Chapter 8
ERDIKOA
The following day, after eating breakfast with her father and Lauren, Rory went to her room to find shoes and a cap to wear in the city.
As she tied her hair into a low ponytail, she stared at her long hair in the mirror.
The urge to cut it was strong enough that she considered searching the house for a pair of scissors.
The thought took her off guard. She loved her long hair, always had. Shaking off the uneasiness, she found Lauren in the kitchen. “I need to go shopping.”
Lauren turned. “What for?”
“I need a new phone, a sleeping potion, and a few other basic things.” Rory paused. “Shit. Never mind, I need to apply for jobs first.”
“You don’t need a job,” Lauren informed her as she grabbed a knife out of the drawer and began picking at her nails.
Rory shuddered at the sight and walked out. “I can’t buy anything until I have moedas,” she said, searching for the keys. “And to get moedas, I need a job.”
“Looking for these?” Lauren asked, dangling a set of keys from her finger. “You can’t leave without me.”
Rory walked forward, assessing the Angel for a way to swipe the keys without getting killed. “I wasn’t going to, but I figured if I drove off, you’d have to give in.”
A wide smile spread across Lauren’s face. “There you are.” She walked to the door and stepped outside. “Come on, little butcher. Let’s get your shit and grab lunch on the way back.”
Rory followed her to the same vehicle they’d arrived in. Sam must have flown back to Vincula. Or disappeared back, however they did it. “I don’t have any moedas, and I’m not borrowing from you.”
Lauren jumped in and started the engine as Rory climbed into the passenger seat.
“You will never need a job again,” Lauren replied.
“Don’t ask me any more questions.” When they pulled onto the highway, she added, “We need to stop and get your new mystic card before running by the bank to pick up your bank card.”
“New mystic card?” Rory parroted. “What’s wrong with my old one?”
Lauren kept her eyes on the road. “You’re getting a new identity.”
“The fuck I am,” Rory replied crisply.
Lauren smirked, and it struck Rory as odd that the Angel seemed to like her better when she was a bitch. “It’s non-negotiable. Everything is set. We just have to pick everything up.”
“I haven’t chosen a name yet. How is it ready?”
“Your new name was chosen for you.” She glanced at Rory, trying not to laugh. “You are now Lo Senka.”
Rory blinked. “What kind of name is Lo? Where’s the rest of it?”
Lauren shot her a death glare. “It doesn’t matter if you like it or not; that’s your new name when you’re in public.”
A new name was the least of Rory’s worries, and she gave up the battle. When they pulled into the warehouse district, she slid her eyes to Lauren. “You can get in and out of The Capital without being searched, but you need the underground market to get a new mystic card?”
Lauren opened her door when they stopped and threw over her shoulder as she walked away, “Stop asking questions.”
Rory stared out the window at the place she’d been one too many times. Fiona, the Alchemist she bought illegal potions from, hurried down one of the side alleys, and though they weren’t friends, they were friendly.
The car door swung open as she hopped out and called Fiona’s name without thinking. The Alchemist looked up and stopped in her tracks. Shit. Getting used to her new life would be challenging, but it was too late to turn back now.
Her lips parted as she scanned Rory’s face. “Rory?”
“Yeah,” she replied and closed the distance between them.
Fiona clasped both of her hands around Rory’s. “The news said you were sentenced to five-hundred years. Did the protests really work?”
A nervous laugh scratched Rory’s throat as she averted her eyes. “Something like that, but no one knows I’m out. I would be dead within the week.”
“You’re right,” Fiona agreed, nodding. “The public is split down the middle on your case. Some think you’re a monster.” She eyed Rory up and down and shrugged. “I suppose you are, but not all monsters go bump in the night.”
She did.
“Thanks, Fiona.” She glanced back at Lauren’s SUV. “I have to go. I just wanted to say hi.”
Fiona nodded with a small smile. She was a tough businesswoman, and her soul was a darker shade of grey, but there was good in her, too. She was far enough away from black that her soul didn’t suffocate Rory when they touched. “You stay safe, girl, and come see me at the market sometime.”
“I will.” She waved as she crossed the street and jumped back into the car. Approaching Fiona was stupid, and she didn’t shirk the rules intentionally, but she thought it’d be fine. Hopefully.
When Lauren came back and climbed into the car, she handed Rory her new identity. It was the picture from her old card, but all the information was different.
“Memorize that,” the Angel ordered as she pulled into the street.
