by Alice Bell
Zadie
“When are we going to kill Scarlett?” Zadie asked Inka. They were in their hotel room getting dressed for the night. Inka painted red lipstick on her mouth. “We are not going to kill Scarlett,” she said.
“You promised.”
Inka turned from the mirror. “Devon will kill Scarlett.”
Zadie’s breath caught. It was a stroke of genius. She clapped her hands. “Does that mean… is he coming?”
Inka reached for her leather jacket. “He’s coming.”
“When?”
“Oh, Zadie. Don’t be so boring. You’re getting on my last nerve.”
Inka drove, taking the freeway toward China Town. As they neared Irving Street, Zadie felt slightly mollified. They cruised slowly past Devon’s building where lights warmed the windows. There was a light on in Scarlett’s apartment too.
“This woman who has taken over Devon’s building,” Inka said. “She’s a famous psychic.”
“How do you know?”
“Bram has eyes and ears all over the city.”
“Is she super famous?” Zadie said. “I’ve never heard of her.”
Inka chuckled. “Not really. A local celebrity. But I don’t like her being so close to Scarlett. She may get in our way.”
“That would be bad,” Zadie said.
“I’m thinking you will have an opportunity to satisfy your bloodlust, Little One, when we get rid of the psychic.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Devon
For over a week, I didn’t see Dru. I’d begun to wonder about her, hoping she was lying low and not trying her luck at another escape attempt, when, at last, she rapped on my door.
“Hey, you,” I let her in.
Her black hair was free from its braids, curling wildly, and there was a nervous jitter about her, the way her hands fluttered, the way she chewed her bottom lip. I was taken aback. Could she be…? “Are you high?” I said, surprised she would risk it so soon after getting out of the dungeon. But, of course, I was a risk too, and she hadn’t batted an eye at me.
“A little,” she said, shrugging. I thought she was trying to smile but her trembling lips got in the way.
“Here, sit down,” I pulled out a stool for her.
She sat with her sneakered feet propped on the rungs. She breathed heavily, as if she’d been running.
“Jesus, are you okay?” I said.
Her foot tapped. “Devon—I…” she rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand, before gazing up at me. She sighed. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things you don’t want to know.”
“Don’t I?”
She shook her head and glanced down, a tear plopping on the counter. She quickly rubbed it off with her sleeve.
“Hey, hey… don’t cry. What’s wrong?”
She kept looking down. “Bad day?” I said.
“You can’t even imagine,” she said.
“I bet I can.”
“Oh, Devon,” she sounded irritated suddenly, impatient.
“Listen, it’ll be alright.” I wanted to soothe her but I had no idea what I was talking about. Considering the state she was in, and how attracted she was to trouble, it was highly likely things would not be alright.
She assessed me, like she was seeing me for the first time. “You’re so different than I thought you were,” she said, finally, and it seemed to make her sad.
There was an awkward silence. “Not to point out the obvious,” I said. “But you’re high.”
“Right,” she didn’t look at me. She was gazing at the spot where her tear had fallen. It seemed she was turning over something in her mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I said.
She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. When she finally spoke, the conversation took an unexpected turn. “Are you still in love with Scarlett?” she said.
I stammered, “I—well, uh…” Had I said I was in love with Scarlett? Was I?
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I don’t know,” I said. “I think about her all the time.”
“But you don’t think about me the same way?” She looked so young, gazing up at me. Her pupils were huge. She was high as a kite, and yet, she was dead serious, I realized. I didn’t want to hurt her but I owed her the truth. “No,” I said.
Her breath caught. “Why?”
“Dru… don’t do this.”
“Aren’t you even attracted to me?” she said.
She was so full of life and beautiful, maybe she’d never been turned down before. “It’s not that. It’s everything… training and Decimus, all the rules, not knowing if I’m doing the right thing. I have no idea what the future holds—”
“Exactly why we have to live in the moment.” She leaned forward and grabbed my shirt to pull me close to her. “You and me, Devon. Right now.”
She was right. We were all we had. Her full lips were so close, so kissable…
But I couldn’t. I stepped back.
“Devon, please. I want this… you. I need you. God, you don’t understand. I need a reason not to—not to fuck up…”
“Hey, hey…” I touched her hair. “We can talk about it… later. Right now, just try to relax for a minute.”
She moved away from my touch, ducking her head. “Let’s do some lines, then,” she said. “Can’t you at least be fun for me?”
“I’m in training.” I stared at her. Fuck. What was I missing?
She gave a mean little snicker. “You’ll be in training for the rest of your life, Devon.”
“What?”
She ignored me and took out a small zip locked baggie of white powder. She shook it at me. “You know you want some. Your friend Decimus snorts this stuff like it’s going out of style.”
“No thanks,” I said. “Put it away.”
Her eyes darted to the window. In the next second, she was dumping out the powder.
“Hey, I don’t want that shit in here—” I grabbed her arm and when I did I saw a flash of something on the underside of her forearm.
“What the fuck, Dru…”
It was a tattoo. A purple heart… for bravery. “My god…” There was a ringing in my ears. “You’re an Angel.”
