Have Mercy

+ Excerpt

There are things in life that everyone just knows are true.

No matter how larger than life the grownups in your life seem, eventually you get old enough to realize that they’re only human. People don’t change, unless they really want to.

Death is inevitable.

But even though we know that death will eventually come for all of us, we’re still surprised when it happens.

Memento Mori.

Remember that you must die.

Who the fuck is Evangeline Pratt?

My phone rings as I stride out of the police station. I ignore it. It rings again. When I look down at the screen and see my father’s name flashing, I send the call to voicemail.

On the third ring, I finally answer it.

“What?”

My father’s breathing is audible before he says anything, like he needs a second to put the words together. “Why in the name of Christ would you go to the Drumville police?”

I hold the phone away from my ear for a second, wondering if I can hang up right now and convincingly blame it on a faulty connection later. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“When are you going to get it through your head that this isn’t a goddamn game?”

My father rarely expends the energy on me that it would take to get angry. I’m used to his disappointment and derision, maybe even disgust if the situation warrants it.

But he never gets angry.

“If we were playing a game, I’d be having more fun,” I retort. “You told me to handle this and I’m handling it.”

He scoffs, the sound derisive. “Did you at least gather some useful information?”

I’m more than a little surprised that Captain Humphrey had evidently been telling the truth about not sneaking a look at the file. If he did, my father would definitely know about it.

For a split second, I consider telling him what I’ve discovered.

Except I don’t even understand what I’ve discovered.

“No.”

“How disappointing. I’ve heard that the last party at Havoc House was quite an event. Should I take that to mean Olivia Pratt has finally left St. Bart’s for good?”

An image of her stricken face flashes across my vision, a visceral memory of that moment when the video played during the party. Playing that damn thing definitely hadn’t been my idea, but I expected her to be embarrassed.

Instead, Olivia only seemed frustrated and sad.

Maybe that’s because it wasn’t Olivia at all.

“Nobody sane would show their face again after that.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I doubt my father notices the change in my tone. “She has to be packing up right now, so it’s only a matter of time.” “Only a matter of time,” he mocks. “Should I pass your assurances onto the rest of the alumni? I’m sure everyone will appreciate just how precise of a timeline you’ve been working with. Perhaps the next time you ask when your bank account will be replenished, I’ll respond that it is only a matter of time.”

In the very beginning, I almost had myself convinced that my father gave me money and bought me things out of love. Maybe he couldn’t say the words, but he could still express the emotion with his credit card.

I’d been so embarrassed the first time he took me to a restaurant as a kid. After showing us to our table, the host had insisted on taking my tattered coat and hanging it up, no matter how much I tried to stop him. Seeing the moth-eaten and patched fabric hanging next to my father’s elegant overcoat made me feel like something lesser. Someone worthless.

My father promised that, as his son, I would never have to feel that way again.

Now I understand that the money was only ever meant to be a way for him to control me. Fancy clothes, expensive motorcycle, exotic trips all over the world: he got me used to the lifestyle from the very beginning.

All so he would have something to take away if I stepped out of line. My father is basically a drug dealer who offers that first hit for free, knowing how quickly most people will get hooked.

I think about hanging up, but he’ll just keep calling until I pick up again. “The money has never been the most important thing to me.” “Felicia’s next tuition payment is due in a month. I’ll keep that in mind when it’s time for me to wire the money.”

I clench my fingers around the phone, any harder and I’ll crack the screen. If I’d known how willing he would be to use my sister as a pawn, I never would have insisted on bringing her to St. Bart’s. I should have guessed his intentions when my father decided to only pay her tuition quarterly, instead of in a lump sum. He wants the option to send her away at any time without risking a financial loss.

“If you don’t hold up your end of the deal, then I won’t hold up mine.”

“So you’ve said so many times before.” The censure in his voice is obvious. As much as I want to pretend his disappointment doesn’t matter to me, it does. It always has.

In a flashing second, I’m that quaking boy with the pants of my itchy suit pulled down as he whips me with a belt and he tells me that I must try harder if I want to be a Van Koch.

According to him, the name has to be earned. And as difficult as it might be for me to earn it, that is how easily it could be taken away.

But it’s getting harder to remember why I wanted it so badly in the first place.

“I’m sure you’ll do whatever you think is appropriate,” I say tightly. “You always do, Father.”

“I don’t believe I have ever been this disappointed in you.” The words are meant to hurt, but I suppress the reflexive twinge of pain. Even when I hate him, I still want my father proud of me. It’s sick.

But he can only control me if I let him.

“I understand,” I reply, keeping my voice very carefully neutral.

“Luckily for you, at least one situation is already being managed. I had hoped to showcase my son’s ability to fulfill the leadership role in Havoc House that the Van Koch’s have maintained for almost two centuries. But there isn’t anything that can be done about it now. It’s no thanks to you, obviously, but some things can’t be helped. As of tonight, Olivia Pratt will no longer be a problem for anyone.”

A chill moves down my spine. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” For a moment, he almost sounds tired. “I told you that you were running out of time. It isn’t my fault that you chose not to listen. Time has officially run out.”

“You told me we had until an alumni representative arrived.”

“I did,” he acknowledges. “I also said that your time is up.”

The alumni are already here.

My fingers grip the phone so hard that it hurts. “I’m president. Why don’t I know about this?”

“You’ll be told what you need to know when you need to know it,” he snaps. “Just do what you’re told, so the Initiation occurs without a problem.”

I’m not worried about the damn Initiation. I want to know what is going to happen tonight. “What’s going to happen to Olivia?”

My father lets out a long sigh. “I don’t have any details and I wouldn’t provide them to you if I did.”

“That isn’t anywhere near good enough and you know it.”

For a minute, the line goes quiet and I think he might have hung up. When he speaks again, his tone is hushed, as if he wants to be sure he isn’t overheard.

“But you are my only son, so I’ll give you the only warning I can. Stay away from Olivia Pratt if you don’t want to get hurt right along with her.”

The line clicks as he hangs up.

When I ease my bike out onto the street, a loud siren is my only warning as a police car blows past me going at least double the speed limit. Another cruiser is right behind it as they speed down the road toward St. Bart’s.

Wherever the cops are headed, they’re trying to get there fast. The alumni are already here.

I’m still so angry at Olivia, or whoever the hell she is, that I’m not sure what I’ll do the next time I see her.

But something in me sparks like a live-wire whenever I touch her. My fingers itch with the need to trace the contours of her body and memorize the faint patterns on her skin. She frustrates me, but she fascinates me even more.

I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since the day she strolled onto campus like a deposed queen coming back to claim her throne.

Under the anger is a healthy dose of something else, an emotion that freezes the blood in my veins when I think of something bad happening to her.

I want answers.

I also want her.

I’m pissed off.

I’m also afraid of what it will feel like if I never see her again.

The alumni are already here . And it might already be too late to save her.