Sinful

by Jenica Saren

"Pawns?" I interjected.

  "It's the universal category for mindless foot soldiers," Gray clarified for me. "Golems and boggarts are Pawns, capital 'P' like the capital 'F' in Familiars, and the capital 'S' in Sins."

  Huh. Today I learned. Eliam cleared his throat and I gave him the signal to continue, but Kellan was the one who spoke up, surprising me.

  "They were peeping on people."

  I blinked a few times and fought the urge to clean my ear out in case I'd heard him wrong. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked incredulously.

  "They simply monitored people through their windows, like Peeping Toms," Elima continued. "But they were very selective; they only watched people in some state of... Undress." He sort of mumbled the last word and I smirked. I hadn't taken him for being body shy.

  "And that's it? That's all they did?"

  Eliam, Kellan, Gray, and Gatlin all nodded and I leaned back in my seat. That was really strange, for sure, but there was no way of telling why they were doing it. I didn't expect that they could talk, or even communicate with anyone other than whoever was in charge of them.

  "That's it," I said, snapping my fingers.

  All six guys looked at each other like I'd lost my shit, but we'd already crossed that bridge and they'd have to get over it.

  "We need to get inside and figure out who's controlling them. The Pawns keep going back in after spying on people, right? So obviously, whoever or whatever is in charge is hiding out inside." I smirked, proud of myself for coming up with that brilliant plan.

  "One problem with that," Rafe said, drawing my attention and threatening to burst my bubble. "None of us are small enough to fit through that tiny break in the barrier, not even you."

  "Well, here are my thoughts on that," I chirped, proud that I had already thought about this part the night before. "So, I don't think that whoever is in charge made the barrier. I don't know what or who did, but I don't think it's them. So, the puppet master obviously had to send her Pawns to go break out a little piece of the barrier."

  When no one stopped me and instead watched in fascination, I continued. "That's what I'm thinking the other shadows were doing, the ones climbing up the rest of the barrier. I think they're trying to break it down so whatever is inside can get out, not trying to keep anyone from getting in." Once I was finished with my explanation, I expected one of them - hint: starts with 'ass' and ends with 'hole' - to reject the idea and tell me why I was off the mark.

  But no one did. To say I was pleasantly surprised was an understatement because I was about two seconds from downright giddy.

  "It makes sense," Eliam finally said, looking thoughtful. "It actually makes perfect sense."

  I raised a finger to indicate I still had more to say and he nodded to me. "The only thing I can't figure out is the dead worker. It doesn't make any sense to me and doesn't fit my theory," I admitted.

  "He was already dead," Rafe responded. "He died the night of the fight, I'm guessing before you got there."

  Oh.

  "That's so sad." And it was. It meant that if I had gotten there earlier, I may have been able to save him. He wasn't part of that battle, he was an innocent bystander that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  I tried not to dwell too much on it, but it felt like a heavy weight fell on my chest and wouldn't budge. It felt like it was my fault that he had gotten hurt. No, not hurt. Killed. He was dead. Because I was too slow on the uptake.

  I needed a distraction and my earlier plan for revenge suddenly sounded like the perfect stress relief. "I'm going to work," I announced, standing up from the table and heading for the foyer.

  "Wait, what?" One of the guys called out to me, but my blood was pounding so loudly in my ears that I couldn't focus.

  "Ria, hang on!" I recognised Rafe's voice as he got closer. I turned reluctantly and he immediately pressed a set of keys into my hand. "Take the Jeep, the roads are really wet today."

  I snorted involuntarily. "It's Oregon. The roads are never dry."

  "Just take the Jeep, please? I'll even load your bags for you, okay?" He pleaded.

  While I wasn't sure why he was being so insistent, I didn't think I could refuse when he was gazing at me so earnestly. "Fine, I'll take the Dickmobile," I conceded.

  "I heard that!" Beck called from the kitchen.

