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  THE OUTCASTS

  The Blood Dagger

  Volume: 1

  Misty Hayes

  Copyright © Misty Hayes 2017

  All rights reserved. The right of Misty Hayes to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.

  No part of this publication may be altered, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including, but not limited to, scanning, duplicating, uploading, hosting, distributing, or reselling, without the express prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of reasonable quotations in features such as reviews, interviews, and certain other non-commercial uses currently permitted by copyright law.

  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and businesses are purely products of the author’s imagination and are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, places, or events is completely coincidental.

  The Outcasts The Blood Dagger Volume: 1 by Misty Hayes

  “A world in which there are monsters, and ghosts, and things that want to steal your heart is a world in which there are angels, and dreams, and a world which there is hope.”

  -Neil Gaiman

  Dedicated to the perfectly imperfect.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Get Connected

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-five feet.

  Seventy excruciating, but doable, steps.

  That's all that stood between me and the relative safety of my car. Once I got behind two tons of machinery, they generally left me alone.

  Until then, though...

  “Boom babababababa.”

  And there it was—the gleefully evil voice of Allen Lawrence following me all the way to my locker,— making every roughly two-hundred pound step of mine into the lumbering, look-at-me gait of a high school elephant.

  “Boom babababababa.”

  I stopped and took another step—then two more—fulfilling my end of the semester-long contract of humiliation between me and the other teenagers in this school whose metabolism didn't decide to curl up and die on them in fifth grade.

  “Boom babababababa. Boom babababababa.”

  It wasn't like he was the king of cool. If I'd had any sort of resolve I'd have told Allen his hair resembled a garden of weeds or his dandruff could fill a snow globe... but instead, I ignored his snide remarks and snickers to open my locker and stick my head inside. It was a slight reprieve to collect myself, but I only managed to embarrass myself further. On my exhale, my hand slipped, which knocked my Calculus book from the top shelf. Papers spewed from the bent pages across the polished linoleum floor.

  Just great.

  More laughter floated around me as I stooped to pick the mess up but a hand reached out and hit mine at the same time. I looked up in surprise to see a bright pair of hazel eyes staring back at me from behind black rimmed glasses.

  “Figured you could use some help.”

  I glanced at his outstretched hand. Stephen wasn't someone who swam in the popular end of the pool but he did attract a lot of attention from girls. He was cute in a 'boy-next-door' sort of way, with dark hair swept to the side and a disarming smile; let's just say if snakes wore pants he'd charm them off with the grin he was now giving me. I glanced around to make sure I was the one he was actually talking to. We had one class together, which just so happened to be Calculus, but he'd never said one word to me in four years. Now, he'd just said six.

  “You're pretty smart—” Stephen peered at the graded paper, “A ninety-five from Mr. Woodcomb is miraculous.”

  "Nothing's miraculous about Calculus..." I let the sentence trail off, too late to stop the melodic fashion in which it had come out. I hid a groan, “I didn't mean for that to rhyme.”

  In a shocking turn of events, his mouth quirked up at the corner, “You're funny.”

  I wasn’t used to getting complimented by a cute guy. The heat instantly rose to my cheeks, so I dropped my gaze and stuttered, “Th-th-hanks.”

  It was the near extinct, in-school-and-not-caused-by-a-teacher smile that had formed on my lips that made me look away; but when I chanced a glance back up, I caught Stephen gesturing to a couple of his friends who had materialized behind him. He saw me notice and his face morphed. The cute smile he'd worn widened and it wasn't cute anymore. In fact, he reminded me of how a hyena might look in human form.

  “I guess you've got to be, though, huh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you've either gotta be fugly but funny, or you've gotta be the pretty asshole. You can't be the ugly asshole.” He'd made sure to say it loud enough for his friends behind him to hear as he wadded up my paper and threw it across the hall. Laughter once again drifted around me as people passed, some with pitying glances in my direction. I felt my cheeks heat up from the unwanted attention.

  “Told you she'd cry.” Stephen stood, looked down at me, and then turned to his friends, “Jesus, Lardo. You'd think someone your size would have a thicker skin.”

  I wasn’t crying, and if steam could come out of my ears, it would have. I grabbed my things, shoved them back into my locker and found the closest restroom so I could shut myself in a stall.

  ***

  Every day when school ended, all I needed to do was make it to my car to feel at least a modicum of safety from the outside world, but the parking lot was seventy feet from the front doors. Those seventy feet were the bane of my existence. They were seventy feet of harassment; seventy feet of sheer agonizing torture and seventy feet of unbearable embarrassment. But this was the only way out. New construction around the back had blocked my failed attempt at getting out unscathed and unless I wanted to scale myself down the side of the building, this had become my only exit out.

