eighteen
The Heathen
“I should go after her,” Angel says, leaning back to zip his jeans.
“She’ll be fine,” I tell him. “She’s with Saint.”
“He left a while ago,” Angel points out. “Ever since we found out all that shit from Mav, I’m just more comfortable knowing someone’s with her when she’s outside her dorm.”
“Is that why you’ve been fucking her there every night?” I ask. “I was starting to think you didn’t want to share.”
“I’ve been sharing,” he protests. “But yeah, that’s partly why. Plus, I’m not sure she trusts me not to video it again.”
“That was hot,” I say. “It’d be hotter if we passed her back and forth all night. Just watch her get more and more wrecked every time she goes wobbling from one bed to the other until she can’t even stand up anymore. Bet she’d crawl for a good dicking.”
I’m hard just picturing it.
“I’ll bring her over more,” Angel promises, standing and holding out a hand to me.
“Why don’t I go get her,” I say, letting him pull me to my feet.
I can tell Angel wants to argue, but at last he nods.
He knows it’s hard for me to let other people take the reins.
The last time I trusted someone else with a girl I loved, she disappeared, never to be seen again.
That’s why I was the one who went to get Mercy the first few times we needed her.
I don’t like ceding that control, even to guys I trust with my fucking life.
Someone hisses at us to move, since we’re standing in front of them, so I take off after Mercy, leaving Angel to collect the blankets and bring them back to our room.
I’m rounding the corner of the main building, debating whether to convince her to come spend the night in our room or just throw a bag over her head and carry her like a Viking, the way I did the first few times, when a shadow steps into the path.
I pull up short, taking in the area in a glance.
Two more figures materialize in front of me, blocking my way, but I don’t spot any other movement.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice carrying in the stillness of the spring night. We’re far enough from the movie that the volume will drown out voices—or a scream.
“Where is she?” asks the tall guy in the middle.
“Who?” I ask, though I think I already know.
“Your little girlfriend,” he says, coming closer, the others falling into step on either side. “The redhead with the fuckable tits.”
I squint into the darkness, trying to make out their features, assess how much danger I’m in. I know one of them. I’ve seen him around Mill Street, where Maverick hangs out with his artist friend. That’s our turf.
“Heard she’s been running her mouth,” says the short guy. “You really should have taught her better than that.”
“Yeah,” says the third guy, the one I recognize. “There are consequences to actions like that.”
He’s younger than the others, only a few years older than me.
I try to remember his name, but I can’t.
He would have been around when I was coming up, though, probably got his bones around the time Eternity disappeared.
The other two look older, around my mom’s age.
One of them looks vaguely familiar too, though I can’t think of where I’ve seen him.
That’s not too surprising. The old guys usually don’t run the streets.
“We’re not here to kill her,” promises the guy in the middle.
“We just want to teach her a little lesson on keeping her mouth shut.” He’s dressed in expensive but ugly clothes, a blue suit and a gaudy gold watch that he’s probably showing off to the others to get their respect.
He’s moved up the ranks, is making good money and probably not doing dangerous shit anymore.
Which means they don’t expect violence or even much resistance, if that’s who they sent to get M.
“Are you the guys who took Eternity?” I ask. “I know it was Frederick’s guys.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” says the tall one, stroking his goatee.
“No, wait a minute,” says the guy I’ve seen around. “It’s the brother of that bitch we took back in the day. I do remember her. A little slutty, but she put up a good fight.”
I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me, or if he really remembers her. But I know he disrespected her.
I throw a punch, and it lands squarely in his jaw. He stumbles back, cursing.
“Oh-ho, somebody thinks he’s Rambo,” says the one in the middle, who’s clearly the leader.
I can tell by the way the others push in close, the way we do around Saint, and wait for a half-second to see if he’ll speak before they jump in with their bullshit.
They didn’t kill me already, which means the guy I hit is a goon, no one important.
The leader of the crew might be important.
