Maybe it's coincidence.
She couldn't believe she was being so callous about a woman's death. But then, she was no stranger to death. She met with him personally on every third day.
Her eyes continued to scroll through the article. There was a picture at the bottom. This, strangely enough, did look familiar, and another search quickly told Val everything she needed to know. Nancy Ramirez worked at the Derringer Emergency Medical Hospital.
She was the paramedic who had saved Val from drowning one year ago.
Savior.
It all made perfect, horrible sense. Who is sin?
Chapter Seventeen
Begonia
Val leaned her elbows on the makeshift bar. Alex's dorm was clean for once, the lights all dimmed, all the larger furniture pushed against the wall to create the space for a dance floor. True to Mary's word, there were fewer people this time around and they all mingled in cliquish groups.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. Jade wasn't there. She hadn't expected him to be, but having those dismal expectations realized only made her feel worse. Part of her—the stupidly optimistic part—had hoped to see his cheerful, freckled face.
Well. Not so cheerful. At least, not the last time she'd seen him. He hadn't contacted her for days and she had pretty much given up on ever seeing or hearing from him again.
She had led him on, used him as she herself so hated to be used. And in all honesty, she didn't regret it. Being with him had made her forget her troubles.
She twisted the ring on her finger. Inscribed on the inside were the words supero omnia. I surpass everything. If only that were true. She couldn't even quash her discomfort.
Part of that was the clothes she was wearing. Mary refused to let her wear jeans. She had produced a tight black skirt and a gold lace top, both new and both conveniently in her size, and then danced off before Val could question when she'd had the time to acquire these items.
Val found herself wondering if Mary had gotten them with a five-finger discount since neither of them had the money to spend on new clothes. Then Val wondered if she was a racist for thinking those thoughts, and whether she would have had them at all if Mary were white.
Her head ached after the first ten minutes of thinking this way and at least a half hour had elapsed since then, and now her stomach and head hurt, and she felt sick and miserable and tired.
“Hey.”
A boy slipped into the seat beside her. He was wearing a tight gray shirt and cords. Not slender but not heavy either. Clearly he worked out a lot. There was a tribal tattoo wrapped around his bicep and his lower lip was pierced.
Val didn't even have to look down to know that he was probably wearing expensive designer canvas sneakers. Great, she thought, another Alex Clone.
“Yo, Green Eyes. I'm talking to you.”
“My name's not Green Eyes,” she said tightly, “it's Val.”
He extended his hand. He had a class ring on but she couldn't make out the school. “Vance.”
Val looked away, leaving him hanging.
“Don't shake?” He rolled his eyes and leaned over to grab a beer.
Val continued to sip her soda, aware of his eyes on her. “What are you looking at?”
“Your necklace.”
Her soda can made an audible crumpling sound.
“Do you know what that is? It's a slave collar. It means you get off on being dominated.”
Val whipped her head around to look at him. “What?”
“Yup. You see? That's where you attach the lead.”
Her fingers clenched around the silver as he pointed at the odd ring in the design that had caught her attention. She set her jaw and looked away. “Very funny.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.” She pulled away from him and nearly fell off her stool. “I mean, yes. I don't—”
“Which is it?” He shot her a cool smile. “It can't be both at once.”
Val made a frustrated noise and moved to leave. His hand shot out to grab her wrist before she could successfully pull away.
“Not so fast, Green Eyes, baby. Did I say you could leave?”
“Get your hands off me.”
“You wouldn't want to hurt your friend's feelings.” He nodded at the side of the room. “You've been set up with me.”
She located Mary off in the far corner of the room, talking with Alex. Watching her. Val gripped her glass so tightly that it slipped away from her, skidding across the table. “I'm not interested.”
“Well, what she actually said was that you needed a friend.” He shrugged. “Same difference.” “No, they really aren't.”
“They are to me. How 'bout you shut that sexy mouth of yours and dance with me?”
“Fuck off.”
“Only if you watch.” He yanked her towards the dance floor, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind so he could force her hips to sway to the heavy beat. “Do you like to watch?”
He's disgusting. Like Gavin, without the charm.
“I know your type,” he said, sliding a hand down her thigh. “All sugar and spice on the outside, but inside you're all whips and chains.”
“You don't know me at all,” she said.
“But I want to.”
“No,” said Val.
Mary was beaming from across the room.
“Aw,” he said, following her gaze. “How sweet. She thinks we like each other.”
“You're an asshole.”
“You're not so bad yourself,” he drawled. “Let go. The song's over.”
“Come outside with me first.”
“I don't want to.”
“Come on, it'll be fun.”
Like a funeral.
Somebody had decorated the porch with Japanese lanterns. Not Alex. He was incapable of anything so tasteful. Maybe they had been hung by Mary.
Vance touched one of the dangling lanterns. “I haven't seen one of these since I was seven and in Japan.”
If that was supposed to impress her, it failed. “What do you want from me?”
“You.”
The single word was as cold as one of the evening breezes rustling the leaves above their heads. Her head jerked and her whole body seemed to reflexively coil like a spring. “Why?”
