Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  “This is so weird,” Kimber grumbles, but she follows us up the stairs anyway, watching as we assemble the cage and get it ready. The other kids—Ben, Amelia, and even shy little Henry—join us in Parrish’s room, oohing and aahing over the new pet and stroking gentle fingers along its back.

  The entire scenario is … well, it’s warm and comforting in a way that I’ve been wanting since I got here. For once, I actually feel like I’m a part of the family. Considering I just lost my only friends, that I got jumped by my classmates (twice), that Tess is as cold and distant as always, it’s a miracle.

  But that miracle, it’s bittersweet and broken on my tongue.

  “Can I hold the bunny?” Ben asks, and I nod, scooting over on Parrish’s bed and patting the mattress with my right hand.

  “Take a seat.” I pass the rabbit over as he flashes me a huge grin, stroking his hand over its ears. All around us, Parrish’s art hangs on the walls, fills the sketchbooks atop the desk, decorates the silicone hands and feet in the drawers. I can smell him, too, and the words dewy clovers come to mind, and then I start thinking about the conversation we had while lying on this very bed.

  “Why do you always wear that perfume?”

  “Me? I’m not wearing any perfume. You’re the one that douses himself in freaking dewy clovers and citrus every day.”

  “Dewy clovers? I’m not sure what, exactly, a ‘dewy clover’ smells like. But I can promise you this: I’m not wearing anything either.”

  “Excuse me,” I blurt suddenly, shoving up to my feet. I end up in his bathroom, slamming the door closed before Chasm or Maxx can stop me. I flick the fan on, turn the sink on full blast, and sit atop the closed lid of the toilet with my face in my hands.

  I’d heard that falling in love hurts, but I never realized how badly it could make you ache. Love is a gift that opens up the heart and soul, but it’s also a curse, waiting for one, awful tragedy to turn that beauty into so much glorious decay.

  Tomorrow will be day twelve of Parrish’s disappearance; the Slayer’s victims are always found on or after the fourteenth day since they went missing. And, according to that stupid podcast, their time of death—when possible to calculate with any accuracy—always points to day fourteen. Like those teens on the side of the milk carton, a picture, a missing smile, an empty chair at the dinner table.

  Covering my face with my hands, I allow myself a moment to shore up.

  This time, Parrish isn’t here to grab me, to wrap me in his arms and hold me.

  And he never will be again, if I don’t figure this out.

  Come on, Gamer Girl, you’ve got this; you can do this.

  I lift my head, take a deep breath, and force a smile before stepping out of the bathroom door.

  I don’t get much sleep that night, despite Chasm and Maxx’s dual protests. Instead, I stay up for hours researching the Slayer’s previous victims, marking the map on my phone with the places they were last seen, researching their families and friends for possible connections, and combing social media to get a read on their likes and dislikes.

  I check my notifications yet again, kicking myself for even bothering to make the video in the first place. Other than the few random comments I’ve already taken note if, there’s nothing there.

  I feel like I’m hitting my head against a brick wall at this point.

  Except … what about the obvious? Chasm’s dad’s rental house, his security team, his past friendship with my father, his wine cellar.

  When I head downstairs, just on the off chance that Chasm is still awake, I find him shirtless on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging down. I’m so relieved that Tess let him stay. If she’d banished him yet again, I’m not sure that I ever could’ve forgiven her.

  “Hey.”

  Chas lifts his head up to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed, mouth pressed into a thin line. He does his best to affect a smile when he sees me, but it falls flat.

  “You should be asleep,” he admonishes with a snort, shaking his head and then lying back against the couch. Chasm digs his fingers into his hair, giving it a small tug as he closes his eyes. “Although I guess I’m being hypocritical here.”

  “I want to take a look at your father’s wine cellar,” I say, and Chas cracks his eyes to look at me. A huh sort of expression on his face.

