by Rebecca Grey
"Where, uh, have you gone before? I'm kind of curious." His steps inch closer to me and the nearer he comes the bigger steps I take to keep the distance between him and I.
When I said that I've been out of The Bend I only really meant that I'd been to The Oasis. That. One. Time. But I'm not going to tell him that. Fuck, I'm not rich enough to travel the world.
"Why does it matter?" I bite out after a moment of silence drags between us.
The boat dock comes to an end and the rock paved walkway crumbles to grass beaten away to dirt. Approaching the small village, I'm now able to see that it isn't really a village at all. Just about five well-weathered buildings, equally spaced with broken down seating and grassy areas in between.
Marcello shrugs. "I guess it doesn't."
I want to say ‘no it doesn’t’, but by some grace of the Saints I keep my mouth closed. I didn't really ask to have a conversation with him anyway.
Up ahead, Juilliard stops under a street lamp and waves us forward, pointing toward one of the buildings. I squint at the sign hanging crooked above the door. B-R-O-T-H-E-L. I try to sound the letters out in my head. Buh, ruh, awe, tuh, huh....no not happening. Sometimes it's better to sound the words out loud, but I'd rather slit my wrists than do that in front of any Hybrid.
Above the sign, stamped into the wooden board above it is a painted green snake. The symbol of the dark Saint of Sin. That alone is telling enough. I’ve seen other symbols just like it stamped all around The Pleasure District.
Upbeat music carries out the door as Juilliard pushes it open and holds it for us. It's the sort of song that could make someone want to dance. Not any of those funky foot shuffling dances the farmers that live on the outskirts of The Bend do when they come in to celebrate after harvest. No, this sort of music could make someone want to move their hips.
And as we enter, I can see that many women are already doing just that. The way their bodies flow and contort gives them an almost snakelike appearance. Each of them already wrapping around one prey or another.
Once we are completely inside, I stay against the wall. Leaning away is the only sign I offer that the more I look, the more annoyed I truly am. These women aren't just dancing because the music is grand, their dancing for someone. Half. Naked. Some even more naked than that...
A whorehouse. Marcello and Juilliard have drug me across the sea to bring me to a whorehouse. I truly can't believe it. Mostly because I’m wondering who the fuck we are going to pick up from here that can help us in The Oasis Games.
We're doomed. I've signed away my life and I'm going to die with these two idiots and a prostitute.
I dare a glance at Marcello. He has the slightest smile to his face, not one that could make those deep dimples appear like earlier, but his eyes shine as they bounce from one Hybrid to the next. Something inside me tightens at the prospect of him picking out some floozy to bring along. We're sharing a room for fucks sake!
"We're picking up someone from here?" I turn my face to Marcello, talking low.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch." He claps a hand on my arm, giving me a little shake. "We're here for our next teammate... and maybe a little bit of fun."
"We're picking up a whore to join our team? What's she going to do? Seduce someone out of killing us?"
"Oh, Hedda doesn't like to be called a whore. You'd be wise to never say that again."
And that's all he leaves me with before he melts into the crowd. I turn on my heels, feeling that nervous twinge reminding me not to get caught here. I look for the only other familiar face I know, and even he isn't all that familiar.
Juilliard has made himself at home in the corner of the room. He has a cigar lit instead of a cigarette, and he holds it proudly between his fingers as he stares up at a Vampire who squats and bounces before him on the table. A Vampire. My pulse picks up and I force myself to push it back down. To take deep breaths and calm myself.
I'd assumed, wrongly so, that Kaprisha would basically be Elf territory and I wouldn't encounter any other Hybrids. Now, actually watching the room with closer scrutiny, I realize there are Hybrids of all different races, but all of them appear to work here.
It'd be smart of me to stick near one of the two that sees some sort of value in me. I may be able to take an Elf down with the element of surprise or fight my way out of a Vampire’s grasp to run a blade through their heart, but that is in one on one combat. If a swarm of them came down on me... I wouldn't be too proud to run. You don't stay alive as a Human in The Bend by being cocky and taking on more than you can handle.
Marcello is long gone. It's truly surprising how well someone like him can blend in when he's wearing a neon colored jacket. I look for him anyway, even as I inch toward Juilliard.
