Scryer

by West, Sinden

  A hand reached out and grasped my chin, tilting up my face so I was forced to look him in the eye. “I would just hate for the same kind of thing to happen to you, Ivy,” he said softly.

  “Did you do this?” I tried to make my voice hard but failed.

  He shook his head slightly. “Why would I? You serve my purpose. I could protect you, Ivy. I could give you a home with me.”

  The car pulled up to a smooth stop, and my hand blindly reached for the door handle to escape, even though I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. “I’ll never be your slave. It doesn’t matter if you killed her or not. Your kind always ends up killing us one way or another anyway.”

  The door opened, and I pulled away from Michael’s hold, stepping out of the car. The driver gave me a brief nod as he closed the door behind me. We were outside my apartment and I ran past him toward the safety of the apartment building. My hand still clutched the newspaper bearing the awful news of Anne’s death, and I didn’t let go, even as I sprinted up the stairs. I wanted a shower to wash off Michael’s touch and his warning.

  But I stopped short when I saw who was sitting outside my door. Danilo’s eyes were half open, hazy and drugged. It took him a moment to register my presence, and his lips cracked into a smile.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here forever.”

  I angrily put my key in the lock and turned it so he had to scurry to move to avoid falling backwards when I opened it.

  “Bitch,” he said as he got to his feet and followed me in.

  “Bitch yourself.” I put my bag and the paper on the counter. His eyes scanned the contents of the newspaper quickly.

  “You heard, huh? No wonder you’re in such a bad mood.” He made his way to the fridge and pulled out two beers, one of which he passed to me after opening both of them. “Here’s to Anne—a lamb to the slaughter.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and sucked its contents down like he needed it to live.

  “Show some respect.” I took a sip of my own beer.

  He gave a bitter laugh. “I haven’t got time. Someone’s killing us.”

  I stared at him. “You’ve got time to get high all the time. That’s not going to help you protect yourself.”

  He pointed a finger at me, laughing and taking another drink. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. It stops me from killing myself.”

  He was right. The herbs he smoked continuously not only gave a gloriously invincible feeling, they also helped to block out visions. Unfortunately, they were highly addictive and in short supply. The herb moiraine only grew in the most carefully cultivated conditions. Mountains in summer mostly, and were always hard to get to.

  “Who’s supplying you now?”

  He touched his nose. “Not telling.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t I approve?” I asked him darkly, taking another drink.

  He shook his head. “Nope.” Then his face twisted into that irritating smile again. “But you’re my friend, so I’ll tell you. It’s Do-ro-thea cunt face.”

  I nearly spat out my beer. “The fuck? Are you kidding me?”

  He shook his head again. “I knew you’d be a bitch.”

  I gave a snort and took a long drink before answering him. “It’s her way of controlling you. She does nothing out of kindness.”

  He spun around on his barstool like he was a kid. “I know. I don’t need a lecture.”

  I stayed silent. He knew what Michael’s wife was like. Dorothea Corin was, like all of them, power hungry and ruthless. She had been a lesser member in the Circle until Michael married her, and now she paraded around like she was a queen.

  The minutes passed, and I finally asked, “What’s happening to Anne’s body?”

  Danilo stared into space, and for a minute I wondered if he had heard me. He finally spoke. “Her friends claimed her. Unlike us, she actually had some. She fit in.”

  “That’s good.” I took another drink and did my best to stop my hand from shaking.

  Chapter Three

  After Danilo left, I ran a bath so hot my skin turned red. I sat in it like it had the potential to cleanse every part of me, although I knew that it would never wipe or clean my memory or mind. I drank more ice cold beer and thought of Anne. After my mother had killed herself, I had lived with Anne and her mother for a while before striking out on my own. Her mother had been a quiet woman who barely left the house and acted like she was scared of her own shadow. She didn’t go to the rituals any longer, but no one from the Circle ever came searching for her. It was like they knew that part of her sanity was gone, and they didn’t wish to be tainted by her. Besides, she had born a child to continue her line. She had done her duty.

