Pretty When You Cry

by Skye Warren

  Ivan looks furious, and I half expect him to accept my challenge. He’ll try to spank me, I’ll fight him—and he’ll win. Of course he’ll win. Then I’ll be spanked in the back of the limo, with an audience. I’ll show up at Harmony Hills with my ass red and my eyes puffy from crying.

  It would almost be a relief to cry right now, to be able to cry. I want that, but I don’t want to show up in front of Leader Allen with that kind of weakness. It would only make him more likely to pounce.

  Ivan leans forward. His voice is low, but I have no doubt he can still be heard over the gentle whoosh of the air-conditioning. “If we were at home I would put you in a diaper since you insist on acting like a baby. But since we’re not, you can sit on the floor.”

  I hiss at him, shocked and weirdly turned on by his threat. Even in the midst of a tantrum, I know it isn’t the way to convince him I’m grown up. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Now, Candy.”

  I stare at the carpeted floor. It’s probably just as comfortable as the seats. And definitely more comfortable than a concrete corner in the basement of the Grand. But still. It’s the principle of the thing.

  “It’s not safe.”

  His gaze flickers over me. “Because there’s no seat belt?”

  Of course he’s already seen that I’m not wearing a seatbelt. “I’m not doing it.”

  I expect Ivan to grow enraged at my response, but instead it seems to relax him. So it’s a surprise when his fist closes in my hair. He barely has to move his body. Just a twist of his wrist has me sliding off the seat, legs folding underneath me as he forces me to the floor.

  He doesn’t release me. His hand remains there, tight in my hair, fist against my scalp.

  I close my eyes, relieved. When I’m like this, I can breathe again.

  When he’s holding me, I can be still.

  We remain like that over the many miles of the country road. I drift off—not quite in sleep, but not quite awake. It’s some floaty place where I don’t have to worry anymore. And Ivan holds me tight the whole time, not letting go even when it becomes clear I won’t fight him anymore, when someone else’s arm might get tired.

  Even as a calm settles over me, I hate myself a little bit more. Hate myself for wanting his tender form of captivity, hate myself for needing it.

  You don’t need it, Candace. The truth will set you free.

  “A lot of people depend on him,” I say softly. “You may not understand it. Hell, I don’t even understand it completely. But there are innocent people there, children too, who depend on him.”

  Ivan says nothing, staring out the window while holding me in place.

  * * *

  We turn a corner, and I feel Ivan’s body tense. He releases me, and I know we’ve arrived.

  I scramble back onto the seat.

  The entrance to Harmony Hills is unassuming, a simple metal arch topped with a metal medallion of the sun coming over the hills. There is no sign and definitely no phone number. There is a gate, but that’s not all that keeps people out.

  The ground has spikes facing toward the road.

  We pull to a stop along the side of the thin dirt road, where gravel fades into grass. Luca steps out of the car to open the door. Ivan steps out first, then extends his hand to me. Okay then.

  There’s a small intercom jutting up from the road that I didn’t see before. The black metal box looks like it was installed decades ago, and I’m not sure it’s even functional—until Ivan presses the button.

  A crackly voice comes across. “Who is it?”

  Ivan says nothing, just watches me. Nerves tighten around my throat. My wild gaze catches Luca, who mouths They can see us.

  I’m the engraved invitation.

  I step forward and say in a tremulous voice, “It’s Candy.” A flush rises through my whole body—heating my chest, my neck. My cheeks. I don’t know where cameras would be located, but I’m hoping they’re black-and-white. “Candace Rosalie Toussaint.”

  There’s a flicker of static, as if maybe a single short word was said, or maybe the connection was closed. The gate doesn’t move and the spikes don’t lower, but Ivan tilts his head toward the car. I follow him—taking his lead not to speak unless needed. He seems colder than ever, removed from the rest of us. This is how he’s able to do it. How he’s able to kill without remorse. How he’s able to rule. By being separate. Above us. It’s like he told me—he’s not so different from Leader Allen that way.

  We sit in the back of the limo with cool air and smooth leather for ten minutes.

