47. Tess
TESS
I still couldn’t believe I’d let Blade fuck me. Outside of a Fright Night.
Even as Cyrus parallel parked the Cadillac in Valemont’s town center, all I could think about was Blade’s hands on my body. It didn’t help that the display of veins and negative-space tattoos made her hands look strong and vascular.
As I reached for my door handle, Blade darted across the seats to grab my wrist. “No way, Trinket. I’ll get that.”
She hopped out of her seat and into the road, running around the side to pull open my door.
But when the door opened, it was Nash who flashed a wink. “Come on, Sweet Lamb.”
Blade growled her annoyance as she came to a stop just in front of the rear passenger door. “Fuck off, Nash. You stole my move.”
I took Blade’s hand as I descended the huge Escalade.
“Hurry up.” Cyrus snapped back at us as she waited a few feet away, straightening the cuff of her brown, waxed-cotton jacket. I was surprised the tight, stiff material could contain her muscular frame.
Despite how rude and cruel Cyrus was, there was no denying that she was hot. Even if I’d never admit it.
We’d been out all day, running errands and picking up toiletries for me. If I was going to be in Feverpoint for another month, I needed a few things to make it more comfortable — namely more clean underwear.
I was still watching my money. Between my lack of shifts at the club and a few poorly placed bets on Lionshare, I’d worn through a lot of the twenty grand I’d already won.
Not that I needed to have much. Blade and Nash had been fighting to reach the card readers before me at every store.
A few places had refused to let us pay, saying hello to Cyrus and waving us off when we tried to pay.
Crossing the sidewalk, the four of us had to dodge oncoming pedestrians as we entered Perkatory. Inside, it was bustling. Two baristas zipped back and forth behind the service counter.
Customers mingled, catching up. While others stirred their creamer of choice into their white paper cups, the signature design — a frothed-skull atop of perfect latte — stamped onto the side.
“It’s busy.” I muttered, my brows furrowed.
“All things return to normal.” Nash nodded, assured.
As true as I knew that to be, Valemont had fallen back into its normal touristy vibes quite quickly. It had only been a few months since that biker gang dragged a billionaire through the streets.
And the summer had started out slow. I saw it in my tips at the club. Usually Valemont drew quite a bit of weekend traffic from New York City, bringing larger tips and more clients.
We’d all known it was a possibility, everyone who lived here was a little afraid of what control by a biker gang would look like. And for the first few months, we’d been right to be concerned.
But the reality was, the police had rarely done anything for Valemont. More missing girls on posters than babysitting gigs in every coffee shop.
Something was finally done about it.
And who was I to get involved in gang activity?
As the line moved forward, we finally reached the counter. Nash stepped in, offering a polite smile to the cashier. “Hey, Sarah. How are you?”
“Good! I haven’t seen you in forever!” The wavy haired brunette smiled at her.
Nash smirked, her eyes darting over to me. “No kidding, looks like business is booming. We’ll get out of your way. Can we do one black coffee, one vanilla latte with four shots of espresso, a strawberry lemonade, and whatever the lady would like?”
Smiling, I looked up at the menu and was quickly overwhelmed by the options.
From behind me, Cyrus grumbled. “Give her a large iced coffee with room for milk, please. And a chocolate croissant, please.”
“Sure thing!” Sarah laughed, her eyes catching on mine before proceeding with the order. I nodded, the drink sounding simple, reliable, and exactly what I wanted.
Nothing crazy, just something to get me through the rest of our errands.
I wanted to be annoyed that Cyrus spoke for me. And I was. She just happened to be correct this one time.
As the small white square lit up, ready for payment, Cyrus’s long, tattooed hand slipped between Nash and I. A ding signalled the accepted payment.
Blade guided me off to the side, where Sarah would place our drinks when they were done.
Leaning against the white subway tile wall, I tried to get my bearings. It was weird to be surrounded by so many people again, but especially to be in public with my captors. No one in this room had any idea what they got up to, who they were in the dark.
