23. Tess
TESS
The apartment was quiet for a while, my three captors having disappeared on some sort of business. All Nash had told me was that she’d be back soon, to stay put and behave.
On principle, I wanted to find a way to break her rules.
But instead, I laid out on the couch and worked on setting up my new phone. One of the first things I did was text my boss from the new number.
She’d texted back in a matter of seconds:
Seriously, Tess. You need to come in ASAP.
Nico
Biting my lip, my fingers hovered over the screen. I’d built up a lot of goodwill over the years, taking extra shifts to cover for coworkers. Most of them had kids or college to attend. But me, I had nowhere better to be.
Plus, I loved it. I was itching to get out of this apartment and back to the pole. Despite how stunning it was, its occupants chilled my spine.
And the exercise was well worth it. Besides, most customers were very polite and pleasant. We rarely had an issue.
More than anything, I needed the distraction.
And the tips.
I’d lost out on $20k already, and missed a few shifts. So I was down a few hundred on top of the trauma of watching masked clowns murder five men and then chase me through an abandoned amusement park.
But yeah, the exercise would be nice.
Stressed the fuck out, I couldn’t figure out what to say to Nico. I didn’t know when the Freaks would let me leave the house. So, I’d just have to punt another shift for now.
Instead, I closed my texts and opened TikTok.
Scrolling mindlessly was the only thing I could do to take my mind off of the bizarre circumstances I found myself in. Sure, I’d slept on lots of couches with lots of odd roommates.
But killer clowns weren't on my bingo card.
My finger stopped on a shaky cam video. Some dude followed after a guy in robes. He called out to him. “Messenger! Messenger! Come on, dude! Say hi!”
The robed man just offered a gentle wave before walking up someone’s walkway and knocking on their front door.
My face scrunched up. It looked like Valemont but shaking it off, I scrolled to the next video.
A talking head of a woman with long brown hair started. “Have you heard about the man claiming to be a prophet in the small, upstate New York town of Valemont?”
What the fuck?
She went on. “He’s been going door-to-door, offering the people a new religion to solve all their issues.
” On screen, more videos of the robed guy speaking to Valemont’s residents flashed.
“He’s promising an end to the violence that’s been ravaging the streets of the small town.
And he’s on the lookout for his disciple. ”
Rolling my eyes, I tried to write it off. Just some bullshit conspiracy theory. Some dude looking for attention.
But before I could investigate it further, the front door flung open and Cyrus stormed inside. A cloud of rage followed over her head at all times.
“Hi, Tess.” She growled.
The sound of my name on her lips made me jump, sitting up and looking back at her. “Who—how did you—”
Cyrus was standing over me in a matter of seconds, throwing my wallet down on the table. My ID stared back at me, a puddle of mud splashing out from the leather.
Cyrus leaned down, her pitch-black eyes level with mine. “Should be more careful with your shit. Don’t worry, no one took your maxed out cards. Not like there was any cash in there either. A stripper with no cash. Must be bad at your job.”
“What the fuck is your problem—”
“No need to lie anymore, Ragdoll.”
Standing up, Cyrus towered above me as Nash and Blade pressed into the room. Their faces were stern but something lurked behind it. Fear? Concern?
I snatched the wallet off the table and double checked they hadn’t taken anything. There were a couple bucks inside, all the same credit cards. My Perkatory punch card.
Thank god. Only two away from a free cup.
Of course everything was there. Clearly, these three didn’t need money despite living in the middle of Feverpoint for no apparent reason.
Cyrus refused to move, still staring down at me as I wiped the mud off my wallet and the table.
Meeting her gaze, I wiped the dirt into the couch fabric. “Sorry.”
The energy was fucking weird, Cyrus’ nose scrunching into a snarl.
Sure, I’d lied about my name. Who wouldn’t? It certainly didn’t warrant this kind of a reaction from Cyrus.
I let my eyes move to Nash and Blade, who stood behind the couch now. They looked heavy, but now I could read them better. Apologetic.
Nash’s brows were furrowed ever so slightly, like she was trying to piece together an abstract puzzle. And Blade’s eyes were wide, like she wanted to take me apart and lay out all of my parts on the table. Examine each of them before stitching me back up.
Okay, maybe that’s always how Blade watched me.
But there was something else there now. A manicness, a buzzing energy in each of my captors that I hadn’t noticed before.
It was unnerving. Usually, calm and collected — okay, fine: collected — I couldn’t understand why the room felt like a lit fuse.
Biting my lip, my eyes were drawn back down to my phone where the conspiracy video was muted, playing on a loop.
I pointed at it, uninterested in letting this vibe fester. “Have you guys heard about this dude? He’s calling himself The Messenger. Some religious shit.”
Nash’s forehead scrunched as she came around the couch, peering down at the looped images. She didn’t bother to lift the phone. “Weird.”
Running from the door, Blade hurdled over the back of the couch, slamming down into the cushions next to me and taking a look for herself. “Huh, bizarre.”
Cyrus rolled her eyes, moving toward the kitchen. “He’s a fucking propagandist. No, he’s worse, a fucking loon.” Shaking her head, she grabbed an apple from the counter and bit into it, juice spraying out as she sunk her teeth into the flesh. “Let Dom handle that shit.”
“Dom?” I looked back at my two nice captors.
Blade had rearranged herself on the couch, letting her head dangle toward the ground while putting her feet up. “Dumont. She’s the leader of that biker gang.”
“The ones who killed that Zeus guy?” I pushed, watching Blade’s face flush as the blood rushed to her head.
Nash nodded. “Yeah. Dom’s dad. Fucking pedophile, had to take out the trash.”
“Enough.” Cyrus growled from the kitchen.
Silence fell over the room.
I felt like a lead blanket had covered all of us. Clearing my throat, I met Nash’s faded eyes. “How’d your ‘shipment’ go?”
Before she could answer, Cyrus hissed. “No.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I scoffed, “Is there anything you want to talk about.”
“Nope.” Cyrus stared daggers into me.
Her broad chest lifted as she took in a deep breath, her eyes staying on mine. Until she turned away, heading for the hallway. “Get some rest, Ragdoll. Tomorrow’s Fright Night.”