by Logan Fox
“So why did you?”
“I didn’t,” Caden murmured. “Tanner did.”
Pearl shuddered. Perhaps Caden had felt the gesture — he stroked the side of her neck with his fingertips. She looked up. Nope, those eyes were still staring at something else. Perhaps sometime else.
The past?
The future?
“That man’s always been so fucking entitled,” Caden said. “You wouldn’t think it would happen — not to someone like him — but it did. In the worst way, too.”
“Someone like him?”
Caden shrugged. He touched a knuckle to his nose again, sniffing and twitching his nose like a rabbit.
“It was all luck with him. Not family money. Not hard work. Sheer luck.”
“Luck?”
“He won the lottery a few years back. Used his winnings as seed money. Hired a few savvy stockbrokers. Tripled it. Then quadrupled it. It was all downhill from there — property, stocks, oil.”
Another shrug.
“Greed takes everyone differently. It changed him.”
Caden’s voice trailed away.
Pearl’s eyes slid closed. “And you?”
There was a long silence. She wanted to open her eyes again, to see if she’d pissed him off. If he was staring at her, or staring ahead, or still staring into the past. But it was as if her lids had become glued shut. She let out a long breath, her body slumping. The hand that had tucked her hair away fell onto Caden’s leg. She drew it under her cheek.
“I like to think that I’ve been unaffected,” Caden said after an eternity. His voice surged in and out of earshot as Pearl began nodding off. “Guess no one’s that lucky. Mine was family money, so I suppose I was more acclimatized to it than Tanner. But… he rubbed off on me. A little at first. Then more. I felt invincible. Omnipotent.”
Caden traced the outline of Pearl’s ear. She let out a sigh and drew her legs up until she lay nestled into the crook of the couch.
“It was his idea to start up this place. But he didn’t have the administrative savvy to run it. That’s where I came in. Looking back, I guess that had always been my role. He’s like that, Tanner. He meets someone, and he’s immediately figuring out how he’s going to use them. And if it turns out they’re not useful, he plays with them until he’s bored and then tosses them out.”
“Like Ivy?” Pearl murmured.
In the dungeon, Belinda howled and then began pleading with the dragon to forgive her for something. Pearl couldn’t tell what, through the blubbering.
Caden gripped Pearl’s earlobe, toying with her stud. “No.” The word was deep, soft. “No, it wasn’t like that at all.”
The emails between Caden and Tanner came to her then. Mentions of fox adoption. Caden calling Tanner a child. Tanner saying he never had a choice in the matter.
An urgent thought speared through the fog of almost-sleep permeating her mind.
Pearl sat up, blinking rapidly. She turned slowly to Caden, eyes wide and jaw tight.
“Where’s Opal?”
Caden stared forward. He sniffed again, bringing a knuckle to his nose. Then he gave a small shrug and faced Pearl. He searched her face, eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line.
“It was Opal’s last scene today.” The words seemed to leave Caden’s mouth reluctantly. His lips twisted before he smoothed them out again. “Didn’t even get to say goodbye. He made sure of that.” Caden shook his head from side to side, taking off his glasses and polishing them absently on his shirt.
“She left?” Pearl’s shoulders drooped. Now she’d never know what Opal knew. Or why the girl had been so intent on leaving. “I guess once she’d made her mind up—”
“She didn’t have a choice. They never do.” Caden’s words poured out like molten steel. “But he arranged it just so—” Caden lifted a hand, thumb and forefinger touching, and jostled it in the air as if taking notes “—fucking perfectly that I got to see her one last time. And doing something she hated. Doing something she knew I would never—”
Pearl took a deep breath. “He said it was you.”
Caden slipped his glasses back on. He stared out into the dungeon, that brief flare of anger evaporating. Or perhaps simmering into something more lethal.“Who?”
“Tanner. Well, Seth. Seth said Tanner said you said she had to go. To service the dragon. Me and her.”
Caden didn’t look at Pearl. And she didn’t want him to, either. Judging from the set of his shoulders and the stiffness in his jaw, his anger was bubbling again. And she didn’t want to be in his vicinity when it boiled over.
“Like I said,” Caden murmured. “It takes everyone differently. Surprisingly, though, there does seem to be a common thread. A certain… vindictiveness.”
Belinda was moaning. Pearl turned and winced at the sharp angle the dragon held Belinda’s head at while the girl held out her tongue for another dog biscuit.
“And on that note,” Caden said, drawing Pearl’s eye again. “Your wolf is returning for you tomorrow.”
He faced Pearl, his blue eyes as warm as the frost on a winter windowpane.
“So I suggest you write an imaginative entry in your journal tonight. Something tells me he’ll be checking.”
7
Abby's Broken Dolls
Pearl stared at the bundle of clothes in her arms. They were heavier than just the fabric, of course. She’d shoved her sneakers into one of the sweaters and, after a long hesitation, the leather-bound journal and pen had joined it.
Seth looked up when she came out of the room, pushing himself to his feet with his hand on his knees.“Ready?”
