Made in Malice (Corrupt Credence Book 1)

I close the top to my shiny new laptop at eleven when my eyes are blurry from looking at the screen all night. When I got home this afternoon, I told Astrid that I didn’t think I would be down for dinner. She seemed a little disappointed, but beyond asking how my first day went, she let me be. I glossed over the part about Lucian Morningstar and the way all the other people didn’t seem to know how to act around me, and gave her the highlights about my lunch. I might have exaggerated about my confidence on how well I did on a few of the tests, but I did it for both of our benefits.

I throw myself back on the bed, sinking into the soft pillow top, and my eyes fall closed. I have a ton on my mind, like how I really did on the tests, what kind of classes I should take, and maybe, most importantly, how I can get Morningstar off my back.

The soft knock on my bedroom door has my eyes ripping open, and I realize I must have fallen asleep, or I was very close to it.

“Miss Devlin.” Alden’s voice comes through the door.

“Yes?” I croak out. It’s been hours since I’ve spoken, and it’s easy to tell.

“I thought you should know your grandfather informed me this evening that I will be accompanying you to your classes.”

“He what?” I ask after tearing the door open to face Alden, certain I misunderstood him.

His eyes go down, and I realize I took my pants off hours ago. I’m only wearing the same too small shirt I wore to school and Walmart underwear. I slam the door in his face.

It’s a shame my first thought isn’t embarrassment. Instead, I’m relieved that he wouldn’t have been able to see my scars. The shame will come later when I remember how chubby my hips and thighs are, how my stomach isn’t flat, and I can’t remember the last time I shaved.

“I thought you should know, so you can prepare,” he continues through the door as if I didn’t just flash him, always the professional.

“This is because of Morningstar, isn’t it?” I question, even though I know the answer.

“You didn’t tell me he cornered you in the hall.”

“He didn’t corner me. I could have gotten away,” I defend.

“But instead, you went toe to toe with him.” I can hear his disappointment.

“Better than cowering. I’m not going to let some bully push me around. He’s not the first one who’s tried, and I’ve survived.”

He mumbles something, but I can’t quite make it out, and I don’t bother asking either.

“I’ll talk to Rory and tell him I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Apparently you do, and it wouldn’t work anyway. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“We’ll see,” I counter with every intention of making Rory back off.

No amount of begging gets Alden to wait outside while I finish up my test in the study room. The man is like my giant shadow, constantly looming over my shoulder and daring anyone to get close to me. We don’t encounter Morningstar until we’re walking to the cafeteria for lunch. He’s surrounded by a small group, but it doesn’t look like he’s paying any of them a lick of attention.

I avert my gaze, hoping to pass by unnoticed like the rest of them, and it might have worked if it weren’t for Alden’s big head. “They really got you slumming it, huh, cuz?” A nasty sneer lifts Lucian’s lips, and where he seemed positively bored before, now he’s eager to entertain his posse.

Alden ignores the jab, but I can’t, not with the familiar name. Are they really related? There’s no way I would ask now, since it’s really none of my business, but I want to know if Alden is related to the guy trying to make my life hell, and if he is, how the heck did he end up working for the Umbras?

Alden urges me to keep walking with the presence of his body behind mine, never slowing. I know without looking back that Morningstar and his crew are behind us, and even the sounds of their footfalls are annoying.

I give my best detached impression and act like I don’t hear or see any of them trailing behind us. Honestly, this is such high school crap. I expected to get some flak for being new, but it would have been nice to know I would be public enemy number one beforehand, or even how I earned that position.

I doubt I’m going to be able to eat when it feels like everyone in the place is staring, but I’m not going to let them know they are getting to me. “So what’s good?” I ask Alden. If we’re stuck together, I might as well make the best of it.

“Take a look around. Do you think anyone here would settle for less than the best of everything?” He keeps his voice low enough that unless someone were right on our heels, they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

I glance at the food stations and decide on the place with a grill. My hopes for something simple I can pick at are dashed when I see the menu board offering various seafood options. “Is there any place where a girl can get some chicken nuggets?”

“Come on.” Alden leads me over to another section, where there are woks filled with all kinds of meats and veggies. Some are coated in sauces, but there’s a silver pan filled with small chunks of fried chicken. I’m thinking it’s the closest I’m going to get.

“Thanks,” I tell him before grabbing the serving spoon to help myself to a small portion.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us,” a girl, who’s not even in line, says, which prompts me to add another scoop to my plate. It’s petty and counterproductive, but I don’t care.

“Aren’t you eating?” I question Alden when he follows behind me with empty hands.

“I’m working,” he reminds me in a flat tone.

“Oh right, how could I have forgotten?” I roll my eyes and choose a table that’s far away from anyone else already sitting down, and then I realize my mistake almost immediately—there’s room for Morningstar and his fan club to join me.

