Chapter four
Josephine
After the engagement party, Vivian still didn’t come get her stuff from the apartment. I think she could feel the finality that came with moving it all. It’s a big adjustment, and Bella doesn’t seem to press the issue. I kind of wish she would. Having Vivian’s things piled around me is a strange type of torture.
The first few nights alone would have been difficult if Stafford hadn’t sent me out of town on some errands. They were mercy jobs, but I took them gladly; work always helps to silence my thoughts. I was only supposed to be collecting a payment. I know I took it too far. I usually do. It was unnecessary to be as brutal as I was, but some things just can’t be helped, especially when I ask a question, and they refuse to give me a direct answer.
When I return, the air is stale as always and the people strike me as bland. Once upon a time, I would have thought the colors and the lights were beautiful, that the laughter echoing through the streets could inspire my own, or that the night is young and the possibilities are endless. Each person that passes by reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Their joy makes me sick to my stomach with jealousy, masked as abhorrent hatred.
I try to take a deep breath to calm myself, but I’m suffocating with panic. With so many changes, I’m having a hard time accepting it all. It’s unearthing feelings that I had thought were buried. The past keeps itching in the back of my mind. The scars sear with phantom pain. It’s all so loud when there’s nothing to distract you.
Standing in front of the pub, I watch the black house down the street. A cute couple lives there. It’s cozy and out of place for the area. The noise and crowds from Ody’s would drive me crazy, but it doesn’t seem to bother them. I catch myself watching the place when depression settles in my bones.
Sometimes I imagine that Viv and I escaped with Killian and started over in that house. That Killian is always waiting, filled to the brim with the joy I crave so dearly, and that he can figure out how to make it all better. The door opens and the couple comes out onto the open porch. I toss the cigarette to the ground, stamping on it. Some stupid ember of Hope fosters itself in my heart that one day I’ll go home and Killian will be leaning in the doorway of the apartment, arms crossed, with that crooked shit eating grin.
I turn to head inside and catch my reflection in a dirty window in the alley. My ice blonde hair is tied back into a low ponytail. Under my eyes are dark circles, and there are a few specks of blood still on my face. Two hoop piercings on one side of my nose are black shadows in the moonlight. My freshly torn black jeans are a casualty of this latest job. The black shirt and leather jacket I usually wear cover my ugly identifiable scars.
I’ve never regretted the things that I’ve done. They were all out of necessity. Pleasure has been rare in my life. I’m pretty good at feeling sorry for myself when it suits me. The duffel bag in the back of my closet that still stores Killian’s things weighs heavy on me. What would Killian think of me now? Would I be the same? Would he still love me?
In a flurry of rage I punch the window, cutting my hand. Rivulets of blood trickle down into my palm. I wipe it on my pants and head inside. As I enter the back hallway, Caleb grabs me and drags me into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.
“You’ve never struck me as someone who likes rendezvous,” I tease.
“I’m sorry, Josie, but yer to wait here,” he commands.
“In the men’s bathroom?” I lift my eyebrows in response. “You tryna get me alone? I don’t think Fiona will like that much.”
“Shut up. Stafford’s orders.”
Someone starts banging on the door. “Piss off!” we yell in unison.
The person yells some slurs then stumbles away. I lift myself onto the sink with instant regret. My ass is soaking wet because people don’t know how to dry their hands.
“So why are we holding up in here? We might die from the fumes,” I gripe.
“Dunno,” Caleb sighs. “Some people are here to see ‘em.”
I bite my lip in thought. Staff likes to conduct business with as few people around as possible, but I’m usually included. He doesn’t really have friends, only acquaintances. The fact he wouldn’t want me to see them, or them me, is irritating and suspicious. Both things that I hate.
“This is really doing loads for my mental health.” I lean my head back on the rusty mirror. “You’ll be paying for therapy later.”
“I know what kinda therapy yer into. Take my ears so I don’t have to listen to the ole lady complain anymore,” Caleb snorts.
“Genius,” I laugh. “Does anyone clean this fucking bathroom?”
“Thought that was yer job. Not afraid of blood, but yer afraid of a little piss on the wall.”
