0.5-The Asylum Interviews: Bronx: An Asylum Tales Short Story

by Drake, Jocelynn

“And I’ll deliver but only if I get my tears.”

  “I can’t cry,” she snarled in frustration.

  I frowned. She might not feel sad any longer, but she definitely still had the ability to get angry. “Then you’re just going to have to let me help you.”

  Closing the distance between us again, I slid my hands into her hair until I was cupping the back of her head. I held her against me so that I could whisper in her ear. She was stiff in my arms, but she didn’t yet push away from me. The temptation of my tightly held secret had her willing to play along for a little while. My eyes fell shut as I whispered an old spell I had learned years ago, but remained fresh in my mind.

  I needed to pull Aemilia’s memories to the foreground. The spirit that now occupied her body may have killed off all feelings of compassion and tenderness, but she hadn’t always been possessed. Most girls lived with their families until they were at least ten or eleven, and didn’t get initiated as a full-fledged Vestal Virgin until they hit puberty. That’s plenty of time to form a bad memory or two. I just needed to find one; a strong one. I didn’t care what it was. A sick grandmother, a dead pet, or even a lost toy.

  Aemilia gasped and every muscle in her body suddenly stiffened as her heart went racing off as we neared a particularly dark memory. I didn’t care what it was. I plunged us both in, desperate to wring a few tears out of Aemilia.

  My own consciousness was dragged into the memory, enveloping us both. With a shuddering breath, I looked around to find that I was standing in a dark hallway with a young girl who looked to be somewhere between eight and ten years old. Her little hands were clenched before her stomach so that her white knuckles nearly blended in with her white nightgown. I frowned. Was this a monster-in-the-closet memory? I really didn’t want to see a little kid traumatized by some creature that managed to sneak past some basic wards to hide under her bed.

  But as soon as the thought occurred to me, I heard the sound of soft crying farther down the hall. Something in my stomach knotted while my brain instinctively screamed to pull out of this memory. I didn’t know what I had called up for Aemilia, but every fiber of my being shouted that this was darker than I had meant to go. She didn’t need to relive this.

  Even as my brain was shrieking warnings, I found myself turning toward the noise while the little girl beside me moved to the closed door on my left. Her hand was shaking as she reached for the old iron doorknob. I wanted to lay my hand on hers and open the door for her, but I couldn’t interact with the memory in any way. Hell, I wanted to stop it, but I couldn’t. The spell only pulled up and kicked off the memory. The person the memory actually belonged to had to end it.

  Standing behind the little girl, I looked in the room as she pushed open the door, catching sight of a large man climbing out of a small bed draped with rumpled pink and purple covers. My eyes darted from the man with salt-and-pepper black hair as he refastened his pants, to the bed, where I saw a young, tear-streaked face that didn’t look to be more than a year or two older than the child Aemilia.

  “Daddy?” the young Aemilia whimpered.

  The horror and revulsion that surged through me was quickly replaced by mindless rage. I tried to lunge forward to grab the man, but I was yanked out as Aemilia shut down the memory as the horror of the image gripped us both. I stumbled backward, my stomach churning. Bent over in pain, Aemilia gripped the back of a chair in an effort to hold herself upright as tears raced down her face.

  Staring at her, I realized why she had been sent to become a Vestal Virgin. It wasn’t some great honor bestowed on her. She had her father’s dark, dirty secret that she had to carry. By making her a Vestal Virgin, he was hoping that his secret would be protected, and she did protect it. But there was a loophole. I was willing to guess that she couldn’t protect her own secrets the same way and that’s how I had gotten to the dark memory.

  “You pulled free the tears you wanted,” she said in a horrible voice, dragging my thoughts out of Aemilia’s past. “Collect them before I wipe them all away and you’re screwed, because you’re not getting another shot at this.”

