The Debt Collector (Season 1)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  I pull back farther. “It doesn’t bother you? All the things you know he’s going to ask you to do?” I narrow my eyes. “Are you on the Valac plan? Collecting up lives so you can live forever?”

  She looks away. “I don’t know about living forever, baby. I’m just trying to make it to next week.”

  “I’m going to get out, Ophelia. One way or another.” It may be via the morgue, but I’m a lot less afraid of that option now. There’s no staying here—that much I know.

  “I know,” she says, looking back to me. “Which is why I’m going to help you.”

  My mouth hangs open. “You are?”

  “I am trying to keep you alive, remember? And you seem to have a talent for pissing off our mob boss. Maybe he likes you, for now. Maybe he wants to keep you as a pet, like Emeryk did with me. But you can’t count on that, Lirium. If you keep pushing him, he will kill you. We need to get you out before that happens.”

  I put my hand on the door behind her, leaning close again. Close enough to kiss her, but I don’t, I just hold her cheek lightly with my fingertips. “Have I told you recently how extremely beautiful you are?”

  “Intelligent, too.”

  “And ridiculously sexy.” I caress her face, ready to follow that up with some serious making out, but then I realize what she actually said. “Wait. You’re coming with me, right?”

  She avoids my intense, close gaze. “It’s extremely rare for collectors to leave the mob, at least not in any way you want to go. I don’t know how I’m going to get you out of here, but there may only be room for one of us. And I’ll be fine here.”

  “No, you won’t,” I say, exasperated. “And you deserve better than this. You deserve a life where you don’t have to payout to corrupt politicians or transfer out whoever crosses Kolek next. Besides, we should stick together. We’ll have a better chance that way.”

  “We’ll see when the time comes.” She still won’t look in my eyes. “I may not have a choice.”

  But I know she’s wrong. That’s the dangerous thing running free inside me: choice.

  “You always have a choice.” I cup her cheek in my hand and drop my voice. “Choose to be with me, Ophelia.”

  I can see it working on her. The possibility. The hope that there could be something better. Something more. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m shirtless with her hands splayed on my chest, the air between us heating again. She’s about to say something when the door slides open, pulling my hand with it and throwing me off balance. I hold on to her to right myself.

  Outside the door stands Valac. His face twists into a snarl, and his teeth are clenched. I can hear the whisper of his breath through them. His gaze bounces between me half-dressed and Ophelia in her pajamas in my arms, and he can’t seem to decide which is more horrifying.

  “What are you doing here?” Valac asks Ophelia.

  Shit.

  Our chance to plan our escape just evaporated.

  I step back from Ophelia, belatedly, although I guess there’s not much point in trying to pretend Valac didn’t just catch her in my room. In my arms. With us both dressed for bed.

  “I just came for a visit,” Ophelia says lightly, but she subtly reaches to my side and slips the stolen swipecard into the pocket of my sweat pants. Valac’s chest is still heaving, and I think he’s too busy alternating glares at me and Ophelia to see.

  “Kolek doesn’t want you spending time together,” he says. “I thought I made that perfectly clear.” He must be talking to Ophelia, because I haven’t seen him since he shut me in. I can’t figure out why he looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. Maybe Kolek threatened to cut off some fingers if he didn’t keep us in line. Otherwise, I can’t imagine why he cares if Ophelia and I have a stolen tryst in my room.

  I finally notice the two people behind him, shrunken back from the exchange at my door. A young woman and man stand awkwardly with their arms looped around each other’s waists, gripping a bit too tightly. Both are dressed in clothes that amp their sex appeal far more than required, the girl in a skimpy black dress that hugs her curves, and the boy in clothes almost as tight. I’m certain they’re sex workers, but I don’t have time to wonder why they’re here before Valac swings his wrath to me.

  “Kolek has a present for you.” But his words are out of sync with the anger on his face. He’s barely containing his rage—at me, at Ophelia, at both of us for apparently breaking whatever rule Kolek has about keeping us apart. Only that doesn’t make any sense. Something else is going on, but I have no idea what it is.