“A little? It’s a flood.”
Stafford’s laugh rings out in the hallway, but it’s sharp and tense. I can feel the stress from inside this raunchy bathroom. “I’ll keep in touch.”
The back door I entered through shuts. From the sink, I see two dark figures exit the alley. There is a tentative knock on the bathroom door, and I swing it open, sucking in the greasy air. It might as well be the breath of the gods at this point. Caleb shoves me out of the way, gasping. Usually, Stafford would say something witty, but he’s silent, eyes looking around nervously.
“Thank fucking fuck. We all know you don’t last that long, guy.” It’s shouted by a man who is waiting in a very long line for the bathroom as he shoves past us and slams the door.
Stafford ignores him and escorts me into his office, quietly locking the door behind us. When he starts pacing, I know something is wrong.
My eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth. Eventually he paces to his desk and pulls out two glasses with a dark bottle. Without asking me he pours a few fingers of whiskey into both and hands one over. He drowns his immediately, refilling the glass to the brim.
“You’re making me anxious.”
“It would seem your reputation precedes ya, lass.” His statement offers no indication of an explanation.
I down my drink. “Do you care to elaborate?”
“A few big fish have been in this week.” He pauses, tapping his knuckles on the edge of his desk and avoiding my gaze.
“They have jobs?”
“These aren’t the kind of people who simply hire ya for a job, Jo. They have people for that.”
“Then what do they want?”
“They’re askin’ ‘bout an item.”
“Cryptic,” I sigh. “Did they happen to say what?”
He hesitates, clearly not wanting to tell me.
“Spit it out, Staff,” I growl.
“They’re lookin’ for a book. Say it has some symbols on it. Say it was stolen. They wouldn’t tell me anythin’ more, but there’s been chatter.”
“What kind of chatter?”
“I think it’s time we have an uncomfortable conversation, Josephine.” The use of my full name is unsettling. This is serious.
I sit. “Okay.”
He sinks down into his office chair and crosses his feet on the desk, steepling his fingers.
“I know ya don’t appreciate small talk, so I’ll get right to it. I always figured whoever was after ya back then still would be. I’m sure they were expectin’ a full house when they showed up. Is there anythin’ ya haven’t told me?”
I shift uncomfortably. My stomach is falling out of my ass like a lead pipe. “What are you insinuating?”
“I have no intention on givin’ ya up, lass. Even under the worst circumstances. You can trust me. Did Killy or Kate ever give ya anythin’?”
I want to balk at his statement, but really Staff and Viv are the only people I could ever trust. Bella by proxy. As for stuff given to me, there are a few of Killian’s shirts slung into a duffel bag in the back of my closet. It’s not worth anything to anyone except for me.
“I came here with nothing, Stafford.” I give him the same courtesy of using his full name. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“Nothin’. Nothin’,” he says quickly, trying to recover the conversation.
It feels like we’re at a standoff. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Kate was a witch.”
It’s a heavy accusation. It’s a common misconception that witches were the only ones that held Magic. The Remnant believe that our ancestors had the ability to use it at one point, but we were cursed, and the Magic disappeared. Allegedly, witches still possessed small strands of it. They weren’t liked by anyone, in fact, they ended up being considered heretics. Still, once Hades’ regime took over, he looked at us all the same.
There’s not talk of witches, but I know she was one. It was one of many secrets we kept in our house. I put on my practiced face of shock.
“Did Kate ever tell ya ‘bout the Mondurians?” he continues on.
There’s lore among the Remnant. Once upon a time there were monsters. It’s more like a bonfire story or something you tell children so they’ll act right and stay out of the forest. It’s the worship of Li Dav?s Hōyas; the leviathan. They disappeared, rumored to return again someday. Fat fucking chance. Kate was a true believer, arguably the only one. The Remnant believe, but it’s out of tradition not devotion.
“Of course she did. You know that. She preached to everyone about the Mondurians.”
“Did ya ever see a book?”
“What do you mean a book? She had a fucking library, Stafford.”
“Witches always had a grimoire. Somethin’ that had all their spells. Ya really didn’t know she was a witch?”
