Chapter Two
Hollen
Hollen hummed the song under his breath, skipping over the next curb as the beat grew thick. He landed in a puddle of steeped leaves, the muddy liquid splashing up the sides of his shoe and wicking into his sock.
Wrinkling his nose as the cold sank through the layers into his foot covering, he glanced across the street, eyeing up each sign.
Flower shop. Boutique. Dress shop. For a lively town, it was quiet for a weeknight, with rain pounding on the sidewalk and a few brave souls quickly retreating from the storm to their cars. They left him almost alone amongst the buildings, soaked to the bone and shivering. Almost.
“What about that one?” asked Hollen, adjusting his earpiece as water soaked through his hood and beneath. He glanced over his shoulder as a man walked by with his dog, the umbrella above his head doing little to protect the soaked pooch. The dog shook its head as it passed, fresh droplets splattering against Hollen’s leg.
“ No .”
Hollen looked back to the building, the open sign neon against the darkness. There was a smaller red-and-white sign next to it that was probably a help-wanted ad, but he couldn’t tell from the distance. For all he knew, they were looking for a dishwasher.
He glanced at his hands, his knuckles raw despite the lotion he’d just applied. His skin was usually tanned and perfectly soft, but one round in hot water and cheap detergent and the ruin seemed almost irreparable.
“Okay, maybe not.” He rocked on his toes, jumping back on the curb to get a few extra inches that he’d never gained naturally. “There’s a pizza place down the road. I bet they’re hiring.”
“ I’m not going home smelling like pizza every night .” The answer washed over him, and he nodded. Pizza was fantastic, with the soft crust and gooey sauce that practically oozed spices, but there were other things in the world he’d rather smell like most days.
Hollen grabbed at the earpiece as it made a buzzing sound, a small shock zapping his ear. It probably wasn’t supposed to get damp, and it was completely soaked, the music cutting out.
After shoving it deep into his pocket, he started down the street, ducking his head. With just the rain, it was harder to focus, the overwhelming pattering sounding all around him. Puddles were filling fast on the flat concrete, his footsteps splattering in each one as he looked right then left.
“It would pay the rent,” said Hollen, shoving his hands into his pockets and seeking any smidge of warmth. “And I bet they have wings. I know you love chicken wings—admit it.”
He felt more than heard the grumble roll over him, a tingle wiggling against the base of his skull and along his chest that he’d become intimately familiar with over the last few months.
“ No .”
Hollen let out a huff, tucking himself against the next building and putting his back to the brick. The sidewalk dipped away from the building, which gave him a better view of the potential workplaces. The man and his dog had disappeared, his reflection the only one in the windows for as far as he could see.
“Don’t be so picky, George,” said Hollen, playing with the earpiece in this pocket. He could peel the plastic nearly off without it breaking before he let it snap into place again. He wasn’t sure why he kept charging the thing when he rarely used it.
“ I liked the bakery ,” said George.
Ah. Hollen took in a deep breath of cold dampness with a hint of stale bread that still clung to his clothes. Walking into that place had been like stepping on his own slice of heaven every morning. The downside to being surrounded by all those carbs was that he’d put on ten pounds in two weeks. But he wasn’t destined for a job like that.
“I can’t go back.” Hollen kicked a stone on the sidewalk, watching it roll away. The owner had been nice about letting him go, but it was hard to hold down a job when everyone thought he was bat-shit crazy. “He caught me talking to you—multiple times.”
George huffed, something ghosting over Hollen’s hand. Sometimes George was like that—projecting himself beyond the little voice in Hollen’s head so he could touch with the barest of sensations.
Hollen thought it was comforting, while George always insisted that he was testing the waters to plan his eventual escape from his host. George was funny like that—reassuring Hollen when he screwed up, then a moment later monologuing about his eventual freedom.
“Don’t feel bad,” said Hollen, ducking his head. Touching his hand where it was tingling, his fingers met cool flesh that was exactly the same as anywhere else on his chilled body. “It’s hard not to talk to me when I’m such great company.”
Hollen waited a moment, but there was no response, George’s presence retreating in his mind to nothing more than a wisp of thought. Letting out a sigh of relief, he pushed himself away from the wall.
It was hard enough to find a job in this economy, but doing it while he was possessed by a demon was so much worse. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad if George wasn’t so vocal about his opinion regarding everything and everyone around them. He was the ‘negative Nancy’ in Hollen’s sunshine day—the half-empty glass of his free drink from a handsome man at the bar—the single thorn on a beautiful rose.
“Love you too, George,” said Hollen, pressing out into the rain and quirking his lips as he skipped a few steps. George had also saved his life more than a dozen times since Hollen had stopped to pet a cat in an alley and had ended up with a nasty infection and a passenger in his thoughts that he couldn’t get rid of.
A few shops were closing down, flicking their lights off minutes before the posted time on their signs and leaving the sparse lamps to be the brightest things on the block. Even the cars started to disappear as he turned off the main street.
He’d never been down this particular road, but the pavement was worn, the curbs sagging and pitted, leaving pools of water along the path. It seemed almost forgotten, from the drooping lamp to the faded lines on the street that had once marked where someone could park for all of thirty minutes before getting a ticket.
