Dion and I released his now headless corpse, watching as it continued to twitch, slumping to the ground. Blood pooled around our boots, appearing darker than it was due to the shade of the floor. Wiping my cheek, with the side of my arm, I glanced over at Mel and Grace.
“Are you two, okay?”
“Am I okay? I just cut someone’s head off! I haven’t felt this good since we got here,” Grace exclaimed triumphantly.
“Is she always like this?” Dion asked me, his voice low.
He was staring at her like she was insane. I didn’t think it was that bad, but it was weird seeing her so excited about something like this. Grace was the lover of our trio—the gentle one.
“Maybe you should put that machete down now,” Mel suggested slowly.
“What? No way! It’s about time we had a weapon of our own. This bad boy is mine.”
“It’s the Helios.”
We all looked towards the far side of the room to where our tagalong was standing. I’d nearly forgotten this guy was with us.
“Thanks for all the help,” Dion stated with heavy sarcasm.
“The girls had it under control…almost like they’ve done this before.”
I could hear the accusation in his tone. I didn’t care all that much, though. He clearly wasn’t going to do shit about it.
“You said this was Helios,” I urged him to continue.
“She must have just gotten it before you guys came.”
“Mo wasn’t acting like that and you said she had it too,” Dion pointed out.
“There’s different doses and not everyone reacts to it the same. They have to it in their brains already, man.”
“Have what?” Mel asked this time.
“Whatever just made her do that.”
“Hey, her is right here guys.” Grace waved a hand in the air to indicate herself. “I promise I’m fine. I didn’t do anything none of you wouldn’t have done. Well, aside from the obvious,” she directed back at him.
He sighed and clasped his hands together behind his head. “When the drug starts to wear off, you’ll see.”
There was a heavy silence that filled the room for a moment. I couldn’t outright say the guy was full of shit because I knew absolutely nothing about this drug he’d been referring to.
I didn’t know Grace had been given a drug. She hadn’t mentioned this at all and apart from her being kind of quiet she seemed fine. For her to hide it meant she herself was worried. That was the only time we kept things to ourselves. I looked up at the high-rise ceiling and rapidly tried to sort out my thoughts. There was so much going on I didn’t know where to begin.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, still staring at the dimmed receding lights.
“The map only told us where to go.” Mel answered.
Right. It was up to us to figure out the rest. I sucked in a breath, then slowly let it back out. Turning in the direction the head had went, I started walking towards it.
“What are you doing?” Dion asked.
“We need to search this area, maybe start with the wall of mailboxes over there, but first I’m going to see who’s under this mask.”
I went up to the severed head and rotated it with my boot before crouching down to see it up close.
“So, you’re just going to touch it?” Dion asked, his voice pitching.
“You watched her dig inside a man’s chest cavity after cutting him open. Touching a severed head is child’s play,” Mel responded defensively on my behalf.
“Yeah. It’s just a head,” I stated, skimming my fingers over the mask. “Did you notice the lights stopped glowing?”
“Maybe that happens when they die.” Grace offered as an explanation.
I hummed beneath my breath and lifted the mask up. I had to blink twice the moment I saw the face. There was no way this could be real. Right?
“What is it?” Mel asked.
“Who is it?” Grace corrected her.
“It’s…Troy?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but I still couldn’t be sure.
I didn’t want to be right.
“Troy?” Mel parroted.
“Not Troy Sainte,” Grace echoed, coming over to see for herself.
“Sainte? As in the kid who partied with us after high-school?” Mel clarified, coming to join us. “Woah. That’s definitely Troy,” she confirmed the second she saw his face.
“Why was he trying to kill us? I thought we were friends,” Grace said softly.
“Uh, I know him too. Knew…” Dion confessed.
“How?” I asked him, dropping the head, and standing up.
“The same way you guys did. I went to his parties.”
He just confirmed he belonged to one of the founding families. I’d planned to find out why he was here sooner or later, but I didn’t think it would be because of a decapitated head.
“What family are you from?” Mel questioned, her thoughts in sync with mine.
“Furcas,” he replied without needing to ask what she meant.
This wasn’t a name I was familiar with, but I also didn’t know every single one of the founding families. If Dion had gone to Sainte’s parties, though, they had to be around the same age. That or someone else Dion was close to brought him along like my sister used to do with us.