Book of War: Book 1 of the Four Horsemen Series

By Antonius Russell

After another change of scenery courtesy if her absent parents. Priscilla is shipped to a new school in a new town with a new set of problems. Those problems are blown to epic proportions when she meets the reckless and handsome Warren, who drags her into his own other worldy set of problems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491866887

Antonius Russell

Antonius Russell is the author of Book of War and the rest of the Four Horsemen book series. He currently resides in Maumelle, Arkansas with his mother and younger brother.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Bastards, Bewbs, and Brothers

Skinny-Goth-Chick, Stick-Figure, Rich-Bitch, and That-Super-Weird-Chick-Who-Has-A Lot-Of-Money, are few of the many names given to Priscilla Wright by her peers. However, if they were to see her now spread eagle halfway off her bed in nothing but a pair of hip-hugging spandex shorts and a black tank top, the only word to come to their mind would be slut.

The music blasting from her 250 dollar alarm clock/stereo system was loud enough to make a jet engine green with envy, but was as gentle as a cats purr compared to the string of curses shouted by a raging Priscilla. The pink comforter from the California King-sized bed came with the lower half of her slender body as she struggled to her feet. After several minutes of tripping over boxes of clothes, jewelry, and books, Priscilla (albeit battered and bruised) finally reached her destination: the bathroom. It was huge, just like her room, her game room, her study, and the rest of the mansion she was forced to call home, for however long her parents felt necessary of course.

Refusing to look in the full-length mirror until she took a shower, Priscilla stripped and stumbled into the frosted-glass shower. Feeling the chill of the morning, she quickly flipped the handle and let the hot water cascade over her. Her thoughts quickly drifted to the interesting dream that had caused her to plummet off the side of her bed.

Dreams shouldn’t be that vivid; especially not ones of a blood-drenched figure on a horse swinging a sword through your face. Maybe it was because of a movie she had watched recently. No, she hadn’t watched anything in days. Hopping planes from London to Illinois and moving her very expensive but heavy boxes of belongings had taken up too much of her time to watch any horror films. It had to be the air here. After washing herself thoroughly, Priscilla stepped out of the shower to dry off.

Now she stopped in the mirror to take in her figure. After several minutes of squinting and scrutinizing, she let out a frustrated huff. Her sister had lied to her. It appeared that drinking large amounts of milk wouldn’t make her breasts grow any bigger. That factor about her body had always been the reason for her extremely low self-esteem, despite the constant stream of compliments from her peers. Most would consider her very pretty with her long black hair with the tips dyed blonde, her hazel eyes that changed color based on her mood, her slim figure that did any pair of skinny-jeans justice, her round face (which most referred to as adorable), and her pale yet creamy complexion. She was the stereotypical "goth-hottie; the exact opposite of her blonde-haired, blue-eyed older sister with the ridiculous bust size. Seriously, how can breasts that big be that perky?

After a few more seconds of evaluating herself, Priscilla stomps from the bathroom in a rush to get ready for her first day of school in a new town… again.

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Warren Haven hated the morning light. It was as if the light had a mission to shine directly over his eyes and interrupt him just as his dream was getting to the good part. But the real reason he hated the morning light was because it reminded him of a certain person.

Sitting up abruptly, Warren quickly threw off the covers and pressed the shiny silver button on the stereo sitting on his nightstand. Immediately, the room was filled with the pounding of drums, screeching of guitars, and demonic screams of his favorite band. Carelessly, kicking the scattered clothes and bloody bandages from weeks past out of his way, Warren stops in front of the full-length mirror to take in his (in his opinion) god-like physique. Most teenage girls, and even some women, would find the 17 year old man attractive. He was taller than most and muscular, but not overly muscled, with messy, spiky, blood-red hair that most people thought was artificial. His blood-red eyes appeared amused most of the time, but harder than diamond when he became angry. His chiseled jaw line made him appear much less boyish than he acted and his skin was a golden bronze, giving him the appearance of achieving the perfect tan. His perfectly white teeth were always halfway visible in his seemingly permanent smirk. But the most alarming feature about this young man was the numerous scars that ran over his body.

Most had faded, while others looked recent. Each one looked like a slash mark, as if the young boy had been attacked by a sword wielding mob. After admiring his figure for what seemed like hours, a loud banging on the bedroom door interrupted Warren, causing him to growl in annoyance.