  Then the gate rattles open on its own, remotely connected just like that intercom. The spikes lower. All three cars move forward, down the bumpy road that will take me home.

  The road goes from bad to worse, and the limos are forced to stop.

  Wordlessly, Ivan steps out and holds the door open for me. We’ll have to continue the rest of the way on foot.

  I point to the tall house at the end of the lane. “There.”

  The corner of Ivan’s lips lift. “I assumed as much.”

  Of course, it’s the biggest structure here. It’s also the only one with regular running water and electricity that doesn’t black out at eight p.m. We have to pass all the other houses to get there. Some of them are barely held together, leaning to the side. Some of them are real houses. Where you live is based on how sinful you are. In other words, how much you obey Leader Allen.

  I can feel eyes on me as we walk down the bumpy lane. It’s tricky to navigate even by foot, rough holes made by rain and loose rocks to remind us where we stand. My heart pounds as I see a curtain twitch in a window.

  In the darkness of another house, I can see the whites of someone’s eyes as they watch us. In another one, I see the glint of something metal in the window. My heart starts to pound. A gun?

  The sun ducks behind the clouds, casting a shadow over the cluster of buildings.

  We pass the building that I know is the school, but there’s not a sound coming from it. No crying, no teaching. No slapping. Nothing I could recognize. We might as well be walking through a ghost town except for the smoke that rises from some of the chimneys, preparing for dinner.

  We come to a stop at the end of the lane.

  “Reverence Hall,” I manage to say past the lump in my throat.

  That’s a fancy name that means Leader Allen’s house. It’s the nicest one on Harmony Hills, naturally, with central air and real floors. I think the word reverence is supposed to be about revering God, but I’m not sure if I ever believed that, even when I lived here. It’s about revering Leader Allen, who has so much more than his followers. His wealth is a sign that he lives without sin, which is kind of ironic, since Ivan’s wealth means the opposite.

  I want to take Ivan’s hand. I’m shaking at the thought of entering this house again. Of being that girl again. His posture doesn’t invite me to touch him. And he made me promise not to talk once we got inside. He’s completely remote from me—part businessman, part criminal. Part avenging angel on behalf of the Grand.

  Ivan nods, and Luca steps forward and knocks.

  The door opens.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sarah Elizabeth is a year younger than me—I remember her from the schoolroom—but her face is drawn and her doe-like eyes hold an infinite sadness. She looks like she’s seen too much, a lifetime of awful things, even though I know she wouldn’t be allowed to leave Harmony Hills. She’s only seen the same buildings, the same people, who have always been here. I’m the one who’s been into the world, who’s seen the darker, seedy side of humanity, but I feel almost like Pippi Longstocking next to her.

  She frowns at me, surprise and dismay warring in her face, and frowns even more at Ivan.

  As soon as she sees Luca, her eyes widen. When she notices his holster, which he isn’t making any effort to hide, along with a sinister-looking silver briefcase, she shuts down completely. Any thought or feeling vanishes from her expression, leaving
only the glassy-eyed stare of a doll.

  “This way,” she says, barely a whisper.

  She turns away, shoulders hunched under her beige shift.

  Ivan and Luca exchange a look. I can read their opinion loud and clear—they think it’s fucked up, how docile she is, how blank. Well, so do I. Sarah Elizabeth might even agree.

  They don’t understand. They can’t understand what it’s like to grow up with Leader Allen’s presence, with his judgment, with his touch.

  We follow Sarah Elizabeth deep into the house.

  Leader Allen is already seated behind his desk when we arrive. Sarah Elizabeth stands just beside the door, outside the room, and I know that is no mistake. She isn’t allowed in without his express permission. Even when she is serving him, she cannot presume to enter his presence.

  Ivan, of course, presumes. He strides inside the large room as if he owns it. His clinical gaze takes in the old volumes and yellowed pages—and dismisses them just as quickly.

  For his part, Leader Allen looks shrewd and wary—and very, very old. I hadn’t realized quite how old he was. Or maybe I had, but in my mind that lent him authority. Now he looks the kind of old that’s tired, close to death but fighting it every step of the way. His hair has gone from peppered brown to gray. His skin is faintly discolored in places, stretched grotesquely in others. Only his eyes are exactly how I remember them, cunning and cruel.

