by HP Mallory
I didn't answer but, instead, quickly darted into his office, establishing the fact that I didn't want an audience. As soon as I walked into his office, I noticed the panoramic picture window that captured the beauty of Splendor Park with its poppies in full, spectacular orange and yellow blooms. Somehow the vista evoked a sense of wistfulness that suddenly started washing over me. This same office had once been Quillan's. That was before I'd caught him double dealing. His actions had gotten him kicked out of the ANC, only to return to my father in the Netherworld. I imagined that must’ve been a tough conversation between Quillan and my father since Melchior was pretty serious about having a touch point in the ANC.
Knight closed the door behind him as I seated myself in one of the two visitor's chairs across from his large oak desk. He took his chair and reclined backwards in it, studying me curiously.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," I started as I gulped down the sudden sense of foreboding that flooded me. I'd rehearsed this scene over and over in my head until it was as regular as clockwork. But now that I was actually here, I wasn't sure I could go through with it. ‘Course there was no abandoning ship now.
"You aren't interrupting," he answered quickly, furtively. "What can I do for you?"
"I, uh, I'm here to ask for my job back," I said shamefully, suddenly wanting to cut right to the chase. But I was nervous, which was evidenced by the bouncing of my leg.
Knight studied me for a few seconds, rocking back and forth in his recliner chair, and then stopped rocking. He leaned forward with his elbows on his desk and I wondered if maybe it was going to be harder to get my job back than I'd expected.
"It's yours. It's never been anyone else’s."
I heaved a sigh of relief and only then realized I'd been holding my breath. "Thank you," I began but he interrupted me as he resumed his idle rocking.
"What brings you back? I thought you liked your retirement?" He propped his large feet up on his desk, crossing them at the ankles as he smiled at me and my stomach flip-flopped.
"Um, I need the money." I said the first thing that came to mind and was thrilled with my answer. Knight was well aware that I was typically barely scraping by in the finance department, so this response had the ring of truth. Yes, my career as a lying sack of shit was off to a good start. Yay me.
He nodded and removed his feet from the table, facing me squarely. "I'm glad to have you back, Dulce, very glad."
"I'm glad to be back."
He nodded again, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his attention riveted on his fingers as he pressed them against one another. It seemed we were both fidgeting. "I've been thinking more about my release," he started and his words turned my stomach over, the acid rising up my esophagus. "I still don't know what to make of it." I just nodded and tried to appear ill-informed. "I actually talked to Caressa about it this morning," he continued.
I gulped down the frog that was climbing up my throat as well as the suffocating urge to scream out “FUCK!” at the top of my lungs. "Oh," I said feebly, going from sounding merely ill-informed to just plain stupid.
“I asked her about your release and how it came about." He shrugged as if whatever he was discussing was commonplace and uninteresting; but I knew there was method to his madness. He was testing me.
The frog came back up my throat and I nearly choked on it. I thought I was going to vomit. "Oh," I said again, that apparently being the only word that existed in my vocabulary at the moment.
Knight glanced at his steepled fingers again. "And, funny thing, but she said she never actually escorted you to the portal at all." I gulped so hard I was afraid I'd swallowed my tongue. "She said she had nothing to do with your release whatsoever."
I felt the breath catch in my throat and worried I might wet myself as I watched him raise his eyebrows, awaiting my response. I should have known better. While I was in the Netherworld, Caressa arrived to escort me from High Prison to the portal which would take me back to Splendor. I, however, talked her into letting me escape, promising to do my best to obtain Knight’s release. Caressa latched onto the idea immediately, not wanting to see her friend suffer for something he hadn't done. But when it came down to it, Caressa said it would've looked too suspicious if she released me. Instead, she thought of the alibi that I overpowered her and got away. We even added some actual facial blows to solidify the story.
Apparently Caressa had realized it wouldn’t behoove either of us if she told Knight the truth so obviously she hadn’t. Add to that the faux pas I’d just made when I told Knight that Caressa had taken me to the portal and I was well on my way to weaving a web of deceit and apparently not doing a very good job of it. But damn me for not touching base with Caressa before Knight got the chance.
