4. IV
IV
Echo
S ubconsciously, I tallied how much liquor I’d ingested. I wasn’t that drunk... right?
The hallucination was beyond bizarre, although there could be no other explanation. There was no way that a random waitress was standing before an open flame, looking at me with a deranged killer smile on her face. What was even more deluded was the fact that she looked fucking sexy doing it.
Sure, I had returned from the bathroom with the resolve to kill Appleberry myself, but I was going to push him over the barrier or something equally sane, not be a barbarian and burn the idiot alive.
The aroma of charred flesh singed my nostrils, and a flare of movement shook me out of my mind. My little waitress was on the move, racing to the far end of the balcony to an alternate door— away from me . I chuckled at the escape attempt. It was cute that she thought she had a chance. Almost endearing, really.
Adrenaline triggered my Variant to infuse the structure of my voice. Low and seductive, I let it reach her. Only her.
“Run as fast as you can, sweetheart, cause when I catch you, you’ll be forced to your knees to scrub wine from this floor.” The errant image easily transitioned into one of salacious fantasy.
She released a girlish squeal at the strange sensation of my voice invading her senses as she barrelled across the restaurant and through the door of the communal kitchen, the bobbing of her uniformed skirt cut off from sight.
I clicked my neck from left to right. I’d given her enough head start to infuse a sense of hope—I was nothing if not a gentleman. Dodging tables and chairs, I gave chase, careful not to destroy anything else. Whose great idea was it to have the meeting here?
I burst through the bustling kitchen, the place a complete shitshow. Food everywhere, staff in disarray, the stove on fucking fire, flames licking up to the ceiling. It was as if a bomb had been set off in the confined space, the blast the exact shape and size of a troublesome vixen with the partiality for setting things alight.
How the fuck did she cause so much damage in the timespan of two seconds flat?
I spared a cursory glance and catalogued each individual. She wasn’t there, yet the air lingered with her sugary scent, the fragrance playing havoc with my inebriated brain. She was close— so close.
One of the apprentice chefs panicked and grasped a pitcher of water, ready to throw it on the grease fire.
“STOP.” My voice boomed. Swatting it out of their hands, I shoved past, slamming a lid over the burning pot and smothering the flames. A collective sigh came from the onlookers. I didn’t have to turn around to know she was gone.
I straddled the bar stool, one hand firmly clasped round the neck of a half full vodka bottle, while the other rubbed against my furrowed brow. The action did nothing to soothe the thumping beat in my head.
The restaurant was empty and Aster rejected my calls, which made me responsible for cleaning up the godforsaken mess. Also didn’t help that I had no one to show for the death of Appleberry.
Failure was an unfamiliar concept. I’d only ever experienced it once—all because of another female, ironically. Since the fateful day that pivoted my whole existence, I swore my life would never be placed in the hands of another again.
I trained, worked hard and gained the prestigious position I had through legitimate merit and reliability. Since becoming Aster’s right-hand man, no one got the drop on me— ever. Observation skills were unmatched, and manipulation was my specialty. So how did some measly woman escape me?
Thoughts gravitated towards the source of my ire, as I couldn’t think of a viable solution for her disappearance. There wasn’t enough time for her to flee unnoticed, unless… Unless she was a Variant.
Two pairs of footsteps shuffled at the entrance behind me. Without sparing a glance, I called out. “We’re closed.”
Ignoring my command, steps loomed nearer, and frustration rose at the blatant disrespect.
Turning, I came face to face with muscle men one and two. In all the mayhem, I’d completely forgotten about their existence.
“Where’s the ambassador?”
“Let me take you to him,” I said. And without another word, I led them to the balcony and pointed to the burning lump of flesh formerly known as Appleberry.
“What type of meat is that? Where is he?” muscle man two asked.
My gut lurched at his statement. The members of Ludus Maximus were prime fighters with elite physical prowess. Brains, on the other hand… Most of them didn’t have one.
I couldn’t believe I had to deal with that shit. I wanted to fall into bed—better yet, fall between a woman’s legs. My eye twitched from another thing that fucking girl ruined. Wrath festered through my nerves, over my limbs, until my frame was trembling in response.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news, boys. This here is Appleberry.” They staggered, eyes bouncing from me to the ashy hunk of meat at their feet. “Now, you have two options here. You can either leave and live or stay and die.”