  With more than a little self-loathing, I pulled a small glass test tube out of my pocket and stepped close to her again. Holding her chin with my thumb and index finger, I carefully collected several tears in the container as they streaked down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I murmured, drawing her downcast eyes back up to my face. “I was hoping for something a little more innocuous. You know, lost toy or skinned knee. Maybe lost in the grocery store.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said roughly.

  “It does,” I pressed. She looked away from me, but I placed my hand gently against her jaw, turning her face back toward me. Her wounded blue eyes hesitantly flicked back up to my face and I could see an echo of the little girl from the hall. “I never meant to hurt you like that. I would have preferred happy tears, but those are extremely hard to come by. I would have preferred one small tear over a lost teddy bear or maybe a favorite sled.”

  A wobbly smile skimmed along her lips as she struggled not to giggle at my stupid movie reference.

  I released her face and took a step back again, giving her some breathing room. As she straightened again, pushing her goddess complex back into place, she looked at me with a furrowed brow. “How did you even do that in the first place?”

  I slipped my hands into my pockets as I waited for the realization to hit her. It didn’t take long. Her eyes suddenly widened and her lovely mouth formed a perfect O as she pushed away from the chair. “You’re a . . . But—”

  As the full depth of my secret washed over her mind, her head fell back as the hot flush to her cheeks returned. A deep moan rumbled up her throat while her eyes fluttered closed. I lurched forward and swept her into my arms as she started to crumple to the floor. I quickly deposited her on the sofa as she continued to writhe and scream in my arms.

  Standing back near the fireplace, I watched her, more than a little confused. I knew that the spirit residing in the Vestal Virgins fed off the secrets, but the noises she was making weren’t yummy-this-is-good noises. She was . . . Holy shit! She was coming. And by the looks and sounds of it, it was a damn good orgasm. Dropping my head back, I closed my eyes. Well, hell, the Ivory Towers certainly had this part wrong about them. The Vestal Virgins were chaste because they didn’t fucking need sex. Give them a good secret and they’d shatter without a single touch.

  When Aemilia grew quiet again, I breathed a sigh of relief and opened my eyes, resisting the urge to adjust myself. Beautiful woman moans and writhes on the couch in a skimpy outfit and see if you don’t get a little hard, regardless of the circumstances.

  “Was it good for you?” I asked with a smile. Only one of us had enjoyed a release, but I couldn’t be too bitter considering the ugly memory I had dragged to the foreground of her mind.

  Aemilia gave me a little smile as she rolled over onto her stomach. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight as she looked up at me. “How many know?” Her voice was low and husky, sending a jolt through me.

  “Outside the Towers?” She nodded. “One. Maybe two. If anyone finds out, I’m dead and it won’t be just the Towers hunting for me. Everyone will be demanding my head.”

  Aemilia arched her back, pressing her pelvis into the cushions as she dropped her head back and softly moaned as if a fresh ripple of pleasure was rushing through her. Yeah, that seemed fitting. The more danger my life was in, the more she got off.

  “Despite the oddness of our arrangement, I am assuming that you will keep my secret,” I said as she became quiet again.

  Aemilia’s frown wiped away the last bit of pleasure on her face. “I keep the secrets that I’m given. It doesn’t matter how I acquire them. I hope you enjoy my tears.”

  “They’re going to help someone who is in a lot of trouble right now. Thank you from both of us, and I’m sorry abou
t what happened.”

  She shrugged, trying to brush off my concern as if it weren’t important, but she was no longer meeting my gaze. “It was a long time ago.”

  I frowned. It should never have happened to such young girls, and some part of me was terrified that her father had never been punished. “Is there . . . something . . . I can do?”

  Her head popped up, surprise on her face. “Are you offering to kill him?”

  “No!” I quickly said, nearly shouting before I could get my voice under control again. “I don’t do that. It’s why I left the Towers. I don’t kill.” I paused for a second, scratching my chin in thought. “But I do know one spell that would make his dick shrivel up and fall off.”