  The Toyota came into focus like a mirage in the desert; as soon as I saw it I sped up. It felt like multitudes of eyes raked over me as I set out. It always happened this way in my nightmares, too. That moment when the killer catches you off guard and hacks you to little bits. The bits were the remnants of my ego, easily chopped up and demolished. My grip tight
ened on my backpack strap like it was a life jacket.

  “Did you think just because you're graduating that I was going to let you off the hook?”

  “I was hoping that might be the case,” I mumbled and as soon as I said it I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. It was written all over her grinning, predatory face. Madison Bristow. This was why I didn't partake in social media. I was too afraid of being made fun of, yet here we were again anyway—me adrift in a sea of bully-sharks waiting for blood. My blood.

  Madison pulled a wad of gum out of her mouth as I marched past and without a word, threw it into my hair. In a gut reaction, I attempted to pull it out but only managed to make it worse. When I drew my hand away I realized with dread the gum was exactly the same color of a neon orange parking cone.

  Oh man, I'm an Oompa Loompa.

  I tried to hold back the sting of tears as I flew the rest of the way to my car, but as soon as I got there, someone put a hand on my shoulder. Expecting it to be Madison, I turned with a retort ready, but stopped when I realized it wasn't her. “Corinth—I thought you were the troll...” As soon as I said troll, Corinth's gaze lit on Madison across the parking lot and he squared his shoulders in anger.

  Madison was still laughing with her friends.

  The answer to what he was thinking was in those intense brown eyes and in his posture—closed fists by his sides. He was pissed. Embarrassed, I avoided his pitying stare at the gum in my hair.

  Corinth growled, “That's it. I'm definitely saying something to her—”

  I grabbed his arm before he could take two steps. “Hey Rambo, save your ammo. If she sees I'm upset she'll just try it again, later. Besides, with that dark brown mane of yours—” I stepped on tippy toes to reach out and ruffle his hair. “You're bound to have some tips on how to get this gum out, right?”

  His frown faltered and turned into a grin as he said, “You mean this hair that would make Simba jealous? Sure, I got tips.”

  I asked, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “The gods took pity on me—” he started to say but I stopped him with a look. He could keep one of his made-up stories going for ages. He scratched his chin in defeat, “Fine... I got out early and caught a bus over here... thought I could meet you to hitch a ride back to my place.”

  Before I knew it, Corinth had opened my car door and helped me inside. He was already in the passenger seat before I could argue. Stephen, who happened to be walking by, noticed Corinth getting into my car and to my immense pleasure his hyena-grin disappeared. I wanted to shout, 'Yeah, that's right, he's getting in my car!' Instead, I lowered my head and picked at the gum in my hair. “Could this get any more embarrassing? Who throws gum in people's hair?”

  “Douche bags,” he said, his nostrils flaring out like a bull’s when it’s ready to charge.

  His anger meant the world to me; it meant he had my back.

  “I don't know why your parents put you in that Catholic school anyway. You live closer to Grover Heights,” I muttered.

  “Things would definitely be different if we went to the same school, that's for sure,” he said with another murderous glance at Madison as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  ***

  Corinth wasn't one for cleanliness. Dirty clothes were piled against his bedroom door along with pizza boxes—enough for him to make a fort out of their empty carcasses. Energy drinks covered every inch of the rest of the space. If you asked him he'd tell you there was order in all the chaos.

  “You need some help with that?” Corinth asked, eyeing the sticky wad of gum.

  I pulled another strand of hair loose and sighed in frustration.

  “I think I have something that might do the trick,” he said and ran out of his room. When he returned he was holding a cup full of ice. He grabbed a piece and plopped down on the bed beside me. Corinth didn't think anything of it; however, I enjoyed the opportunity for his thigh to touch mine.

  “Come here,” he said, motioning.

  I inched closer as he gently held the ice against the thickest part of the wad.

  I couldn't help but get a whiff of him, being this close and all. He smelled just like fresh laundry.

  “You stay up all night, again?” I asked.

  Corinth gave me a lopsided grin, “How'd you know?”

  I pointed to his desktop and counted the empty cans. “One, two, three, four—eight...there are more energy drinks in this room than in an actual convenience store.”

  He glanced around as if proud of his accomplishments. All he needed to complete the whole male bravado thing was to beat his fists against his chest.

  “That's why you're so scrawny. You use up way too much energy. God bless you for being such a nutcase—a caffeine obsessed nutcase,” I said with a snort.

  “I'm proud to say I'm part blood and part Arabica bean.” He tossed what was left of the ice back into the cup. “My fingers are numb.”