"Hmm," I started (thank Hades I didn't say "oh"). Racking my brain for something non-incriminating to say, I came up with a big, blank slate. Double damn me!
"Strange?" Knight queried, arching a brow in my direction. "I could have sworn you said she escorted you to the portal ... personally?"
I felt my heart drop to the floor and shatter into a million pieces before forcing myself to pick up the pieces and face the music. I had to come up with a plausible excuse and, harder still, I had to own it—for Knight's sake. "Um, yeah, well I sort of forgot to mention that I got away first," I said, sounding ashamed and embarrassed.
"And what happened then?"
Yeah, what happened then, Dulcie? I asked myself, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I pushed my thoughts aside, and focused on a believable explanation. I took a deep breath. "I went after the judge who presided over your case," I began. My voice pleasantly surprised me by sounding even and calm, although I had no idea where this story was going.
"Judge Thorne," Knight corrected and raised his brows as if he hadn’t expected me to go after the judge; it seemed to amuse him at the same time.
I nodded as I took another deep breath and continued lying through my teeth. "Yeah, and I pleaded with him to reconsider your conviction and punishment. I told him it was all my fault."
"But he wouldn't listen," Knight finished for me.
"No, he wouldn't," I said, feeling slightly relieved when it appeared that maybe, just maybe Knight was buying this. "So after arguing with him for a few hours, he ordered an ANC escort to accompany me to the portal. End of story." Phew, that actually wasn't half bad. 'Course it also hadn't been half good.
"So why did you say Caressa took you to the portal?" Knight asked, his tone hinting that he was annoyed I'd lied to him. Well, if that little white lie annoyed him, I hoped to Hades he never found out about the whopper I was fabricating now.
"I just knew you'd be upset," I said quickly and shrugged. For a second, I wished I'd paid more attention in my high school drama class. Triple damn me! "I couldn't give up on you, Knight," I added with a flutter of my lashes, hoping that might convince him. When all else failed, it was best to rely on feminine ingenuity. The only problem with that was that my feminine ingenuity usually eluded me.
He shrugged. "I see." But somehow I thought I’d persuaded him.
There was a moment of distinctly uncomfortable silence and I realized I needed to change the subject—I felt like I might throw up in front of Knight or pee on myself if I didn’t. "Yeah, so anyway, I, uh, wanted to ask you about something else."
Knight nodded, signifying that this conversation was over … for now at least. Thank freaking Hades for that. "What?"
"Bram," I said, starting a conversation that actually interested me. It wasn't just a ploy to throw Knight off the scent of my lies.
"Bram?" Knight repeated and I spotted an expression of aggravation in his eyes. Knight was less than fond of Bram and Bram certainly wasn't fond of Knight. But c'est la vie.
"Bram seemed to know his way around the Netherworld pretty well. He even had his own portal," I started as I eyed Knight to see his reaction.
Knight nodded but didn't seem especially interested. "Interesting."
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"Did you ... know him in the past, before you came here?" I asked as I wondered what Bram's involvement with the Netherworld was, especially how high up the chain he was. Based on my observations in the Netherworld, it seemed Bram had some pull of his own.
Knight shook his head. "I never set eyes on him before moving to Splendor." Then he pushed his chair back, stood up and approached me. I stood up as well, not appreciating the stare down he directed toward me. I glanced up at him in question.
"I missed you last night," he said, moving to kiss me. I stepped back, my unease arising not only because we were in his office, although the door was closed, but also owing to my new line of work. Whatever we shared before couldn't continue.
"Knight," I started with a hesitant smile. "You can't just kiss me here."
He narrowed his eyes on me. "Why not? No one has a clue what's going on in here. The door is closed."
I rubbed my hand down the nape of my neck and sighed. "It's just ... I just don't like it. It’s not professional. You know how I am."
He chuckled and nodded. "Yes, I know how you are." He took a few steps back and made a big show of it, laughing all the while. "Dinner tonight? My place?"