Rory grunted and looked around for her purse, realizing she didn’t grab it. “Can you hold on to it until we get home?”
“You’ll need it at the bank,” Lauren reminded her. “When we get there, hand them your mystic card and tell them you need to pick up the new bank card you ordered.”
Rory blew out a long breath. “And if they recognize me?”
Lauren lifted a shoulder. “Say it’s a coincidence. Say you’re a cousin. Say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter because everyone thinks The Butcher is in prison.”
As Rory neared the entrance of the bank, a man thrust a flyer into her hands. “He’s coming any day,” he cautioned. “Guard your loved ones.” The man sounded delusional, and when she scanned the paper in her hands, she sucked in a sharp breath.
The end is almost near.
The Umbra King has returned.
“What does this mean?” she asked the rambling man.
His wide eyes met hers. “He has been released. His sentence is over. Everyone forgets, but not me.”
She sidestepped him with a tight smile. “Okay, thanks.” Her mind drifted to Caius. If he was the Umbra King, and he was free, would he find her? Shaking off the notion, she hurried toward the door.
Once inside, Rory adjusted her cap to conceal her face. She wasn’t nervous, but her senses were on high alert in case she needed to defend herself.
“Hello, what can I do for you?” the woman at the counter asked. Her smile faltered when she saw Rory’s face.
Rory slid her mystic card across the counter, forgoing pleasantries. “I ordered a new bank card, and I was told it’s ready.”
The woman forced a toothy smile. “I’ll check on that for you.”
She set Rory’s card down next to her computer keyboard, and when she looked at it, her entire body sagged with relief as her eyes scanned the information.
The woman glanced up. “Senka? That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” Rory replied with a close-lipped smile. “I got it from my father.”
The joke didn’t land. “One moment, Miss Senka,” the teller said with a tight smile. “I’ll grab your bank card from the back.” She handed Rory’s mystic card back and disappeared through a side door.
About five minutes passed before the woman returned, holding Rory’s new bank card and a packet of paperwork.
“This is your new card,” she explained, handing the card over.
“If you lose it, call us, and we’ll replace it the same day.
” Rory nodded along as the woman rattled off general information, showing Rory where to sign.
“Thank you for banking with us, Miss Senka. You’re a gold client, and we are at your disposal anytime, day or night, at this phone number.
” She pointed to a number on the front of the packet.
Gold member? Rory glanced at the paper and almost passed out when she saw the balance. She couldn’t spend that many moedas in her lifetime if she tried. “Thank you,” she uttered and left quickly. Lauren said not to ask questions, but this was too big to ignore.
“What the hell?” Rory snapped when she opened the car door. “What is this?” She waved the packet at Lauren and shut her door.
“It looks like a stack of papers,” the Angel deadpanned. “Where do you need to go next?”
“You need to explain why there is an unfathomable amount of moedas in my new bank account,” Rory replied, refusing to drop it.
Lauren glanced at the papers. “I told you I can’t, but the person who put it in there doesn’t take no for an answer. You’re keeping it. Now, where do you need to go?”
Rory sat back in a daze. “To get a phone, or did my mysterious benefactor already get me one of those, too?”
An amused smile spread across Lauren’s face. “He wouldn’t be able to use a cell phone if you held a knife to his throat.”
Rory stared straight ahead, knowing nothing she said would convince the guard to break her vow of secrecy. Fucking Angels.
Rory twisted side to side as she admired herself in her bedroom mirror. On the way home, they stopped by a clothing store to pick up a few new things for her wardrobe. She needed to break away from The Butcher’s persona, and to do that, she needed more than black hoodies and leggings.
The red top she wore reminded her of her mother’s soul, and she couldn’t stop staring at it.
“It’s time to go,” Lauren shouted from downstairs.
Rory took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, and joined Lauren on the main floor of her new home. “I’m ready.”
They parked next to Night Potions, and Rory hopped out, excited to see everyone. Would they fall back into their old routine, or would it be awkward for a while?
Lauren wore all black, and she imagined the guard jamming her stiletto into someone’s eye. Rory could never fight in heels, but she bet Lauren could fight with her hands tied behind her back and blindfolded.
When they stepped inside the bar and combed through the unsavory crowd, Keith stood and flagged them down. Rory grinned as she hurried across the room toward him.
They hugged when she approached the table, and the affection felt weird because they usually never hugged when meeting up at a bar, but she reminded herself they’d not seen her in months. “What’s everyone drinking?” she asked. “Tonight is on me.”