“I just thought she was weird. We all are. I never saw a book. Someone wants it?”
He nods pensively. “These people… they’re lookin’ for it.”
“Well, good luck to them. Not sure you can find something that doesn’t exist.”
“Ya don’t think it’s real?” Staff, ever the treasure hunter.
“How could it be? Even if it was, I'm sure it burned in the fire.”
“There’s truth to every rumor, lass.”
“And this rumor, that I will inevitably have to chase after, is what?”
“I don’t want ya touchin’ this for now,” he warns. It’s a crushing blow. I don’t like being left out. It reminds me of before.
“Are you joking?”
“Does it sound like I am?”
No, it doesn’t.
“And you’re going to give it to them? The book?”
He avoids a yes or no answer. “Fanatics are dangerous. Whatever they want can’t be good. But if they want it so badly, and they’re comin’ to us, it’s sayin’ somethin’. Can’t have it in the wrong hands.”
“No,” I refuse.
“This isn’t up for discussion.”
“I’m the best for the job.”
His face softens when he sees that I’m hurt. “Listen, I’ll need yer help, just not now. Ya don’t need to be nosin’ ‘round. Too much is at stake, and I don’t think it’d be good for ya. Plus, can’t loose my best employee. For the time bein’, I think ya should take a break. People are lookin’ for things having to do with Kate, and I think they’d take the next best thing.”
He’s right. Kate hid me away, but she hid this book away, too, if it was real. A first nibble of the secrets she was keeping.
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Fine.”
“Good.” He stands up and prowls around the desk. “It’s not forever. I’m sure the whole thing’ll blow over in a few weeks.”
Nothing has ever just ‘blown over’, but Stafford has made it clear that this isn’t a choice.
After Stafford banned me from work, I went straight home. The pub is the only place I tend to hang out unless Vivian drags me somewhere, which is rare. It’s been three weeks with no word from him or anyone else. Only Vivian stops by to make sure there’s food. The new normal.
“Why are you here?” She stands in the kitchen with her arms crossed and the fridge wide open. Bella sits at the table next to me, avoiding my gaze. I guess they talked about this before they came in.
“I live here?” I know what she means.
“Something is up with you, Jo. You’re in this place sulking around. I used to go at least three days a week without seeing you. You’ve been here for weeks. What’s going on?”
Her lips are pursed, and her eyes squint at me. It’s the first time I’ve felt like a little kid in years. For a second, I wonder if she ever knew about the book, but she was never interested in such things. Kate’s eccentric values seemed to bother her, and she tried to stay away from them as much as possible. Her mother thought it was blasphemy, and even though she never said so, I think she did, too.
“I’m taking a vacation from work,” I lie.
She slams the door and comes to sit at the kitchen table. “Vacation my ass. What’s going on between you and Staff?”
My body instinctively goes rigid, and she catches the movement instantly.
“We aren’t speaking to each other right now.” A half-truth to fill the void of the lie she’s caught me in.
She looks like she’s had an epiphany. “You two are fighting?”
“We’re not a thing, Viv. Just needed a break from work.” I shrug.
“Good.” She relaxes. “I was starting to think you might work yourself to death in my absence. Clearly, I was wrong. How long of a break are we talking?”
“To be determined,” I say crisply and change the subject. “Where are you headed to?” They’re dressed up for more than delivering groceries.
“We’re going to a club with one of my coworkers tonight. You know David?”
“The one with four cats?”
“Apparently, he’s finally willing to introduce us to his boyfriend,” she gossips.
“He has a boyfriend?” I’m bewildered, honestly. Who wants to date anyone with four cats? Those things live with you longer than children.
“You know what?” Vivian starts wiggling in her chair like an excited little kid. “Come with us!”
I stare at her trying to figure out what excuse will get me out of this, and I can’t find one that she won’t refute. I really don’t have anything better to do. I’m bored and cooped up.
“Fine.”
“Wait…really? You’re not going to come up with an excuse?”
“I’m reinventing myself.” What a stupid thing to say.
