by Jenica Saren
Kellan was completely taken aback, if his expression was anything to go by. "Eight dollars?" He gasped in outrage.
I leveled him with a glare that clearly said: "are you stupid or just pretending?"
"Eight hundred, you mammoth." I sniffed, totally offended by his low ideas about me. My inner self was glowering in a no-nonsense sort of way, like a teacher would look while scolding a misbehaving child. See? She wasn't pleased, either.
Beck let loose a round of guffaws as he patted Kellan roughly on the shoulder. "Bro, you really need to get that foot out of your mouth. It's not a good look on you."
Kellan only glared back at him in response, resuming his tight-lipped demeanor.
I turned to look at Gatlin again, but he and Rafe had vanished. WTF?
I was about to storm off in the direction of the dressing room when I saw a mess of blond hair heading back our way.
I'm going to pretend you didn't just audibly sigh in relief, you floozy. My inner self was so strong-willed and independent, it was a wonder she was actually a part of me at all. And a floozy I might be, but I really wanted to believe that the heavenly, astonishingly gorgeous blonde angel and I had a little something going on - and no one could say that make out sesh wasn't steamy as all hell.
Gatlin arrived in front of me and handed me a wad of bills. "Here. You said eight, right?" He confirmed.
I nodded before realizing what just happened. "I can't take your money!" I exclaimed indignantly. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks in complete outrage. "I'm here to make my own money." What was it with guys and not understanding that, as independent women, we ladies liked to actually earn our way through life?
Gatlin glowered down at me, standing at least a foot-and-then-some above me. "You danced, you earned it. Consider it a tip." His patient tone highly disagreed with the anger on his face. What the hell was with these guys?
I seriously contemplated throwing the bills in his face, but I knew that I couldn't make any of the guys stay against their will. Not only that, but the novelty of shocking them had already worn off and I was bored with my little game.
"Fine." I hissed as I snatched the money from his hand. "Let me go get dressed." I didn't wait for a response before storming off to the dressing room.
I was hunting through my bag that I had stashed under one of the counters when I heard someone approach me. I was focusing on ignoring them. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted to get the hell out of there and go curl up in my bed with some Netflix and my hitachi. My inner self drooled at the very idea and I had to wholeheartedly agree with her. Hitachis make everything better in the world. The presence behind me shifted and made me a little anxious, but I continued to pull out my street clothes and wiggle into them quickly.
I was just pulling on my top, sans bra, when a sweaty hand clapped down on my shoulder. I whipped around and opened my mouth to tell the person a good long story about personal space and what happens to the people who violate it, then I realized who it was and nausea roiled in my belly.
It was the priest.
"What do you want?" I snapped angrily. I'd been approached by people of faith multiple times in my career, thus far, but none made me so uncomfortable as the sallow, decrepit man before me.
He was even worse up close than he had been under the lights of the floor, and when he sneered at me I couldn't do anything to suppress the shiver that wracked its way down my spine. "You're the worst kind of sinner." He announced, his voice raspy and cracking with the effort it must have taken to even breathe, much less speak. "You are wrought with lust and covered in the vile slime of the remaining sins."
His breath was reaching my nose and I had to fight like a lion at meal time to keep from visibly gagging at the stench. He smelled like he was decaying. "I've heard it all before, old man. Go find a different place to preach your hypocritical virtues." I told him, subtly taking a step back under the ruse of adjusting my stance. "God made me the way I am, so I'm pretty sure the big guy knows what's up."
And with that, I spun on my heel and set about once again retrieving my things. Before I fully realized what was happening, the man's sweaty palm was cupped over my mouth, effectively gagging me as I shouted and tried to spin to confront him.
Only, he was a lot stronger than he should have been for a man that brittle-looking. He held one of my arms tightly behind me and started dragging me along with him, my normal strength hindered by the effort it took not to vomit from his horrible stench.
He pushed through the exit door and into the backside of the parking lot. I screamed and clawed at the hand over my mouth with the sharp nails on my unrestrained hand and pitched what could be seen as the world's biggest hissy fit.
Fear was coursing through my veins in place of blood and I could hear my heart in my ears, struggling to pump the thick substance through my body. It was irrational. I had the capacity to fight back, I had the skills and strength to take down this shell of a man. But, between my fear and memories of the last time I was helpless, and that awful fucking smell, I couldn’t make my body snap out of it’s sluggish state.
Where was he taking me? What was he going to do with me? This couldn't possibly be happening. I was supposed to be safe now.
My mind went rampant, imagining all the scenarios, all the ways that this could end badly, trying to remind my own brain why it was so important to fight, to hold my own against any would-be assailant. There was of course, every woman’s worst fear in these situations, the reason most traveled in herds and didn’t go out at night to walk the streets. Then there was the reason that cults were illegal – and I really wasn’t keen on being sacrificed. All the blood, and off-key chanting, and robes. Nope, I’m good. Sacrifices aren’t my thing.
But the one that scared me the most was the one that took me back into the mind of a blonde-haired, green eyed eight year old girl. She sat in the cellar, white dress stained red and brown and black from the weeping wounds slashed across her back. Shallow enough that the scars would likely go unnoticed, but bad enough to leave the girl sobbing and fading into unconsciousness in a puddle of her blood.
