40. Lilah
40
LILAH
I stared at my laptop screen, my mind churning. It had been almost two weeks since Storm and Gage had shown us the website for Imperium Fratrum and I was no closer to finding a way into the site than I’d been when I started. I hadn’t experimented with usernames or “invitation codes” — I’d been worried I might get locked out forever if I got them wrong — but I now knew more about historical secret societies than I’d ever wanted to learn and was fairly comfortable navigating the dark web even though a lot of what I saw there made it even harder to sleep at night.
And there was something else I’d learned: a lot of girls had gone missing in Blackwell Falls.
For decades.
I felt dumb that I didn’t know that, especially since some of it had been splashed all over the news after the scandal at Aventine University, but to be fair, I didn’t know much about anything. Following the news was something I hadn’t had the time or bandwidth for when I’d been holding down three jobs. I was a lot more broke now but also a lot more informed thanks to the hours I’d spent scrolling for news articles about the scandal at Aventine and the murder of that rich guy Piers Cantwell who’d been killed at the old Mercer house.
And the crazy thing was, girls were still going missing.
Not a lot of them, not like before the whole thing at Aventine, but every few months someone was reported missing in one of the towns around Blackwell Falls. It was usually someone described as “troubled” — a runaway or a sex worker or a dancer at one of the area strip clubs.
Maybe that was why the news only reported on them once or twice before dropping the story. I tried not to think about that part too much because I had a feeling I would be considered just as disposable by society if I ever disappeared.
I sat back in my desk chair and remembered all the times I’d walked past MISSING posters on light posts and store windows, then I felt like a total asshole, because the truth was, I hadn’t thought about them much.
I mean, I’d thought about it. I’d wondered what had happened to them, felt bad for them and for their friends and families, who were worried enough to put up a missing flyer.
But I’d never looked into any of them, had never dug deeper. I’d just hurried along, running to my next job or rushing home for a few hours of sleep before my next shift. And all the while, something poisonous had been happening around Blackwell Falls.
I tabbed to the last article that had been published about the killings of Piers and Gray Cantwell and the man named Arlo Kane. The lead investigator, a woman named Detective Rodriguez, had made statements in other articles, including after the alumni at Aventine were discovered to be running a trafficking ring, but there was nothing after an article dated six weeks earlier, when a statement had been issued saying the investigation was ongoing.
All of which meant I was stuck.
The Bastards said they were “working on it,” but of course they wouldn’t tell me more, no matter how pissed off I became. I hated relying on them for this like I relied on them for everything else, like I was a little kid who had to be sheltered from the truth, who had to be protected when I’d worked so hard to learn to fight for myself.
On top of everything else, I still hadn’t replaced either of my two lost jobs, and my savings account continued to dwindle. On the other hand, sex with Nolan was amazing and my body felt awake in a way it hadn’t before, my mind alive, like all the orgasms I was having had brought dead synapses to life.
That probably wasn’t a thing, but that was how it felt, and I was embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t get enough even though my feelings were still complicated — about Nolan, about Jude, and definitely about Rafe, who mostly ignored me like I was a stray cat who’d snuck into the house, one that he was hoping would leave as mysteriously as it had appeared.
Still, I trusted Nolan, even if I hated admitting it. I trusted him and I wanted him and I tried not to think about the messy details. Instead I focused on the reality of the situation, like the night before when Nolan had buried his face in my cunt while he’d held my hips with his hands, the way he’d turned me over and fucked me from behind afterward.
My heart raced, heat rushing between my thighs, and I stood with a sigh of disgust.
Pathetic.
I yanked open a dresser drawer and grabbed my gym clothes, hesitating over the swimsuits folded next to my sports bra. I’d brought my ratty old swimsuit from home and had been surprised when a box had been delivered with three new ones — expensive ones — my second week in the house.
They’d fit perfectly, and I’d tried to ignore the flush of pleasure that had risen in my body when I wondered how the Bastards had known I’d needed a new one, how they’d known my size.
I’d finally gotten comfortable enough to wear one in the sauna, mostly because the Bastards left me alone when I was in there, and I grabbed the red crocheted bikini — my favorite — to change into after I worked out.
Five minutes later I’d taken my meds and was leaving my room in leggings and a fitted Lycra gym top, my hair in a ponytail, the bikini in one hand. The house was quiet and I stopped at the front door to grab my sneakers on the way to the basement.
I was greeted with the familiar hum of the house’s mechanical systems, the boiler pumping out heat, the water treatment system clicking on like it did every ten minutes or so. It was strangely comforting, and I realized it was hard to remember what it had felt like to be a stranger, an interloper, in the house.
Now it felt a little like home, which was messed up on a number of levels.
This wasn’t my home. Eventually, I’d be back in my dingy apartment, back to being alone.
I sighed and walked into the home gym. I couldn’t afford to get used to the luxe accommodations, but I might as well enjoy them while I could.
I took myself through my usual paces: treadmill, free weights, calisthenics. I missed sparring class at the Gym with Locke, missed the feeling of power and control that came from proving again and again that I wasn’t helpless, that I could defend myself, but at least I was staying in fighting shape during my exile at the mountain house.
I was breathing heavy by the time I was done, and I paused to check my pulse: elevated but within the realm of normal after exercise. If Nolan were here he’d want to pull out his stethoscope and listen to my heart with that frowny expression he got when he was worried.
I hated that the thought made me smile.
I grabbed a glass bottle of water from the fridge — the Bastards were very anti-microplastics — and took a long drink before taking my bathing suit into the bathroom to change.
I was almost surprised to see my reflection in the mirror. Who was this girl wearing a tiny red bikini, her nipples practically visible through the crocheted fabric of the top, her ass hanging out of the thong bottoms?
I listened, expecting to hear the sinner’s prayer in my mind like I almost always did when I did something that was considered wrong by my mom, which was pretty much everything from pride to immodesty, but my mind was silent.
I took a deep breath and took a closer look, something I’d avoided most of my life (see aforementioned list of sins). I’d hidden my body under baggy clothes, had avoided looking at my face in the mirror, but I was actually okay-looking. Maybe not a great beauty, thanks to the gap between my two front teeth and my round face, but the girl staring back at me was reasonably attractive.
I dropped my eyes to my tits and realized they actually looked, well, good in the bathing suit. Big enough to get in the way on the sparring mat, they filled out the cups of my bikini top with enough to spill over, giving me a swell of cleavage I would never have dared reveal in public.
My waist tapered before flaring to full hips, and I turned around to look at my ass, surprised by the taut round flesh spilling from my bathing suit bottoms. I heard Nolan’s voice when he’d slid into me from behind the night before.
You have such a glorious fucking ass, sweetheart. Just as perfect as the rest of you.
My face heated with the memory. I’d been shocked by the way Nolan talked to me when we fucked, the things he said, and even more surprised by the fact that it turned me on. The more he talked, the dirtier his words, the wetter I got, the harder I came.
( Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love…)
I turned out the light fast and headed for the sauna. Maybe someday I’d be able to think about sex and lust and my body without the shadow of my mom’s vengeful god, but apparently today was not that day.
I bypassed the towels on my way into the sauna and opened the door without thinking.
Without checking.
I was two steps into the heated room and reaching for the temperature panel when I realized it was already on and the sauna wasn’t empty.
Nolan and Jude were there — butt naked.