He almost turned back, but the wind pushed him on, pressing through his hoodie and licking at his sides. Behind him was the call of safety, but it was an area he had paced many times before, drifting through one week, then the next.
Hollen glanced over his shoulder before pulling his hood tighter. The wind was picking up, and there were only a few parked cars on the broken road. It was a spot where potholes had been left to thrive, small tufts of grass and brave weeds beginning to poke through the cracks. Some of the shops were boarded up, a faded Clearance sign posted in one front window.
Maybe I should go back? He clenched his hands in his pockets, fighting the chill.
The only problem was that he’d been up and down the bustling main street more times than he could count. He’d either worked at the place before, they weren’t hiring, or George put up a fuss when he caught a sight or smell he didn’t care for.
A few leaves scuttled across his path, somehow floating over the sodden surface without becoming stuck. They made it to one of the shops, swirling in the entryway before finally succumbing to the dampness of a puddle. He paused, glancing at the sign overhead that was illuminated against the darkness of the storm.
The window of the shop was trimmed with white lace, a glowing light revealing the display of a towering tray of the smallest sandwiches he’d ever seen. Next to that on a silver platter were two fancy teacups rimmed with gold and etched with purple flowers. It was something he would expect to see in an estate sale or at his best friend Adair’s grandmother’s house, not on a lonely street that was otherwise deserted.
The sign itself was tinted pink with large swirling letters that had a giggle pushing through his lips. A Sip of Sin. Perhaps it wasn’t quite the place for an innocent grandmother with her Old Country Rose Royal Doulton tea set.
A teahouse? He looked up and down the street, trying to pick out a shadow or a sign of anyone else moving his way. One car pulled onto the street, only to take a wide U-turn before heading back to civilization.
He could almost smell the lacy curtains, with the promise of warmth and the scent of the fresh bread that made up the tiny snacks settled on the tray. The teacups were filled to just below the brim with a clear, amber liquid, a few dregs visible beneath the surface. He could almost feel the steam rising from them, the liquid capable of heating every bit of his body all the way down to his soaking-wet toes.
There was no help wanted sign posted on the door, but experience had shown him that sometimes that just meant a revolving door of staff going through and an overlording boss who watched you over the brim of his computer screen. If anything, the dishes looked fancy enough that they probably drew a nicer crowd that would reach a little deeper when tipping instead of scoping out the best deal on the menu.
No harm in trying. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the door, the heaviness surprising him. He stepped inside, relishing the wave of warmth as he let the door close behind him with a solid thud.
The inside was the complete opposite of what he’d expected, pinks and promises merging into sultry desire. Rose had been replaced with rouge, a vast room of high tables scattered about the single bustling room. Each of those tables was busy, the room occupied nearly to the brim.
There were towering silver platters, and teapots with multitudes of gold-rimmed cups perched on matching saucers. With soft violins seeping into the room and a few muffled laughs, the place seemed to be plucked from the midst of a five-star hotel.
Hollen glanced down at his soaked hoodie, shifting to cover the wet footprint he’d left on the entrance mat. His pants were darker than they should have been, and his shoes made a squishing noise with every movement.
A waiter dressed all in white slipped between the tables, serving a fresh tray of the tiny sandwiches. No one looked his way.
The patrons themselves were a mixed bunch, from women in dresses or jeans to men in suits or slacks. One man was dressed from head to toe in a green material that appeared to be velvet, an actual top hat on the table next to the kettle, and a cane leaning against his chair.
“May I help you?”
Hollen froze, tilting his head to peer at the man greeting him. He could have sworn he hadn’t been there a moment before, but his presence filled the entire small entryway. He was towering man, his black hair pulled into a long ponytail and blue eyes so cold that they sent a shiver along Hollen’s spine. From the many rings on his fingers and the way his suit fit him perfectly, he reeked of money and class.
“I’m—um.” Hollen ducked his head. He’d attempted to work at a country club once, but after avoiding the patrons for the majority of his shift because of the sheer intimidation of their wallets, he’d never returned.
But he was desperate—more than that. A few more poor choices or accidental words and they would be on the street. “I’m looking for a job. Are you hiring?”
Silence hung in the air, thick and prodded only by the tinkling of glasses and the gentle noises from beyond the room that must’ve been from the kitchen. When Hollen looked up, he saw the narrowed eyes and the smirk at the edge of the man’s lips, the withering glance giving everything away.
Hollen flushed, his hands deep in his pockets. A drop of water was crawling its way down his neck, slipping between his shoulders along the only place where his shirt wasn’t plastered to him.
The man raised one brow, letting out a huff. “Why should I hire someone who disturbs the peace of my establishment with wet clothes and an absurd idea? That blush won’t fool me.”
Hollen snapped his eyes up, amping his glare to its full strength. Who does he think he is? I’m adorable when I blush. He’d dealt with assholes before, but three seconds in and this guy was already unreal.
“I know how to wait tables and do dishes,” said Hollen, wincing as his rough knuckles snagged on the fabric of his pocket. “I can cook or clean—whatever you need, and I have a lot of experience doing bank deposits or counting the till.”