  “A present?” I ask, trying to say something that won’t light the powder keg that, for unknown reasons, is Valac at the moment.

  “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.” He jerks a thumb, motioning Ophelia out of the room. She trails a hand across my chest as she lightly steps out the door and heads toward her room down the hall. Valac glares after her, then braces his hands against the door frame and leans across the threshold.

  “Why couldn’t you just do what I said?” His voice transforms into a harsh whisper, but the anger is still full boil. I finally figure out he’s angry about the boy.

  I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “How’s the kid?”

  Valac closes his eyes, like he can’t believe the unmitigated gall of me asking. When he opens them, our faces are close as he hovers just inside my room.

  “He’ll live.” Valac holds my gaze. Just as I think he means something different than what he said, he pushes away from the door frame and takes a step back to the sex workers.

  They’re clutching each other, even more jittery than before.

  Valac slides his arm around the shoulder of the young man, grasping onto the silk of his shirt and bunching it roughly. The girl quickly drops her hand from the boy, who has plastered on an alluring grin for Valac that doesn’t quite cover the nervous twitch in his cheek.

  Valac is still staring at me. “Have a good time.” He nods to the girl, and she skitters over, eyes wide like a frightened deer. I pull her inside, my hand on her hip, getting her out of the line of Valac’s angry stare.

  Once she’s in the room, he waves his hand at the door. It slides shut and clicks.

  I stare at the door, imagining Valac, full of rage, dragging his hapless sex worker back to his room. Whatever it is that’s pissed him off, I’m sure he’s going to drown it in a night of ecstasy with the boy, the same way I used to recover from paying out by ordering one of Madam A’s girls. Even with a plan to live forever, even with Valac’s insistence that he doesn’t have a soul left, he’s still trying to fill the holes in it.

  The girl slips her arms around my bare neck. “Hey, sweet thing, I sure am glad that’s all over with.”

  I turn to her, finally giving her a good look. She presses her scantily clad body against mine. Her eyes are wide and blue, blonde hair spilling over her chest and onto mine. A half-smile, with parted lips, invites me to kiss her. On any other day, I would be tempted. More than tempted. I would probably have her half undressed by now. But she has vanilla perfume, and her face is scrubbed with the clean beauty that Madam A specializes in. I’m much more interested in what she knows than any temporary mind-blotting pleasure she can give me. I slowly pull her arms from my neck. Her smile dims, and she gains back the freaked-out look from the hallway.

  “I was wondering who you work for.” I hold her hands, lightly rubbing the back of one to reassure her.

  Her gaze drops to my hand then flits back to my face. “What… what did you say your name was, sugar?” She has a touch of Southern accent that would normally spark heat low in my belly, but today it just makes me smile.

  “Lirium. What’s yours?”

  “Annabelle.” She says it with a sigh, like she’s relieved to be telling me. I want to ask her straight out, but she’s dodging my question, and I don’t want to blow Madam A’s operation by asking about it directly. If Annabelle is one of Madam A’s girls, then I have a metric ton of questions for her. But I have
to be sure first.

  “There’s another girl I was hoping might show up,” I say.

  The worry scuttles back to crease her brow, so I drop her hands and gently touch the hair by her face.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to complain. I’m just curious if you know her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Elena.”

  Her shoulders, which had inched up, drop again. “Yeah. I know Elena.”

  “Elena has a little sister…” I wait for her to fill it in.

  “Tilly.” A smile lights up her face.

  I smile back, relieved. “How is Tilly? Is she…” I don’t want to say it, but the lead weight that rides in my stomach about my bargain with Madam A needs to know.

  “She’s about the same,” Annabelle says. “Elena’s staying with us full time now.”

  “She is?” My interest is too keen. I try to cover it by rushing to say, “That’s good. Good for Tilly, I mean.”

  Annabelle’s smile knows a little too much.

  I step back and cross my arms, rubbing my chin with my hand. “So, did your collector come back? I mean, I hope Tilly’s getting her hits, even though… even though I…” Guilt twists my stomach suddenly, more than I expected.