But maybe I am. I’ve spent so much time still living under Kate’s rules, and if what Staff says is true, it’s possible that I could be kidnapped or killed. I haven’t had ‘fun’ for the hell of it in a really long time. I’ve used work as an excuse, and even when I wasn’t at work, I thought about work. I’ve managed to keep it together while I’ve been alone, so far, but I can’t stay here any longer or I’ll spiral.
“No fighting,” she warns.
I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Vivian chatters at me from outside the bathroom door while I get ready, telling me gossip or random work stories that she thinks are hilarious. When I step out of the shower, she’s already thrusting a handful of clothes at me through the door. I pull on fishnets, torn black jean shorts, and a long sleeve mesh crop top that manages to cancel out my scars over a black bralette, finished off with a leather harness and combat boots. She sits me down on the toilet seat and puts dark makeup on me like a doll.
When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. I look like a deeper version of the girl I used to be. Vivian waits with bated breath for my approval.
“You should have been a makeup artist,” I grin.
She giggles and takes a bow. “I wear many hats.”
We perform my three shot ritual and head to Vivian’s friend’s house. When we walk in, we’re greeted by all four of his cats. I’ve met David in passing. The only knowledge I’ve ever retained is that he has cats, and he thinks they’re his children. To each his own, I guess.
David wears a brown choker with a matching leather vest and no shirt. He’s ripped, which I guess you have to be because…cats. Vivian is dressed in an orange crop. The center of the shirt is basically non-existent. A few chains are hanging across, holding it together. Bella is in a dark colored suit with a netted top underneath.
“You remember my sister, Josie,” Vivian introduces me after giving him a quick hug.
“Right, yes.” David’s brown eyes are shining, clearly high. There’s a little too much interest in his gaze for someone with a boyfriend.
“She has finally decided to join the land of the living,” Vivian laughs.
“Well, welcome back. Glad to have you. We’ll have a drink and go.”
While Vivian and David gossip, Bella and I hang off to the side.
“How does he afford it?” I whisper, looking around at the pretentious condo. It’s sleek and modern.
“His boyfriend,” Bella divulges. “Guess he’s some sort of liaison to the king.”
“Sounds bland.”
“Ready to go, ladies?” David calls us over. Bella and I clink our glasses, down the drinks, and follow them out of the door.
We weave through the cobblestone streets full of people until entrance to the club comes into view. A man hangs in the dirty alley smoking a cigarette. The night is humid from stormy weather, and the smoke drifts lazily through the thick damp air. Puddles splash around my shiny black combat boots.
The entrance is one rusted steel door with a lonely flickering bulb dangling above it, making it appear like any other back-alley entrance. Under it is a tree trunk of a man. He’s gotten implants in his face, and scaled tattoos cover his skin with gold piercings littering his face. A snake in a man’s body. He all but confirms it when his split tongue licks across his lips at the sight of us.
I always find it odd when people copy the Mondurians that they say once lived. They were persecuted. That’s why outsiders slandered their name and call them monsters instead. Being different has always killed you in the Underworld, which is why I like to blend in.
The door opens and some people exit. Bass thuds out into the alley.
“Good to see you, David,” the door man hisses, revealing fangs. “I see you’ve brought a party with you, as always.”
“I am the party.” David winks, gliding past him.
“And who are you?” He flicks his tongue at me.
I grab the slippery flesh and dig my fingernails in.
“Your worst nightmare,” I whisper the threat, and he recoils. Vivian rolls her eyes and follows me in.
The music pulses through the walls of the hallway like a heartbeat. People mill around, making out or talking. We push past them and descend the stairs, down, down, down, until we make it to another metal door. When I open it, I’m blasted by the music and bathed in a red light.
There are people everywhere from all walks of life. Some are snorting some powdery substance off of another’s ass, some are at couches taking shots, and others are dancing together, although some of them are dangerously borderline fucking. The smell of sex dominates the air. I turn around to gather the rabid group together, and they’re all already gone.
I find an empty spot at the bar. I’ve sobered up during our walk, so I order two drinks and empty them the second they’re placed in front of me. The burn down my throat causes my stomach to settle, and the warmth quickly spreads through my veins. Maybe I can make it through the night if I keep drinking.
