D*mn it, Maria!

3◕⩊◕ Montreal Monster

Caleb was not athletic nor deeply engaged in sports. It just happened that he was blessed with long legs and flexibility. Thanks to these, he escaped doom and succeeded in fleeing to the parking lot where the driver waited.

"Sir, a—"

"—Drive."

"Sir?"

"Now!"

The driver obeyed. The engine roared to life, and they drove out of the school. Caleb only breathed with ease when no crazy ninja carrying wood, a book of rituals, and an intent to sacrifice him to darkness, ran after the car.

"You weirdo," he whispered and his hands trembled. He admitted that he was frightened. Maria's murderous eyes resembled that of convicted sinners.

"Sir, are you al—"

"—Shut up."

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

The profit of the hotel chain in the second quarter was estimated to be higher than last year. His father, Henry Montreal, invested a lot. He expanded casino hotels in Western Europe and established the Montreal brand higher than its competitors for at least a decade now.

They had excellent management and stable operations. Caleb visualized himself reaching new heights in the future as the successor. It calmed his nerves. He unfastened the top buttons of his uniform, rolled the sleeves, and recalled what had happened.

He woke up with the disgusting mixture of spit, web, and flowers on his forehead. Maria was dancing, or rather, she was pouncing here and there, calling Satan's name in a terrible attempt at soprano.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or he was too strong. Or maybe the rope she used was old. He freed himself and ran as if Satan was actually at his heels. His hands trembled again, this time, because of anger.

"Maria . . . " he muttered. "Maria Bahaghari, I will destroy you." He took out his phone and called Frederick, the mansion's butler. "Call Sir Montreal's secretary, I'll cancel the lesson with the new tutor."

[What will be the reason, Sir?] the old man asked.

"Tell him I have something to do. This is the first time I canceled a lesson on my own request."

[I understand. Anything else?]

"No need for dinner. I'll be late."

He dialed Matthew's number next. His cousin answered on the third ring.

"Where are you?" There was a cacophony of cheers and music over the line.

[Hey there, Mr. Number Two. Why are you calling? You lonely?]

"Where are you?" he repeated impatiently.

[Bossy as usual. Sophia's pre-party, remember? It's never too late to crash.]

"I'll be right there. Let's talk."

[Wh—]

He ended the call before Matthew could say something. But he forgot to ask for the address, so he called him again and ended it as fast.

"I knew it'd be like this. You won't party. You'd just call me out to take me somewhere I don't know."

That's exactly what happened. Caleb commanded the driver to leave the car while he and Matthew talked. He wanted to end this conversation quickly too.

"I suppose it's not a formal party." His nose twitched from the scent of alcohol and cigarette.

"Is it obvious?" Matthew said sarcastically and sniffed himself. "Oh no, you're allergic to fun, I forgot." He shrugged. "We have different definitions of a party. Mine's awesome, yours isn't."