What do you want emo-asshole? Warren yells in annoyance out of the bathroom doorway.

The muffled reply from the door was lost within the cyclone of instruments coming from the stereo. Growling once again in annoyance, Warren quickly turns off the stereo, allowing the voice to be heard.

Quit staring at yourself and hurry up. Class starts in 30 minutes, the voice said with condescending monotone.

Don’t you have a dead cat soul to reap? Warren retorts with a snicker.

Isn’t there a hobo gang war that you should be keeping domain over? the other voice responds with a hint of amusement.

Warren quickly picks up a steak knife from his dresser and throws it at the door. The knife sails end over end before sinking into the door with a thud.

I’ll be downstairs, the voice says with its regular monotone.

The sound of footsteps on carpets sounds and fades as the owner of the voice leaves the hallway. With a huff of annoyance, Warren stomps back into the bathroom and slams the door.

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Chapter 2

School, Starts, and Stares

Oh no, muttered Priscilla as she her limousine rolled up in front of her new school.

Immediately, all eyes fell on her escort and she knew the whispers had already begun. She hadn’t even pulled the door handle yet and her reputation was already skyrocketing or plummeting maybe, great. She took a deep breath and began to gather her belongings. She stuffed her book into her backpack, but then after a quick series of thoughts, immediately took it back out. If she was going to play the outcast, at least she could read through the awkwardness. She then gave herself a once-over to make sure she wasn’t dressed sloppily. She was wearing a pair of designer, black skinny-jeans that enhanced her already slim legs and slightly-developing hips, a simple pink slim-t-shirt that she hoped enhanced her chest somewhat, and a pair of spotless, pink converse. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to meet the eyes of her kind, old maid.

The old woman had the appearance of a kind grandmother with salt-and-pepper curly hair cropped short on her head. Laugh lines covered her face, giving the impression that she was constantly smiling slightly and her tanned complexion gave her a slight Latina appearance. She wore a simple, black business suit.

You’ll be fine honey. I’ll leave the door open just in case the boys attack you on site, she teased with her classic grandmotherly smile.

Thank you, Greta, Priscilla responded, happy that the kind woman was still supporting her after all of these years.

Feeling her confidence boosted somewhat, Priscilla smiled back and opened the door, before quickly stepping out to face the stares. Eyes grew wide and breaths were held as she displayed herself to the public. Then, suddenly, nearly instantaneously, the whispers died down, sighs of relief were heard, and everyone returned to what they were doing, as if she never showed up.

Priscilla, now thoroughly confused, took it as a blessing and began to walk up the steps leading to the patio when she heard the screech of brakes behind her. Freezing in place, Priscilla turned halfway to see a black limousine parked on the curb just were her escort had dropped her off.

Priscilla was about to walk back and ask why her driver had returned when the door was thrust open angrily and a boy stepped from the car. Priscilla noted that the crowd of students had grown silent and the whispers had started again. The boy towered over her. A scowl marred his extremely handsome face and he gave her a slight once-over before growling and turning back to the limousine. He then began spouting so many curses at who or whatever was inside that Priscilla felt as if her ears would burn from the vulgarity.

You emo-bastard! I can’t even ride in the same car without wanting to shove my foot in your ass! the Adonis yelled angrily

Suddenly, another boy stepped from the car. Priscilla was beginning to feel like an ant compared to these giants. This boy was just as handsome as the other. His sharp jaw line gave him a mature appearance as well as his regal posture. His dark, wavy hair covered his eyes slightly, giving the impression that he was always staring intently at whatever was in front of him. His dark eyes appeared completely black like a black hole that sucked up all the light around him. The most alarming thing about him was his skin. It was pale, deathly pale.

The still seething redheaded boy was wearing a simple black t-shirt that hugged his torso, showing his lean physique, straight-legged, dark-blue jeans, and black basketball shoes. He looked like your classic jock on a regular day. The raven-haired boy was wearing all black. He wore a black jacket over a black shirt over black-skinny jeans down to his black high-top shoes.

He is pretty emo, thought Priscilla.

Could you please keep it down? the raven-haired boy asked with a chastising tone of voice. He sounded like a mother scolding a naughty child. Besides, I have a name although you still refuse to call me by it.