Hollen balled his hands into fists. As much of an asshole as the guy was, he was blatantly attractive, with broad shoulders and sculpted features. There was no telling how fit he was beneath his clothes, but they suited him, accentuating almost every part. Why are all the hot ones either assholes or straight?
“ What are you doing here ?” George’s voice in his skull was so loud and sudden that Hollen flinched, squinting one eye as a headache instantly pounded at his temples. “ Get out of here now.”
It was lucky that no one would hear a hint of George’s protests unless Hollen answered himself.
Two against one? Hollen let out a huff. “Let me be completely honest. I’m not going anywhere until you give me a job.” He straightened himself to his full unimpressive height, still having to crane his neck to hold the man’s gaze. There was no way he was going to be the one to look away first.
The man had the audacity to look a bit impressed, curving his eyebrow that much higher.
George grumbled, but Hollen resisted the urge to tell him off, locking his knees so he didn’t tremble under the boss’ direct gaze.
The man flicked his tied hair over his shoulder before crossing his arms. “There is nothing you can say that will convince me to hire you. You aren’t the type I’m looking for.”
Type? Anger prickled over his skin, and Hollen had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the barrage of insults to himself. “I told you I’m not leaving.”
Hollen didn’t even want to work for this guy, but he’d never been so disrespected in his life. The country club had been a testosterone-soaked place for rich assholes to flaunt their money, but all this place had was miniature sandwiches and tea.
“ You’re going to get yourself killed ,” said George, his voice reverberating in Hollen’s skull. It was loud enough that his headache flared and enough to draw all Hollen’s attention. “ Just tell him Erie sent you .”
“What?” mumbled Hollen, ducking his head to try to muffle the sound. George wasn’t usually so insistent or forceful, and he’d never heard of anyone named Erie in his life.
“ Do it ,” said George. “ If you want to get out of this alive, just do it .”
The man was still staring at him with that same unimpressed look when he glanced back up. He tapped his fingers against his leg before waving his hand dismissively.
“Erie sent me,” said Hollen, straightening his spine at the lie. As strange as George was most days, he’d never led him astray. “He said you’d have a job for me.”
The man paused halfway through turning away, pinching his eyebrows together. He dragged his gaze along Hollen’s body once more, pausing just below his face. Hollen had the strangest urge to cover his neck as his skin prickled, his heart rate picking up.
A few others had started to notice them, the man in green sending an interested look their way as he sipped at his tea. When his eyes sparkled, Hollen’s flush deepened.
“How do you know my son?” asked the man. With two steps he had Hollen crowded against the door. The knob out of reach and his escape hindered, Hollen pressed his back against the smooth wood, the designs aching against his skin as he avoided being touched. His heart beat faster, panic curling in his gut.
“ Tell him you met him in the mountains ,” said George, his voice strained within Hollen’s mind. He was probably exhausted from saying so much when he’d already been so chatty earlier. Sometimes a single sentence left George quiet for days.
“I met him in the mountains,” said Hollen, dragging his teeth over his lip at the sour taste the lie left. “We became friends, and he told me about you and this place. He knew I needed a job, and he said you wouldn’t turn me away.”
When did I become such a good liar? On the inside he was trembling, his gut molten but his hands shaking. His cheeks were hot, his lip sore from his incessant biting. Adair would be so proud of him.
“If you know my son so well, then you must know my name, at least,” said the man, reaching into his pocket and sliding something from within. He stared at the black watch that was dangling from a silver chain, the blood red hands seemingly frozen in time. Hollen had never seen anything like it.
“ Munro ,” said George, his voice barely a whisper now. He was almost gone, his presence retreating until Hollen could barely grasp him. It was similar to having something itchy stuck between his teeth, only he couldn’t scratch at the spot on his brain with a toothpick.
“Munro,” said Hollen, fiddling with a sharp hangnail with his hands still deep in his pockets. “But to be honest, he didn’t talk about you much.”
The couple at the nearest table looked their way, one of them taking a sip of their tea with their eyes trained on Munro. Their conversation was hushed, but Hollen could grasp the gist of the unhappy tones. It was probably politics or maybe their displeasure about having a soaking stranger lingering in the entrance.
“That sounds like him,” said Munro, a small smile briefly passing over his lips. It lit up his eyes, some of the coldness seeping away. “I’m surprised he mentioned my name at all. We don’t see eye to eye on a great many things.” Munro glanced at the time once more before sliding his watch back into his pocket. “But if he sent you to me, there must be a reason. Come back tomorrow. We open at eight sharp, and I expect you to be on time.”
“Eight in the morning?” Hollen grinned, butterflies bursting in his belly. He didn’t care how much he was going to make or how long orientation would be. He had a job.
“In the evening,” said Munro, beginning to turn away. “Only the best of the sinners come out after sunset.”
Ugh. Nights. Hollen nodded anyway, reaching his hand out. Munro glanced at it before scoffing and turning away.
Hollen only shrugged, a grin on his face as he escaped back into the storm. A job is a job.