Except me.
Despite having been out with them before, I was still shocked by just how normal my Freaks seemed.
Before now, I never would have noticed them in a crowd. And it made a shiver run down my spine. Three murderers walked among us. And I still wasn’t sure who they were taking care of out there, on the nights they kept me locked inside.
As soon as the latte was done, Cyrus grabbed her cup and headed for the door. She leaned against the window next to the exit, pushing it open for a young woman with her hands full.
She thanked Cyrus, her eyes wandering up and down her tall, broad frame.
I felt my cheeks flush, annoyed by the attention Cyrus got.
But I shook it off. It wasn’t jealousy. No, obviously not. I felt bad for the poor girl, she stood no chance with a monster like Cyrus.
If only I could warn her what an absolute psycho Cyrus is.
The slosh of ice drew my eyes down as Nash held my coffee out. She lifted her brows as she watched me. I’d been caught.
Biting my lip, I took the cup and poured some half-and-half in, stirring it with one of those cheap wooden sticks.
When I turned around, Blade was sucking down her strawberry lemonade. Letting out a sign of relief, she winked at me. “Sugar does more for me than caffeine.”
It made me laugh. There was no denying that despite Blade’s… unconventional behavior, that she was kind and funny. If it weren’t for her and Nash, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours inside the abandoned amusement park.
Drinks in hand, we all headed for the door. Cyrus held it open, a cool breeze drifting into the coffee shop. August had made way for September and fall was carried in on every gust of wind.
As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I looked up into the trees. Their green was fading, turning to a gentle yellow first. It would only be a few weeks before every tree was full amber, crimson, and carnelian.
Cyrus walked ahead of us, ready to get our next stop over with.
On either side of me, Blade and Nash talked about how crowded the shop was.
“Tourists.” Nash grumbled.
Shaking her head, Blade’s eyes scanned Valemont’s cutest district. “Nah, some of them were talking about going to Open Houses. More like new neighbors.”
In front of us, Cyrus growled. “Better not care about our business.”
But a soft clap turned all of our heads to a gathered crowd at the park in Valemont’s dead center. The freshly painted white gazebo had a small crowd forming around it.
On the steps, a man in white robes with a long beard gestured his arms out to his gracious crowd.
“The Messenger.” The words fell from my lips before I could stop them.
Nash let a heavy sigh leave her lungs as she crossed her arms, watching on.
Beside The Messenger, a young man trained a point-and-shoot camera on his face. A huge, fluffy microphone perched on the top of the black casing.
From what I’d seen, this supposed prophet didn’t go anywhere without his cameraman — or the internet followers that watched his near constant live stream.
All of us had stopped in our tracks, undeniably intrigued by the man standing at the center of Valemont — of all places — proselytizing to strangers.
As The Messenger held out his arms, his eyes grazing each member of the watching crowd, he extended his gaze to the stragglers at the edge. “He wants all of us to follow my word…”
Until his eyes landed on me.
Descending the steps, The Messenger stopped speaking and kept his gaze trained on me. The cameraman began to follow him. But a quick bark from the bearded prophet was enough to stop him in his tracks. “Stay.”
First, he moved hesitantly. As his speed picked up, I turned to look over my shoulder.
He must recognize someone behind me.
But there was no one behind me: just my two Freaks to either side of me and Cyrus up ahead. The two at my flank had creased brows as they watched the robed man hurry toward us. Cyrus turned to look behind her, meeting my eyes with her dark abyss.
The gathered crowd watched The Messenger as he quickly crossed the busy road, cars stopping for him in a matter of seconds.
A smile took over his face as he held out his arms. “Tess!”
I recognized his voice now, no longer carrying over yards of space. The last time I saw him, he still had the crackling voice of a teenager who hadn’t finished puberty. But this was him. A grown man.
A purported prophet.
“Rubin?”