I know it’s Dmitry, but emo-asshole fits you so much better, Warren snapped back childishly.

Honestly, how you have survived this long with such a brash personality astounds me Warren, Dmitry responded with a shake of his head.

It’s because I’m awesome. Don’t forget it, proclaimed Warren.

Would you two stop arguing? asked another voice. The question was laced with irritation.

The owner of the voice slid out of the car and Priscilla felt dwarfed once again. This boy was the exact opposite of Dmitry. He had a glow about him and looked as if he belonged on a magazine cover. His blonde hair was nearly white, his complexion was pale (although not as pale as Dmitry), and his eyes where bright blue. His hair was just as wavy as Dmitry’s yet his bangs where neatly trimmed. He wore a white t-shirt, khaki pants, and white tennis shoes.

The two of you are like children, the boy huffed before stalking past the two of them in a huff. He gave a smile and a nod as he passed Priscilla, causing her to blush slightly. He was quite handsome.

Suddenly a dry cough made Priscilla turn her head back to the limousine. The last figure to step out was a shorter boy, making Priscilla feel slightly better about her short stature. He had straight, black hair that nearly covered his entire face, a sickly complexion, and bright-green eyes. He wore a long-sleeved, green shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers.

He began a violent coughing fit that made Priscilla jump. Warren responded by slapping a hand over the boy’s back, making him stumble forward slightly.

You okay Devin? Warren asked.

The boy named Devin turned to give Warren a slight nod before walking forward after Connor. Priscilla was sure to move out of his way. He looked as if he had the flu.

Warren slammed the door to the limousine and it sped off, as if happy it had gotten the bickering brothers out of its belly. Warren then began to march towards the school. Even the way he walked was dripping with confidence. Dmitry followed after him, silent and seemingly brooding. Warren locked eyes with Priscilla on the way past and gave a slight smirk. Pretty face, but no tits or ass, he said as he walked by, shocking Priscilla to no end.

How dare he make such a blatant comment about her when he had just met her. Priscilla’s jaw dropped and she could do nothing but stare after the boy in shock at what she just heard.

Please forgive my brother, Dmitry said as he passed by, He has no manners at all when it comes to addressing a lady.

Priscilla stood frozen as they continued up the steps.

What the hell just happened? she muttered.

Chapter 3

Sophia, Sluts, and Saviors.

Priscilla sat alone at a table on the patio, observing the school. It was huge and expensive looking with numerous floors, patios made of glass, a large stadium behind it, a tennis court, fitness gym, indoor and outdoor basketball courts, a separate soccer field, a track, and just about everything. Of course her parents would send her here. Their little princess only deserves the best. In other words, they wanted to send her to a fancy school to show off their prowess and money.

Priscilla shifted her attention back to her book, but her reading was cut off by a loud commotion. It seems that two girls were fist-fighting and on the first day of school. A crowd had gathered so Priscilla couldn’t make out what all was happening, but she could hear the shouts of He’s mine! and Back off skank!. Before she had time to process the comments the fight was broken up by none other than Warren himself, who had both girls tucked under his arms as if they weighed nothing. He had a wide grin on his face.

Hey now ladies, as much as I love a good cat fight, I’m gonna need you two to calm down. What both of you had from me is the textbook definition of a fling. You two are smoking hot and fun to be around, but I can’t get tied down so soon, he said before setting both girls down on the ground.

But Warren, what about the things you said to me at my party? one whined to him.

Babe, men say a lot of things when they’re piss-drunk, he snickered in reply.

Then what about what you said to me on the beach? the other asked angrily.

I was getting laid. If you would have listened to half the things I said when you were riding me like a rodeo star, you would have realized that half of it didn’t even make sense, Warren retorted.

Both girls looked shocked and extremely hurt at his words and picked themselves up before running off, tears apparent in their eyes. Warren merely shrugged and returned to the table where his brothers sat. Before he could take his seat, Connor and Dmitry began chewing him out.

Priscilla meanwhile, was seething with anger and rage. How could he do that to those girls. Using them as if they were tools. They had a right to have feelings. Before she could register what was going on Priscilla found herself marching towards the table where the four brothers sat. Before they could all take notice of her she slapped Warren as hard as she could on his cheek.