He cut her off with a kiss, effectively halting any further questions or protests. His hands slid beneath her top, and he made a low satisfied sound when he realized there was no bra to impede his progress. Val shuddered at the coldness of his fingers, bristling with outrage, horror, and a bitter wrenching emotion she could not place and did not care to. She slapped him—hard.
He rubbed his cheek. “You are so fucking sexy. My God. What can I say or do to get your sweet little ass in my bed tonight?”
“Don't ever come near me again.”
“I don't back down from a challenge.”
That sounded like something Gavin would say. She had to repress a shudder. “it's not a challenge. I'm not a challenge. I'm not something that can be won.”
“Anything can be won. Or bought.”
She shoved him. “I said no. Leave me the hell alone.”
She wasn't daring enough to turn her back on him and so edged towards the doors. The skin on her arms and face tingled in response to the warm room as her eyes scanned the room for her friend. Over the sound of the song playing Val heard the creak of the doors behind her and quickly slipped into one of the small crowds as Vance entered the room.
He hadn't seen her. Was he looking for her? She watched him settle down at the bar and help himself to a rum and coke. Within a few minutes, he'd found another girl to prey on.
She forced a shaky smile and turned to the group of people now looking at her like she couldn't wait for her to leave. “Hi…um, I'm looking for my friend. Have you seen her? Dark skin, black hair, hanging out with a tall blonde guy?”
Hanging all over a tall blond guy?
“Yeah.” The speaker was a girl with badly dyed hair.
“She went into the kitchen a while ago.” “Careful,” one of the guys remarked cryptically.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
Mary was sitting on the table in the empty kitchen with her arms around Alex's neck. The two of them were making out. Val let out a gasp and moved to leave just as Mary finally looked her way.
“Val—oh my God, what are you doing here? Where's Vance?”
Alex leaned against the table. “I told you she'd scare him off.”
“Alex!”
“I did not scare him off. He's a total asshole.”
Alex rolled his eyes. She looked to Mary instead. “It was awful. He blackmailed me into dancing with him and then he…tried to force himself on me outside.”
“He did what?”
“I think he might have done more if I hadn't pushed him. He got both hands under my shirt.”
Mary looked at Alex now too. He threw his hands up defensively. “It's been a while since I've been the guy. He's probably drunk.”
“He didn't look drunk.”
“He's your friend. You should know whether he turns into, like, a drunken rapist.”
“Hey—I barely know the guy. I mean, yeah, he buys a round occasionally when we play pool.” “You said he was your friend!”
“Yeah, a drinking buddy. Not the same thing. God, Mary what the fuck is your problem? It's a blind date, not a goddamn arranged marriage, for fuck's sake.”
“Not for the people arranging it, you jerk! You didn't even bother talking to him first, did you?” “I told you, Mare. He's a drinking buddy. Jesus, what don't you get about that?”
Mary shook her head. “I can't believe this. Alex Crawford, you are an asshole.”
Thank you .
“Do you want me to kick him out?”
“No, Alex.”
“Do you want me to make a goddamn scene? Is
that it? Pound his ass into the cement?”
“I want you to apologize to Val.”
Alex lost his bluster as if a switch had been flipped. “Baby, no. I suck at apologies.”
Ugh. He even says 'baby'—just like Vance.
Mary remained unmoved. “Practice makes perfect.”
“This was your idea, in case you'd forgotten. It's not like I did this on purpose. I mean, there's only so many single guys I know. And she liked Jade. I can't help it if she's a total ice queen. Maybe you should apologize to Val,” he added, saying her name like a curse.
“I'm leaving,” said Val.
Mary shouted something at her departing back. Val couldn't make it out over the music and she did not care enough to go back and find out what it was.
As she passed him Vance raised his drink at her in a silent toast, his new victim at his side.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
Stupid party.
A shadow passed over the moon.
Stupid Mary.
The buildings receded to faint, shadowy outlines
highlighted in dull silver.
Stupid Vance.
Val shivered. She knew the campus layout well enough now but suddenly, she felt lost.
Stupid Jade.
Maybe she should have waited for Mary instead of walking back alone.
No. No, she wasn't a child. She didn't need anyone to hold her hand.
Stupid Val.
Too stupid to live?
It started to rain. Gently at first, and then more intensely. “Fuck,” she hissed. The rain was liquid ice against her bare arms and back. She began to run, shedding droplets; the air was cold enough that her breath formed a shivery cloud of fog. The sound of her footsteps echoing against the cement was the only sound apart from the rasp of the leaves and the quiet hiss of the rain as she hightailed it from Primavera.
Ignoring the wavering shadows distorted by the falling rain and swirling clouds, Val focused on getting home. It's so dark tonight.
Her hand went to her hip and slid against the pocketless skirt. Mary had the room key. Her own was missing, lost somewhere inside their apartment no doubt. Val swore again, slamming her hands against the door and wishing it was something living that could transfer some of her pain.
And I still haven't figured out who 'sin' is. Val slid forward until her head was pressed against the wood. “Crap,” she whimpered.
