19. XIX
XIX
Spencer
I entered the doorway of Hangman’s Clinic, catching my breath at the stale, putrid air. Cautiously, I skirted around obstacles and musty furniture to avoid suffering the degradation of poverty, silently hoping I would be free from any contamination.
My nose scrunched up on instinct as I inspected the place Emerson considered a second home. It was one large open hall; a makeshift kitchen on one side, a few medical trolleys on the other and a casual lounging area at the back. Colourful graffiti splayed the walls, which they no doubt tried to pass off as ”’art”.
As I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a homeless man came to stand beside me, his two teeth munching away on his one meal for the day. My mouth curved into a grotesque grimace as he offered up his muffin for me to take a bite.
“I’ll pass,” I said.
“You don’t know what you’re missing, honey.” He cackled, then slipped through the exit.
“Can I help you?” A beautiful black woman with hypnotising purple eyes approached me, her face trying and failing to hide her amusement. Recognition sparked immediately.
“Chai, isn’t it?” I remembered her from the Caverns, when we had gone on a rescue mission to save Micah. She had inadvertently become my sister’s “friend”, or whatever definition we were capable of maintaining with our fucked up commitment issues.
“I’m looking for Micah and Emerson. Have you seen them?”
Her eyes shifted, and her pristine teeth pressed into her lower lip. It would have been hot if she wasn’t planning on lying to me.
“I don’t know who those people?—”
I crowded into her space, forcing her attention back on me so she had no room for misinterpretation. I got it, she didn’t recognise me due to the changed face, but I didn’t like fucking liars. “My sisters were here, and you’re going to tell me where they are.”
“Sisters?” asked a young, teasing voice from below. I cranked my neck to look down at the boy hanging off Chai’s leg, the same purple eyes sparking with mischief. “This is my sister,” he continued, looking up at Chai as if she was some holy saint. Poor boy didn’t know his older sissy got on her knees, alright—just not for the saintly musings he envisioned.
“Run along now, Casey,” she shushed, protectively steering him away.
I clucked and got down on my hunches to be at eye level with the handsome boy. “Yes, I’m looking for my sisters. Surely, you remember Emerson. She’s here all the time. Do you know where she is?”
The cheeky devil cocked his head in contemplation and tilted a half smile. “What’s in it for me?”
“Case—” I cut Chai’s reprimand off with a hard stare, and as she went to open her mouth again, I lost patience.
“ Lily , I’m in negotiations here.” An embarrassed blush raised on her cheeks, and her eyes steeled with hostility. Bring it on, baby. You have no idea who you’re dealing with . Family friend or not, I’d fuck anyone up who got in the way of me and mine.
“Who’s Lily?” Casey asked.
“No one of consequence,” I dismissed before slipping a one hundred dollar bill from my pocket and holding it up between two fingers. “It’s yours if you take me to Emerson.”
His purple eyes popped open in disbelief. “Deal.” The note was snatched from my grip before I could blink, and a wide grin on my face.
“Deal.”
My gaze dragged up the abandoned performing arts theatre with trepidation, the crumbling foundations camouflaging perfectly with the surrounding ghetto. Why is my sister so prone to gravitating towards damaged, depressing things?
I blew a huff before pushing the “condemned” sign aside and slipping through the small opening of the rusty fencing. The place was deserted, cobwebs and dust all that the antique furnishments had to offer. However, as I entered the auditorium, the unmistakable smell of mould was soon overpowered by the copper tang of blood.
I lowered into a chair, smothered in darkness, shifting into a comfortable position to enjoy the show. Looks like I made it just in time for the climactic third act.
Tied to a chair centre stage was a lone male, his head hung as if in prayer, his shaggy brown hair falling over his face. Various cuts and grazes marred his naked chest, his life force reflecting glorious and bright from the overhead spotlights, shining down like beacons.
My siblings circled him like vultures. Tanner, the staunch overseer, Micah, the epitome of poise and Emerson, who wore a white kitchen apron over her front, entirely drenched in all manner of body matter.
A sense of bitterness rose up inside me. I wasn’t used to being a part of the audience. The play was a four-man band and I was the lead. How dare they keep this from me .
Emerson cut through my tirade by yanking on the prisoner’s hair, his neck snapping back with a pained grunt. Recollection sparked as his facial features came into view.
Bryce was a captain of Vice, directly working under Aster and Echo.
Micah handed Emerson a small pistol, which she raised to aim at the back of his head. Before she could pull the trigger, I chucked my own knife with rapid release, the tip embedding in the head of the chair next to Bryce’s pulsing carotid.
All three Kings twisted towards me with hostile intent, their fighting stances immediate and responsive. If I was anyone else, I probably would have shat myself from the acute danger that the three possessed. Alas, I wasn’t built for alarm or warning. If anything, I gravitated towards it.
Stuffing a lollipop in my mouth, I trailed up the aisle, stepping into the light.
They all visibly sagged with relief–except for Bryce, of course, who had already lost consciousness by the time I reached the stage.
“Spence, I nearly fucking killed you!” Emerson shrieked, lowering the gun pointed at my forehead.
I climbed the stage, approaching the prisoner to gain a better look. I could feel their eyes shifting behind my back, the concern in their demeanour as potent as poison.
Tanner cleared his throat. “Spence, we were just trying to protec?—”
I promptly turned and bitch-slapped him hard across the face, the impact reverberating over his copper cheek. My reaction was entirely instinct, based off his weak excuse and insult. Me? Need protection? I’d slit his throat if I didn’t love him so much . He didn’t react, his only tell were his eyes, the smoky brown gaze hardening into granite.
“I’m wounded, not a fucking invalid,” I said, my seething gaze bouncing between the three most trusted people in my life. “This revenge is mine just as much as it is yours!”
Emerson wavered, gaze hitting the ground. Tanner remained steadfast. And Micah cocked her head in contemplation before answering my screech.
“You’re right. Although our reasoning was in your best interest—” Her sentence cut short with my direct change in demeanour. As if she could sense my unhinged need for violence—that I was on the verge of attacking her point-blank.
Instead, she changed tack, her resolve hardening the longer she took me in with her probing golden fucking eyes. “It won’t happen again.”
My lids narrowed. “You’re not getting retribution without me,” I declared. Tanner grunted, Micah nodded and Emerson blew out a breath, all giving their subtle forms of agreement with my command. “Now, who’s going to tell me what I’ve missed?” I asked, pointing down at Bryce with glee.
He will be their peace offering gift to me .