The last word triggered their defence mechanism, both dropping into a fighting stance. I huffed, lifting the bottle that remained in my hand. I guzzled a fair amount to give them time to reconsider. When they remained in their retrospective positions, I shrugged.
Muscle man one lunged and I easily dodged, booting his ass in the process. Brushing my shoulder off, I said, “These clothes are designer, gentlemen. Please refrain from touching the expensive merchandise.”
They ignored my comment and herded me against the rail. With one last chug, I smashed the glass bottle and held up a jagged shard as a makeshift weapon.
Their fighting expertise were evident as they attacked with cohesive coordination. Unfortunately, I loathed uniformity and general rigidness. Life was fluid, and you weren’t living if you didn’t have a little bit of unpredictability.
I swirled and danced around their bulkier forms, their rising aggression flowing into sloppier movements. And I am considered the drunk one?
“Last chance, boys,” I said as one got a hold of my singlet, ripping the material down the middle.
I bared my teeth. Play time was over. I attacked. The offensive strategy took them off guard and I was able to shove one over the barrier, sending him careening to his death far below.
I didn’t have time to register his scream before I was punched square in the jaw. Staggering back, I tripped over Appleberry’s corpse, his charred form staining my tailored pants.
Damn it! This one-hour meeting has turned into the day from fucking hell.
My Variant ignited as I yelled at the last remaining muscle man. His palms raised to cover his ears. I utilised the distraction to jump and plunge the broken fragment of glass into his thick neck. Bright ruby red spurted in all directions as he gurgled and choked on his own life force.
My tailored pants were layered in ash and blood, my eight-hundred-dollar fishnet singlet was destroyed and despite the copious amounts of alcohol, I was stone-cold sober. I knew exactly who to blame.
SPENCER
With a chef’s apron over my front and cooking flour layered on my cheeks, I raced down the street and burst through the back of the closed Dingy Inn.
The name was apt. It was early afternoon, and my siblings had commandeered the cheap, derelict tavern that lay on the outskirts of Serpents Row. Close enough if I called for help and far enough to escape if discovered.
Psycho and Tanner stood behind the bar, helping themselves to beer on tap, while Micah and Emerson sat on the opposite side of the counter in deep conversation.
Everyone stilled at my entrance, four sets of eyes roaming over my dishevelled state as I let my Variant filter from my system. Light brown tresses reverted to long auburn strands, falling around my mask as it stretched and moulded back into my own.
“What’s wrong with her face?” Psycho asked around the lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.
Tanner shrugged, his copper skin glowing in the dim light. “That’s her killer face.”
Psycho huffed, smoke rising amongst his words. “Sheesh, that’s a wicked gleam in her eye.”
“That’s not her kill face, that’s her sex face,” Emerson said.
Tanner tilted his head. “Hmm, you’re right, they always look similar. Who is it this time?” A wayward image of Echo passed in thought, and my lips lifted.
“I want to do both,” I said, slumping into the chair next to Emerson.
Their expressions cleared with understanding—except for Psycho, who wore a confused scowl.
All of them wore various styles of biker gear. “Gosh, do you not have any variety in your wardrobes? Are we starting a motorcycle gang now?”
Ignoring me, Micah leant an elbow on the counter and swivelled to face me, Emerson between us. “How’d it go? We were waiting to hear from you.” Her voice was laced with something I could only identify as worry. I didn’t like it. That’s not how we operated. Love was making her soft.
Removing my earpiece, I placed the tiny gadget on the bar surface and regretted it instantly. The disgusting counter was grimy as the surface hadn’t been wiped down in the past century.
Inhaling sharply, I spoke my apprehensive words in a rush. “One: the new gang is called Khaos, with a K,” I snarked. “Two: their boss is a woman. Three: they are responsible for the Sovereign.”
Silence dominated for one split second. Then, all three Kings spoke at once.
