Movement No. 19
Yasmeena
Iwant Tempest—more of whatever that just was. I don’t know how long these feelings have been festering inside me, but they’ve become an undeniable truth.
She’s attractive, sure, I’ve thought that from the start, but it’s deeper than that. It’s this chemistry that lingers in the air between us, and the way our bodies move with such expert precision. I don’t necessarily always like Tempest, but I want her in the most primal ways imaginable.
I’m just glad I read her correctly. It’s clear that Tempest has walls up and she’s not willing to let anyone in, which is totally fine by me. But I want to enjoy myself. I think we both deserve a little fun while we attempt to stop the war waging between our peoples.
If we’re going to have to continue pretending to be in love, we can at least drink our fill of each other.
Sitting at the table beside Absinthe and Reina, we wait for Gemma and Draven to return. Gone is my shower orgasm-haze, my mind now stuck in an endless loop of political agreements and battles brewing.
“You confirmed Roxanne’s death was performed by a member of Pack Caliban—did we ever learn who?” Reina asks from across from me.
“Negative. Alpha Ferdinand states it was an unsanctioned kill, but he would not give me or any of the felion details about the member. He claims it was handled in-house,” I say, and she nods.
“Do you think they actually killed him?” Absinthe asks, a wild gleam in her eyes.
I shake my head. “Doubt it.”
“They likely exiled him. Anyone you suspect?” Reina cocks her head. “Kevin, maybe?”
“No, I’ve seen him around. One eyewitness reported copper hair, so I’m guessing Phillipe. He hasn’t shown his face in a while.” I shrug and let out a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t want to avenge her?” Reina asks in earnest.
“No, I want this fucking war to end.”
Gemma and Draven storm into the room, sweaty and looking a mess.
Gemma gives us a polite smile before taking her seat next to me. “Sorry! We were busy…”
“Busy fucking?” Reina snorts out a laugh.
“Busy parenting, actually,” Draven retorts.
“Is he going to see you two as parents or guardians?” Absinthe asks.
Gemma shrugs. Purple rings line her big brown eyes. “I don’t know. Right now he wants to call us Mom and Dad, but if that changes, I’ll respect it.”
Draven cracks his knuckles. “We will honor Nico’s wishes. Regardless, we should get started. There have been questionable activities happening in the North. More specifically, large anonymous gatherings on Gula.”
“Legion?” Reina asks.
Gemma nods. “We believe so, though they’re operating under a different name.”
When this campaign for peace between the felion and lupion began, I was tasked with switching my primary focus from intercontinental affairs to the turf war. Between practicing my new act with Tempest and performing community outreach, I don’t have time to go on missions outside Haeresis.
Gemma and Draven have been picking up the slack, but now with Nico in the picture, I’m afraid we’re being stretched a bit thin. I miss getting away from the carnival, but I’m also equally grateful for the break it’s sort of given me, especially with the death of Roxanne.
I needed time to process and grieve.
“Have you spoken to Phaelyn about this?” I ask, turning to Draven.
“I intend to. It’s been hard to reach her; she’s working on some issues that have come up on Avaricia. Once she’s back on Luxuria, I will catch her up to speed on this as well as Nico’s wellbeing,” he says, and both corners of my mouth curl up.
The sound of boots stomping against the dirt outside makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, and we all freeze as Tempest enters the tent.
She looks as if she just exited the shower, even though it’s been at least an hour. It’s possible her long, thick hair takes longer to dry, but it doesn’t quite add up.
“Hi. My apologies for interrupting. Can I speak to you?” she asks, and my heart beats like a thunderous applause. “In private.”
“Anything you need to say to Yasmeena, you can say in front of us,” Reina cuts in, and I flash her a look.
“Actually, maybe not anything.” The words escape my lips before I can reel them back in, and my muscles tense up, my cheeks heating.
“I told you,” Absinthe says, sticking her tongue out at Gemma.
“Shut up,” Gemma says, and they both laugh.
“Did you two place bets on whether or not Yasmeena would fornicate with her arranged fiancé?” Draven asks, deadpan.
Absinthe and Gemma both gulp, looking down in shame, and I actually wish to bury myself alive.
He scoffs. “I cannot believe I wasn’t included in this.
Gemma, my butterfly, I’m disappointed in you. ”
“Can you three shut the fuck up?” Tempest says, rage coating her words, and everyone visibly stiffens. “I’m here about Baelor.”
Draven pinches the bridge of his nose, and Gemma sighs heavily. Reina and I look like we’re hanging off the edge of our seats, but Absinthe is more disinterested.
“Please, have a seat,” Draven says, and Tempest does. “What happened?”
“Am I still being watched?” she asks, her face much more vulnerable than I’m used to, and it pains me a little.
Draven clears his throat. “Define watched. Do I fully trust you? No, absolutely not. But am I assigning carnies to babysit you anymore? No, that would be a waste of labor.”
“Baelor was outside the shower when I got out and said that he was doing everyone a favor by watching me,” she explains. “Except everything was dripping with gross innuendos.”
Draven sighs. “My apologies. That’s not acceptable.”
Tempest stiffens, her head cocking to the side as her eyes widen. “You’re not surprised?”
Reina lets out a small laugh. “Please.”
Gemma crosses her arms, discomfort riddling her features. The air is tense and heavy, like morning fog before it’s lifted.
Draven’s eyes hold some heat in them, and he grinds his teeth. “Unfortunately, no.”
I hold my tongue, my mind a careful balancing act between being loyal to my best friend, and being reasonable. Baelor is not a good person. There are a million signs pointing to this obvious statement, but a small fragment of my heart splinters because he’s Lilian’s husband.
I desperately want this to all be untrue. For it to be a simple misunderstanding, but I know in my gut it is not.