And then I knew. I thought of how she’d glanced at the window just seconds ago, before littering my counter with illegal drugs. Someone was out there, watching. It was a set-up, and our whole friendship nothing but an ugly lie.
The mound of white dust shimmered on the black granite. With disbelief, I watched Dru take a dip, lifting her finger to her mouth and sucking. The gesture was sexual, inviting, and hideous in the glare of her betrayal. Her lips were so red, the color of blood. She smiled slowly. “Yum,” she whispered.
“You bitch,” I growled, and the door burst open.
It was the military police, a pair of bruisers, though not Todd. At least there’s that, I thought. I put up my hands. “Wait. Let me explain.” But I knew my protests were futile.
“Stand back,” one of the officers told Dru.
I shot a glare at her. “Listen, sir,” I said. “It’s not what it looks like—”
The reply was a fist to my mouth. I reeled back, tasting blood.
“Stop it,” Dru cried. “You’re not supposed to hurt him.”
They punched me again and again, before I fell. Steel toes battered my ribcage. Handcuffs cut into my wrists. Through it all, I heard Dru sobbing and thought, really?
More blows landed on my head. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and the world went dark.
Scarlett
I tried to read the book Erin had given me but the words got squiggly and jumbled, sliding off the pages like alphabet soup; a sure sign I was losing it. The same thing had happened to Sylvia Plath, I’d heard.
Dr. Sinclair was still ‘out of the office’, and I was angry. Someone in her position shouldn’t be allowed to go on vacation. I needed her.
My own vacation was coming to an end. In a matter of days, I had to report to work, and if I
didn’t get a hold of some Valium or sleeping pills, I wouldn’t make it. Once again, I tried Dr. Sinclair’s answering service. “It’s really important,” I told the operator. “Imperative.”
“If this is an emergency, you need to go to Urgent Care.”
“Do they have psychiatrists in Urgent Care? Because that’s what I need. A shrink.” I hung up on her and threw my phone across the counter.
Then, trying to calm down, I made a salad, but I was out of dressing. Sitting at the bar, shoving dry lettuce into my mouth, I was on the verge of tears. I wanted to scream.
After taking a bath, I went to bed at nine. I hoped the bath would relax me, but nothing ever did, except Valium.
When I finally slept, I writhed on the sheets.
Zadie and Inka chased me down narrow, twisting streets. My legs pumped. My breath turned ragged. I ran and stumbled and veered. In the end, I came to a wall, impossible to scale with its razor wire and broken glass.
I woke clutching my amulet, holding onto it for dear life.
My hands trembled all the time now. I was obsessing over the smallest things, like how many steps were between the door and my bed, how many packets of sugar to put in my coffee. I wasn’t even supposed to drink coffee but I was exhausted every morning. How else could I continue on?
Apparently, I’d damaged my phone when I threw it. Though I plugged it in, it wouldn’t take a charge. I moved it from outlet to outlet with no luck. Technology was scary. You could never rely on it and yet the whole world did.
As I stood in front of the vista window, I found myself gazing into Erin’s window across the street. There was a dim light behind the window but she hadn’t turned on her party lights. They always came on when it got dark. Just as I was wondering if it meant anything, I saw movement at the window. Someone peeked out, someone who I felt sure was not Erin. Erin would have all the lights on. She would never scurry around in the dark.
I threw on a sweater and rode the elevator down to the lobby. At the glass doors, a man came in, folding an umbrella. “Wet out there,” he said, smiling at me.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Are you alright?” his smile disappeared.
Why did everyone ask me that? I must look a fright, I thought. I licked my lips and nodded to him again. I was aware of his gaze following me outside. I stood under the awning, shivering in the damp air.
When there was a break in traffic, I ran out into the rain, across the street. I had that terrible feeling of dread pounding inside me. Though I had the fleeting thought it might only be because I’d run out of Valium, something urged me onward, toward Erin’s. As I neared her stairs, there was a prickle beneath my skin.
Standing on the sidewalk, rain slid down my face like tears, as I gazed up at her door. She’d painted it purple. The sight of her soggy geraniums made me sad for some reason, like no matter how hard you tried, things got ruined. You were always having to start over. Try again.
I decided to go up and ring the bell to scare the burglar. I wished my phone hadn’t died so I could call the police. I took a deep breath, summoning my courage. It incensed me that someone was violating Erin’s home, probably stealing her antiques. Maybe I shouldn’t ring the bell, but run straight home to call 9-1-1 from my land line.
For God sake, just do it. The police will be too late.
Before I could change my mind, I ran up the stairs and put my finger on the buzzer, stabbing it angrily, again and again. Adrenalin surged in my veins. I felt like I was yelling at everybody who had ever done me wrong.
And then, suddenly, I stopped.
My eyes fell on the doorknob that was silver and shiny. I felt compelled to turn it. When I did, the door opened.
I stole inside.
The sudden darkness confused me, though swaths of light from the street lamps came through the long windows. I cast my gaze around the vast foyer. My eyes went up to the cathedral ceiling, where the stained glass skylight shone crimson. As my gaze traveled down the spiral staircase, my breath caught.
“Oh!” I touched the stone on my amulet. “Oh, Erin.”