Small tables with one or two chairs are set up sporadically between couches, loveseats, and accent chairs. The only space in the room without these things is the corner diagonal from Juilliard where a band is set up playing under dim lighting. Lamps with red bulbs inside of them rock overhead, giving me the impression that this building is just as safe as any other in The Bend, meaning that structurally it's not really safe at all.
Stairs lead up from the first floor to the second where it's exposed by rusting iron railings. A few couples and a throuple are pressed against it in various forms of sex. Well, somewhat hidden sex, not a one of them has their clothing completely removed, but there is no mistaking that body parts are being inserted into other bodies.
My foot catches on some trim that is popping off the wall and I adjust for the sudden misstep quickly, righting myself before I get to Juilliard's table. He doesn't look at me or quit puffing away on his cigar, but he is aware of my presence as he pats the second chair at the table.
I hug my cloak to my body and slip around him, hoping that his scent will cover mine. I doubt that it does. I'm most certain that it doesn't at all, when the Vampire dancing for him goes a little stiff and her eyes start to focus on me. She keeps dancing, standing on the table with her heels clicking against the scratched metal top and her breasts exposed for everyone to see.
"I could get you your own dancer," Juilliard says as he catches his dancer still watching me.
"No. I'm not attracted to women." Many of them were beautiful girls, with features and scarless faces that I'd love to have, but none of it arouses me. In fact, the idea that we are here enjoying them is annoying enough.
"A shame," Juilliard sighs with a smile lifting his chin back to the Vampire. "They are such beautiful creatures."
"And is one of these beautiful creatures going to be on our team?"
He nods, opening his mouth to speak, but a feminine voice raises with a shout countered by the deep voice of a man. Both of us snap our attention across the room where two men bellow and point at one another. A woman quickly stands to step between them. In their rage at one another, the woman is thrown out of the way, tumbling back into her cushy leather seat.
Her voice rises, cheeks turning red. She’s on her feet again in a heartbeat, grabbing ahold of one of their shirts and her head collides with his in a bone shattering crack that can be heard where we sit. His body buckles, his muscles going lax, and he crumples to the ground.
"Is that Hedda?" I whisper to Juilliard.
A shot explodes, making the entire crowd flinch. My ears ring as I watch the bullet slice through the second man’s head. Juilliard lifts his hand to point to where the gun shot had come from on the second floor. An Orc with short white hair and a crooked nose crouches, balanced perfectly on the railing.
"That's Hedda," he says.
"Hedda's a good shot." So good that she was able to shoot the man dead center of the skull around all these people constantly moving about. I'm amazed she hadn't hit someone else by accident, or missed in the sway of her own drunkenness.
Next to Hedda, Marcello looks smug. His eyes catch mine and his smile falters before he lifts it back up and waves Juilliard and I to him.
A few of the girls are l
eaving their posts to help carry the two bodies outside, one unconscious the other dripping blood along the way. No one else stops their activities though, no one else cares or bats an eye. This must be a regular occurrence then. How can she keep her business open if she's shooting the patrons?
"Let’s go," Juilliard stands, snubbing his cigar out, but keeping it gripped in his hand. He gives his dancer one more long look, the slightest pout tugging his mouth down into a frown before he starts moving into the crowd.
My gaze flicks up to the dancer who smiles down at me with one upticked brow. I shake my head no, as if that should be warning enough for her and hurry after Juilliard. He reaches a hand out, touching a dancer here or there as he passes, giving them a sly smirk or a cocky wink when they look up at him. His fingers trail over a bare ass as one woman bends leaning into the touch, forcing me to step around her.
It takes effort on my part for my hands to remain at my sides to keep from pushing the Elf up the stairs. Pulling my hood away from my eyes just a bit, I turn to look back at our vacant table to see if the Vampire is watching or even following us. Following me. I'd doubt Juilliard would be good enough to chase after. But when my gaze finally falls back on the table, she's nowhere to be seen.
The hairs on my arm rise. She could be off finding another guest to entertain... or she could be trailing us... or, the much worse or, she could be spreading the word that there's a Human here. Saints, I hate the Hybrids. Can't keep anything quiet or to themselves, which only makes my life that much harder.