The words surrounded me once more in my mind, threatening to drag me under, to pull me into their dark and sinister hold. Sin runs through your veins. We must purge the wicked stain on your soul. Her father said that to her every time the whip cracked and split her flesh, every time that little girl cried out in pain. The pain is the devil fighting back! Embrace it and eradicate this scourge on the earth. She would beg and plead for him to stop, but he did only after her body began to disagree with the lack of blood.
I couldn’t stop seeing the memory on repeat in my mind. It was taunting me and pulling my mind to pieces, leaving it as defenseless as my body was to my captor. Tears of despair started to stream down my cheeks as I continued clawing away.
"Let her go, NOW!"
I turned my head just enough to spot all of my roommates running full steam ahead, Gatlin in the lead and Eliam hot on his heels, Rafe, Beck, Kellan, and Gray looked angry than I had seen and were barreling right behind them.
Fresh tears sprung hot from my eyes at the scene before me.
My heroes had arrived.
14
Ria
I never thought I’d be so happy to see a hoard of guys running toward me that I’d known for all of about forty-eight hours, but I definitely was. I wasn't sure, however, if I'd ever be able to look any of them in the eyes after this.
"I said let her go!" Gatlin growled. His beautiful silver eyes were filled with raging flames, lighting them up and making him appear a hundred times more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. He seemed almost deadly, a force of nature that not even a skilled assassin would consider going up against.
Eliam strolled up to Gatlin's side once they were near and crossed his arms leisurely, a stark contrast to the fury that mimicked my angel. "I think he means now." He drawled, reiterating Gatlin's previous demand.
The priest removed his hand from my
mouth slowly, allowing me access to much needed fresh air, but maintaining his grip on my arm. "This creature is sin itself!" He spat at the guys.
Every single one of them looked at one another, seeming like they were mere seconds away from-
They all doubled over, holding their guts, tears streaming down their faces... Laughing. Laughing?! Are these idiots for fucking real? No, don't mind me, I was just in the middle of being kidnapped! I couldn't believe that I thought for one second that they were actually concerned enough to come to my rescue.
Kellan was the first to compose himself crossing his arms in a way that was much more menacing than Eliam's casual ease. "Okay, so she's sin incarnate, manifested here on earth." He humoured. "What, exactly, had you planned on doing about it?"
A huge lump formed in my throat as my own mind threatened to swallow me up in my childhood memories. I could easily imagine what he had planed on doing about it.
The man didn't respond, only tugged at his collar with his free hand.
"Preacher Belvieu, let her go, or you're really going to regret it." Gray said cooly, lazily. As furious as he looked, he also looked bizarrely relaxed.
Preacher Belvieu let out an animalistic, sickening sound. "No!" He screeched. He began jerking his finger at the sky. "Sin must be cleansed or the devil shall claim us all!" He was hysterical, the very definition of a person who's lost every single one of their marbles. He was shaking and wavering slightly, and I could only hope his age caught up to him.
Sensing my opportunity as the brittle and decrepit man wheezed painfully, I jerked my arm free and into his jaw. As he howled in pain, I took off running for the guys, who seemed like they were about half a football field away in my distress. Just as I was about to stop and kick off my super unreasonable - but adorable - shoes, something slammed into my back, leaving a sharp, burning sort of pain radiating down my spine.
"NO!" One of the guys boomed. I turned my head to find the preacher straddling my back, his milky eyes full of mirth as he grinned a rotted smile down at me. I tried to stand, but the pain in my back wracked through me like an avalanche, crushing my bones. I screamed out pitifully.
I turned my head to sea a stream of wispy red light slamming into Belvieu's chest full force, casting the man backwards and off of my body.
Despite the fact that an impact such as that should have broken several bones, he got right up to his feet and wailed shrilly before taking off around the building.
"I'll go get him." I heard Eliam say to the others.
Gatlin growled low in his throat, the sound more desperate than menacing. "No, we need to get her out of here." He said sharply. "Gray, Beck, get her shit in the car, we need to go."
The two guys muttered their assent and were gone.
I closed my eyes against the pain that was radiating through my back and seeping into every bone. I couldn't focus and was beginning to find it difficult to breathe. What was happening to me? What had that maniac done? The questions were starting to grow fuzzier as I tried harder to think about them.
I could distantly feel a hand on my back and relaxed into it, instinctively. "Stay with me, Ria." The voice attached to the hand said softly. I couldn't even make out who it was in my blurry state of mind.
Seconds later, I was floating and voices were crowding around me, pounding against a sheet of ice that had started to form over my mind. Arguing. Shouting. Doors slamming. Silence.
As the ice thickened, I could feel my conscious mental processes slowing at a terrifying pace and I could see my inner self beating on the ice in an attempt to shatter it, to no avail. I wanted to push back against it, thaw it with the sheer force of my will, but it just didn't respond. I was trapped in my own mind and losing the strength to struggle.
So, I let the darkness take me.
