Chapter II #2
But her second thought is that it’s beautiful.
The surface is stamped with little flowers, and there’s a lightness to it, as if the chamber’s hollow.
Catty’s frowning as she lifts her pendant from its box, and Alice didn’t know it could be opened until Catty finds the lid, thin fingers twisting, the contents spilling into her palm.
At first, it looks like dirt. Fine as sand, but twice as dark, and Alice doesn’t understand, even as El tells them for the hundredth time that she’s not trying to replace their mum.
It’s not until she says, “This way, wherever you go, she’ll be with you.”
The hammer falls. Alice realizes what it is.
Catty’s fist slams shut over the grave dirt, her face contorting with disdain.
Catty, who could never take anything without bending it. Who could turn any olive branch into a sharpened stick.
“That’s nae me mum,” she seethes, her accent going thick with hate. “She’s not out there, rotting in the ground.” She knocks her fist against her chest. “She’s not a fucking bit of glaur to wear around my neck.”
Catty flings the golden vial down, flecks of dirt raining in its wake, and storms out of the room, and maybe it’s the swell of grief on El’s face, or maybe it’s the fact her legs, her heart, her bones are tired of being pulled both ways, but for the first time since the first time, Alice watches Catty go.
And doesn’t follow.
She stays, glued to the spot. Swallows around the rocks in her throat as she cradles her own small pendant in her palms, as if the precious thing might fly away.
“Thanks, El,” she says, her voice full of cracks. “It’s really nice.”
It’s not even a lie. Alice loves the little talisman. It’s not her mum, of course it’s not, but she likes the weight. The object, filling the space of memory.
She looks up and meets her stepmum’s eyes, soft and brown and full of pain, and she just wants to make it go away.
“Would you help me put it on?” she asks, holding out the golden chain, and El dashes the tears from her cheeks, and nods.
“Of course,” she says.
Alice lifts her hair out of the way, and El’s touch is light as feathers as she slides the chain around her neck, fastens the clasp, kisses the back of Alice’s head before she pulls away.
Alice touches the pendant again, then tucks it under the hem of her dress, where Catty won’t see, the gold warming there against her heart. And by the time she’s turned toward Eloise, the color’s back in her cheeks.
When they step out of the little room, Alice is shocked to find Catty standing in the hall, next to Dad, his hand on her shoulder and her arms crossed tight.
Alice will never know what he said to get her to stay, whether he threatened or begged, but you can see it, in the wedding photos taken after.
The emptiness in her eyes—
Like a house packed up—
The tenants already gone.
Alice reaches for the necklace as she walks, turns the gold vial between her fingertips, brings it to her lips the way she does sometimes when home feels too far away.
Then she turns the corner, and the second club comes into sight.
At the very least, it isn’t closed.
The entrance is halfway down an alley, the door propped open, spilling darkroom red light onto the road, and the guy outside has more studs than an upholstered chair.
He looks Alice up and down. “You in the right place?”
“No idea,” she says, holding up the phone. “I’m looking for this girl?”
The bouncer doesn’t even give the screen a proper look, just shrugs and says, “Maybe you’ll find her,” nods his head toward the open door, but when Alice starts forward, his arm swings up to block her way.
“You got ID?”
She does, but there’s no point in showing it, since she’s nearly three years shy of twenty-one.
The moment seems to stretch, his expectation warring with her need.
And this is the part where Old Alice would fumble, and fall over herself with sorry s, apologize and walk away, but New Alice is on a mission.
New Alice isn’t going back to campus, not until she has a lead.
She remembers the way her hold settled over Hannah, how it only faltered after Alice herself did, so she meets the bouncer’s gaze, holds it, as if it is a pool, something she could dive right into, as she says, “I’m old enough.”
The world doesn’t shiver with her voice. There’s no ripple, no vibration, no way to know the difference between a simple statement and something stronger. The words hang between them, and all Alice can do is wait and see what happens next.
“Are you?” he asks, but there’s no attitude, no leering look, only the smallest furrow in his brow, as if he’s trying to listen to his mind as well as hers. Alice holds his gaze and nods.
“I am. Now let me in.”
He blinks, then shrugs. “Go on, then,” he says, and Alice wants to preen, to crow, to pump her fist because it worked, it worked, but she’s afraid it will somehow break the spell, and maybe there was no spell, maybe he just didn’t care, but either way, she heads in.
Only she’s halfway through the door when he blocks her way again.
“Wait,” he says, and Alice grits her teeth, expecting trouble, but he’s just holding up a pair of paper wristbands, one red, the other white.
“What’s that?”
“Everyone is either predator,” he says, waving the red one, “or prey,” he adds, then snaps the white one round her wrist without asking which she is, which she wants to be.
Alice rolls her eyes, and goes inside.