Drop Dead Gorgeous (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #4)

by Stacey Rourke

  Shitty as this entire situation had become, Bahari needed to cool that boss-bitch glamour or I was going to fall in love.

  Chapter Three

  “Who’s the bitch at the stove?”

  I had been put to work the second I was dropped off to Eldoris in the dining trailer: chopping salads, setting the table, and manning a griddle to grill chicken for the cluster of girls about my age that filled the posh trailer. Needless to say, I bristled to have my efforts diminished. Especially by a chick not smart enough to know not to piss off the person handling her food.

  Glancing up from the steaming cooktop, I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, did you just ask for sneezed on chicken? Because this bitch heard a request for sneezed on chicken.”

  “This,” Eldoris clarified, weaving in with a tray of cucumber waters balanced on her hand, “is a new halfling brought to us today. We will all be checking our attitudes at the door and making her feel welcome.”

  While every other female at the camp looked like they just stepped off the cover of Vogue, Eldoris held more of a simplistic elegance. A messy crown of curls, the color of a brilliant copper sunset, haloed her heart-shaped face. Dressed in tattered jeans and a sleeveless flannel shirt knotted at her waist, she obviously went for comfort over style. A fashion sense I could absolutely get on board with.

  It was my full intention to grab Bacon and make a run for it the first chance I got. Therefore, I had no need or desire to learn any more names than absolutely necessary. That being the case, I decided to refer to each of the Mean Girls gathered around the table by the plastic surgery procedure they seemed most likely to have undergone. For example, the chicken critique would henceforth be known as Lip Injections.

  Stabbing her lettuce with her fork, Lip Injections took a bite and talked around her mouthful. “And this is the pageant style she chose? What do you call this look? Homeless teen?”

  Waving my spatula in her direction, I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “You are just a fucking delight. However, my brewing blind panic did catch that mention of a pageant. I have questions.”

  “Well obviously she won’t be competing tonight,” Eldoris placed a water in front of each of the girls encircling the table. “For now, she’ll be helping me behind the scenes by baby powdering asses, and securing updos with hairspray.”

  My face crumbled into a cringe. “Uh … I’m going to need you to circle back to the ass powdering thing.”

  Reaching around me, Eldoris grabbed a basket full of chocolate muffins off the counter and dropped it into the center of the table. “It’s for butt sweat. The girls get that bad under the stage lights.”

  “Stage lights?” I gulped. Apparitions and the undead I could handle, the threat of taffeta and sequins I could not. “So… you gals are talking a real pageant. Not, like, a metaphor for the excessive pageantry of consumerism that is life?” Absently, I scratched at my neck. “Am I getting hives? I feel like I’m getting hives.”

  “The real thing,” Botoxed-Into-an-Expressionless-Mask blinked my way. “If you want to eat, you’ll embrace the competition.”

  Eldoris swatted at the air between her and Botoxed. “Stop it! That’s not true! You’re just trying to scare her!”

  “Too late,” I mumbled, rocking back on my heels I glanced out the window and tried to figure out which trailer was number six. I mean, if I made a mad dash for it, I could probably find him before one of the full-blooded sirens drowned me on dry land.

  Rhinoplasty snorted a mocking laugh. “We get to eat, but more treats and rewards are gifted to the winners. It’s easy to see that some people at this table could stand to lose a little more often.” Her stare pointedly fell to Comically Large Boobjob.

  Boobjob paused in peeling the paper off her second chocolate muffin. “You want the prizes? Step up your game.” She punctuated the statement with a giant bite of chocolatey goodness.

  “What game?” Full Lobotomy chirped, curling one lock of hair around her index finger.

  Aw, Scarecrow, I love you most of all.

  “You need to eat quickly, ladies.” Resting one hand on the back of Butt Implants’ chair, Eldoris scanned the table to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Costumes have to be on in fifteen minutes. There’s no time for fighting.”

  “Maybe if your family had fought a little more we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.” Cheek Enhancements lifted her brows in passive aggressive challenge.