I swallowed the bile in my throat and shook my head. "Um, I was hoping to write tonight." Knight knew I was in the process of writing a book—a book I'd started a few months ago.
"Oh," he said and my heart felt like a noose was squeezing the life out of it. I dropped my eyes to my fidgeting fingers, but was unable to resist watching his response and looked up at him again.
"I, um, I ... I still need a little time," I said, hedging because I really needed to say it was over between us. But somehow I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
He nodded and smiled at me consolingly. "I understand, Dulce, take as much time as you need. I'll be here."
I was reticent, but nodded and returned his smile with a sheepish one. Then I started for the door before the tears that were flooding my eyes began to stream out uncontrollably.
###
Later that evening, I actually did attempt to write. I'd always wanted to start a career as a novelist and I'd even managed to attract a very well-known agent to represent me along the way. Said agent was currently soliciting my first book, a story about Bram titled A Vampire and a Gentleman.
I sat down at my computer and opened the word document I'd started two months ago, but I couldn't will my fingers to start typing. It seemed like whatever inspiration I once possessed which allowed me to begin the follow-up to my first novel had abandoned me, high and dry.
I sighed deeply and clenched my eyes together, hoping to focus on something other than the look in Knight's eyes upon seeing me retreat when he'd tried to kiss me. I just felt so empty, so guilty about knowing what I had to do and not being able to do it. But the longer I waited, the longer I put off the inevitable, the worse the ultimate blow. I had to break up with Knight and it had to be the next time I saw him. I absolutely refused to do it over the phone, but I couldn’t prolong it any longer than I already had.
Guilt suddenly overwhelmed me, guilt over the fact that we'd had sex. It was the worst thing I could have done, knowing I had to end things with him. It hadn't been fair to either of us, and yet I hadn't been able to control myself. I was so overcome with love for him, so happy to see him, so relieved that he was safe, and that he'd made it back to Splendor. But those were all excuses and from now on, excuses weren't going to be worth a damn to me. I was going to live by the rules of black and white, yes and no.
I eyed the blinking cursor again and just sighed, my inspiration drained and parched. Before I had the chance to turn off the computer, the cell phone from Quillan began ringing. I felt my stomach drop and it was almost like an out of body experience as I watched myself reach for it.
"Hello?" I asked, my voice deep and nervous.
"Meet me at Crespy and Palm in thirty minutes at the tattoo parlor," Quillan ordered, and before I could respond, he hung up.
Four
Crespy and Palm weren't exactly in a nice part of Splendor. Maybe not quite as bad as the loading docks where the portal from the Netherworld spat Quillan and me out, but close enough. And the tattoo parlor, aptly titled "Ink," was a place I'd kept strict surveillance on during my entire time as a Regulator. It was owned by a Titan named Baron Escobar. Baron was one of three Titans I had the misfortune of meeting, and like most Titans, Baron was enormous. If I remembered correctly from his ANC bio, (the guy had a long rap sheet in Splendor—mainly for illegal potions activity), he was over seven feet tall. And he was broad as well—like an ox. So to me, coming in at just five foot one, this guy was like talking to the Empire State Building.
Baron was bad news, period. He was renowned for his nasty disposition and a flagrant temper that was attached to a very short leash. Yep, Baron wasn't exactly the patient sort. I'd already had numerous run-ins with him; and if asked to rank Splendor’s "bad guys" according to their severity, I would've put Baron close to the top. So you can imagine my excitement in meeting Quill at Baron's tattoo parlor ...
Yes, I had prepared myself, knowing full well that Baron and his entourage of mutual fuck ups were going to have a field day with the news that I was now one of their much esteemed company. I mean, I was sure the news was going to come out tonight if it hadn't already. I was actually hoping Quill had already informed them—it would save a big song and dance that I wasn't in the mood to get into.
I pulled into the parking lot of Ink and sighed as I wondered what I was about to walk into. The street was completely dark, the light bulbs from the streetlights having been broken purposely and never replaced. The tattoo parlor was the only active business on Crespy Street. It sat surrounded by empty buildings and warehouses that had been vacated years earlier. And, yes, I did have a feeling Baron had something to do with the dereliction.