She had expected him to fly off the bench, holding his face in shock. What she didn’t expect was for her hand to bloom in pain and for him to gaze up at her with an amused smirk on his face.

You know, began Warren, I like it when a girl’s rough.

Before she could register what was happening, Warren had suddenly stood and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body against his.

I had counted you out. I mean, I like my girls with bigger… assets. But you babe, you’ve got spunk and I like that, Warren breathed seductively.

Priscilla should be turned off or completely disgusted that such a pig was touching her in such an intimate manner, but for some reason, she stared into his red eyes and couldn’t move before he pecked her on the lips with his own.

It was just an innocent peck, but a fire burst throughout her face and she lit up like a Christmas tree on the inside and out. After he released her, she could barely stand. She was caught in a daze. Sure, she thought he was really attractive, but the fact that he was a jerk should have overridden that, right? Still caught in daze Priscilla turned and silently went back to her table, aware of all the stares and whispers as she sat down.

Priscilla was humiliated. She had planned to make a statement and take a stand for those two girls but she ended up being… . seduced by that jerk. She should have taken his extremely good looks into account before she planned on being Super-Woman. And after her reaction to that kiss, she would probably be marked as a slut by the entire populace at school, just perfect.

Suddenly, she felt the bench shake as someone dropped their weight onto it and she looked up abruptly to come face to face with a blonde haired girl. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun with chopsticks keeping it together. Her ocean blue eyes seemed friendly and open. Priscilla noticed with a slight pang of jealously that her breasts were fairly large at a C-cup at least. Her complexion was the perfect shade of cream. She wore a blue tank top that matched her eyes with white Capri pants that enhanced her already impressive hips. On her feet she wore a simple pair of white flip-flops.

I saw what you did, the girl stated, That was really noble of you an all. I’m actually surprised that anyone here has the balls to speak to Warren, let alone slap him in the face. He’s sort of the alpha male around here.

Priscilla blushed slightly at the praise. The girl was being nice by not acknowledging the fact that her nobility was trampled in the face of Warren’s… sexiness. Priscilla managed a half-hearted smile at the girl despite her now ruined mood.

Hey now don’t feel so down. You must be new here or else you would know that anyone who has guts enough to stand up to Warren, gets instant respect. You should have boys fighting for dates at your locker, informed the girl.

That made Priscilla feel a bit better. Knowing that her social life wasn’t completely torn to shreds gave her some hope of recovering from the embarrassing blow Warren had dealt her.

By the way, my name’s Sophia Emmanuel, she girl chirped, holding out her hand.

Priscilla Wright, Priscilla responded, shaking her hand.

I got the feeling that this year is going to be fun with you around, teased Sophia.

Priscilla managed a laugh at that making Sophia laugh with her. It seemed Warren’s little stunt did help Priscilla a bit. At least she had made a friend.

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It was lunch time and Priscilla was ravenous. School lunches were rumored to never be good, but anything was good when anxiety had caused you to forget breakfast. Besides, this was a school for rich kids so the food was slightly above average. Priscilla sat with Sophia in the patio beside the cafeteria enjoying her salad.

It was a nice day, Priscilla noticed. The sky overhead was a beautiful blue, the birds were noticeable but not obnoxious, and the temperature of 79 degrees was perfect. Yes, everything was great, until a body came sliding across her table, knocking her salad onto the concrete tile below.

Priscilla looked in dismay at her now destroyed salad with now covered a young blonde boy sporting a blackening eye and a bruise on his cheek. The boy groaned in pain and Priscilla knelt down to help, suddenly in medical mode, before being thrown aside by a rough hand.

Got something to say you little punk?! yelled a deranged sounding voice.

Priscilla looked up from her new seat on the ground to see what could only be described as a juvenile delinquent towering over the near unconscious boy.

I dare you to say it again! the punk said.

He shook the boy roughly. Priscilla felt the familiar stir of rage in her stomach. She quickly stood and grabbed the assaulter’s arm roughly.

Let him go you jerk! she yelled.

The jerk suddenly turned his glare onto her and let the boy go before shoving her into the concrete table.

You got something to say too bitch?! he yelled while advancing upon her.