“Ready,” Pearl replied in a voice that sounded anything but. The vial rested in her slack’s pocket. A constant reminder as she walked — the glass a light weight bumping against her thigh with every step. She followed Seth upstairs, having to force her eyes away from Ethan’s door as they passed. He probably wasn’t even inside — even Seth had complained about their hectic schedule for the next two days while he’d been waiting for Pearl to grab her things.
Seth opened his apartment door for her. Pearl slipped inside, setting her things down on the coffee table.
“Take it through to the room.”
Pearl forced down a cringe; of course she’d be sleeping in the same bed as him. What had she expected?
Was this what Gia had felt like, the last week or two? Knowing she’d led Seth on and cursing herself for it every time he made an advance on her?
Pearl walked into the bedroom, squeezing her eyes shut for a second as she entered. Hopefully Seth wouldn’t think it weird that she knew exactly where it was. She would’ve been able to figure it out, right?
She set her things down on the foot of the bed, hesitated, and moved the pile of clothes to the floor on the far side of the door instead. No reason for Seth to stare at her pile and wonder why it was so bulky. Why she had another change of slacks in there for what was supposed to be a one night… stand?
“Want a drink?” Seth called out from the kitchenette.
“No.”
There was a pause.
“Hungry?” More insistent than the first question.
Pearl’s stomach coiled in response, but she managed a wobbly “Sure.”
It wouldn’t do to look ill at ease, right? And she’d need her strength tonight. Who knew how long it would take to reach the road? She might be running for an hour, seeing as Ethan had made it perfectly fucking clear he wasn’t about to help her out.
She still couldn’t blame him, no matter how hard she tried.
Mental note: take water.
God, why hadn’t she done more cardio? Running one day a week for fifteen minutes wasn’t exactly going to earn her a gold medal in long distance.
“I’m gonna order something from the kitchen then.”
“’Kay.” Pearl glanced down, giving her head a shake. The corner of the journal had slipped out of the jumper. She used her toe to push it back, but the book simply
slid out again.
“Fuck.” She bent down, shoving it inside the bundle of clothes.
This time it slid out even faster, the corner of the top cover hooking on the jumper’s neckline. A wad of folded paper fell to the carpet.
Pearl stared at it.
The fuck?
She went to her knees beside the pile of clothes, drawing out her journal and reaching for the folded pages as she flipped open the cover. But her eyes were drawn back to the journal before she touched those foreign pages. Back to the clump of rifled edges where someone had torn her notes out. And then to the strangely eloquent script that had been penned in its place.
So neat, that cursive. Like a teenager. Little circles for the tops of the ‘i’. Fancy swashes on the ‘g’ and ‘f’. She almost didn’t have to read the name to know who’d written it.
My name is Gia Dorsey. My social security number is 564-76-2666.
I came to the Fox Pit in April, 2012. The guy who brought me here is called Owen Morrison.
Pearl’s eyes scanned over Gia’s introduction to the Fox Pit. She turned the page. Then another. How long had the girl spent writing this? Goosebumps broke out over her arms. She hurriedly paged through Gia’s matter-of-fact account of her first shibari session. Her first threesome with a fox and a man called Adam. A detailed rendition of her first roll call. And then she turned another page, and her hand stilled halfway down that sheet and began to tremble against the paper.
I know it’s my fault.
It was just fun… at first.
But I know him now. And I can see there’s something wrong with him. With his brain.
I know you tried to help, and I’ll be forever grateful for that. But I also know this won’t end until someone breaks free. Until someone finds out what happened to the others.
I know you won’t get that info from Caden. Tanner probably doesn’t even have it — he sucks at admin. But I remember a lot of what happened while I was here. So, here it is. As accurate as I can. Some of the earlier stuff happened when I wasn’t here, but the girls passed it on. And they’d always speak to me, especially if I had a joint or two to offer, LOL.
I hope this helps.
And there, recorded in Gia’s neat, rounded hand, was a list of names and dates. Here, she’d written ‘wolf’ or ‘hare’ or ‘dragon’. Facial features — eye color, hair color. Distinguishing marks like tattoos or weird pronunciations of words.
Had she seriously remembered all of this? Or had she recorded it somewhere else, transferring this gold mine of information moments before Seth had whisked her away?
Whisked her away. It almost sounded fucking romantic.
A few pages on, those notes were replaced with others. Neat columns replaced blocks of text. Names. Dates. Notes like ‘left 2 days early’ or ‘contract wasn’t up yet’ or ‘friend said she’s missing’ filled the right side of each page. There were quite a few question marks — last names, days — but there were over thirty-two annotations on the pages that followed.
When Pearl reached the end, she turned the page fully expecting a last, mournful note. But there was nothing.
Just Gia’s name. And a date, with a question mark for the exact day.
Pearl’s eyes slid reluctantly to the wad of paper that had fallen on the floor.
She retrieved it. Opened it.
Seven sheets of paper — maybe more — covered in hurriedly scrawled sentences. Some of them overlapped, the lines running at a slope down the page. As if the person writing had done so in poor light.
Or in the dark.
Pearl’s skin tried to crawl off her shoulders. Her eyes fled to the first line of script.
Gia Dorsey - 10/07/12
Two days ago.