“You’re not paying for anything,” Dume objected. “Have you even found a job yet?”
Rory glanced at Lauren, who gave a subtle nod. “Actually,” Rory taunted with a smug smile. “For whatever reason, I’ve been given more moedas than I can spend in a lifetime. I’m filthy rich.”
Dume’s eyes shifted to Lauren as the others gaped. “No shit?” Keith blurted.
“No shit.” Rory chuckled. “Is everyone having their usual?”
“I’ll have another one of these,” Dume said, holding his beer bottle in the air. “And Sera usually drinks a petal pusher.”
Rory stared at the bottle in his hand. “Since when do you drink?”
After chugging the rest of his beer, he averted his gaze. “Since you’ve been gone.”
Unfamiliar small arms wrapped around her, and she yelped, breaking from their hold to spin around. A tiny woman with red hair and freckles beamed at her.
The woman grimaced and offered Rory her hand. “Sorry. I’m Sera.”
A pretty cyan soul pulsed between them when Rory returned the gesture. “Rory.” She didn’t say much else as she remembered the night she’d first seen Sera.
It was maybe a year ago, and a man Rory had been tracking followed the tiny redhead out of a sandwich shop one night. Sera had been looking at her phone, not paying attention to her surroundings, when he grabbed her and dragged her into an alley.
Rory had followed the man at a distance, and when he snatched Sera, she had to sprint after them. By the time she turned the corner, the man had Sera on the ground, tearing at her clothes.
Rory ripped him off and told her to run. She hadn’t seen the girl since.
“You remember,” Sera murmured, noticing the recognition in her eyes.
Rory noticed a man who looked a few years younger than her father standing behind Sera. When she noticed him, he smiled and bowed his head in greeting. “I’m Bruce. I hope we’ve met before.”
An awkwardness settled over her. “I don’t think we have.”
He cleared his throat and looked morose. “I was in Vincula for a month after your sentencing. I needed to thank you for saving my baby girl, but had I known you’d be released, I would have waited.”
Rory reared back. If she found out another person went to prison for her, she would lose it. “Why would you do that?”
“You deserved to know that people on the outside admire you,” he said with enough conviction to make a knot form in her throat.
Rory looked back at her friends, who stayed quiet. “Did anyone else go?” she demanded.
Kordie shook her head. “Not that we know of.”
“Thank the Seraphim,” she muttered. “If I go back, don’t come for me.” She made eye contact with everyone, daring them to object. “Bruce, what can I get you to drink?”
He opened his mouth to protest, but Keith cut him off. “Don’t bother. She’s rich now and won’t take no for an answer. Killing pays.”
Kordie slapped her boyfriend in the stomach, Bruce smirked, and Rory blanched. “A whiskey and dark cherry soda please,” he replied.
“Petal pusher?” she asked Sera, and the woman grinned with a nod.
As Rory stood waiting for a bartender, she glanced around. She’d seen some customers at the underground market before, but to her knowledge, none of them were black souls. If they had been, they wouldn’t be here, and her kill list would be longer.
“What can I get you?” The bartender placed a napkin on the bar, but his smile wavered when he saw Rory’s face.
She looked away and rattled off her order, and the man’s voice shook a little when he asked for her mystic card. When she handed it over, his eyes scanned her information quickly. It was amusing to see the relief flit across his face.
Handing back her card, he smiled kindly. “Coming right up.”
She looked over her shoulder and jumped. “You scared the shit out of me,” she hissed at Lauren, who stood right behind her. “I thought you stayed with the others.”
Leaning leisurely on the bar, Lauren eyed the crowd. “Get used to it.”
Once back at the table with everyone’s drinks, they pushed two tables together to fit their large group, and Rory slid onto a chair next to Dume.
She sat quietly as the group slipped into easy conversation as though nothing had changed, and gratitude filled her heart, along with something else. An unexplainable longing.
Her mind drifted to her faceless friends in Vincula, and the pang of sadness she felt surprised her. Lauren looked at her knowingly and leaned over. “Enjoy your life here, Rory. Everyone wants that for you.”
She nodded and turned back to her friends, listening as they talked about recent events she had missed. She felt like an outsider looking in, and they couldn’t ask her about what she’d been up to because she didn’t remember.
After a few weeks of being back, it would feel normal again.
At least, she hoped it would.