Priscilla now realized what she had gotten herself into and began backing up. She looked to Sophia for help only to find Sophia gone. So much for that friend, she thought in panic. She quickly swiveled around the table to put some distance between her and the thug. Smirking, he merely jumped over the table and was face to face with Priscilla. He drew his fist back to hit her. Priscilla closed her eyes and screamed as she was sure the impact was going to come.

When she felt nothing, Priscilla opened her eyes to see the thug with his back to her. The fist that was meant for her was now being crushed in Warren’s palm. Sophia stood at the entrance to the cafeteria, looking on intently. Priscilla breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking for me asshole? Warren asked the thug with a smirk on his face.

You son of a bitch! the thug yelled out, Who do you think you are taking my girl like that?

So this is all about another girl? I swear these chicks are wearing me out. Maybe I should take a break from them, Warren sighed.

The assaulter was shaking in rage. It was running off of his shoulder in rivulets. Warren, on the other hand remained calm and appeared slightly bored. The thug drew back his other fist to strike, but Warren struck faster with a ferocious head butt, making the now-not-so-scary thug stumble backwards. Warren quickly grabbed the thug by the collar and began striking him with jab after jab, until blood began to pour from his nose. Priscilla was appalled and a bit disgusted at the brutality of Warren’s attacks. He seemed to enjoy inflicting so much pain on another person. The entire time Warren beat the boy, Priscilla saw a gleam of delight in Warren’s eyes; similar to the look in a child’s eyes on Christmas morning. The fight was visibly being drained from the once tough thug with each of Warren’s strikes. After a quick knee to the gut, Warren threw the thug ungracefully onto the ground to moan in pain. After wiping his hands off on the now groaning boy’s shirt, Warren turned to Priscilla with a smirk on his face.

Always playing the hero aren’t you? he teased.

Priscilla had to calm her racing heart before she could answer. The sight of the bloody boy on the ground made her sick to her stomach. She also began to feel something other than annoyance towards Warren: fear.

Well someone had to stop him, she answered back shakily, not sure if she was shaken because of the thug’s attack or because of Warren’s rescue.

Sorry about that. I didn’t think the idiot would follow me to school. Apparently his girl liked me more than she liked him, but well who could blame her. Just wish I could remember which one she was, Warren rambled, scratching his chin in thought.

Priscilla felt a flicker of annoyance but swallowed it down.

Thank you, for helping me that is, she managed to get out.

No problem babe. You’re lucky your friend here got to me in time or you’d be sporting more black than pink right now, Warren responded with amusement.

Priscilla once again glanced at Sophia, before noticing the security guards rush through with nightsticks drawn. Warren lazily held up his hands in defense.

Hey now, I can’t get into any trouble for beating his ass. He doesn’t even go to this school, Warren said so leisurely that it could have been compared to a yawn.

The security guards were obviously confused on what to do. They glanced back and forth between Warren and the bloody boy on the ground. After giving each other a confirming look and a few nods, they put their weapons away and dragged the boy’s body off the patio.

By this time a crowd had already formed around the glass door, with people whispering. Priscilla could practically smell the gossip forming within the group. She glanced back at Warren’s now bored expression.

That’s a weird look you’re giving me. I would be more thankful to someone who saved me, he snickered, before turning swiftly and walking back through the glass doors.

The crowd parted for him in a hurry, as if he would lash out and attack the nearest bystander. Priscilla looked after him with mixed emotions. He saved her. That was true, but he did so in such a violent way that caused Priscilla to fear him slightly. No one should look that happy while beating someone else to a pulp. She was shaken from her stupor by the ringing of the bell, signaling the end of lunch. She turned back towards the table to see Sophia waiting on her with a slight awkward smile on her face.

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Chapter 4

Pasts, Parties, and Pests

Priscilla and Sophia sat next to one another in the chemistry lab just after the tardy bell rang.

I recognized that guy as soon as he walked into the cafeteria. He used to attend here before it was torn down and remodeled into a private school, Priscilla explained, He and his group always disliked Warren. It escalated when Warren slept with his girlfriend at a party one night. Ever since then, he hated Warren with a passion. Seems like he finally got the guts to challenge him today.

Challenge? What challenge? Warren destroyed that guy, Priscilla scoffed.

She heard Sophia chuckle slightly.

Warren’s always been a fighter, Sophia said with a faraway look in her eyes.

Priscilla studied Sophia’s face for a