He has a predatory slyness, a smugness that makes me want to punch out every one of his perfect white veneers when he grins, seemingly delighted by my reaction.
“I heard you been talking too,” says the third guy, a short redneck with greasy hair and gaps in his tobacco-stained teeth.
“You squeal like a pig, boy?” asks the leader.
“I don’t snitch,” I say, refusing to budge.
“Bet they’d take him too,” muses the one I hit, spitting blood for good measure. “Those sick fucks don’t care what they stick their dick in, long as it’s tight.”
“You got that right,” says the redneck. “Only time I’ll agree with them.”
“Your boy-pussy still tight, Rambo?”
“Why don’t you come over here and find out,” I ask, whipping my blade from my boot. I had to break into a crime scene to get it from Sinner’s Tower, but it was worth the risk.
“Now you hurt my feelings,” the leader taunts. “Ain’t no need for all that. We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”
“Someone’s coming,” warns the redneck.
“Better put up that weapon,” says the leader. “Wouldn’t want to get expelled, would you?”
“You wouldn’t want to get arrested, would you?” I challenge, but I slide the knife up the inside of my wrist, so I’m holding the blade in my palm, the tip pressing between my fingers.
One of the priests strolls by. I could yell for him, but this is Crossbones business, and it wouldn’t go over well if I involved anyone else.
Besides, I know the old guy, and he’s as sick and twisted as any of these men.
He’d probably stay to watch them gut me so he could jerk off to the memory later.
The moment he’s gone, I whip my knife out, only to see that the younger guy has pulled out his own weapon—a gun.
“Let’s take him with us,” he says. “I think boss’ll be happy with our new find, don’t you?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I growl.
“As long as we bring the girl, he’ll be happy,” says the leader. “Think of this one as… A bonus.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn as they step closer.
“Don’t you want to see your sister again?” taunts the bleeding guy.
“You know where she is?”
“Six years later, six feet under,” chants the redneck, prowling around me.
Now the leader hangs back a step, letting the others do the dirty work.
“Go on,” says the one with the gun, waving it toward the road, where a sleek, black van sits idling.
That’s when I see both the other men are strapped too, ready to shoot if I make a sudden move toward the first guy.
When I don’t go where he wants me, he curls his finger around the trigger. There’s no safety on the Glock, so I know I’m about to be wasted. After all, I’m nobody, just like E.
Except she wasn’t nothing. She was everything.
And if she’s gone, I’m not going to be her replacement.
Suddenly, the leader draws his gun, steps up, and pistol-whips me. I stumble back, falling to my knees, pain hammering into my temple like the blows are still coming.
“Look at you, on your knees like a bitch, just like that sister of yours,” says the young guy.
“You’re wasting our time,” says the leader. “You have two choices. Either walk to the van, or say goodbye.”
I don’t say anything, but I don’t stand, either. I won’t be her replacement, but I won’t let them take me out, either. I decided when I left juvie that no one was ever going to put me back there. No one would decide how I lived. And now I make a new choice. No one gets to decide how I die, either.
So when one of them presses the gun to the back of my head execution style, I hold out my arm, and I draw the blade up my forearm from wrist to elbow. Breathtaking pain blooms up my arm as blood gushes over my skin, dripping from my fingertips into the grass.
“What the fuck?” barks the redneck.
“Did you really think the knife was for you?” I ask, grinning as my head begins to swim. “I will never be imprisoned again. Not by them, and not by you.”
“Let’s roll,” says the leader. “We didn’t come for this asshole. We need to grab the girl and get out of here.”
I need to warn Mercy. To tell Saint not to leave his room. To tell Angel to be careful if he comes looking for me when I don’t show up with her.
Did I tell him I would?
I want to reach for my phone, but my fingers only twitch.
It’s too late.
The last thing I see is stars. I lay on my back in the cool, fresh spring grass. I’m not sure how I got here. Stars twinkle in the deep blue velvet of the sky. Cold is spreading up one side. Maybe I’ll see Eternity soon after all.