  The oxygen was sucked from the room in a collective sharp intake of air.

  Remember those moments when you were a kid and your friend’s parents would start fighting in front of you, and it was so insanely uncomfortable you wanted to melt into the wall to escape it? Exact same kind of vibe.

  Head held high, Lip Injections pulled her shoulders back in a haughty pose. “I can’t speak for the rest of you, but I appreciate the pod’s rules and choose to rise to the challenge of each. That’s the key to one day being viewed as an equal, instead of an impure halfling.”

  “Is that the delusion you’ve convinced yourself of?” Botoxed’s head tilted in her only visible display of emotion. “We will never be counted among them. This is all there is, until they have no further need for us. Why do you think the oldest among us is only twenty-four? If we’re old enough to rent a car, we’re past our prime. What comes after that will be far worse that swimsuit competitions and Vaseline on our teeth, I assure you.” Shoving her chair back from the table, she spun towards the door. Pausing for a beat, she glanced my way. “Welcome to the pod, halfling. It’s a feeding-frenzy.”

  Chapter Four

  “All of these guys watch Bahari shower?” I marveled, jerking my chin towards the full staff of stagehands and caterers milling around the tent. “What, is there stadium style seating in there?”

  Hands hovering over the buttons and knobs of the lighting and sound board, Eldoris’ forehead creased into a deep V. “I’m sorry… what?”

  Taking a step forward, I got myself out of the way of a bearded fella busy rushing costumes backstage. “Arroyo secured the obedience of her lackeys by letting them watch her bathe. I thought that was, like, a siren thing.”

  “Gross,” Bearded Guy interjected. “Girl, I’m gay and well paid.”

  “He means in cash, not shower loofahs.” One corner of Eldoris’ mouth tugged back in a grin. “You must not think much of us, if you think that’s how we secure loyalty in our staff.”

  The music changed to an up tempo instrumental, drawing her attention back to the board.

  On an elevated platform at the far end of the glammed up tent, the prima donnas from lunch paraded on a polished walnut stage, each looking more like a painted up Barbie than the next. Sequined gowns swished around their ankles. Sparkling jewels dripped from their necks, gleaming under the spotlights. No expense had been spared as far as the eye could see. Crystal chandeliers hung over head. Panels of hardwood flooring had been carted in to hide any trace of the rural landscape. An extravagant buffet was heaped with gourmet food, while tuxedo clad caterers weaved through the room to hand deliver top-shelf cocktails. Seated in row after row of upholstered chairs were men in expensive suits, peering up at the parading beauties like wolves eyeing a flock of sheep.

  Lips screwing to the side, I looped my thumbs in the front pockets of my jeans. “One of your kind killed my friend, and abducted me and my pig. On top of that, your pod hosts the type of archaic show originated by men that’s meant to turn women against each other in competition over whose prettier. When, instead, we should be lifting each other up as strong, empowered women. That all adds up to me not being a fan, no.”

  Glancing my way, something that resembled resentment dripped from Eldoris’s tone. “You haven’t figured it out yet? Huh. You strike me as a more clever girl than to overlook something so obvious.”

  The girls.

  The food.

  The alcohol.

  The entire flashy spl
endor.

  It was all designed for one thing.

  The realization socked me in the gut, forcing a gasp to slip from my lips. “You’re luring the men here.”

  Typing in a code, Eldoris cued up crisscrossing beams of pink light that danced over the stage. “I am not doing anything of the sort. But, yes, that is what’s behind this whole production. Invitations go out to the most elite and influential businessmen in each town that we visit. If there’s one thing successful men love, it’s beautiful women. Not a night goes by that one among them doesn’t approach Bahari, offering gross amounts of money for the lady of their choosing. The arrangement is made, and the guy is ushered to a private trailer. The girl is there, for a while, long enough to ease him into a false sense of security. Then, any sirens in camp arrive … to feed.”