  Ignoring him, I grabbed my black coat from the rack and stepped outside to get the Jeep warmed up while Rafe tirelessly moved all of my bags. Even the ones I didn't need. He was nothing if not thorough, I'd give him that.

  Once I was packed and ready to go, I gave Rafe a thumbs up and pulled out of the driveway.

  It was time to be back in charge of my life for a few hours.

  15 Ria

  It took me three tries and countless wrong turns to find the club again. It's funny how you never realise how dependent you are on your cell phone for all of the fantastic things it can do until you have passed the same Circle K twelve times and receive threats to call the police from the owner.

  People could be so touchy.

  By the time I pulled into a parking spot around the side of the building, I wanted to rip my hair straight out of my skull. The more rural areas were charming in their own sort of way, but you wouldn't find me complaining if I never had to take a back road ever again.

  The building looked as though it had undergone a few renovations and they suited it well. The outside had been redone in stucco and had a fresh coat blueish white paint that gave it a friendly and welcoming look. The sign had also been redone and looked crisp and shiny.

  A large vinyl banner over the entryway announced that the club was under new management, which was a score for me since I wasn't entirely sure they would let me back after I bailed like I had before - not that they knew I'd been nearly kidnapped in their dressing room or stabbed in the back with a lethal, magical poisoned dagger. In all honesty, they'd probably thought I was just looking for quick cash to get a fix.

  Sucking in a breath for courage, I opened the door and climbed out. Actually, 'climbed' was a bit of a stretch. The reality was that I somehow forgot that I was driving the Jeep and misjudged the distance between the seat and the ground, so I mostly just stumbled around until I got my balance back and then waited for my heart to dislodge itself from my throat.

  "I'm going to end up being a stain on the pavement before I ever reach the fucking door," I muttered to myself.

  I felt a pang in my chest when nothing answered back in my head. I'd been living with my inner self for so long that it was almost like there was a hole in my life without her. Ever since she did whatever she did to me, she'd been radio silent and I was torn between missing the hell out of her, my silent conversationalist, and giving her a one-finger salute right out the door.

  Get it together. It's show time.

  Shaking my head, I gathered my main bags from the back and walked inside, holding my head high and trying to put my game face on.

  The inside of the club was still much the same, but had also been spruced up with new paint, new furniture. It essentially looked like the new management had knocked down all the cobwebs and made it look new again, made it feel more welcoming, but with the same eclectic, retro vibes that it always had.

  I stopped at the doorman and raised my bags, to which he only nodded and let me pass. I went straight back to the dressing room as though I'd been there a hundred times before, and stopped before the window, where I was surprised to see Lani.

  "Oh, hey Lani," I greeted warmly.

  She smiled kindly at me and I couldn't help but think she reminded me of someone. "Oh hi there!" She replied enthusiastically. "I don't remember your name, but I totally remember you. Giving our club a second shot?"

  I nodded and shrugged my shoulders. "I figured it couldn't hurt," I joked. "Plus, I'm afraid of getting rusty."

  "As if! Even your 'rusty' would look better than half the girls that come through here," she teased back.

  We laughed and joked around for a few m
inutes, and I had to admit that I really enjoyed the conversation in general. It was nice to talk to someone I wasn't living with and didn't see every single day. It helped that Lani was a very friendly person and super talkative.

  "So, new management?" I probed.

  Lani's face immediately sobered. "Yeah, the old owner passed away and some hotshot manager from the city ended up buying us up," she explained. "He's not bad, though! He runs a tight ship, but he's really nice and very easy on the eyes."

  I waggled my eyebrows at her, eliciting a giggle. "Oh really?" I commented mischievously. "I think I'll have to see him and decide that for myself."

  "What, you forgot how handsome and charming I am already?" A low, sultry, familiar voice asked from behind me, causing a strange chill to skitter up my spine. "I'll be happy to give you a reminder."

  Shocked, I spun around fast enough to make me a little dizzy and stared up at the man, who towered over me higher than I remembered. "Rory?" I squeaked. "No fucking way." My head was a little foggy and I couldn't seem to make it work right. Rory was here? At the nearest club to my new home?

