Haunted

8 | closely guarded fire

"What do you think would happen to me if I committed murder?" Hazel asked as she sipped on the glass of red wine she'd managed to snag from another table. She despised its taste, oaky and nearly bitter on her tongue, but the warmth that it spread throughout her body was enough for her to push through the discomfort. "Would I be executed immediately for insubordination? Would I get a trial?" She took another sip, eyeing Red over the edge of the glass. "Would you come visit me in jail?"

Red only rolled her chocolate eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she deadpanned, reaching across the table to pry the wine out of Hazel's hand, taking a long pull as if it were a bottle of whiskey. "We need to get our hands on more alcohol."

Hazel nodded, stealing the wine back. "Yes, I'd like to be drunk after today's shitshow."

Red's eyes widened in response. "Does that mean you'll actually say yes if I invite you to hang out with us tonight? You won't go sneaking off alone to wherever it is that you go?"

She thought of Malfoy, smirking at her as her clothes dripped water onto the training room floor. Of his form hunched over at the table in the library, a land of insults and taunts, and the risk of bodily harm if she crept past him to the reading nook. She forced a grin. "Invite me, let's see what I say."

A ginger brow raised, and then she cleared her throat, adopting a posh accent. "Madam Hazel, would you oblige to spend time with Madam Red and the other soldiers on this lovely evening?"

Hazel's smile grew, and, her thoughts of Malfoy successfully banished, she found that she didn't have to force it. "I do believe I will accept your most generous invitation," she replied in a poor imitation of royal jargon.

And that's how she found herself walking into Blue's room—although it could have just as well been her room, appearing exactly identical to her own living quarters. She was the last to file through the door, and a low rush of panic rumbled through her as her eyes darted around, finding nowhere to sit. Red, Joker, Blue, and Buck huddled squished together on the bed, and everyone else occupied the space on the floor.

"Hey, my lap's open," crowed Boulder, sending her a wink. If the words had come from Red, she would've laughed. Instead, she shook her head, a polite smile coming to her face.

"I'll manage," she said, declining what she hoped hadn't been a real offer. She closed the door behind her, finding just enough room in the created area to wedge herself against the door, tucking her legs up under her to avoid encroaching on Bushy's personal space.

She was pinched by nerves, sitting in this crowded room with people she hardly knew, her one true friend out of reach. She'd only missed a few days of hangouts, but it was almost immediately clear that she was out of the loop when it came to some inside jokes, finding herself silently laughing along to phrases that made little sense.

But then Pixie procured a bottle of amber liquid from behind her, a wicked grin on her lips. "Anyone up for drunk Truth or Dare?"

Already a tad buzzed from the dinner wine, Hazel found the courage to speak at last. "Me," she called out, and all eyes turned to her. Pixie nodded her head towards Hazel in appreciation, and the bottle passed from hand to hand until it reached her grasp. "Drink if we decline?" she asked.

Joker shook his head. "Drink once if you accept, and twice if you decline," he corrected. And a little part of her was grateful that she'd get to drink regardless of whether or not she accepted the truth or dare. She was in the mood to get blasted.

"Truth or Dare?" Irish asked.

Without thinking, she replied, "Truth."

A moment passed as the group attempted to come up with a suitable question. "Oh, I have one," said Red with a devilish smile. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, leaning forward. "Where do you go each night that you don't hang out with us?"