  “You think Parrish is in my house?” he asks, blinking at me like I’m a crazy person. I move over to sit beside him, unashamed of my Pikachu pajamas. Hell, I wore these to a party, so the entire school knows about them. How I survived that night without being torn apart is almost beyond me. I guess when Kimber told me that Parrish and Lumen ruled the school, I didn’t quite understand the extent of their influence. “Don’t you think I’d recognize the wine cellar from my own house?” He sounds annoyed, but I know it’s not with me. It’s just the situation.

  His father really is starting to look guilty as hell.

  “I’m not accusing him of anything, I just feel like we need to check it out.”

  Chasm frowns, giving his hair another yank before he sits up. I notice that his lip rings have been taken out; they’re sitting in a cup on the coffee table. Beside them, there’s a small plastic bag with two black studs. As I watch, he opens the bag and then goes about trying to put the new piercings in.

  It’s a similar process to putting earrings in, it seems, and probably much easier with a mirror.

  With a sigh, I move over to him and take the black metal stud from his fingers. It has a sharp point on the end of it, like a cone. I imagine these will look really good on him.

  “Let me do it,” I say, getting on my knees and leaning over him. Chasm looks like he’s been sucker-punched, but he doesn’t fight me as I slip the piercing in through the hole on the side of his lip. Tucking the backing between the unbroken fingers of my right hand, I slide them into his mouth and fit the tiny piece of metal to the back of the stud.

  My heart is pounding, and my pulse is so loud that I can’t really hear much else. The light trickle of music from Chas’ phone disappears as I fiddle with the other piercing. The backing accidentally drops from my fingers and falls to his lap. Without thinking, I reach down to pick it up, fingers brushing over the hard bulge between his legs.

  My eyes flick up and I realize with a start how damn close our faces really are. And also, that I just stuck my fingers in Chasm’s mouth. And then touched his dick without meaning to.

  With a grimace, he reaches out and takes me by the shoulders, pushing me back a safe distance from the surprising heat of his body.

  “Little Sister,” he grinds out, but even if he calls me that, it doesn’t help. It doesn’t put distance between us or hide what’s going on. They say you grow closer to the people around you in a crisis. I just didn’t expect how quickly it would happen or how hard I would fall. “Give me the backing.”

  I pass over the tiny piece of metal, careful to drop it in his palm so that our hands don’t touch.

  He fiddles with the piercing for a moment and then slides his tongue over his lower lip, poking at the two metal studs before finally looking back at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as Chasm drags a pillow over his lap and rests his hands atop it, drumming his fingertips against the fabric. I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for. Touching him yet again when he asked me not to. Or because I’m essentially accusing his father of being involved in Parrish’s disappearance.

  What he can’t see, however, is the proof of my own arousal.

  Even though I don’t want it, even though it makes me feel guilty, I can feel a warmth between my thighs, a throbbing pulse that seems so much worse now that I’ve awoken the sleeping dragon of my sexuality. Being with Parrish was amazing. If he hadn’t gone missing, I imagine we’d have recreated that night over and over and over again.

  “Sorry for what?” Chas asks, turning away from me toward the windows on his left. Across the lake, the lights of Seattle burn like fireworks in the night, blinking and f
lickering, proof that there’s life out there in the darkness. Is Parrish across the lake somewhere? Is he within walking distance of us even now? “For me getting a hard-on every time you’re around? How is that your problem? That’s on me, Little Sister.”

  I shift uncomfortably, tucking one leg up on the couch and wrapping my arms around my knee.

  “Maybe … you shouldn’t call me Little Sister anymore?” I suggest, and he snorts.

  “Maybe I should keep calling you that and something about it will stick?” he suggests, but we both know that it won’t help. We’re attracted to each other. We have been for quite a while, I think. My mind strays back to the very first party I attended here in Medina. I remember how Chasm came up to me right away. At the time, I figured he was just looking to tease me. From my current perspective, it sure seems like he was offering me company when I didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

  He looked ticked-off that night when I asked about Parrish, like something about the question was borderline offensive. Again, new perspective, maybe he was jealous? I also can’t help but think about the bikini-clad brunette who cozied up to him. Was he helping her the way he helped that other drunk girl at the lake?