I rushed across the room. Icy needles pricked my flesh. A cloying sweetness filled my nostrils. I thought of my mother’s lover, Javier, shot in the chest. Red swirled in my vision and made me dizzy.
“No…”
Erin lay at the bottom of the stairs, her head twisted at a wrong angle, her eyes open and vacant.
Devon
I came to in what could only be the dungeon. Cold seeped in from somewhere. The flip of a switch in a control room? There was an underlying smell of mold. Utter darkness. Steel teeth bit into my ankles.
I lay there, aware of a deep, internal hurt. It was an acrid taste in my mouth, as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
I didn’t think they’d leave me here to die. What would be the point? No, they'd drive their point home, probably into my groin area. And then, my head would roll… to be mounted on a stake in the vampire quarter.
Eventually, the lights came on, flooding the room with light, as if at the end of a show. I squinted against the sudden glare. The ceiling was metal, maybe nine feet above me. In the distance, a door clanged open and shut. Soon, I heard footsteps approaching. I laid there, staring up at the ceiling.
“Sit up!” a voice commanded. I recognized that voice. The cruelty in it was unmistakable. Zillah. My fingers curled, my legs twitched in response. But I didn't feel like sitting up.
“I gave you an order. Obey.”
I ignored her. Nothing was real. I let my mind float away, up to the ceiling, and back down, and out through the cracks. I closed my eyes and saw a million scattered stars.
“You... arrogant bastard.”
I smiled.
“Guards!” Zillah screamed.
Scarlett
I had to get a grip. I was obsessing over Erin’s incomprehensible death. But as the days slid by, I lost track of events. I couldn’t organize what had happened into any kind of chronological order.
I’d kept a calendar on my phone that I could no longer access. I emptied out my drawers, looking for a real calendar, the old-fashioned kind with pictures of cats.
My acrylic nails ripped off, my fingers bled. I licked my lips until they were dry and chapped. I paced and cried and worried.
I'd told the police Erin was murdered. Why did I do such a thing? I'd been so convinced of it when they questioned me. Now, I wasn't sure it was murder. I wasn’t sure of anything, except I'd gone and made myself the prime suspect. After all, I’d found Erin’s body… and I was the daughter of a murderer.
I closed the blinds on the big window so I wouldn't keep looking out across the street. A minute later, I opened them again.
The sky was bullet gray. The city looked flat and bleak. Soon it would be dark. I stood there, watching and waiting. I wished I had binoculars.
Oh! A shape at the window.
I stood still. Someone looked out. Even from my distant vantage point, I could easily see her hair, like a flame. Zadie.
Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades.
Was it really Zadie, or was I falling down the rabbit hole of insanity? I thought maybe I should try to call Dr. Sinclair again. Maybe I could find her address in the phone book and see her in person.
But I was rooted to the floor. I wanted to keep watching, though whoever had been at the window moved out of sight.
Go, I told myself. Call 9-1-1. Now.
But there was something wrong with the scene, like one of those picture books, where there is a clock with too many hands, or a person with two left feet, and you can’t see it. Not right away. You have to look hard for the thing that is askew.
Finally, I found it. There was no crime scene tape. There wasn’t going to be an investigation. The police didn’t believe me.
My ears rang. Pain throbbed at my temples.
And, as I watched, Erin herself came out the door. She had on a black raincoat.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
When I looked again, Erin was going down the steps, perfectly fine, almost skipping.
I couldn’t bear it. How could I have fantasized something so gruesome?
I was in a bad way. Here I was ready to call the police but I should be calling the psych ward. I needed help.
But I didn’t call anyone.
I slipped into my boots by the door, and grabbed my red cardigan to cover the black silk nightgown I’d been wearing for days.
In the elevator, I bit what was left of my nails, willing the car to go faster. The elevator dinged, the doors opened and I burst out into the lobby. When I darted into the street, the horn of an oncoming car blared.
Erin stood at the corner, waiting for the light. I called to her, as I ran. My pulse raced, my heart pounded. I was so glad to see her. So what if I was psychotic. Erin is alive.
Only it wasn’t Erin at all.
It was Autumn. Her mouth opened in surprise.
I took big gasps of air. My lungs hurt. “Oh, Autumn… it’s you.”
“Miss Rain? What—what are you doing?” her gaze took in my disheveled appearance. I saw alarm in her eyes.
“Don’t mind me,” I said. “I’ve been sick. I just—well, I thought you were your mother and—” I took a deep breath. “I need to talk to her… ” my voice trailed off.
“You didn’t hear?” Autumn’s face was white. Her bottom lip trembled. “She died.”
TWENTY-SIX
Devon
Zillah acted as if she knew me, like I’d slain her entire family in their beds. I wanted to ask her, “Have we met before?” But I never spoke to her again. Not a single word. It was the one thing she couldn't make me do.
As her house servant, I performed my duties with precision, putting my whole mind and body into each small detail, so she couldn’t fault me. I let my hair and beard grow long, out of perversity, and to remind myself of the passing of time. I would eventually grow old and die.
I hung out in the library after the maid who dusted had gone. I liked to rifle through the tabloids. I got a kick out of them, especially the ones about me.