  If her mother was like a mouse, then Anne did everything the opposite way. She made friends. She laughed and smiled as if trying to prove that her destiny could go fuck itself.

  But she lost in the end.

  We would always lose.

  A fat white candle sat on the edge of the bath. It had been accompanied by Penzance’s bright pink candles, but I had hidden those away in the cupboard and scraped off the wax that they had left behind. I tried not to think of Anne or Abbey, or Michael or Lake. I tried to think of nothing but that candle and its wick. Concentrating hard, my mind reached out to it, and I could almost feel the wick as if physically touching it.

  And then I saw the wisp of smoke and I sat up abruptly, letting out a laugh. Nearly, I nearly had it. I’d never been this close before. Sinking back down in the bath, I drank my beer, smiling for the first time that day.

  I was drunk by the time Penzance cracked opened the bathroom door. “Are you still alive in there?” She poked her head in, making sure that I was hidden by the water and steam before entering.

  “Yeah. We need to buy more beer though. We’re all out now.” I let my empty bottle fall from my hand, and it landed on the bath mat with a dull thud.

  She bent down to scoop it up and grinned. “There’s this new club that we’re all going to on Friday. You have to come. They’re having half price cocktails.”

  “Sure.” I agreed, my head clouded by the alcohol running through me. Would I be alive by Friday? I mused drunkenly. Everything in me was dulled, and the idea didn’t strike as much fear in me as it normally did.

  “Great!” She lingered by the door as if she wanted to say something else.

  “What?”

  “I saw Lake today,” she said hesitantly. “I ran into him outside my work.” She thought that Lake had dumped me and broken my heart…only the heart part was true though. He had betrayed me.

  I became still. “Oh?”

  “He asked about you. I think he still likes you.” She kicked at the vinyl on the floor.

  “He doesn’t, Penzance,” I managed to say. He never did, he just used me. It hurt to even think those words, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to say them out loud.

  She cleared her throat. “Okay. Well, anyway, I’m cooking dinner. It’ll be ready soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  She closed the door, leaving me enclosed in the steamy room once more. But now I didn’t have to think about Anne or fire; I had Lake to think about instead. He had sucked me in. He had said all the right things and treated me so well, I had finally thought that maybe I could have a normal life with someone who I couldn’t read. I was so stupid. The realization of how naïve I had been was like a humiliating slap in the face.

  Finally, after so many hot and steamy make out sessions where I had thought he was being a gentleman and truly in love with me each time he stopped us from going further, we had sex. It was romantic, in a hotel with rose petals and champagne. The sex was beautiful and sensual. It was everything that I had ever hoped for.

  But then it happened.

  As I lay there, recovering from my orgasm, the visions poured from me as he began to ask the questions, just like at the rituals, and I couldn’t stop myself. Tears ran down my cheeks as I gave him the information that he used me for. The words came unc
ontrollably from my mouth as if I were possessed and our lustful union had released demons within me. Once it was over and I regained control of my voice and brain, I grabbed my clothes and ran naked from the room. People stared, but I didn’t care. Once in the safety of the stairwell, I sobbed loudly as I struggled to dress. He was one of them, and he had played me for a complete fool.

  Lake Corin. Nephew of Michael. He hadn’t wanted to wait until he was of age for the ritual. He was ambitious and hungry for power—so he went out on his own and seduced the first stupid, lonely scryer that he met.

  Me.

  Penzance broke me out of my miserable reverie by banging on the door and yelling that her culinary attempt was ready. I sighed and stood in the bathwater, almost wishing that I would slip and hit my head on the hard surface of the bathtub and knock myself out. It seemed like the only way to get rid of this depressive feeling that was hanging over me.

  It lasted until the rest of the week. Nightmares of a dead Anne and seductive Lake plagued me, almost to the point where I wanted to call Danilo and beg for some of his stash of moiraine. But I didn’t. The last thing that I needed was another Corin controlling me, especially the cold-hearted Dorothea. So instead I drank, much to Penzance’s delight. She was under the impression that I was ready to become a party animal like her. For our Friday night plans, she dressed me up. I had already drunk several vodka and cranberry concoctions that left me light-headed and numb.