The swell of the music continues following behind us with its seductive sound. Juilliard's head bobs a little bit as the song changes to something more familiar. I keep my eyes trained on his back while I feel heat between my shoulders knowing that somewhere, someone is watching me.
"What was that woman's name that was entertaining you?" I ask.
"The Vampire?" He frowns at me when we reach the top of the stairs, Marcello and Hedda not far ahead. "How should I know? I'm not on a first name basis with these gals."
I'm disappointed but not surprised. Which is probably the same reaction his parents have to his life choices.
"Juilliard, Nilsa, come meet Hedda!" Marcello calls to us. He leans against the railing on both elbows, content as a cat.
When we approach the pair and I'm able to get a better look at Hedda, I notice her wide build first. While things like broad shoulders, knobby knees, and large feet are common attributes for Orcs, hers are a little bit more pronounced. If anything, it's still somehow flattering because her waist pulls in so narrow it gives her the perfect hourglass figure.
Her face is puckered with displeasure, making her cheeks sink in and her cheekbones look like blades that could cut a man. Narrowed gray eyes, which appear lifeless, pin on me as she sniffs the air.
"Who is this?" She tilts her head.
"Hedda, meet my dearest friend Juilliard," Marcello points and Juilliard gives a small bow. "And this." He points to me. "Is another teammate, her name is Nilsa Windsor."
"A Human?" she gasps, a small smile creeping up onto her cheeks. "And how do you expect these Games to go with a Human on our team?"
"I said the same thing about having a whore join us." I cross my arms over my chest.
Her smile disappears. "A whore. You're calling me... a whore? This is my establishment. This is my business! I own the girls, I do not participate. And we don't use words like that here. These are professionals, and you'll speak to them with respect."
Another damn Hybrid demanding the respect that they themselves can't give. Saints above, strike me down now.
Morbid thoughts like that are exactly what Arron hated. I'd had them even when I was young but still old enough to see the hate in the world.
"Now, Hedda," Marcello puts his hands up in surrender, as if that will help the situation. "She's new here, never been out of The Bend. You'll have to excuse her for being ignorant of your ways."
"I'm ignorant?" I snort. "She assumes me entering the Games will bring upon all of your demise."
In her defense, she isn't necessarily wrong. All signs point toward a Human not making it far in the Games. I just really, really, really hate to be underestimated. In due time they would see the strength I'd worked my whole life for. They'd see what sets me apart from those who died before me.
"Nilsa," Juilliard scolds.
"And what does this Human bring that is so advantageous that she should be considered? I don't want to commit to a team that will be the end of me." She can’t even be bothered to use my name. Human. I hate how it becomes so derogatory when they say it.
"This is... the one and only Ghost." Marcello's fingers pinch together as he talks, the motion looking as though he's dropping a small gift into Hedda's hands, and she should be thankful for it.
My face flames red and I find myself looking around for prying eyes or any listening ears. Being the Ghost is my secret to reveal, not his. “You can’t just be telling people that, you stupid Elf!” I hiss through my teeth.
"The famous assassin who has never been caught in The Bend?" The Orc’s already narrow gaze turns to slits as she tries to find something in me that would prove my worth and ignores my distress.
"We," I say with little excitement, "are not talking about this right now."
“No one here is paying any attention.” Marcello interjects. “It’s fine.”
It is not fine.
I lower my voice to a low hush. “Technically, I’m just a mercenary who happens to take jobs that end with someone’s appendage as a souvenir in my pocket. There isn’t time to get into the technicalities.”
Juilliard looks appalled, his face even going a little bit green. He leans toward me. "You don't really do that do you? Keep a body part?"
"How do you think I give them proof of what I've done?"
"The point is... yes! Nilsa, here, is indeed the Ghost everyone has heard about. Her tale has even traveled into The Oasis." He sucks in a breath. "Or so I've heard."
“Stop saying that name.” I rub my fingers against my temples.
"I do like Humans, it's just such a shame that the first that I've met is so bold." She places her fingers on her hips, brushing along the gun at her waist. Only the difference between her gun and Marcello's is that hers has proven to be loaded. “You know, you’d fetch a good price here. I could offer you good coin if you became one of my girls. