by Logan Fox
My lighter flicks on. I drag hard and deep, and hold in the smoke until I cough.
The pain is good — it reminds me I’m still alive. And if I’m alive, it means I can still fight.
I’ll go down swinging if that’s what it takes.
After hesitating for a full minute, I key in the combination for my safe and open the vault. It’s by no means large — just big enough for some stacks of money, my papers, a Beretta, and a satin shoebox. I take the box and the rest of the joint downstairs with me.
Clover’s cot rattles furiously as she yanks at her restraints. I ignore her — telling her she can’t free herself would only spur her on.
That’s my Clover.
“A hundred and thirteen children this year alone,” I say, perching on the edge of the stool to finish the rest of my joint.
Clover pauses in her attempts, red-rimmed eyes flicking to stare at me. The question in them is clear, but I take a few more hits before I continue. Not to piss her off, but with the need to tread carefully. She already thinks Zee’s experience in Mallhaven was all bullshit. I must keep to pure fact and logical reasoning.
“Whether he sells them or just abuses them and then kills them, I’m not sure. For all I know he could be cannibalizing them.”
Her face goes slack. “The…priest?” she asks in a ruined voice.
I nod. I hold up the container of melting ice, and in turn, she nods. I feed her one and take the last hit of my joint.
This time, I don’t smell MJ’s burning flesh, or that triggering scent of sage and mugwort. I believe that means I’m headed in the right direction.
“I’ve been making inquiries for three years after he moved onto my land—” I cut off with a cleared throat. “His land. There are absolutely no traces to tie him to the children.”
“Then how do you know it’s him?”
I lace my fingers over my knee and lift it to the stool’s footrest. “Because of the things I find in the woods.”
She’s watching me like I’m all that exists in the world. I lift the box and move everything aside on the wheeled nightstand beside her cot. I start picking things out of the box. They are in no particular order — there are enough that I’m sure I don’t even have to take out more than a handful for her to see what—
“You couldn’t just tell me?”
I pause and drop my hand so my wrist rests against the cool steel. The air filling my lungs feels warm, almost comforting, but it turns to ice when I look up at her.
Her face is frozen alabaster. I expect to see anger in her eyes, but all I see is sadness and disappointment.
“And you wonder why I don’t trust you,” she rasps.
“Clover, you would never have—”
“Believed you?” Her eyes flicker to the side table. “So why bother now, huh?”
“I—”
I press my thumb’s knuckle against the bridge of my nose.
“Because this wasn’t meant to happen.” I gesture to her cot, and my voice grows thick and slow. “I should have been upfront with you. I wasn’t.”
“That’s it? That’s your apolo—?”
“I’m trying, Clover!” I scoot away from the table of terrifying trinkets I’ve been hoarding in my safe like some morbid magpie. “I’ve never had to let anyone inside before. It’s—” My voice catches, and I clear my throat hard and fierce. “It’s fucking hard.”
“Didn’t take you for a wimp,” she says. Anger seethes in her words now, and that makes me look up at her in surprise. “You’re a lot of things, you fucked up shit, but a coward?”
Then she yanks on her restraints so hard, I flinch.
“So tell me why. Tell me why you’ve been stringing me along for months instead of just owning up to the fact that you’re a sick fuck with no regard for anyone but yourself.”
Silence drops like a lead sheet. My shoulders sag, and it takes monumental effort for me to take a breath.
“Because if I asked—” Goddamnit! I clear my throat and toss away the frayed pink ribbon I was clutching.
“Because what?” Clover prompts through a sneer.
Even doing that, she’s fucking beautiful. Despite her ugly expression, and the bruises on her face, the cut at her temple…she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Because if I’d asked, then it would mean I care about you.”
Her eyes widen as her lips flinch apart. “What?”
“And I don’t care about you. Not. One. Bit.” The words want to congeal in my throat, but I spit them out before they can strangle me.
Anger dissolves into confusion, and then into nothing. It’s like watching a storm pass over, leaving wreck and ruin in its wake.
Clover’s eyes flash to the satin shoebox.
“Don’t stop,” she rasps.
Despite her solemn command, I still hesitate. Her eyes flicker up to me. “Show me everything.”
Part Three
Contraction
“A certain darkness is needed to see the stars.”
Osho
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Clover
My head’s reeling and I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the passenger smoke from Hunter’s fat blunt, or whatever’s in my drip. I’m nauseous too, but I doubt there’s anything in my stomach for me to puke up.
The basement is quiet; too quiet. I’ve had some time to look around while Hunter was busy upstairs retrieving his box of goodies. This has to be some kind of lab or something; all the machinery and steel lying around makes that pretty much a certainty. But why Hunter needs one here, in the middle of nowhere, fuck knows.
I’m guessing — yeah, no, I kinda know for sure — some of his trials aren’t exactly above board.
I’ve never even asked him if he attempted to cure anyone else before. If there were other addicts. Other girls.
And I still haven’t thanked him.
I don’t think he deserves it. Not now, maybe never. My entire body aches, and I think my ankle’s broken. My face feels swollen. I got off light, though. That SUV rammed us so hard, Alexa’s car went into a spin before the SUV sandwiched us against a pine tree.
Thank God for her luxury wheels; two airbags deployed on my side alone. If we’d been driving a clunker, I wouldn’t be alive.
“How is Alexa?” I ask if only so I can attempt to process the shit Hunter’s laying on me so fucking heavy right now.
Especially that bit about how he doesn’t care—
Nope. Nope. I’m not lingering. I’m no fucking malingerer. In fact, right now? I’m just biding my sweet time, letting Hunter think I’m pissed but on board with whatever fucked up plan of action he has wheeling through his head.
I’ll be out of here the first chance I get. But I can’t do that when I’m still strapped to a fucking hospital bed.
No. Clover must play nice. Clover must make crazy man think she doesn’t give a fuck about him, about what they had, about—
“Her condition is stable and improving,” he says in a thick voice. “Should be out of ICU tomorrow.”
“You showed this to the cops, right?” My eyes dart up to his. “Tell me you showed them.”
He nods and begins toying with a grubby pink ribbon. “I even took them to the edge of the property. Of course, there was nothing there — no clues.” He waves a hand over the collection of frayed hair bands, bracelets, necklaces, tangles of hair. Small things — things that might have gone unnoticed to anyone’s eye but Hunter’s. “They said I’d tampered with potential evidence, and there was nothing to connect the church with the missing children.”
“How could they—?”
“He’s under their protection.” Hunter shrugs, his mouth twisting bitterly. “Maybe he promised he’ll never take one of theirs.” When his eyes find mine, I want to look away from their intensity. “There are missing posters all over town, but no one gives a fuck. It’s as if everyone’s turning a blind eye.”
“What about the p
arents?”
His eyes drop. “Most of them have moved away. Some came right out and told me it was hopeless. The cops assigned a special unit to investigate the disappearances, but their ‘special unit’ is an overweight man with halitosis who doesn’t even know how to operate a computer.
“When I attempted to set up a private investigation, I was almost arrested for obstruction of justice.” He lets out a laugh that’s anything but jolly and tosses the ribbon back on the heap of paraphernalia. “And then they go and ask me to join the fucking Council of Nine. As if that’s supposed to stop me from asking questions.” He swipes a hand through the trinkets, scattering them to the floor. “How can I ignore this? How can anyone ignore this?”
His voice echoes back to me. I open my eyes again, wishing I hadn’t squeezed them closed in self-defense like that. He has his hands in his hair, and his face has gone pale.
Amazing how Dr. Psycho can manage to make me feel like shit because I don’t want to help him find a bunch of missing kids.
I don’t care about you. Not one bit.
Moisture wells in my eyes. I blink it back furiously and rattle my restraints. “These are really tight.”
“I don’t want you running away again,” he says, so fast it’s almost automatic.
“Kinda hard with a broken ankle and all.”
Spots of color touch his cheeks, and his lips disappear into an angry line. “I never meant to hurt you.”
I laugh. “You didn’t. It was that fucking retarded freak who…”
But I trail off, because his gaze weighs too heavy on me, drenched with remorse as it is. My brain does a pathetic scramble — the first of its kind, actually, since I’ve woken up from the accident — and I don’t like what it brings back to show me.
“That was you in the black truck?” I murmur.
He shakes his head. “Someone I hired.”
I yank at my restraints, my jaw bunching. “You motherfucking—”
“I couldn’t let you meet Father. Not yet. Don’t you understand?” Hunter slides off the stool, puts his palms on my cot, and leans in. “I have everything planned out just right. If you don’t go according to the plan, this won’t work!”
Chills scurry over my body like kids playing tag. I swallow, realize I don’t have enough spit in my mouth and glance at the container of ice chips. It takes Hunter a second to catch on, but then he pushes away from the cot and feeds me another sliver of ice.
They’re getting smaller; melting just like my fucking brain.
No more doubts. Hunter is psychotic. He’s chosen me as his fucking pariah or something, fuck knows why. And what can I do about it? Nothing. I’m like a bird that’s fallen out of its nest…flapping uselessly on the ground without a clue how to get airborne again. And mama’s not coming back anytime soon, is she?
Tears prick at my lids, but I force them back with a few hard blinks.
I don’t need to be a wet rag right now — I need to think.
“What plan?” I say, even managing to sound calm and collected.
Hunter feeds me another sliver of ice. “This is going to sound crazy.”
I almost laugh. Instead, I lick my lips. “I won’t judge. Promise.”
ONE WEEK LATER
I do my best thinking in the tub. I’m more mermaid than anything else these days; I got a lot of stuff to think about.
Stuff like the fact that I’m bearing the child of a man I’m not sure I love anymore.
The fact that he’s concocted some hare-brained plan to get close enough to the Father to kill him.
The fact that I’m seriously considering helping him.
Yeah, I’m not quite sure I’m there yet. But the longer I play out that long-winded conversation we had downstairs in the lab…the less it sounds like crazy talk and the more I’m starting to wonder if this might be my first — and only — chance at getting a halo on my fucking head.
I’m chalking it up to karma. I mean, I’ve played on so many guys’s heartstrings over the years to get what I want, I guess the Universe is just balancing some motherfucking big scales.