  She treated me like I was a doll as she twisted my limbs into a tank top that plunged deep to reveal my cleavage while cropping just below my naval to reveal my taut abdomen. “You should get this pierced. It would look so sexy,” she told me as she self-consciously touched her own stomach that had thickened lately with her fast food diet and lack of exercise.

  I said nothing as she stared at my flat stomach with envy, but then she seemed to shake herself out of it and reached for the skirt that she wanted me to wear. It was a shiny fabric that was designed to look like leather, but wasn’t. It was fake, just like I was, wearing these sexy, skimpy clothes as if I were trying to be someone else; as if I were trying to live in a world where I were normal and my only thoughts should be about trying to find a decent guy to hook up with.

  “It’s too short,” I said as she pulled it up so it sat low on my hips.

  She looked up at me from where she kneeled below my standing position. “It’s perfect. You need to show off more skin. You’re too pretty to be wasted and hidden away.” She took my calf in her hand and forced my leg up to slide my foot into a high heeled gold sandal.

  When she had finished, I studied myself in a full-length mirror. My hair had been curled and my make-up heavier than normal. My first thought was of a prostitute, and I wondered just briefly about Penzance’s motives. But then I remembered that this was how she and her friends all dressed. I would fit in.

  Maybe.

  I had another drink and stopped looking in the mirror.

  One of Penzance’s friends drove us. We piled into the car, and one of the girls whom I was pressed against wore a watch. In the shiny, flat surface of that innocent little object, I saw her early death. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe and count silently until the car stopped and I didn’t have to touch her anymore. There was a line at the club, but the girl who would die early knew the bouncers, and we sauntered past the lesser people who had to wait, smug smiles on everyone’s faces.

  The darkness of the club was interrupted by flashes of light that made me blink and squint. A thumping began in my head, and it was nothing to do with the music.

  “I’ll get us drinks!” Penzance screamed at me. That was a good idea, drinking was good, drinking made you forget and hopefully unconscious.

  The drinks she brought back to the table were pink, complete with straws and she told me the name, but it was something too ridiculous to take in. I sipped it, surprised that it tasted like heaven and slid down my throat so easily, I couldn’t even taste the alcohol.

  Penzance laughed and pointed to my empty glass, happy to go and get more. I felt everything in me loosen up, and the only thumping in me soon was the music. I wanted to dance, and I yelled that to Penzance. She wasted no time in grabbing my wrist and pulling me onto the floor. We weaved between people, Penzance’s iron grip on my wrist and her fast pace meant that there was no going back. When we were where she decided was the best place to be, she released me and turned to face me, beginning to dance and move her hips in a way that didn’t seem to correspond to the music. But she didn’t care. She flung her head back carelessly and closed her eyes, swaying as if there were some invisible band there playing a seductive beat just for her.

  I followed suit. Hands in the air, I began to dance, reveling in the fact that the only thing that I could feel was the beat of the music drumming through my body. Men started to crowd around us, and I didn’t even care. I felt sexy and powerful, and Penzance, even with her eyes closed, had a knowing smile as if she knew that they were there and lusting after her.

  I laughed and for an instant closed my eyes as well, but a hand touching my hip made them fly open. A man I didn’t know was dancing with me, and that was okay. I felt so loose and free that I didn’t even care. Penzance had moved away from me to dance with her own guy, and soon she was lost in the crowd.

  But something made my head twist and I could see the bar from where I danced. My eyes zeroed in on him immediately. His short hair, high cheekbones, slim build that disguised the muscles underneath…Without a doubt, it was Lake standing at the bar, leaning against it like he owned it, and the world lucky enough to have him in it. Even from that distance and that dim light, I could tell that he was staring straight at me.