  There was no way that was a coincidence.

  "In the flesh," he said with a smirk. That very same smirk!

  I stared at him for an impossibly long time, taking in his gorgeously dark skin and glittering brown eyes that were always full of mischief. It felt as though I was seeing him for the first time. He seemed taller, brighter, and more full of life than I remembered. And when I took a deep breath, I imagined that he smelled like home.

  After entirely too long, I snapped out of it and came back down to earth.

  Shaking my head, I gathered up my bags and made for the door, not saying a word as I went. Coincidences were one thing, but this was a whole other level.

  "Omen, wait!" Rory called out. "Ria, hold on, dammit!"

  Almost unwillingly, I stopped just before the dressing room door and waited, not bothering to turn around. A strange combination of emotions was swirling around inside me, agitated and anxious.

  I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear whatever he had to say.

  On the one hand, I was happy to see him, it was a relief, because he was one of the very few people that made me feel valued, safe, and cared for. Rory had never once let me down, always encouraged me to be the best I could be, and I would never forget that for as long as I lived - I would always be indebted to him in that way.

  The flip side, however, was anger. Most of the signs pointed to him possibly stalking me, which was way creepy. Then there was the knowledge that if he was stalking me, he knew where I was all this time. He would have had to have known and still made no move to visit me, check in on me. Nothing. And if he'd known, there was a possibility that he also knew about all of the shit I'd been through since leaving the city.

  "Did you buy this place?" I asked without turning around, my voice thick with stupid tears that I wouldn't allow to escape. Not now.

  "I did," he replied simply, his own voice carefully emotionless and foreign to me, absent of its usual warmth and mirth.

  Taking a leap, I squished my eyes closed and tried not to think too hard, lest I chickened out and just ran for it. "Did you do it because I was here?"

  "Yes."

  That one word broke me, the worst case scenario I had been imagining flaring to life like a wildfire that was destroying everything in its path. I was an optimist, not a pessimist. I hated thinking of the worst and expecting the bad parts.

  "It's not what you think," Rory said defensively.

  My eyes popped open and I whirled around, pinning him with a glare that would have shot laser beams if I knew how to do that. "Then what is it, Rory?" I demanded. "If that's even your real name. Because what I think doesn't fucking matter. Every time I think I have something figured out, that I know something, the universe just throws one more damned curve ball at me to knock me on my ass and tell me how fucking wrong I am."

  I was seething so much that I thought for a second that I could actually see the anger rolling off my body in corporeal waves. Realistically, it was probably just the edges of my vision turning red and skewing my perception.

  Rory opened his mouth and closed it several times while I waited impatiently for an explanation. "I missed you," he admitted quietly.

  There were no words. My anger flooded out of me as quickly as it had risen, leaving nothing but cold embers weighing heavily in the pit of my stomach. He missed me?

  A million things could have come out of my mouth then, a million rejections, a million yeses. But, I couldn't make any of those things come out and form them into words. I loved Rory, yes, but had I ever seen him that way? Could I ever see him that way? There was no easy answer, but the most obvious answer was no, I couldn't.

  Not because it wouldn't be easy to love him that way, but because when I thought of love, six other faces filled my mind's eye.

  I didn't know quite what to say in response to a statement like that, but I knew I had to say something. "I missed you too, Rory. It's actually good to see a familiar face," I told him with a tight smile.

  Painfully, I watched as his earnest, brown eyes shuttered just a little. The pain of the friend zone was a real one.

  Trying to recover and hopefully start the whole experience over again, I dropped my bags and wrapped my arms around his waist. Even at an average height, Rory was still so much taller than me. Almost as tall as Kellan, I figured. I'd meant what I had said, though: it was amazing to see Rory again.

  He hugged me back, but his movements were stiff, his muscles rigid. "I'm not stalking you," he finally said.

