire body with warmth. I wanted to tremble, but years of practice and control held me steady. “No, Headmistress Letitia. I’m afraid they weren’t behaving in accordance to academy rules.”

“That…that’s not true!” the boy sitting in the middle yelped before turning to glare at his loudmouthed companion. “Tell her, Freddy!”

Freddy’s skin paled beneath its usual tan, the latter a result of his frequent trips