The parking lot of Ink was overgrown with weeds, the asphalt crumbling into multiple potholes. I eased the Suzuki into a spot next to a white Camaro. Somehow the Camaro seemed familiar to me—I thought it might have been Quillan's. Glancing into the car, I noticed no one was in it which meant I'd probably have to meet Quill inside, something I wasn't thrilled about. Aside from my bike and the white sports car, there were five Harleys lined up in front of the door and a large black Hummer H2 parked just beside them. The H2 was Baron's.
I turned the bike off and stood up, removing my helmet and placing it on the seat. It wasn't a good idea to carry it under my arm because I wouldn't be able to adequately protect myself, if the need arose. And I had a funny feeling that the need was probably going to arise. As far as I was concerned, I was about to walk into a den of lions—lions who would very much enjoy mauling me into oblivion.
I took a deep breath and started forward, remembering the twin blades I'd strapped to both sides of my outer thighs. The Op 6 in my shoulder holster was most definitely going to be confiscated, but maybe my leathers would conceal the blades. I could only hope. ‘Course if the blades were seized as well as my gun, I could always rely on my fairy powers which weren't anything to scoff at. With just the shake of my hand, I could materialize a mound of fairy dust in my palm, the limits of which were pretty endless. I could light the entire place on fire, freeze one of Baron’s asshole thugs or at the very least, create a chasm in the ground and swallow everyone. I had to wonder if I could do all three at the same time. Hopefully I wouldn't find out because I needed to meld in—I needed to become one of them so I could get my job done and get the hell out of there. But what was more, I needed to figure out how I was going to get myself out of this whole mess. Either way, opening a can of whoop-ass wouldn't make me any new friends.
When I reached the front door and knocked, it opened immediately. A cloud of cigarette smoke wafted directly into my face. I gagged and tried to breathe through my mouth just to avoid smelling it. Facing the bouncer again, I recognized him, although his name escaped me. He was a hulking were who looked down at me and flashed a partially
toothless grin. His canines were missing, which I found strange and a little off-putting, considering he was a were.
"The former ANC Regulator, huh?" he asked me with an ugly smile. So the cat was already out of the bag … Good. That just saved me a lot of explaining.
"I have business with Quillan and Baron," I said acidly, glaring up at him and throwing my hands on my hips as I gave him all the sass I could muster. Hey, just because I was forced to work with Baron didn't mean I had to like it and, more so, didn't mean I had to be peaches and cream. Nope, I was going for sauerkraut and vinegar.
The were said nothing more, but harrumphed as if the joke was still on me and opened the door wide. I entered, feeling his gaze on my ass as I passed him. I turned around, my hands still on my hips, and narrowed my eyes at him. "Where the hell are they?"
"Down the hall," he answered, nodding his head toward the dark hallway. Before I could start walking, he grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him. Then he grinned lasciviously as he patted me down, ensuring that he copped a good feel of my breasts in the process. Just as I predicted, he felt my Op 6. I frowned as I took off my jacket to remove it, and handed it to him. My expression must have convinced him that it was the only weapon on me because he didn't feel for the daggers strapped to my thighs. Things were looking up. I pulled away from him, and threw my jacket over my shoulders as I faced the interior of Ink.
The main room had two reclining chairs and a small stool that swiveled between them. The inside of the place was just as dingy as the outside: old linoleum floors, browned with age and filth, reflected the same decay and neglect as the surrounding buildings. The walls, once white, were yellowed from decades of cigarette smoke—the smell was pervasive. I'd felt a headache growing between my temples as soon as I'd entered the confined space.
Black and white samples, detailing the various kinds of tattoos available, hung around the room haphazardly. My eyes fastened on a skull with a snake going through both eye sockets; then shifted to the image of a naked woman spread-eagled. At that tasteful image, I decided to stop looking. Steeling myself, I started down the hallway. The combined smell of smoke, alcohol and vomit was nearly enough to make me hurl, but I strode on, trying to avoid breathing.