  Releasing him, I stepped back to look him in the eye. "Then why?" I pleaded. "Just be honest with me here, because it looks really bad, Ror."

  "I have a lot of friends in high places, so I know a lot of things," he answered vaguely. "I was planning on opening my own club nearby, but when this place came available, I saw the opportunity and jumped on it."

  "Opportunity?"

  He levelled a serious stare on me and my heart thudded in my chest. "To give you a safe place," he said quietly. "A place where nothing and no one can touch you. A place to be yourself and be free for a little while. A place where you're in control, Ria."

  His words echoed my own early thoughts and it made my head spin. Of all the people I knew in life, Rory knew me the best. He never treated me like I was a nuisance like Eliam, made lewd jokes like Beck and Rafe, got too intense like Kellan or Gatlin, or was too quiet like Gray. He was always the best of all the worlds.

  "Thank you," I eventually whispered, surprising myself with the words. "I have to get on the floor."

  "I'll get you signed in."

  "You still have a lot of explaining to do."

  "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

  He appeared to be completely earnest in what he was saying and I was hesitant to not take it at face value. This was Rory, my rock. In the end, I just nodded and picked up my bags, walking to the counters to get ready.

  I stopped suddenly when I saw a spot in the furthest corner, a large "RESERVED" sign sitting atop the counter. Knowing it was certainly Rory's doing, I moved almost numbly to the corner and dropped my bags again. It felt too familiar... And too good.

  A thrill ran through me and I knew that I wasn't going to have to try too hard to put my game face on for the night. I was already on a roll.

  Two hours into my shift, I had already passed Buzzed Boulevard and was halfway down Tipsy Trail. I was thoroughly enjoying being back in my element, interacting with strangers, and, most importantly, being back on stage.

  There was a thrill that came with being the centre of attention that was unrivalled by any drug or liquor. I loved knowing that every eye in the place was on me when I was up there, I never had to look or double check that anyone was paying attention.

  I knew that I was good, I knew that I was hot as fuck, and I knew that anyone not looking would be wishing they had. The uproarious sound of rounds of applause made me downr
ight giddy.

  It made me a little disappointed that I hadn't been feeling this way in recent weeks, that I'd felt unsure and needed validation in any form. It wasn't who I was. That wasn't me. I knew that some people would call me stuck up, self-centred, and even cocky, but I didn't think I was. I just knew my worth and tried to own it every second of every day.

  Or rather, I had. Before I ran away from home, for all intents and purposes, and set up shop in the first place I dropped into. It wasn't like me to do that, to act that way. Being back in the club, I felt more and more like some higher power had a hand in the sudden shift in my life.

  In fact, nothing had seemed very typical at all recently, especially me. One might chalk it up to stress, but I was certain that there was so much more to it than that.

  About half an hour after my last set, I was perched on a stool at the bar, chatting mindlessly with an older gentleman that owned a car dealership. He was sweet and generous, handing me a twenty every half hour for my company.

  Too bad I'd already forgotten his name.

  I nodded when I was supposed and gave a charismatic smile every so often to keep him appeased. I laughed at his stories that were meant to be funny, even though I knew nothing about the people involved in them, and I diverted every time he asked me about myself. It was like nothing had ever changed.

  As I was responding to his comment about my music choices, I thought I felt a hand brush over my spine, lightly and barely noticeable. I brushed it off since there were a lot of drunk people in the club at this time of night and their balance wasn't always what one would call top of the line.

  However, as I continued talking to my customer - Tom, as he reminded me - I felt it again, this time much lower than just my spine. I spun around on my stool and pinned a short, stocky, balding man with a glare.

  "Excuse you," I said coldly.

  He shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. "Relax, sugar," the man said with a cocky grin that made me want to knock his teeth out. "You got a nice ass, it's a compliment."

  I tried like hell to blink away the red that was filling my vision like raging storm on the horizon. "Like fucking hell it's a compliment!" I seethed. "You don't touch a woman without her permission, Bilbo Grabbins."