Much to my dismay, Lucian takes the seat directly across from me after plopping his tray almost on top of mine. I decide to speak to him first in an effort to thwart whatever he’s about to say to me. “I don’t remember inviting you to sit down.”

“I don’t need an invitation, Charity.”

“How old are you?” I tilt my head to the side and examine his features, wishing I could find him as ugly as his personality, but I’m sure it will come. Ugliness always shows itself.

“Why? Want to know if I’ll get drunk enough to fuck you at some point?”

I let him see how little I think of his response with my look of disdain. “No, I thought you might have had an early growth spurt that would explain your maturity level, but I can see your age doesn’t really matter.”

I would swear he wants to smile, or at least bare his teeth at me, but he pretends to be unaffected by my comeback.

Alden is standing so close to the table, his thighs are pushed right up against the wooden top, as if he might need to get between us at any moment.

Morningstar and I have a stare off for several long seconds, and sadly, I’m the one to break it by speaking. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want and leave? That way we can both enjoy our lunch,” I offer.

“I am enjoying my lunch. You’re not significant enough to change that.” He tears a bite out of a burger as if to prove a point. When he’s done chewing—such a gentleman—he adds, “But if I make you uncomfortable, you could always crawl back under whatever rock or deadbeat they found you under.”

“Clever, clever boy,” I sing. “Do you feel better after putting me in my place, or are you just jealous I wasn’t under you?” I don’t know where the boldness comes from, because I’m dying of embarrassment on the inside, but I’ll never let it show.

Morningstar’s eyes narrow just the tiniest bit in warning, but I’m saved from his wrath when Alden jerks my chair back and demands, “Time to go, Miss Devlin,” then hauls me up by my arm. I’m not going to lie, it hurts, but I hide that too as he marches me out the door, leaving my food untouched.

Alden is silent until we make it into the study room I was assigned yesterday in the library, but once the door is closed, he explodes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“With me?” I yell right back. “I’m not the one skulking around, looking for him so I can talk crap every chance I get.”

“Would it kill you to just keep your damn mouth shut and not engage?”

“Is that a real question? I’m not going to cower to some bully who hates me because of whom I’m related to. That’s stupid.”

“He’s not just some bully, Nova. The Morningstars are the next family in power. He can and will make your life hell, or worse.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter to myself. I can’t believe I’m getting crap for this. “Do you ever think that maybe he acts like a spoiled brat because that’s how he’s treated? And that you people catering to him are part of the problem?”

Alden’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t respond to my question, instead he hisses, “I can’t protect you from your own stupidity.”

“Good, don’t. You think I want someone else around, telling me what a horrible piece of garbage I am? I got the fucking memo loud and clear, and if my grandparents want me around as much as they say they do, then you won’t have to worry about my stupidity again. Just go.” I point to the door, my chest heaving from yelling.

Alden opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but I shake my head.

“Don’t worry, I won’t put your job with them in jeopardy, but you need to leave.”

The second the door closes softly behind him, I pull out my cell phone and dial my grandmother.

Hours later when I’m finally done with all the testing, I leave the study room and find the area blessedly empty of Alden just as Astrid promised. I explained that having him around was making integrating into the school even harder, and I also said I would not accept an escort, and if she wanted me to stay, then he would need to go. It took a little coaxing, but I didn’t budge, and it feels like a small victory. Now I just need to make sure I don’t end up regretting the rash decision.

I’m not oblivious to the stares I get when I walk past the Union, but I pretend to be as I step out into the warm afternoon sun and shield my eyes.

By the time I’m thirty minutes into my walk back to the house, I’m grateful for my holey jeans and thin T-shirt, because it’s gone from warm to hot, even in the shade, but it feels good to get some fresh air and be alone with my thoughts—not that I’m not alone enough in the house, because I am, but it’s not the same.

When I hear a car approaching, I think about ducking into the tree line until it passes, but I’m already worried that if I can hear it, they can see me, so I just shift onto the grass, giving them more room. When the engine revs, I look over my shoulder to see a familiar black car zooming right toward me.

My mind goes blank for just a second, but then my instincts kick in, and I run toward the trees as the car hits the soft shoulder, kicking up sand and debris.

I go down hard, tripping on the uneven ground, and my palms scrape along the grass as if I’m sliding into first base.

The air gets knocked out of my lungs, but I don’t have time to worry about breathing, because I’m too busy looking at the car ahead of me as it slams on the brakes, screeching to a halt. I gape, trying to pull air into my lungs while realizing he was just trying to scare me. He never left the shoulder, and I overreacted, damn it. I lost this round.

Embarrassed and pissed, I roll over onto my back and wince. The car speeds away while I’m still staring up at the cloudless sky, wondering why I thought any of this was a good idea.