  Mouth sagging into a downward C, I suddenly hated every single person in that stupid, pretty tent. “See, now that information just leaves me conflicted. These guys are pigs, but they don’t deserve to die over it.”

  With a twitch of her head, Eldoris flicked a rogue curl from her eyes. “We don’t kill them. That would draw too much negative attention to the tour. They’re left alive, and too embarrassed by their actions to say anything to anyone. Besides, what would they say? A throng of women nearly sucked them to death? They’d get more high-fives than pity.”

  Closing my eyes for a beat, I tried to process this flood of disturbing information. “The men come to prey on the girls, and you ladies prey on them instead. It’s like the perfect storm of moral grey areas.”

  A sadness stole over Eldoris’ features that she sniffed to suppress. “It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when the relationship between a siren and her chosen was one of a beautiful mutual exchange.”

  “Uh,” I held up one hand in protest. “I had a front row seat for Arroyo’s last feed. That was about as beautiful as a Great White eating a harp seal.”

  Swapping spotlights for footlights, Eldoris brought the sound up on Bahari’s mic as she took center stage. “Arroyo is a sociopath. Don’t let her be your example of our kind. The relationship between siren and human is meant to be an unspoken waltz of both giving of themselves. Siren in body, human in spirit. By the end of an exchange, both would be tapped of energy but mutually sated.”

  A plethora of off-color comments sprang to mind, yet one look at the wistful sorrow etched into Eldoris’ features clamped my lips shut on any attempted snark. “What happened?” I ventured instead.

  Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, Eldoris shook her head. “It was an old school way of thinking; purity of the bloodline being crucial to siren society survival. Which, as we know now, is BS. You and the other halflings are proof of that.” Palm up she gestured to the living dolls sashaying across the stage with their tits pushed out and tummies sucked in. “What was never allowed was the mixing of blood with other supes. It was my sister who broke that forbidden law, at a time of unrest within the siren factions.” Tears welling in her eyes, Eldoris blinked hard to fight them off. “An uprising was staged. My father—the czar—was put to death in a brutal fashion, along with my sister and mother. They only spared me because I was little more than a baby myself. A life of servitude is my penance for being born into that fallen empire.”

  Arroyo told me a similar story before trapping me in the bottom of a chasm. Even so, hearing it from someone whose life had been crushed by the repercussions gave it far more weight. A million questions flooded my mind; primarily about her sister’s love interest, and the rumors of a child.

  All it took was one glimpse of her fighting to steady her quivering chin for those musings to die on my tongue.

  Instead, I opted to sink into the comfort of my usual snark to break the tension. Edging up beside her, I bumped her elbow with mine. “So, if I just started randomly pushing buttons, how badly could I mess things up? Scale of one-to-ten.”

  “Eleven. Go sit over there.”

  Chapter Five

  You know that moment when you go to the eye doctor and they are just about to do that horrible puff of air right in your eyeball thing? You know that somehow, someway, it’s good for you, but that doesn’t make it any less miserable when it happens. That’s the same feeling I got every time I attempted any sort of spell. Yet, there I was, laying flat on my back on a paper-thin cot in the costume trailer, waiting for all sounds of motion to still from Eldoris’ room down the hall so I could try my hand at astral projection. There was a high probably I would accidently blow myself up in the process, but I was trying my damnedest not to focus on that. Flinging one arm over my eyes, my right leg anxiously shook. With the day’s festivities over minutes ticked by before the trailer quieted, and the campsite fell into a sleepy hush.

  I had just kicked my legs over the side of the bed, preparing to wriggle back into my jeans folded on the floor beside me, when an incessant knock rattled the door of the trailer.

  “Eldoris!” A hushed shout accompanied the frantic pounding. “Eldoris!”

  Zipping my pants up, I stumbled down the hall, arriving at the door at the same time Eldoris did. Somehow, the disgraced former royal looked even more lovely in her disheveled state. She shrugged a hoodie on over her t-shirt and shorts pajama set, her auburn hair a wild crown of curls that haloed her head. Brow set in a stern mask of concern, Eldoris held me back with one arm, in an almost protective gesture, and unlocked the door.