* * *
"I'm sorry, daddy!" I cried as my father drug me through the house and towards the cellar, as he did every time he saw the devil in me. It was a routine, a cycle, but this time was different. I didn't want to go and bleed the evil from my body because I had done nothing wrong. The devil wasn't inside me, Mrs. Crimshaw even said so!
But my father wouldn't listen, and my mother did nothing but sit on the far side of the couch, focusing on her needlework.
We had reached the door to the cellar and paused while my father unlocked all seven locks. He always said it was one lock for each day God worked to create the world, but I always thought it was one for each of the deadly sins. "The wickedness of the devil is reaching out of your soul and affecting the faithful. It must be purged before any more innocents can be infected by your carelessness, Ria!" He scolded me, as if this were a normal punishment for a normal misdeed. I had no control over how others thought, and it was beyond me how my own father could think I was so horrible.
I fought to pull my wrist from his hand, digging my bare heels into the rough and splintered wood of the old steps. "No daddy, I'm not evil, I promise! I pray every night with all my heart and I do everything right." I sobbed. "Please don't hurt me anymore." That last part was said on a choked whisper that reached no ears but my own.
He ignored me and led me further into the darkened stone room, setting me on my knees before the altar that he had erected there. While I sat obediently on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably, my father took to the closet, where I knew the whip was stored.
I screamed out and scrambled back, putting as much distance between the leather corded weapon and myself as possible. "Please, daddy, no! It hurts!" I screamed as loud as I could, thinking that the louder I was, the more likely he was to actually hear and listen to me.
"The pain is the devil fighting back! Embrace it and eradicate this scourge on the earth." He told me simply, completely void of any emotion toward his only daughter.
"No!" I screamed. And I kept screaming the word over and over as he closed in on me, each step of his booted foot clapping against the hard concrete and echoing violently around us.
Before I had a chance to react, I was face down on the cold rock, once again before the dreaded altar. My father reminded me to begin reciting The Lord's Prayer, and I did so with the shakiest voice I'd ever heard.
CRACK
The leather came down on my skin hard, burning a line from one shoulder to the opposite hip. I cried out in pain and stopped my recital to catch my breath and reign in my tears. "Daddy, why are you doing this?" I choked out weakly. I wasn't sure how I spoke, but I did.
"Sin runs through your veins. We must purge the wicked stain on your soul." He replied, this time sounding angry. "Begone, devil! Remove your vile claws from the soul of this child of God!"
CRACK
CRACK
CRACK
15
Eliam
Can't you go any faster?" Gatlin snapped at me from the backseat, where he cradled an unconscious Ria. I could see the lines of worry around his eyes, the tension he carried in his shoulders, and the concern that I could visibly see radiating from him.
I glared at him in the rearview mirror. "I'm bloody trying." I practically shouted back at him. I'd wanted the annoying girl gone, sure, but I had never wished any physical harm upon her. Whatever that insane preacher had done to her, whatever he used on her, it wasn't something that I knew humans had access to. I had seen him talking to Mayor Holden right before I insisted that we leave, knowing that the powerful man was suspect for the strange bouts of comas that had been occurring all over town. It wasn't a far cry to assume that he had a big part to play in the whole ordeal.
Gatlin shifted in the back, laying Ria a little further out and lifting her head. "You're not fucking trying hard enough." He insisted. I knew it wasn't really my brother talking, it was desire, but it still stung. We'd never not had the fullest confidence in one another. We'd always trusted each other implicitly, it was our dynamic - the one I had been concerned about Ria ruining from the moment I laid eyes on her. I knew she'd cause trouble.
I opted to say nothing in response, but pressed harder
on the gas, almost shoving it through the metal frame of the easily-destroyed car that she insisted on driving. The foreign little thing would never hold up in a serious accident. Before too long, we were pulling down the long driveway up to the house and Ria was extremely pale, her small freckles becoming very prominent in contrast.
The moment we were stopped, Gatlin was out of the car, carrying her the porch and into the house, the rest of our brothers right behind him, similar looks of worry and fear etched on their faces. The entire thing was ridiculous, their feelings toward her. We'd only known her a couple of days and they were acting like she was an irreplaceable member of our group, like she was one of us. But all of us knew that she wasn't, and never could be, anything like us. She would never completely fit and it would drive her mad.
I don't know how long I sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, my knuckles white. Eventually, I calmed myself down enough to release the steering wheel and make my way to the house, noting that the door had been broken open despite the fact that it was never locked. Once inside, I made my way up the stairs, trudging along slowly for a reason unbeknownst to me.
I made it to her bedroom and froze in the door frame, watching in shock as my brothers gathered around the petite blonde and stripped her down. "What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing?" I demanded, schooling my face in an expression of nonchalance. It was a face I hadn't worn in a long time, not since... Regardless, I seemed to have no choice but to wear it consistently around Ria, a girl who's last name I didn't even know, but couldn't seem to be unaffected by.
None of my brothers so much as glanced toward me, focusing instead on their task at hand. "We need access to the wound to see if we can figure out what it is and how to extract it." Gray said simply, always the voice of reason and cool as a cucumber. Everything was always so methodical with him.