  Aemilia chuckled, shaking her head. “Thank you for the offer, but you’re about fifteen years too late. He already died of a heart attack.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I appreciate the offer. I hope I see you again, Gage Powell. You’ve been . . . entertaining.” Her smile grew as she spoke the last word, sending a shiver down my spine. All remnants of the little girl were gone and I knew what I was looking at now wasn’t human any longer.

  With a little salute, I turned on heel and marched out of the room, leaving the door open so her flunkies could return to her side. I had had enough and I prayed that I would never need to visit the Virgins again. Besides, she already had my best secret and I didn’t plan on doing anything that would surpass it—my sanity couldn’t take much more.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When we left the Vestal Virgins’ secret hacienda, I thought I could finally see the light at the end of this tunnel. The drive back to Low Town was quiet, with no appearances from Gideon. I was hoping that the protective spells blanketing the home of the Virgins helped to hide the tiny spell I had been forced to use on Aemilia. I didn’t like breaking my promise to the warlock, mostly because it would mean my ass if he found out, but I had no choice.

  From here, everything was downhill. Either Bronx or I would tattoo Parker. Then he could return to his life and deal with Jill. But the second we pulled into the empty lot behind the parlor, I realized that I was wrong. Really, really wrong.

  Jill stood on the wooden stairs, looking as if she was coming down from the second floor. She paused as the headlights of my car flashed over her as I parked the SUV, raising her hand to shield her eyes against the bright light.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I saw her rush down the remaining stairs as she recognized my car.

  “Who is it?” Bronx inquired. He had asked nothing about my dealings with Aemilia and had remained relatively quiet on the trip back to Low Town, giving me time to think—the one thing that I didn’t need.

  I shoved the gear shifter into park and quickly turned off the car. “Jill. Parker’s girlfriend.” This couldn’t be good.

  We both got out of the car. Jill came to a quick halt when her eyes fell on Bronx’s large form, but she regained her step when her gaze locked on me as I came around the front. She rushed over and threw her arms around my neck in a fierce hug that had me taking a step backward to regain my balance.

  “Gage!” she cried in relief.

  “What’s up, Jill? What are you doing here?”

  She pulled away so that I could look into her dark brown eyes. “I’m looking for Parker. He left this afternoon and never came home. I’ve tried calling him but he won’t answer. His car is parked in front of the shop but he’s not here. Was he upstairs?”

  I paused, licking my lips as my eyes darted over to Bronx for a heartbeat. I didn’t think there was any harm in telling her. We had what we needed to help Parker and he was going to have to tell her everything anyway. “Yes, he came over this afternoon and was staying upstairs.”

  She gasped, her eyes widening in fear. “I think the warlocks took him.” Tears choked her voice, but it was her words that sent a spear of terror through me.

  I grabbed her arms and held her in front of me so that I could look her clearly in the eye. “What? Why do you think that?”

  “The apartment is a mess. The door is broken and there are all these symbols everywhere. Magic symbols, I think.”

  My shoulders slumped in my relief and I pulled her into a tight hug. She had seen the symbols that I had drawn and assumed that someone from the Ivory Towers had attacked. I was still disturbed that someone had possibly come after Parker, but relieved that it was unlikely that it was a witch or warlock. If they had come, there was no saving Parker. With anyone else, we still had a chance.

  “I don’t think it was anyone from the Towers,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go look around upstairs and see if we can figure this out.”

  Jill didn’t seem overly convinced, but she nodded, willing to play along for now. She stiffened when she noticed that Bronx was walking beside me toward the apartment. Jill had temporarily forgotten about the hulking troll in her panic to get to me. Now he was a looming shadow in the darkness, yet another potential threat to her safe life.

  “It’s okay,” I said, squeezing her shoulder as I wrapped my arm around her, tucking her close against me. “Bronx is a friend. He doesn’t bite.”

  Jill gave him a weak smile, but didn’t speak while Bronx gave her a polite bow of his head. We all paused at the foot of the stairs where both of my companions stared at the smudged black chalk drawing I had made earlier in the day. To my relief, I could feel no other magic in the air. I hadn’t thought a witch or warlock had grabbed Parker, but considering my past, there was always a possibility. Of course, if Gideon knew that I had broken my promise, he might have grabbed Parker as punishment.