  He doesn’t stand when we enter. I suppose that’s a show of power, telling us we don’t deserve respect. He doesn’t look particularly afraid, either, even though Ivan and Luca make an imposing pair.

  “I suppose you know who I am,” Ivan says in a businesslike tone. “If Rosalie Toussaint’s lawyer knew where to find her daughter, then you do too. And you know who she works for.”

  Leader Allen’s gaze snaps to me, and his lip curls. “I always knew you had the devil in you, girl.”

  Ivan gestures to Luca, who sets down the briefcase with a loud thunk. It hadn’t seemed heavy when he carried it, but there’s clearly something substantial in it. What are they bringing him? Money? No, Ivan would never cave that quickly. And besides, even large stacks of cash wouldn’t be that heavy. Guns? I’m not sure how heavy they would be, but Ivan would be more likely to point one at Leader Allen than show him one in a suitcase.

  “You don’t speak to her,” Ivan says softly. “She is not yours. She will never be yours.”

  Leader Allen’s eyes widen in rage, and I think he’s about to stand up. But then he settles back in his chair with a leer for me. “Why?” he says, clearly speaking to Ivan. “You’ve had her for three years. Surely you’re tired of her now.”

  My own anger starts to churn. Of course he’s assuming that Ivan has been fucking me all along. He assumes that because he wanted to fuck me. And the idea that I would return here, ever, even if Ivan didn’t want me anymore… Oh, hell no.

  I open my mouth to say something—but Ivan puts up his hand, stopping me.

  Years have passed. I’m not a child anymore; I’m a grown woman. But I’m still listening to men boss me around. My face burns. He doesn’t own me. And neither do you.

  To disobey him, to disrespect him that way, would put him at a disadvantage to Leader Allen. That’s the only reason I don’t say anything. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  Ivan taps the suitcase with one finger, almost thoughtful. “You understand that me coming here, it’s a sign of good faith. I could have sent someone. They would have made my point very clear.”

  Leader Allen leans forward, his face twisted in anger. “This is holy land. God would never let you harm this place.”

  “He told you that, did he? Well, as it turns out, I have no intention of harming this place. I’m a reasonable man, and there are women and children here.” He pauses. “I don’t like when women are threatened, you understand.”

  Leader Allen smiles at me, and my heart drops. “I would never harm a woman,” he says. “For they are my flock, and under my protection. But a demon, a demon needs to be driven out.”

  “Does it?” Ivan says mildly.

  Leader Allen doesn’t know him well enough to recognize the threat in his voice, but I do.

  Ivan flicks the lock on the suitcase and steps back. Luca does the same, and without knowing why, I step back too. In a smooth motion Ivan opens the lid, and blood comes spilling out of it. But not the pristine smooth red from before. This blood has turned blackish. It’s mixed with gravel and brick and coagulated lumps, a horrifying mixture that spills out onto Leader Allen’s wooden desk.

  He pushes back his chair with a rough sound. I’m surprised he doesn’t stand up. Blood spills over the desk but manages to miss his white robes.

  Ivan circles the desk slowly, a predator toying with his prey. “How did she pass, Allen?”

  The way he says Leader Allen’s name is mockingly casual, as if they’re two friends instead of enemies.

  Leader Allen makes a hacking sound. I can’t tell whether it’s involuntary or a sign of his derision. “Her sins finally caught up to her. I tried to save her—”

  “I bet you did,” Ivan mutters, looking down with a cold expression. In one move he pulls the back of the chair up, and Leader Allen sprawls on the floor.

  Fear flashes across Leader Allen’s face, although he tries to mask it. He’s collapsed, feet slipping uselessly against the whitewashed floors. Then his expression turns hard, a gleaming light in his rheumy eyes. “I don’t have much time left anyway. Pancreatic cancer. If you kill me, it will only make me a martyr.”

  “Maybe you don’t care about your own life,” Ivan says, “but I’m sure you care about your flock.”

