Chapter 18
Piper
Present Day
“This is some real Nancy Drew shit.”
Those words are uttered by Josh as we walk into Devil Tower.
I know he’s trying to draw me out because ever since I met him just outside Astley Hotel, I haven’t said a word.
He’s probably wondering what’s gotten into me, since I was pretty talkative when he last saw me.
But when he last saw me, I hadn’t just gotten fucked twice in a row by my psycho ex, first by his gun and then by his cock, while I begged for more.
My thoughts are kind of elsewhere right now.
I can tell Josh is making an effort though, because he’s definitely more of a Hardy Boys fan. But right now, as we march up to the large glass desk that separates us from the rest of Devil Tower, he says, “Can I be the Ned Nickerson of your story?”
Fuck no. You’re Bess.
We stop in front of the receptionist’s desk, and I clear my throat as the woman there looks up at us quizzically. She’s got about three pounds of makeup on, her blood-red lipstick slightly smeared on her teeth.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Uhm, yes. Can we go in?”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Her eyebrows shoot up as she stares at me. “I’m sorry, miss. Only people with appointments can enter Devil Tower.”
“Oh, right.” I stare right back at her, realizing that she has no clue who I am. Another newcomer to Astley, and I’d better take advantage of that.
“I do have an appointment,” I say quickly. “With… Bob Nelson.”
I’m not sure why I say that name. I guess it’s the first one that comes to mind. The only one. Quill’s dad and my own dad’s boss.
Josh glances at me curiously while the receptionist turns her attention back to her computer.
“Under what name?” she asks, clicking on the keyboard so her screen lights up.
I adjust my thick round glasses nervously, then see that Josh’s glance has turned into a long, scrutinizing look. I glare right back at him, but he doesn’t seem the least bit bashful.
“Jen and Harry,” he says, and the receptionist’s brow clears. “We’re a bit early,” he adds.
“That’s fine.” She opens a drawer and takes out two visitors’ badges. “Let me just tell Mr. Nelson you’re here, and then you can go straight up.”
My glare turns into a surprised stare, then to nervousness as the receptionist buzzes Bob Nelson.
“Yeah?” comes a voice I recognize, because I’ve hidden plenty of times in Quill’s room, my lips glued to his, while his dad was right on the other side of the door.
“Your eleven o’clock appointment is here, Mr. Nelson.”
“Alright, send them up.”
I’m more surprised than ever as the receptionist hands us two badges, but I pretend everything’s fine as I follow Josh to the elevator.
“What was that?” I hiss.
He beams at me. “How was that for Ned Nickerson?”
I can’t tell if I want to punch his silly smile or hug him. “Who the hell are Jen and Harry?”
“His eleven o’clock appointment,” Josh smirks. “Her screen was reflected on the glass window behind her, then back to your glasses. Has anyone ever told you your glasses are insanely cool?”
Uhm, no.
I shrug as the doors of the elevator ding open.
“Good job,” I say begrudgingly.
“That was some pretty good sleuthing, right?” he says, looking very proud of himself.
What is the idiot on? Did he just go home and binge the entire Nancy Drew series to impress me because I mentioned it in passing? The last thing I want to do right now is talk about my favorite book series as a kid after having gotten fucked in the ass by Quill Nelson.
“So where are we going?” asks Josh as I stare at the buttons. “Not to see Bob Nelson, right?”
“Right.”
Taking a rash decision, I click on the sub-sub basement level.
__
I’ve spent enough time with Quill to know just a bit about how Devil Tower is organized.
Not that he ever told me a thing. But the first time I went to his home, his dad punched him while yelling about him missing some sort of training thing. When I went to his room, I saw a gun on his desk. All of that made me curious, and I guess I did figure out certain things.
Like how as a soldier, he gets paid by the contract.
“Soon, you won’t have to worry about a thing,” he once promised me. “I’m going to take care of you.”
Liar.
Even before I learned about the soldier stuff, I knew something was off with Devil because of Dad.
Sometimes he’d come home looking normal, just a bit worn down from a day’s drudgery.
Those days he’d quickly get out of his tired state when he saw me, making us one of our favorite meals, fish tacos or spaghetti and meatballs, or meatloaf.
Other times he’d come home looking frazzled and smelling of bleach, completely closed-off to me.
But regardless of how he looked, he always had time to play catch with me on the front lawn.
Not that I wanted to play catch. There’s not a sport I’ve met that I enjoy. But I always enjoyed everything I did with Dad.
Anyway, I’ve always known something was going on at Devil.
Damien, Everest, Vale, Igor and Logan. They’re the founders of the most powerful business in the state. But from the way I’ve overheard Bob Nelson talk about it, I’ve come to understand that it’s also the biggest criminal organization on the East Coast.
Bigger even than the mafia. They fucking destroyed the mafia, and took its place.
I wonder if Quill’s killed anyone yet. If he had the money to throw away on a hotel suite, that means he’s gotten to be filthy rich. Which means he has killed people. Probably a lot of people.
Does it make me weird that the thought freaks me out, but also kind of turns me on?
I guess that’s par for the course for a girl who masturbates to the memory of a monster appearing in front of her in the night, and then, when he returns the next night, decides to have sex with him instead of calling the police.
I’m all kinds of fucked up.
I also know about the sub-sub basement level, but not from Quill. I feel pretty queasy as the elevator takes us down. I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me for going back down here, but I would do a lot worse to find the answers to my parents’ death.
I swallow nervously as we reach the floor that serves as the Devil soldiers’ headquarters, feeling like I’m about to walk out of the elevator into the literal depths of hell.
But then the doors ding open, and I scrunch up my nose.
Oh.
Things have definitely changed since the last time I was here. Then again, it was dark, and I couldn’t see much.
Now, in the bright fluorescent lights, hell looks like a waiting room you might see at a dentist’s office, with plasticy blue chairs, a musty green carpet and shitty flower paintings on the walls.
I don’t even have time to think twice about where we’ve ended up, though, because Josh waltzes right out.
“What’s all this?” he asks, looking around in surprise. “Is this where Bob Nelson has his office?”
I don’t have time to answer before there’s the sudden shuffling of feet. I crouch behind a row of chairs, yanking Josh down by the collar. Then I wait with baited breath, wondering if the people coming are soldiers.
If so, I really hope they don’t see us behind the chairs, or we’re fucked.
But how could they not? The chairs don’t exactly hide us. One glance in our direction would be all it takes to notice us.
My worry is overtaken by disgust as, crouching on the carpeted floor, I take in the scent that rises from it.
This is definitely not your typical dentist’s carpet.
This carpet smells like pure bleach.
I remember that smell coming from Dad. The bleach stench on his clothes accompanied by the closed-off look on his face because he’d clearly seen things.
Regardless, he didn’t have a choice but to go back to work for Devil. If he quit his job, or lost it, then we’d really have nothing.
Unless we did the sane thing and moved back to California. But Mom didn’t want to, and now, as I think back to what Jones told me, a massive lump rises in my throat.
Bleach and parents are suddenly wiped from my mind as the shuffling feet draw near. I recognize the two guys they belong to.
Dane and Liam.
Quill’s best friends.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to push away the painful memories that are forcing themselves in in.
The two soldiers are fully decked out in camo, their boots leaving temporary prints on the carpet that fade an instant later. It’s hot here, but they’re still in leather jackets, and from Liam’s pocket, I notice a mask peaking out.
A white, featureless mask. The same one Quill wore to visit me in my nightmares.
So that’s what it was. The Devil soldier mask.
“We’re fucked,” breathes Liam, the disgusting blond one, the skin on his red-cheeked face coated in sweat. “They’re going to kill us. Quill shouldn’t have deserted us.”