  Bronx looked at me, one eyebrow arched in question. It didn’t look good to anyone, and it was going to look it even worse when I pressed forward, but it wasn’t helping Parker to be standing at the foot of the stairs, hesitating.

  “I think it’s someone just trying to scare us and cover their tracks. No one from the Ivory Towers has been here,” I declared, releasing Jill so I could start up the stairs.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, still hesitating.

  “Positive. Besides, if a witch or warlock has taken Parker, it’s highly unlikely the building would be standing. They hate tattoo artists.” She seemed reluctant to follow me up to the second floor despite the fact that she had already rushed up there. I could only guess that her fear of the Towers was overcoming her fear for Parker. “Look, Jill. You can stay down here. Bronx will even stay with you, if you want. I just want to take a look around and then I’ll be right back.”

  I turned and pounded up the stairs. It was only a second or two later before I heard two more sets of feet following behind me. I don’t know whether common sense hit or if she was afraid of being left alone with Bronx. Regardless, she and Bronx were right behind me when I walked into the apartment, which had in fact been trashed.

  The sunken couch that was against the wall was still in one piece, or as much as it had ever been, but one of the cushions was now torn and stuffing was sticking out. The coffee table had been smashed and there were several new holes in the walls. There were also only a couple small smears of what looked to be blood. I quickly walked through the rest of the apartment to find that nothing else had been disturbed, as the fight had apparently taken place in just the living room. The lack of blood and a body had me hopeful that Parker was still alive and not too badly injured. What’s more, the signs of a struggle confirmed in my mind that Gideon hadn’t taken him either. The warlock wouldn’t have given Parker a chance to struggle.

  “Any ideas?” Bronx asked, drawing my attention back to him.

  I sighed and shrugged. “Actually, no.”

  “Gage, what’s going on? Why was he here in the first place?”

  I shoved my hands in my baggy jeans, my fingers wrapping around the glass test tube of tears. So close. “Do you remember anything happening today that was sort of out of
the ordinary?” Jill’s gentle face was blank for a moment before a bright blush stole to her cheeks and she looked away from me. Jill was no prude and she wasn’t even particularly modest when it came to Parker, but by her expression, I was willing to guess that things had gotten a little crazy. “Parker was tattooed last night and it seems that it had an unexpected effect. It appears to make people extremely horny. Parker came here to protect you while we tried to reverse what was done.”

  “You tattooed him!” she shrieked, losing all her earlier embarrassment.

  “Actually, I tattooed him,” Bronx volunteered, drawing her narrowed gaze to him. All her earlier fear of him was lost in a heartbeat. I appreciated Bronx’s attempts to shield me from her anger.

  “We didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said.

  “But why did he get the tattoo in the first place?”

  “I think that’s something Parke needs to talk to you about—”

  “No! Obviously there’s something going on that he’s not telling me, but you know. Tell me.”

  “Jill—”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me. “I thought you were my friend, Gage.”

  Fuck! Why the hell did she have to pull that one out? I didn’t do well under the pressure of guilt from a female friend. Guys? Fuck it. A male friend couldn’t guilt me into shit, but I was defenseless against a close female friend.

  “He was starving, Jill,” I snapped. The anger drained from her face and her arms fell slack at her sides. “You knew it and that’s why you sent him out drinking with me. You knew he wouldn’t be able to pass up feeding while we were out and you could pretend that you didn’t know anything about it. Unfortunately, the guilt, along with general starvation, was killing him. He refused to give you up or ask you to change so we agreed to try to help him. We tattooed him, hoping that we could amplify the little things so he didn’t need an orgasm to feed off of.”

  “It didn’t work like we hoped,” Bronx continued when I fell silent. “Parker came here to protect you while we went to collect an ingredient we’re hoping will nullify the effects of the original tattoo.”