  You sleep fully clothed?

  I have to. I’m a sleepwalker.

  The second it clicked, the frantic person on the other side seized the door handle and flung it open. Intellect Forced into Pageant Attire stood shaking before us, mascara smearing her tear streaked face.

  “I … I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, chin trembling as another wave of tears threatened. “It was an accident. B—but I don’t know what to do. You have to help me.”

  “Enough.” Eldoris stated, not out of anger but in assuming control of the situation. “Don’t say a word. Either of you. Take me to the situation, immediately.”

  I didn’t wait to see if I was invited, but followed them out into the night, led by the familiar fingers of death prickling down my spine. With one hand on the side of the trailer, I eased the door shut as quiet as I could, then jogged to catch up to the pair marching across the camp with resolute strides.

  They stopped at the trailer parked closest to where the tent had been. Which, at the time, allowed all parties involved to sneak in unnoticed by the dispersing crowd. Pressing her finger to her lips to hush the whimpers seeping from Intellect’s lips, Eldoris cracked open the trailer door and inched inside.

  As she disappeared inside, the beauty queen beside me launched into full panic attack. Fanning her face, she tried to catch her breath in between labored wheezes. “Ohmygawdohmygawdohmygawd. We’re going to get caught. They’re going to kill us. Shackled in iron and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. They won’t bother to listen to details, or what for an explanation. They’re just going to—”

  Feeling my own pulse rise at her panicked rambling, I took a step closer and grabbed the girl’s face between my palms. “Hey! Hi, there. What’s your name?”

  “Morningstar,” she murmured, her face squished into fish lips by the heels of my hands.

  “Nope,” All emotion erased from my features, I blinked in her direction. “I can’t call another grown-ass adult that. Let’s go with Joan. Joan, I need you to focus all of your energy on shutting the hell up. Because the three of us are grossly outnumbered here, and I—for one—would really like to make it out of this alive. You keep whimpering and we’re going to start seeing lights going on around us. Now, I don’t know what happened in that trailer, but I’m guessing we don’t want a big ole audience for it. Not if we want to continue the fun pass time called breathing.”

  “I fear we may be well beyond that point.” Eldoris slumped down the trailer stairs, her shoulders sunk with defeat. “Come inside, both of you. Chastity, you need to tell us exactly what h
appened so we can figure out what to do from here. Like it or not, from this moment on, the three of us are in this together.”

  Chapter Six

  The coppery scent of blood assaulted my senses, the pull of the dead driving my pulse to a feverish pounding. Blood splashed over the walls, fat droplets soaking into the upholstery of the suede couch. The body of a middle aged man with his expensive looking slacks around his ankles was sprawled in the middle of the floor, his eye sockets hollowed and haunting. Slumped over him, was the lifeless corpse of Bahari with the back of her skull cracked open like a coconut.

  After closing and locking the trailer door behind us, Eldoris around the room shutting all the blinds and clicking off all but one dim tableside lamp. “All the details. Now.”

  Her chestnut mane cascading in thick waves to her waist, the beauty queen chewed on the cuticle of her thumbnail, her entire body trembling.

  Arms folded tightly over my chest, so I didn’t accidentally trip and resurrect a corpse, I bumped her arm with my elbow. “She means you, Joan.”

  Eldoris winced at the name, but said nothing.

  One hand protectively over her midsection, she let her other arm swing slack at her side. “It started out like any other matching.”

  “That’s what they call it when the halflings are forced to seduce a gentleman until one of the purebloods can feed on them,” Eldoris clarified for my benefit, her lips pursed with blatant disapproval. “Go on, child.”

  Joan chewed on her lower lip, one strap of her silky nightgown had slipped off her narrow shoulder. She was a pretty girl, with eyes large enough to pass as an anime character. “He was nice enough, at first. Told me I was pretty, asked if I’d ever been to St. Lucia.”