  “You’ve been… detained?” Annabelle sweeps a quick look around the room. “Can we talk?”

  I glance at my place. I’ve never considered they might bug it, but it’s possible. I grab her hand and tow her into the bathroom, where I turn on the water. I give her a small smile before I put my hands to her waist and hoist her up on the sink. The white marble isn’t very wide, but she’s small, and she fits on the countertop, her dress riding up a bit and showing off shapely legs. I lean forward until I’m close enough to whisper and still be heard over the running water that’s splashing tiny, sparkling drops on her curve-hugging, black dress.

  We’re close enough to be making out, but we’re not touching. She grins at me like we’re playing a game, and I have to smile back. Because it’s funny and sexy as hell, all at the same time.

  “We can talk now,” I whisper in her ear.

  “I have a message for you.”

  I pull back to grin and mouth, “What?”

  She leans forward, hands at the back of my neck. “It’s a question, really,” she whispers in my ear. “Madam A wants to know if you intend to keep your promise.”

  The fun and games slip away. Annabelle pulls back to look in my eyes. My face is solemn as I nod. I’d like nothing more than to make good on my promise to come back and do transfers for Madam A. I put my hand on Annabelle’s cheek, leaning close enough to whisper in her ear again. “I promised.”

  Her face is serious now. Because she knows as well as I that getting out of Kolek’s mob isn’t that easy.

  She runs her fingers through my hair and whispers, “I have an address for you. And a passcode. You can only use it once. When you get there, call. Madam A will send someone for you.”

  My heart pounds as Annabelle tells me the address, passcode, and Madam A’s direct number, and I commit them to memory. It’s not the soft puffs of air on my ear that make my heart thud in my chest, but the words carried on them. Madam A’s giving me a safe house. A place to stay, if I can only get free. I nod when I’m sure I have it and give Annabelle a quick kiss on the cheek. By the way she smiles, I can tell she knows what this means to me.

  Hope. A chance that this escape thing might actually work.

  I slowly reach for her forehead. She watches me, but doesn’t flinch. I lay my palm on her, pulsing in a life energy hit, then lean close to whisper, “For Tilly.” She nods, and her breathing picks up a little as I feed her the hit.

  While I transfer, a thought crowds into my head: Valac. Does he know Annabelle’s helping me? I have no idea if he told Kolek about Madam A’s involvement when I smuggled in. Valac betrayed me, but would he betray Madam A? I’d like to think not, especially given that he used to collect for her. But I can’t be sure.

  I finish up the life hit. Annabelle’s cheeks are rosy, and she’s even cuter than before. I reach past her dripping black dress and turn off the water.

  “I think that’s enough washing up,” I say in full voice, for whatever hidden microphones might be in my room. I seriously hope this is all over-precaution, because the conversation Ophelia and I had earlier certainly wasn’t sotto voce.

  “Am I clean enough?” she asks in the kind of voice only a juiced-up sex-worker could use with a straight face. She must be really feeling the hit.

  I bite my lips together, trying not to laugh. I take her hands in mine and help her down from the counter. She straightens her skirt which is halfway to her hips.

  “Oh, I think you’re plenty dirty,” I say, and she grins along with me. I lace my fingers with hers and pull her toward the bed. Before we reach it, I whisper in her ear again, “We need to put on a show.”

  Her smile has real heat in it now. “Doesn’t have to be all show and no tell,” she says loudly. Valac can probably hear her through the wall, if he’s not already preoccupied.

  She’s willing to follow through on the sex-worker act, but I’m surprised to find I have no interest in doing so. I take both of her hands in mine, curl them up, and lightly kiss the tops of her knuckles. I don’t know if it’s because Ophelia is in her room just across the hallway. Or the fact that Annabelle will be going back to see Elena in a few hours. Or that I just don’t have a need to fill the holes in my soul like I did before, but I’m not interested in her offer.

