54. Cyrus
CYRUS
“And at tonight’s recoupling ceremony, things… get… heated…” The host’s voice boomed out from my bedroom TV, underscored by crackling flames and a high-pitched droning.
My eyes flicked from my laptop up to the TV screen long enough to catch the gist of the recap — a fight between the public’s favorite couple, another dumping.
God, she deserves so much better than him.
But I wasn’t supposed to be watching Sweetheart Shores. I grumbled and adjusted my laptop, reticent to accept how invested I’d become in the stupid dating show.
Easier to think about their senseless drama than the shitshow playing out here.
Tracer had gotten back to me about Rubin’s background check: somehow, there was nothing of note.
The twerp had gotten bounced around from foster home to foster home after Heirs of Promise shut down.
He stayed active in the Church, but never in any official capacity.
For work, he’d spent a year or two working some grunt level coding job.
And then? He disappeared for a bit before wandering back onto the streets of Valemont, spreading the Word.
I didn’t buy it though. There was no way he became the burgeoning leader of Valemont’s weirdest cult without any background of note.
I’d thought that maybe the coding thing could be an in — Violence had just taken on one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Maybe he had a tie to them?
But between all of Tracer and my digging, there were no obvious ties between them. He was kind of a nobody, as far as I could tell. Enough skill to make some decent money, but not a high level player.
Weird that he worked in tech though considering…
Now, his whole gimmick was that he hated the stuff — wouldn’t even touch the phones that his followers live streamed him from. Maybe that was the in. When had he decided to adopt the whole “old world” shtick?
I opened a flurry of new tabs, trying a different key word in each search bar. Anti-tech, Luddite, Pastor Harris: anything that might pull a thread for me to go off of.
Once, this obsessive energy had been reserved for the Ragdoll harboring in our guest room, waiting for the day she would finally stumble back into my grasp for her penance.
But it was hard to focus on revenge with Rubin buzzing around my head like an incessant gnat. How was he amassing so much power? And what the fuck did he want with Tess?
I’m not sure. But I’ll be damned if he steals my prize from between my teeth. I’ve waited too long to —
Rapping on the door ripped me from my thoughts. Blade: I could already tell from the obnoxious pattern of her knocking.
And the sudden turn of my doorknob only confirmed the hunch. She was the only person bold enough — or stupid enough — to wander into my room unannounced.
As the door swung open, I had a choice: cover my tracks on the computer, or turn off the TV and save my dignity.
Just as the laptop snapped shut, Blade sauntered into my room, eyes glued to the TV. “Ugh, I can’t. She deserves way better than that asshole.”
My lip curled as I looked back at her. “What do you want, Blade?”
“What? Worried I’ll spill to our little Trinket about your guilty pleasure?” She leaned against my doorframe with a tilted smirk. “Not a chance. Don’t want her thinking you’ve got a heart in there.”
“Are you just here to be a nuisance?”
“Depends how you look at it...” She peered down the hall for Tess before easing my door shut. “Got news about a shipment.”
“Ours?”
Blade shook her head. “Warehouse nearby. More fentanyl. And hallucinogens.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” My fist balled around the edge of the mattress.
“Hey, it’s not all bad news. We can pick up fresh meat for another hunt!”
“I don’t want to hunt. I want this shit gone from Valemont.” I stood from the bed, pacing the room. “Whose warehouse?”
“No one we know. Unregistered officially.”
“Fuck.” No matter how much we cleared out, the drugs kept cropping up. But from where? We’d decimated every known trade route.
Claiming the vacancy in my bed, Blade stretched her arms out and cracked open my laptop. “Is this why you’re so testy? Upset about Tess’ little fan boy?”
I crossed the room in a single stride, slamming the laptop shut and snatching it away from Blade’s prying eyes.
“Jesus, Cy. Nearly took my fingers there.”
“You’re lucky I don’t take more than that,” I glowered, tossing the laptop into my desk drawer with a thud.
But Blade didn’t have the good sense to heed the warning in my tone. “There’s no need to be jealous. I’m not even sure Tess swings his way.”
She sure didn’t seem to mind the attention back at Heirs of Promise.
Hot blood pulsed at my neck. I wanted to snap at Blade about her needling. But clearly, entertaining the jabs only made her more insufferable.
Pulling in a deep breath, I leaned back against the desk. “How much do you remember about Rubin from Heirs of Promise?”
Blade sat up on the bed, picking at a knot of rope around her thigh. “Honestly, not much. He was a zealous little suck up. I thought his voice was annoying. Not really a shock that he grew up to be such a weirdo.”
I grumbled my assent — that was about as much as I remembered, too.
He was so much younger than us, and so into the god stuff that I wouldn’t have entertained the conversation even if he tried. For all of her piety, Tess was an entirely different beast than Rubin.
She’d burned herself a permanent place in my memory. But Rubin had been little more than the shit on my shoe.
Other than that, I couldn’t remember much about him. And I certainly couldn’t think of any real reason he was showing his face now.
“Oh god.” Blade groaned, “And he was so obsessed with Pastor Harris. Idolized him more than their so-called god.”
“Tess too.” I growled.
Her brow furrowed. “He was obsessed with Tess? Or Tess was obsessed with Harris?”
“Both,” I grumbled. “Two peas in a fucking pod, those two.”
“Cy…” she gave me a warning glare that made my hackles rise.
Like Blade has any right to police how I feel about that traitor. She’s going soft for that girl.
But I didn’t want to open that can of worms again. I’d already made up my mind about how to handle Tess. And Blade could pretend all she wanted she could win me over to her side, but the way that this ended was out of my hands. The cards had settled the question years ago.
“Whatever,” I threw my hands up, returning to my pacing.
Still, that knowledge didn’t provide the same comfort it once had; unease bloomed in the pit of my stomach.
It wasn’t Rubin that I feared. I could kill that weasel with my bare fucking hands if I wanted to. But he wasn’t the problem: the forces enabling him were.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was going on, but there was way too much weird shit going on at once. The drugs, the fanaticism, the little blonde nightmare who’d stumbled through my gates: something was shifting in Valemont, but I still couldn’t figure out what.