Then again, I have my own selfish motives too. It’s not all about Dr. Hill and his grand fucking scheme of retribution. If this works out like I want it to, at least we’ll all be a bit better off than before.
And then I can fuck off and leave Hunter to his crazy self.
I dry off, wrap a towel around myself, and go stand outside Hunter’s door.
“Let me in,” I say, not bothering to knock.
Maybe he knows this is the last chance he’ll ever get to redeem himself; he fills the doorway a moment later.
“We can go downstairs—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“Let me in, Hunter.” I stare up at him, him down at me.
Slowly, he steps aside and lets me into his sanctum.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hunter
I can’t describe how strange it is to see Clover in my office. I realize there’s not much for her to see; all my research, my correspondence, my documents are stored on my computer.
Her eyes flicker across the room, returning a moment later. I guess she expected more than an ashtray full of joint roaches. Maybe her idea of this room was more of a man cave.
But I don’t come here to escape. I come here to work.
She leans her ass against the table, crossing arms over her chest. “Will he try to kill me?”
I give my head an emphatic shake. “You’re in no danger.” And then add, “You, or the baby.”
“The baby?” Clover gives me a cold smile. “You think I give a fuck about the baby?” She stabs a finger toward her womb. “That priest wants your kid, well guess what, Dr. Fucking Hill?” She’s right against me now. “I’m about willing to spread my legs and have him rip it out of me.”
Pinpricks of ice fall like sleet over my skin. Clover must notice my shock because that awful smile widens. “I told you I didn’t want kids, Hunter. I made it pretty fucking clear.”
“That’s really how you feel?” I ask, my voice wooden, and my tongue a dry slug in my mouth.
She cocks her head as if daring me to repeat the question.
“Fine.” I stroke a hand down her hair, and she jerks at the soft touch. “If you want to get rid of the fetus, I’ll induce early labor. Sound good?”
“Sounds fucking excellent,” she murmurs.
I can’t read anything in her eyes. But as if she feels me searching for a flicker of something — anything — she glances away and gives a slow nod.
“I assume I’d have to stay here until d-day?”
“I don’t want to risk—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “Don’t think for a minute I’m buying your protective Daddy bullshit.” She points to her stomach. “You put this in me for a reason. It wasn’t a mistake, it wasn’t love. Stop acting like you even give a damn.”
I shift my weight. She couldn’t be more wrong. But I understand she’s at the negotiation stage of this deal, and the last thing I want is to deter her with what she’ll presume to be false sentiment.
“If you prefer, I could set up a bed in—”
“Oh no…” Her demeanor changes in an instant. Gone is the cold and callous woman of before. Her eyes are sparkling, and her smile turns coy.
She grips the top of the towel barely encapsulating her breasts. “If we’re gonna be roomies while I wait for your spawn to develop, then you’ll be keeping me real busy, Dr. Hill.”
I blink reflexively, and let out a confused, “Should I get a television—?”
“Fuck…how’d you ever get a degree?” She tugs at the towel. It pools at her feet.
My throat has gone tight. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. No pop quizzes in my class.” She spreads her legs a little, giving me an unobscured view of her perfect cunt. Her hair is still wet, and I watch a trickle of water find its way down her body before disappearing between her legs. My eyes fla
sh to her hand.
She’s wearing her engagement ring.
I can hardly breathe.
I should have known it was some kind of trap, a trick of the light, but I close the distance between us anyway, my cock already hard enough to ram inside her.
“We’re still going ahead with the wedding?”
She tips back her head and laughs. “The wedding? That’s what you’re worried about?” Her hand folds over my dick, and she squeezes me mercilessly. I groan, burrowing my head into her neck and inhaling the scent of her.
Nimble fingers ease out my cock. I lift her onto the table, spreading her legs as wide as they can go. With a hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place, and the other spreading her folds, I push against her cunt.
But she’s keeping me out. I look up, eyes narrowing when I catch sight of the expression on her face. I grab both her hips and force my way deeper, despite how hard she tries to block me. There’s a moment’s sullen resignation before her eyes flutter closed and she lets out a long sigh.
“You like that, don’t you?” she murmurs when I’m balls deep inside her. I lean back, grip her hair, tug back her head. “Taking what you want, when you want.”
My stomach twists. Something tells me this isn’t part of the game we usually play; Clover pretending she doesn’t want it, making me sweat for it, pissing me off.
“Clover—”
She massages my balls with one hand, starts stroking her clit with the other. “Come on, Hunter. That’s how it’s always worked, isn’t it? You take what you want and fuck the consequences, right?”
She is pissing me off, but to the extent that I want to pull out and leave. But then her tongue darts out, licking her lips, turning them lustrous.
It’s an invitation I can’t resist after weeks of being deprived of her taste.
I kiss her hard, deep.
I pin her to the table and fuck her until she’s gasping into my mouth. She grabs my shoulders, leaving stinging runnels through my skin with her nails. With her controlling her own climax, she comes before I do. Her legs wrap around my waist, forcing me deep inside and holding me still as she unravels most magnificently.