  “I plan to tell all about it,” I say in my best bedroom voice, but I shake my head, then tilt it toward the wall and cup my hand to my ear to show that Valac may be listening on the other side.

  She grins and flings her arms out, falling backward on the bed. “Oh, Lirium!” she says, breathless and loud. I jump on the bed with her, and it makes a terrific creaking noise. Her eyebrows fly up to the top of her head, and she laughs.

  I cover her mouth with my hand. “No laughing at me in bed,” I whisper. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

  She gives me a nod so mock-serious, I have to bite down on my own knuckle to keep from laughing. She kicks off her heels and crawls across the comforter to the head of the bed. With a waggle of fingers, she beckons me to join her, which I promptly do. Once there, she braces one hand on the headboard of the bed, which is really a short bookcase filled with white and gray knick-knacks. Gripping it, she leans toward the foot of the bed, then shifts to fling her tiny weight against the headboard. It makes a small tap against the wall. The vases and photo cubes jump.

  “Oh Lirium!” she cries out.

  I break out into a grin so wide I’m afraid it will permanently stick. I grab the headboard next to her small hand, and with a nod from her, we coordinate our movements so that we rock the bed, back and forth, slamming a regular rhythm against the wall. She punctuates the wall banging with occasional moans and prayers that include my name.

  It’s all I can do to keep it going without giving into the laughter that’s bubbling up from deep inside me.

  I decide that Annabelle is one of my new favorite people.

  Not long after our fake, wallbanging-sex last night, Annabelle left, taking my promise to return to Madam A with her. I was tempted to give her a message for Elena, but I couldn’t think of what to say. Not to mention that I can’t be sure I’ll get out of Kolek’s grasp alive; maybe by the time I escape, I’ll think of the right words.

  Or I could just bring a life energy hit to Tilly and let my actions speak for me.

  I got up early this morning, expecting Valac to tap me for collections or Ophelia to visit, but no one came all day. Just the pinch-mouthed guy who delivers my food, which has taken a step up in cuisine since my confrontation with Kolek: fresh fruits, bakery breads, and things with sauces I can’t identify but that make my mouth ache for more. I had just finished up a steak and lobster meal that was the best thing I’d ever eaten, when the door to my room slides open.
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  Valac steps inside, but stays at the threshold as the door closes behind him.

  I stand, leaving my tray and dishes on the bed and swallowing down my final bite. Valac has a paper bag, and I’m guessing it’s filled with clothes. He clenches it so tightly his knuckles turn white. The muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s clamping his mouth against the urge to bark at me. But his gaze avoids mine, sweeping the room and landing on my scraped-clean plate.

  He stares at it like it’s a slaughtered puppy, and I have to look, but there’s nothing there: just the empty lobster shell. Maybe Valac is losing his marbles.

  “Are we going out?” I ask, just to stop his unnerving fixation on my now-gone meal. Valac’s bag isn’t big enough for more than one outfit. I might have to lobby for Ophelia to join us, given what he said about Kolek wanting to keep us apart.

  Valac swallows before he speaks. “I brought you some clothes.” He steps forward to hand them to me, arm outstretched, as if he doesn’t want to get too close, but he’s afraid to let go of the handle. His bizarre behavior is setting my nerves on edge. I snag the bag from him, a little roughly, to maybe snap him out of it. He watches me, then turns back to the door.

  I peek inside the bag. It’s a jumble of black, white, and bits of metal.

  “Valac—” I say, figuring I should speak up while I still have him in the room.

  He whirls to face me. “Just get dressed!” Like that the anger is back, mottling his face and clenching his hands. “I’ll wait outside.”

  “Thanks for the privacy,” I quip at his back as he swipes the door open and marches out into the hall. Asshole.

  I dump the clothes on my bed. They have a whole lot more shimmer than I expect. I peel off my t-shirt and pick up a white tank that seems three sizes too small. I fight to pull it on, and it miraculously stretches to fit my body, but only just. It’s like a layer of white paint on my chest. One look at the leather pants and jacket studded with blue halogen light panels, and I realize that’s exactly how it’s supposed to fit.