“Shut the fuck up,” snaps Dane. “You told your dad, I told mine. And we spoke to Quill’s father, too.”
They’re resolutely facing away from me, staring at the double doors on the opposite side of the room. Dane’s got his badge out, but they’re clearly waiting, hesitating, as if dreading to open the doors, so focused on their conversation they never think to look around.
“Quill should’ve spoken to his own dad,” grunts Liam. “That’s not our job.”
“I said, shut the fuck up!”
“Or what? It’s not like he can hear us. Do you really think he’ll know what we’re saying when he’s not even in the room, and come slit our throats in our sleep?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s capable of it. He’s capable of anything.”
The words send a shiver down my spine, and my heart starts to race in my chest. All thoughts of my own predicament are forgotten as the sight of their faces feels like it’s bringing me physical pain.
The name of Quill on their tongue nearly makes me throw up.
All the repressed memories from three years ago are crushing me right now.
“So then why the hell have we been putting up with that monster for years? It’s not for the money, that’s for sure. Yeah, we’re fucking millionaires, but I’d rather having a million dollars less and an unslit throat.”
“He protects us,” grits out Dane.
“Yeah, right. He’s the one responsible for us being completely screwed, and he’s not even here to face the music with us. And if we criticize him, we’re done for.”
“He’s loyal,” insists Dane. “As long as we’re loyal to him, he’ll be loyal to us. We’re just going to keep following him, and it’s going to turn out all right. It always has, and it always will.”
With that, he passes his badge over the small scanner on the wall, and the doors open.
I sink back against the wall, my heart beating so hard it feels like it’s going to implode.
“Close call,” huffs out Josh as the doors slide shut behind Liam and Dane.
Then he glances at me and freezes. I guess I must look like quite a sight. “Is there something wrong?”
I close my eyes, willing my pulse to slow down. I feel sick to my stomach. I’m going to throw up. I’m actually going to throw up.
Seeing them here has brought everything back.
I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t allow my body to respond to Quill and my mind to turn off.
I feel disgusted, absolutely revolted with myself for having given in to him.
He’s right, he must be right, I am worthless, but not for the reasons he says.
It’s because I allowed the worst person in the world, the person who is responsible for my destruction, to touch me.
Not just to touch me. To fuck me.
I’m pathetic. I’m really fucking pathetic.
“What’s wrong?” asks Josh, putting his hand on my arm.
The touch startles me and I yank my arm away, edging back toward the wall. I haven’t had a panic episode in so long, not for two years, but I feel it creeping in. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.
It feels like I’m back at the beginning of senior year, getting dunked again and again in the water by the only person I’ve ever loved.
And his lips are not on me right now to make me forget the monster he is.
He always was a monster. I was just too blind to see it. Too stupid. Too pathetic.
My vision’s gone black and my entire body is shivering, shaking, soaking in sweat, my legs drawn up to my stomach. The knuckles on my hands are white from how hard my interlocked fingers are pressing down on my legs.
“I’m here,” says a faraway voice. “I’m here for you, Piper.”
I close my eyes, wishing it were Quill speaking, even though the futile hope breaks my heart again. It’s not Quill. I know it’s not Quill. It’ll never be Quill again. And even when it was Quill, it wasn’t him but a fucking liar speaking those words.
All things must end, and if I’d ever doubted it, it was beaten into every part of me three years ago.
I guess it goes for the good things as well as the shitty ones.
Although the panic attack feels like it’s going to last forever while I’m in the throes of it, it ebbs at last. The oppressed, panicky sensation that’s gripped me fades and I take in little spurts of air.
“You alright?” murmurs Josh. “What was that all about? Did you know them?”
I blink at him from behind the round, fogged-up horn-rimmed glasses he thinks are cool. A thousand things run through my head, a thousand possible explanations, but the words that pour out of my mouth before my mind has even had time to catch up are, “Yes. They raped me.”