“You’re hot.” A man shouts over the music in my ear. He smells like an ashtray, and while I enjoy cigarettes, the smell of shitty burnt tobacco does not attract me. I flip myself around and try to get some distance so the smell isn’t so strong, but there are so many people that we’re crushed together.
I recognize him as the guy from the alley who was smoking alone. He has long spiky brown hair on one side, oily and stuck to his forehead, and it’s shaved on the other. His eyebrow has a piercing through it, and a much too large ring hangs from his septum. A couple of shitty tribal tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his tank top. Certainly a loser. I guess they’ll let anyone in here.
“Let me buy you a drink. Vodka cran?” He tries to be charming, but it just comes off as slimy and desperate.
Without waiting for me to respond, he orders me one. I’ll take the free drink, even if it’s lame, but I can’t deal with this idiot all night. The bartender slides them recklessly across the bar in tiny plastic cups, and I suck it down before Ashtray even puts his to his lips.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” he leans into my ear and shouts.
“Not interested,” I warn him. He doesn’t take the hint.
I look around the room for an escape. Vivian isn’t anywhere in sight, nor is Bella or David. I can’t hear a word from the guy with the vodka crans. He keeps talking anyways, not even noticing that I’m not paying the slightest bit of attention. I turn back to the counter and flag the bartender, ordering a whiskey.
“Did you hear me?” Ashtray boy, whose name I didn’t hear, whines.
“Go away, or I’ll smash your face into the counter until it bleeds and mix your blood into my whiskey.” My command is simple, but heavy with intention.
He grins with crooked yellow teeth. “Playing hard to get, huh?”
His words throw some sort of switch inside of me. It could have been a calm night. Guess I’ll break my promise of no violence. This idiot has no sense of self-preservation. I slither one hand up Ashtray’s arm and thread my fingers in his hair, getting a good grip on the back of his head.
“I told you to go, the fuck, away,” I growl through gritted teeth. Then I smash his face into the bar over and over, until blood pours from his nose. The bartender sets the whiskey in front of me, frowning at the bloody mess.
I hold Ashtray’s nose over my glass, and the blood splashes in. I swirl it with my finger, making him watch, and drink it in his face. When I release him, Ashtray falls to the floor, scrambling backward and running out in terror. The bartender returns with a black rag and wipes the mess up mumbling to himself.
I look around to see if anyone noticed, and lock eyes with a man sitting at a large couch circling a table in the dark corner. He looks bored and out of place, as if he isn’t in the center of some sort of dark dungeon club, until he notices me. He has on a tight dark suit jacket with nothing underneath. Tattoos cover his entire torso and crawl up his neck ending at his chin. Each outline is intensified by the red lighting. The sight of him makes me want to trail my fingers over them. His dark pants are finished with shiny black dress shoes. There’s recognition in his gaze.
There are other people in his section, including a strange large man with long black hair, a full beard, and golden horned headpiece twisting down his temples, the points resting on his cheeks. Another shirtless man wearing a golden helmet is perched on the arm of the couch.
The guy stands up, making a move to approach me. It hits me where I know this man from. Amber, leather, and sweat permeates my atmosphere before he’s even near. The man from the alley. The one that said he would see me again. The one I wouldn’t tell my name. Fuck, fuck, shit.
“There you are!” Vivian shouts. “We’re going to find David! Stand over there so we can find you again.”
I roll my eyes and nod.
The guy with the helmet tries to get the stranger’s attention to no avail. Then the bull slaps the stranger’s shoulder. I move to the other end of the bar in the corner to pacify Vivian. By the time I turn back to watch, the stranger has slammed the bull against the wall in a chokehold.
I can’t tell if I’ve orgasmed, or if I am having an out of body experience. I’ll be the first to admit I have an affinity for violent men, even Killian had his moments, but this one takes the cake. I remember how much danger lingered in his aura. I picture his hands around my throat, and I can hardly breathe, anxiety replaced by arousal.
Finally, I catch a glimpse of David, and he’s standing right behind the stranger, smiling. They know each other. Fuck, fuck, shit, indeed.