  The cool thing about having him for a best friend was the fact that he would pull someone else's chewed up gum from my hair for me. A chunk of orange came out as he wrestled it free and I let out a triumphant cry.

  “How did you do that?” I asked.

  "Simple physics postulates that the ice hardens the gum, making it easier to separate the hair follicles from candy." He shrugged when he saw the look on my face and pointed to his own hair. “I'm kidding, I have lots of siblings. And lots of hair. Happens all the time.”After we'd both had a good, long laugh and we'd quieted down, he said, “Why do you let the bitch brigade get away with that anyway?”

  I shrugged. “You wouldn't understand. People actually like you...” I shook my head. “It's almost over, though—I'll be leaving all that behind.”

  “I know you're excited about England, but one of us might miss the other one more than the other...” Corinth looked down and for the first time in I don't know how long—at least since the age of us wearing pull-ups—I realized he was embarrassed. He gave me the special half-smile he reserved just for me and added, “I meant you'd miss me more, of course.”

  When he glanced back up, I playfully shoved his shoulder. Then, in an expertly classy move, I pretended to examine my hair and ignored the blood rushing to my neck to my head. I liked him. I mean, I liked him a lot. Hell, he was the only guy who didn't make fun of me for being fat and he was my best friend and he was adorable. I let the thought trail away—like the water dripping down Corinth's arm from the melted ice—and said, “If it wasn't for your family unofficially adopting me when my dad disappeared, I don't know what I would have done.”

  Corinth gave me a curt nod. He hated when I got serious about anything, “I can't believe it's been six years since... seriously—what are you going to do without me?” His eyes were wide and round and perfect. Pity and concern all rolled into one superfluous look. His little puppy dog eyes might have worked on others, but not me, no, sir.

  “No, no, no, don't give me that look with those eyes,” I said.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you're looking for dear old dad in England.”

  My eyes flicked to his in surprise, “How did you know?”

  His eyebrows creased to form a v above his nose. I loved it when he did that. “Come on, Larns, I've known you since kindergarten. You're nothing if not predictable. You don't even like walking to the street curb in front of your house by yourself. All of a sudden you decide to go off to another country?”

  I picked at a fingernail and after a second pulled my backpack from beside me, “I think it's time I get the father issues off my plate... so I can stop putting everything else on it.” I reached into the depths of my backpack and pulled out an old journal and handed it to him. “I found this hidden under a loose floorboard last year during my mom's renovation.”

  Corinth took it from me and his eyes widened as he opened it. “This is your Dad's journal?”

  My eyes snapped to meet his and then flew back to the journal. “Yeah.”

  Corinth flipped
to the last page and read for a moment. "And England is the last place he talked about?"

  I nodded. “He mentions this place called The Swan in Bedfordshire. I think he's there—it's where I booked a room, anyway.”

  "But he's been gone so long, what makes you think he's still there?"

  I shrugged. "I have to start somewhere. And if I don't find him—well I guess it's where I'll find myself, instead."

  "I can't believe you're doing this," he said. “What are you going to say to him if you find him?”

  I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. "I’ll ask him why he left. I just want to know why. What could be so important you'd leave behind your family without a note or a word or even a hug? He left his wedding ring and favorite leather jacket on my mom's bed. But why go to those lengths and then hide a journal?"

  He tried to search my eyes but when he spoke he turned away. “Maybe I could go with you?”

  I laughed and when he twisted back to face me, I knew I'd hurt his feelings.

  “Corinth, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant you know your mom would never let you.”

  He unexpectedly pulled me into a hug. I enjoyed the moment of just being close to him. Like being in a bookstore, he smelled of my favorite things: the aroma of untold stories, mystery, and dreams yet to come. I felt him draw in a breath as if he were about to say something but a second later, he pulled back.

  “What is it, Taylor, I know you want to tell me something,” I said.

  Corinth was staring at me like he had bad news, picking at his thumbnail in thought. “I never told you this because I didn’t think it would help and I wanted to protect you…” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced down. “The night your father left, I tried to sneak over to your place for our nightly name-the-stars ritual, but your dad caught me trying to scamper up the side of your house.”

  I felt the raw emotion build up at the back of my throat as I whispered, “What happened?”

  “I remember it like it was yesterday.” Corinth lifted his shoulders and when he met my eyes I could see the pain and guilt in them. “Your father had this spooked look on his face that night. At the time, I attributed it to him catching me red-handed because I wasn’t supposed to be out that late. Now, I think it was something else…” He sucked in a breath and blew it out. “I could have stopped him, Larns. Instead, I thought he had made the coolest dad move on the planet for not ratting me out to my folks. All he did was wink and tell me to look after you.”