“What—”
“Fuck—"
“Who—"
The confirmation, the significance, the repercussions of such information was inconceivable. However, those very same words had torn my heart to shreds, my soul yearning for a past that could never be relived.
Tanner’s casual persona disappeared, smoky brown gaze severe with their eagerness for more. “Start from the beginning.”
I relayed the meeting, including all attending parties, how Vice was not involved in the massacre of our house and the deluded Appleberry and his cult of thieves—leaving out the part about killing him, of course.
Micah and Emerson were shell-shocked, with Psycho watching over the former to see if he had to step in and save her. From what, I had no idea . Possessive fool. Like us, she’d hunted those demons long before him.
Tanner paced, his stubbled jaw flexing with urgency. “Where is he? This Applebee? I’ll bring him back to the crypts for questioning.”
My jaw popped open, then closed. I’d intended for something— anything —to come out. Instead, I shoved gum into my mouth to fill the void of my lost voice.
Micah sighed, disappointment rife in that one gesture, triggering deep seated emotions I never wanted to see the light of day. “Spencer, I told you this was an important?—"
Dangerous, noxious fucking feelings tunnelled to the forefront with aggressive assault, causing me to launch to my feet. “No, Micah, you don’t get to play that card. You killed Oscar Masatino without a second thought or any input from us. Our father’s former enforcer and best friend, who betrayed us! You killed him without any answers?—"
“Spence. That’s not?—"
“No. I’m not having any of this double standard bullshit. Yes, I fucked up, but can you tell me you would have done any different? After hearing him boast about ending our house, slaughtering our fucking family and enjoying it? Tell me you wouldn’t have killed him!”
My chest was heaving. I can’t breathe.
Micah didn’t reply. Even worse, understanding engraved into her symmetrical features as she looked through me with that all-knowing amber gaze, the weight suffocating. Saints, I can’t breathe.
Psycho extended his arm over the counter, subtly skimming his fingers down Micah’s arm in comfort. The innocent gesture made red filter into my vision. I swear, if he says one fucking word, I will end him.
Emerson cut off my line of sight by invading my space. She was crowded so close, I could distinctly make out the minuscule red M tattooed on the peak of her cheekbone.
“You’re right. You did what any one of us would have done,” she said, sincerity lacing her tone. Micah and Tanner nodded in my periphery, confirming her statement. “At least tell us he died screaming.”
I grinned wide at the memory. “I set him on fire.”
Psycho coughed while the rest chuckled. Once we sobered, I offered another alternative.
“I think we can ask Vice for an alliance. Aster was strange but definitely offended when the Sovereign was mentioned. I can continue to gain intel to see if that’s a viable option.”
Emerson tsked. “You just want to see that guy again. What was his name? Echo?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
Tanner poured himself another drink. “He’ll kill you if he finds out who you are.”
“Don’t get me excited, Tan.”
“That gleam is back,” Psycho said. I narrowed my eyes on him, and Tanner shook his head, silently telling him to shut the fuck up.
Micah turned to Psycho. “Can you contact G and see if he’s heard anything through the Ludus?”
“Sure, but he’s been hard to get a hold of recently.”
I snickered. “Just get your sister to ask. Then you’ll get a prompt reply.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Typical male. Entirely clueless . Emerson bumped my leg under the counter, telling me to shut the fuck up.
“Nothingggg,” I said with exaggeration. “Where is your innocent baby sister anyway?”
Psycho lifted a brow. “Variant Sanctorum.” Ava was his shining glory, a faultless saint who volunteered at the church above our home. Always hidden and safe, of course. Her pure image was surprising for someone who was locked up in a whore house for a year straight. Despite her perceived innocence, I liked her. She took care of Fran, and that made her worthy of keeping her secrets in my book.
My attention caught on a cockroach that scurried between the alcohol bottles lining the wall. Shooting up from my seat, I backpedalled to the exit. “Since we’re done here, I’m leaving. Just standing in this place detracts my attractiveness by the second.” Turning for the door, I pushed a loose strand of red hair out of my face and popped a giant bubble with my gum. “And if you had any dignity, you’d leave this cesspit too.” It would take a whole bottle of body wash to rid myself of the filth in that place.