  “Are you a virgin?” I ask, and Chasm lets out a snorting laugh. I glance his way, but he still isn’t looking at me, staring out the window instead. My eyes trail across the tattoos on his bare feet, his arms, his chest. Basically, his neck, face, and hands are the only parts of him that have been spared the kiss of ink. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked that.”

  My face flushes crimson—as do my boobs—and I turn toward the electric fireplace embedded into the wall. It’s set to purple right now, the flames an eerie, unnatural color that bathes us both in strange light. The only other light on down here is the one above the stove; it’s dim and does little to push back the shadows in the room.

  “That’s a weirdly personal question to ask,” he says, and then he adds something very softly in Korean. “What do you care anyway? I thought you were in love with Parrish.” His mouth twitches as he turns back to me, sorrow and fatigue burning their way into his expression. “I mean, I hope you are. Don’t fall out of love with him while he’s gone. I … he doesn’t deserve that.”

  “I don’t think I could ever fall out of love with him,” I add, and then groan, putting my face into my hands. “We’ve only known each like … three and a half months? And he’s been missing for that whole half bit. If he were still here, I’d think I was a crazy, hormonal teenager. But knowing that I could lose him, I … it’s like when lightning strikes and everything in the world is limned in that strange, white light. As if the whole universe is outlined in stark relief; everything is both obscured and also disturbingly clear.”

  Chasm lets out a sharp whistle and another expletive in his native language.

  “Damn, did Tess even need that DNA test? You might suck at learning languages, but you sure have a pretty way with English words.”

  I give a small, disbelieving laugh. I’ve always wanted to do something creative with my life, but I never felt like I had the proper outlet. Painting. Pottery. Digital art. Game design. Writing.

  “I don’t think so but thank you anyway.”

  “Don’t do that,” he says with a scoff, shaking his head in frustration. “Don’t diminish yourself like that.” Chasm turns so that his back is against the arm of the couch, stretching his long legs out just enough that his toes almost touch the side of my thighs. “Look, I’ll show you the wine cellar tomorrow if that’s what you want. But I’ve been in there recently, and I guarantee that Parrish isn’t there.”

  I nod and move to stand up, but Chasm surprises me by poking my arm with a tattooed foot and drawing my attention back to him.

  “You already know all my secrets anyway,” he says with a small sigh, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Would it make you happy if I just admitted it?”

  “Admitted what?” I ask, my heart leaping into my throat. He gives me a look that very clearly says come on, Little Sister, you’re smarter than that.

  “Never mind. Get out of here and go to bed.” He turns onto his side to face the fireplace, pillowing his head on his hands like he’s half ready to fall asleep himself.

  “Admit what? That you’re a virgin. Chasm, I’ve suspected that ever since that day at the lake.”

  “I already told you: just because I don’t take advantage of drunk girls doesn’t mean I don’t have other shit going on.”

  I snort and stand up, turning to face him and putting my hands on my hips.

  “Right. With all that free time of yours, when you’re not going to your own tutoring sessions, tutoring me, spending time with Parrish, getting or giving tattoos, being student body president and valedictorian, and rescuing drunk girls, you have plenty of time for earthly conquests.” I wave my hands around dramatically to punctuate my words, and he gives me a sly look with those gorgeous amber eyes of his. “All I’m going to say is, saranghae.” I blow him a kiss as he shoots up into a sitting position on the couch.

  “You have no idea what you just said!” he calls out to me, but I do.

  At least … I think I do.

  Chasm comes skidding into the hallway as I turn to face him. He’s so much taller than me that I have to crane my neck to look up at his face.