Below it, an almost illegible paragraph of overlapping, child-like handwriting.
She sleeps by the mapls. Abby dont wan her here but… must… prinses sleeps here til her prins comes and kiss her wake… then she won be broke no more. Abby crid but shed stop… he dolls sleep and she cant see them no more.
Pearl’s eyes scanned the rest of the page. Another name, another date.
Hayley Green - 07/27/12
Another paragraph in a spiky, jagged hand. The spelling was better, but the lines converged just like before. Some of it was illegible, scribbled as it was.
Ma always said we shouldn’t hurt girls. But that was before… and now we hurt ‘em on the regular. Abby’s doll ain’t… put back together, not like this. But at… stopped crying. We can’t… blubbering of hers. Rex says she just needs a prince? Well, I ain’t never seen no damm prince, and I… has he. So rest in pieces, little doll. I sure hope your prince finds all of you. I kinda guess… to be altogether for his magik kiss to work.
Another name. Another date. Another hurried message but this one in large, blocky letters.
Sorie dolie. Mama luv u.
Pearl turned the page.
Christina Solomon - 05/21/12
Rex done good. They’ll… find her. Now we just—
“What’s that?”
Pearl started, shoving the papers into her lap. She blinked up at Seth, standing in the doorway with a frown on his face. Absently, she suppressed the bell tinkling around her neck.
“Just… notes. From my diary.” God, her voice shook.
“You still write in that thing?” Seth’s frown deepened. “What’s the point? It’s not like—”
“He’s coming back?” Pearl cut in, her lips tightening. “Well, he is. Tomorrow. And Caden told me he’d probably check to see if I’d been writing in my journal.”
Seth gave his head a short shake. “I thought Tanner kicked him out.”
“Me too.” Pearl smoothed the pages against her leg and folded them again, making sure to keep them out of Seth’s view. She slid the pages back into the journal and took the book out of the bundle of clothes.
Standing, Pearl took a deep breath and gave him a tremulous smile.
“How long’s the food going to take?” She slid the journal into her slack’s pocket — not the one with the vial in it — as casually as possible. “I’m starving.”
Their food arrived half an hour later, just as Pearl had been about to excuse herself to the bathroom to try and read the rest of the note burning a hole in her pocket.
Seth had ordered them both a steak. The slab of meat crowded the plate — the vegetable bake and fries looked like mere afterthoughts.
Pearl managed a few mouthfuls of the veggies before her stomach gave a threatening twist.
“I… I’ll be right back.” She hurried into the bedroom, pausing for a moment on the threshold as she fought back a wave of nausea. In the bathroom, she closed the door and locked it behind her.
A few deep breaths later, she sank down onto the edge of the claw-footed bathtub and tugged the journal from her pocket.
All seven pages went on like the first; a name and a date, followed by a scrawling recounting in what she could assume was either Rex, Abby or some unnamed third person’s handwriting.
Unnamed… or Seth?
She shivered violently. Since Abby was the one who’d been mentioned more than once as crying about the broken dolls — this seemed to be the euphemism the three used for the murdered girls — Pearl had to assume she was the youngest of the three.
But why in the fuck a girl barely able to write was partaking in murders, Pearl couldn’t even begin to fathom.
A knock on the door made her jerk and almost drop the journal to the tiled floor.
“Everything okay, kitten? You been in there a while.”
“I’m fine.” Pearl took a breath and tempered her voice into something approaching normal. “Just… bit of an upset stomach. Do you mind?”
“I’ll get you some Pepto.”
She wanted to snap out that she was fine, that Seth could take his fucking Pepto and shove it, but getting aggressive with him wasn’t going to make anything easier for her.
All she had to do was get his phone, give
it to Ethan, and slip out tonight after everyone had gone to sleep.
Simple.
Pearl’s eyes stared at the bathroom door. To where her clothes lay in a bundle on the floor. Even if Seth went through it, he probably wouldn’t find the keycard hidden under the innersole of her shoe.
Right?
Pearl ran her eyes down the pages again. She folded them up, trying to make as little noise as possible, and flushed the toilet as she shoved the book back into her pocket.
So many girls. At least twenty of them.
Twenty-seven?
The number burned like a fluorescent flash in her mind.
Wasn’t that what Caden had said? Twenty-seven of them?
Ice bled into Pearl’s face. She grabbed the edge of the basin, blinking back a wave of dizziness.
Caden knew?
Was that why he’d been so shocked about the number when she’d apparently said it out loud in the den?
Because he knew everything, right? Where everyone was. Where everyone was going. Their backgrounds.
If they had friends?
If anyone would miss them… when they were gone?
Another knock at the door. The handle turned, but didn’t open.
“Kitten? Open the door.”
For a long moment, Pearl stared at the door handle.
If he turned it again… if he shook it, then she’d scream. She could feel the sound welling up in her throat, the pressure of the air burning in her lungs, begging for release.
Because Seth was in on it. He had to be. He’d been the one to take Gia away. Gia, who…
Pearl touched the book through her pants pocket.
Gia, who was waiting for a prince to wake her. Gia, who lay under the red and gold maples, waiting. A broken doll. A broken, dead doll.