“If you all know he’s some sick, perverted fuck, why is he allowed to be here?” Tempest asks, her voice a plea.
“Because it’s not that simple,” I say, and everyone’s heads turn to me. “Hel has very few laws, same as Haeresis, but individual communities do. Could a member of your pack do this?”
Tempest shakes her head. “No. My Alpha would never allow that.”
“Could your Alpha prey on individuals like this, though?”
She stills. “I mean, theoretically, but he would never.”
“But he could,” Absinthe points out. “Sometimes we don’t agree with the rules our community has in place.”
“You’re not allowed to kill him?” Tempest asks, standing up and pacing the tent. She looks confused and stressed, and I want to comfort her, but now is not the time for that.
“Becoming a member of Hel’s Carnival, you agree to not cause death or bodily harm to other members of the carnival, lest you risk being exiled,” Draven begins to explain. “We have killed for this rule, and we will do it again.”
“If I kill him, you’ll kill me?” she asks.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he clarifies.
Tempest looks mad, and I can’t say I blame her. “So he’s just allowed to do whatever he wants with no consequences?”
“You think this doesn’t upset me? He fucks my sister on stage and then goes out and fucks other people without her knowledge.
You think that doesn’t eat me up inside?
Every day I wonder if I should just come clean and tell her, but I know it would destroy everything,” he says, and I swear there might be tears in Draven’s eyes.
I didn’t know that, and I don’t think Lilian does either. I just thought Baelor made creepy jokes, maybe indulged a little too much while flirting with the audience, but I wasn’t aware he was cheating. It hits me like the strike of a hammer.
“You’re not the only one. He was weird to me a few years back. Draven set him straight, and Baelor apologized, but it was not a great moment,” Gemma shares.
“And he’s left you alone since?” Tempest runs her fingers through her silvery-white hair.
Gemma nods, and a somber silence covers us like a blanket of snow.
“Don’t you think Lilian deserves to know the truth?” I say, and Draven looks up at me. His eyes are broken and hollow, and I can tell I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.
“Of course she does, but then what?” his tone as sour as unripe fruit.
“She leaves him?” I shrug.
“And then is stuck working with her ex-husband, watching as he preys on younger women,” Reina cuts in.
“She could leave,” I suggest, and everyone shakes their head, including me. We all know that Lilian would rather do anything than go back home.
“She could kill him,” Tempest says, but Lilian isn’t strong enough for that.
Physically, Baelor could overpower her, but emotionally…
she couldn’t do it emotionally, either. She genuinely loves that man.
Even if he’s awful. Even if she knows deep down that he’s unfaithful.
She won’t let it come to light. Not now, maybe not ever.
Because if she admits it out loud, that makes it true, and she’d rather live in denial.
And I kind of don’t blame her. Would I want to give up years of my life, my job, and my marriage? Or would I rather pretend I don’t see it, and keep my eyes closed?
It’s hard to judge someone when you have never been in their position.
“She’s quite literally trauma-bonded to him,” Draven says. “To the point where she no longer sees the coercion or abuse.”
Long ago, long before any of us in this room were a part of Hel’s Carnival, there was a bit of a reckoning.
Nobody’s ever told me the details, but nearly every member of the carnival was either killed or exiled, and that’s when these new rules came about.
We protect our own, but we never considered that protecting one of our own might mean hurting another.
Tempest takes a seat beside me, her pink, rage-flushed face now replaced with concern.
“Have you guys not considered amending the rules?” Tempest asks, and I’ve been wondering the same.
There’s a part of me that’s hurt I wasn’t included in these conversations about Lilian and Baelor, that I haven’t been privy to this knowledge, but from the expression on Absinthe’s face, she wasn’t either. Maybe they’ve kept this from us because they knew we were too close to the source.
Me, being best friends with Lilian, and Absinthe being closer to Baelor.
“We have, but we’re afraid if we remove him from the carnival, he’ll join The Legion and reveal some of our secrets. Ones that could get many of us killed. It’s not a risk we can afford at this time,” Draven says, his word final.
“What if he’s breaking a law?” I say as the thought enters my brain. “What if he hurts children or the elderly, or sexually assaults someone?”
“It felt like that’s what he would have done to me, if I hadn’t fought back,” Tempest confesses, and it’s like the gears in everyone’s heads started moving in tandem.
“That would definitely qualify.” Reina is one of the angriest people I know, but she’s also fiercely loyal.
Lilian might be my best friend, but she’s a sister to Draven, Reina, Absinthe, and Taryn.
They will do whatever they can to protect her—to protect me, too.
I hope Tempest sees this and understands why we say we’re all a family.
We might even be a better family than her so-called pack.
“I can follow him around, but I’ve gotta balance it with caring for Nico.” Gemma gives Tempest a small smile.
“With Baelor’s history toward you, I actually think I should do this,” Absinthe says, and we all take a collective breath. “I know Baelor and I sometimes hang out, but I am loyal to Lilian and the rest of you first. I want to see what he’s been doing with my own eyes.”
Draven nods. “I agree. This is the safest option. Absinthe, please focus your efforts on this. Gemma, continue your care for Nico. Yasmeena will be handling the felion and lupion, and Reina—”
“I’ll do everything else,” Reina interrupts.
Draven was once a one-person show. He was The Spy and The Executioner, but now he’s just The Hand.
His other roles were divided between us.
It was rigid at first. All kills were completed by Reina and Absinthe, all intelligence work performed by Gemma and me, but now we work less as individuals, and more as a collective unit.
This isn’t about ego. It’s about who has the skills and the time to do it—it’s about who is most fit for the task. We’re able to push aside our differences, our grievances, and sometimes even our beliefs to accomplish things for Luc.
We are The Devil’s Masquerade, and nothing will stop us. Not even love.