  “What do you think it means?” he demands, parking his hands on his hips. I’ve never seen his face take on the cast that it has now, an odd mixture of tenderness and anger and … hope?

  “Good night?” I query, and he just stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, letting out a long sigh.

  “Yeah, sure, it means good night. Nado saranghae,” he replies, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now.” Chasm braces his forearms on either side of the doorway and leans in close to me, close enough to kiss. You know, if it wouldn’t be a huge fucking betrayal and a slap in the face to Parrish. “Go to bed and stop watching so many goddamn K-dramas. If you’re going to learn Korean, I’ll teach it to you.”

  Neither of us seems ready to leave just yet, but we can’t stand here all night and stare at each other. I’m the first to break away, but I swear, I hear Chasm murmur that phrase again as I’m walking away.

  If it doesn’t mean good night … then what does it mean?

  I decide not to look it up; some things are better left a mystery.

  Day twelve of Parrish’s disappearance and we’re no closer to getting him back it seems.

  “For every day that you take, I make a mark. Just one mark. But eventually, it’ll be too much for him. Your time limit is entirely dependent on this boy’s strength.”

  Getting a long slash down one’s chest every day for twelve days would be a lot for anyone to handle, even someone as young and healthy and strong as Parrish Vanguard. I consider begging Tess to let me stay home today—it’s Friday, after all, and I did have an ‘accident’ this week—but then, school gives me access to Mr. Volli, who’s obviously deeply involved in all of this.

  It also gives me access to Lumen and Danyella.

  There’s no guarantee that either of them know a damn thing. Lumen’s violence could very well just be the result of the fire I set in the theater, but I don’t believe that. I don’t know why, but I don’t.

  Chasm gives me and Kimber a ride to school; Tess seems to realize that we can’t exactly stop and have sex with my younger sister in the car, so she’s appeased. For now. I have a feeling that if—when, I have to keep saying when—we get Parrish back, all of the things she’s angry with me about will come rushing back.

  For now, she’s too distracted by Parrish to give me more than a passing glance. If she could trade me to get him back, I believe in my heart that she’d do it.

  As soon as we walk in the doors of the academy, I sense another cosmic shift.

  Lumen is standing there, shaking and bleeding, her uniform torn and disheveled, her beautiful, honeyed hair a tangled mess around her angry face.

  “Kwang-se
on,” she breathes, nostrils flared, hands clenched into fists on either side of her. I flick my gaze over to Chasm, but he’s affected that lazy, bored, bad boy expression of his. He stares her down unflinchingly, amber eyes dark with barely contained rage. “This is your doing.”

  “Is it?” he asks as Lumen pants, squeezing her fists so tightly that droplets of blood actually fall and hit the stone floor beneath her feet. “How do you figure that?”

  Lumen’s earth-colored eyes swing over to mine. In them, I feel like I see a flicker of … something, but it’s impossible to place. Everybody here is brimming with secrets and bullshit; I can barely stand it. She returns her attention to Chasm, stalking down the hall as people move hurriedly out of her way.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” she hisses at him, tall enough to look him directly in the face in a way that I can’t. Chasm doesn’t flinch, holding his ground as Kimber gapes openly, gazing between the two of them with a look that’s part fear, part awe. Meanwhile, I just stand there with my broken fingers and nose aching, every bruise on my body a throbbing splotch of purple betrayal.

  “Not only did you unleash that pack of bitches to beat Dakota’s ass, but did you know they also tried to chuck her over the wall of the third-floor courtyard?”

  Something strange flickers in Lumen’s eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was surprise, but it’s hard to tell beneath the blood and bruises.

  “Who?” she demands, her voice cool and even. “I’ll have to send them thank you cards.”

  Chasm lets out a harsh laugh and shoulders past her, knocking his body into hers so forcefully that she actually stumbles. Unwilling to be caught alone with the girl I thought not only liked me as a friend, but was also crushing on me, I chase after him and Kimber follows along.