  Leader Allen laughs. “Take them then. Kill them. Fuck them.”

  I hear a small gasp from behind me, and faintly, I realize that Sarah Elizabeth is still outside the door.

  Ivan seems to consider this. Even from across the room, I can see when he comes to the conclusion that Leader Allen is telling the truth—that he’s dying soon. That he doesn’t care about the people here. Which means Ivan doesn’t have any leverage for making him stop.

  The decision comes to him suddenly, swiftly. He pulls his gun from the holster, and I gasp.

  “No,” I whisper. I promised not to speak, but I can’t stand here and watch this. “He…he couldn’t have. Look at him. He can’t get up.”

  “Then he sent someone.” Ivan’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, he seems to grow right in front of my eyes. I always thought Leader Allen was godlike, but Ivan looks terrifying and all-powerful. “I don’t give a fuck how he managed to do it. In fact I don’t really care if he did. He hurt you. That’s more than enough reason to kill him.”

  Something inside me withers at his words. I told him that Leader Allen looked at me, spoke inappropriate words to me, groomed me, but I never told him he touched me too.

  I never wanted him to know.

  The knot in my throat makes it hard to speak. “How did you—”

  “I suspected when you first told me what happened. I knew for sure when I saw the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him.”

  My gaze snaps to Leader Allen. How am I looking at him? With disgust? With fear? Both of those, but I suspect there’s something else in my eyes. Something that Ivan knows very well—worship. The lessons were too well taught, too deeply carved in my soul to be completely forgotten. Even if I’ve learned to hate him, there’s a part of me that will always revere him.

  The sound of a gun being cocked slices through me. It’s not Ivan’s gun. It came from behind me.

  I whirl to see Sarah Elizabeth holding a rifle. My heart nearly stops. She’s pointing it toward Ivan. I didn’t think she had it in her—didn’t think she would even know how to use a rifle—but then maybe protecting her leader has given her courage. I’m not sure if she’ll hit him. A gun like that will have a big kick, and she looks too thin, too waiflike to even hold it up. But I can’t take the risk.

  I’m the
closest to her, only a couple feet away, and I calmly step in front of the rifle. “You don’t want to do this,” I tell her softly. “He’s not your enemy.”

  Her eyes are wild, pupils so large I wonder if she’s on something. Even though that’s impossible. Drugs are for the outside world, not the purity of the hills. “I have to. This is my only chance. Move out of the way.”

  She steps to the side to get a better shot—and that’s when I realize she isn’t pointing it at Ivan. She’s pointing it at Leader Allen. Oh God, suddenly it’s clear to me what Sarah Elizabeth is doing in this house. It’s clear who has had to take my mother’s place, since I wasn’t here to do it. My stomach rolls over.

  “Sarah Elizabeth,” I whisper. “Don’t.” Not because I don’t want him dead. Whatever I’d felt for Leader Allen, lingering devotion or maybe just pity—it’s evaporated now, seeing the fear in this young woman’s eyes.

  No, I don’t want her to shoot because she shouldn’t have to. It’s an act that would haunt her forever, even if Leader Allen deserves it. I know, because it would haunt me too. Our teachings run too deep. Ivan can shoot him. Or Luca. Hell, I’ll do it if it means sparing her one more second of pain, pain that should have been mine all along.

  I push the barrel of the rifle aside so it’s pointing at the wall. Sarah Elizabeth’s eyes are wide, lower lip trembling.

  A choked sound comes from behind me, and I turn in time to see Leader Allen stagger to his feet, clearly unbalanced but surging forward just the same. “That’s right, girl,” he says with a cold smile directed straight at me. “You wouldn’t kill your father, would you?”

  I freeze in horror, every muscle seized tight. He doesn’t mean father like a priest. That isn’t what we ever called him. He was our leader. Leader Allen. And he’s my father… The memory of what he did to me, of his hands on me, sears my skin like a brand I’ll never be able to erase.

  My gaze clashes with Ivan’s. In those pale gray eyes I see my anguish, my horror reflected back at me—along with something I’m too broken to feel in this moment. Rage.