“Something wrong, darling?”
Hands closed around her wrists, drawing her back against a warm, strong body. She didn't have to look around to know who it was. She recognized him by his scent, by the fit and feel of him.
“My, my, my—you're shivering.”
He leaned forward.
“And wet.”
Her eyes stared blankly ahead. If his clothing was dry, that meant he wasn't caught in the downpour. Had he been waiting for her this entire time?
“Look at you. Dressed to kill.”
“Why are you here?” His fingers tightened painfully around her wrists and she gasped, “Ow.”
“Why was he touching you?”
“You were at the party.”
“Why was he touching you, Val?” He whirled her around, caging her in against the door. He kissed her hard, biting on her lower lip, holding it between his teeth for a second before lowering his head and hissing into her ear, “I won't ask again.”
“I didn't let him,” she said weakly. “I didn't want him to.”
He grabbed her ass through the skirt. She tilted her head back and he kissed her again, and it burrowed as deep as death into her blood. He squeezed her again, his fingers brushing the underside of her skirt. Needles of sensation prickled at her inner thigh. “That's not what I asked.”
“You know what he wanted. And you know it's not my f-fault.” A shiver snaked through her at the intent look in his eyes. “You're jealous.”
Cold, cruel jealousy. His was a more potent variant of fiery passion, as hard as marble and frosted in glittering malice. He stroked the underside of her breast through the shirt. “So forward. I'm not sure I like this side of you.”
Val laughed: a bright, piercing sound shimmering with madness. “Fuck you.”
“Yes, you like that, don't you? Having me on top of you, inside of you. Having me in total control.” His grip on her waist strained the fabric, until her breasts threatened to spill over the neckline of the halter. She heard his breathing pick up a little. “Well, perhaps you'll get your wish.”
She was breathing too hard to properly voice her complaints, though, and the tight, fitting friction of him scratched an itch, satisfying pangs of desires she hadn't known she had even possessed until he commandeered her body for his use.
His eyes locked with hers. “Kiss me,” he commanded, and though she was sure neither of them had moved, suddenly their mouths were a snarl of lips and teeth, and his free hand was cupping her backside, grinding her against his pelvis. “I think I shall take you right against this wall.” His hand stroked down her side. “You won't mind, I'm sure.”
She couldn't speak. She could only stare at him.
He smiled—and then froze. In the darkness, the whites of his eyes flashed as his gaze cut to the side. He was staring at the vending machines down the hall. His grip on her thigh tightened. “What—”
He covered her mouth with his hand without looking away. He had gone rigid, like a cat that had just spotted prey. In the dim red glow of the soda machine she could make out a human form. She flushed and wrapped her arms around his neck to hide her body against his shirt. She felt his chest vibrate and heard the low sound issue from his throat like a note of warning.
The figure moved closer. Then paused uncertainly as though noticing that she weren't alone.
Gavin's grip on her body tightened. He pressed her more firmly against him so his coat engulfed them both. His heart was beating hard, faster than she could ever recall hearing it.
One look at his face informed her that he wasn't scared, or even concerned. No. He looked…excited.
The shadow hovered a moment longer, then disappeared. Something fluttered
from its pocket. He or she had dropped a piece of paper on the floor.
Gavin pushed away from her. She trailed after, watching as he stooped to pick it up. “Let me see,” she said, snatching at the paper.
It was covered in letters clipped from magazines and newspapers like a ransom note. The message was: I pray the Lord my soul to take. Her mother used to have her say that prayer as a child. The first part was—she gulped—If I die before I wake.
“You're coming with me tonight.”
She looked up at him in alarm. “You're blackmailing me.”
“Mm-hmm. You wouldn't want to miss this next round. That reminds me—have you solved my clue? Time grows short.”
“I've been thinking, yes.”
“And?”
“I think—I think it's the queen.”
He looked interested. “Why?”
“Well, she's the only female piece—” thinking of
Mary “—and they've all been religious clues so far, so I thought, perhaps, Original Sin?”
“Very clever,” he said, “but wrong.”
“W-what?” She tried to wrench out of his grip. “How do I know you're playing fair? How do I know that you're not lying?”
“You don't. Perhaps I am.” His amused smile disappeared. “Come.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dahlia
The pale frightened face in the mirror hardly seemed to resemble hers at all. Of course, Val could no longer remember what she looked like, only that she had changed and that the subtle nuances of this changing were invisible until some visual threshold was breached—then, they were all too apparent.
Val stripped off her rain-soaked clothing, trying to avoid looking at her breasts. Their presence made her uncomfortable; they sexualized her body against her will. She had never understood why the sight of them seemed to drive men wild, even when separate from the female body, but they did.
Not even Gavin was exempt.
She did not glance at the mirror again until she had put on the nightgown he had given her for the evening. The cotton was virginal white—surely his quiet way of mocking the innocence he had so methodically destroyed, the bastard.
The sleeves were full, her shoulders and throat bared by the wide boat-neck cut, which was discreetly trimmed with lace. The bodice laced up in front with a red satin ribbon, very Little House on the Prairie.
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