  I gasped involuntarily, all the horror and horrific depression that he had caused in me reared its ugly head again. It was as if there were a heavy, physical presence crushing my chest and making it hard to breathe. I needed distraction.

  I grabbed the guy who was touching my hips and pressed his face into mine. His lips stuck onto me like an octopus, and he seemed to have just as many arms touching me everywhere. Grabbing at my bottom through the skin tight skirt, reaching up to grope my breast through the thin cotton of the tank top, then growing bolder, his hand managed to sneak up underneath the underwire of my bra to touch the swelling flesh, and pinch at my nipple.

  I didn’t care though. The disgust within me was good because it managed to make that crushing feeling of disappointment and lost love disappear. The octopus man bit at my lips and thoroughly screwed my mouth forcefully with his tongue in such a way that it was impossible to escape his onslaught of groping. Truthfully, I would have let him fuck me right there and then on the dance floor if it meant that it would clear all thoughts of Lake from my abused mind.

  But then something flashed; something shiny, maybe a watch or a cellphone.

  And I saw.

  I saw this octopus man beating his girlfriend. One of those large hands held onto her hair so tight that it was amazing that her scalp didn’t come away in his hand. She gave a moan, and it was the sound of someone who had been through this so many times before that they no longer had the energy to fight. I saw as he pulled his cock from his pants and forced her to her knees to part her already bruised and swollen lips. He didn’t care as she cried. He just jammed it further down her throat so she gagged. A look of ecstasy came over his face as he used her.

  I pulled my eyes away and pushed, hard. When that didn’t work, I slapped him and made sure that my nails left ribbons of blood down the side of his face. He stumbled back, eyes open in shock. He wasn’t used to girls who fought back.

  “What the fuck!” he yelled, eyes bulging as he took a step forward, and his hands formed fists.

  “You’re a pig,” I yelled over the music. “An abusive, cock-sucking, pig!” There was a pause in the music, and heads turned to us as they all heard what I had just said.

  His face twisted, and his hand came out and reached for my throat, wrapping around it a
nd squeezing before I could even comprehend what was going on. For a moment I didn’t care, my life would be a short one anyway, but then I realized that I didn’t want to die at the hands of someone as pathetic as this. I kicked his shins, but just as I did, a fist flew through the air, knocking the octopus man off his feet, and letting me breathe.

  Caleb, my fuck from the week before, stood there. “Shit, are you okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” I managed to rasp out of my bruised throat as I stumbled back a few steps and the crowd parted for me. “Fine. I’m always fine,” I muttered. I turned and pushed past people, heading straight for the door and fresh air. I briefly caught sight of Lake. He was still at the bar, watching me, but his face was expressionless. I tore my eyes away from him.

  I managed to make it outside without knocking into anyone and stumbled around the corner and into an alleyway where I crouched down, leaning against the wall and sucking in deep breaths.

  “Ivy.”

  I looked up and saw Caleb standing there. Slowly, I managed to stand back up but still had to lean on the wall for support. I raised my chin and hugged myself to stop from shaking.

  “Thank you,” I said stiffly. “Thank you for helping.” Fuck, I did not want to cry in front of this guy. I couldn’t bear the shame of that on top of needing to be rescued. The last thing that I needed to be was weak and pathetic.

  His lips twisted slightly, like he was trying not to form them into a cocky smile. “You’re welcome.”

  The shaking wouldn’t stop, but I didn’t know if that were more from the strangling octopus man or from catching sight of Lake. I felt like I was losing control of my body, much like when I went into the trance after being satiated at the rituals, and I spoke words as if someone else inhabited my body and told me what to say.

  I forced my hands to loosen, and I stood upright, looking Caleb straight in the eye. “Come home with me,” I told him.

  He didn’t look surprised, although he wasn’t the kind to let on if he was. He was like Lake in that regard. For a moment I thought he might want me to explain further, that he might want me to beg. In my mind a jumble of thoughts made sense to me. I wanted touch. I wanted comfort— even if it were only meaningless sex.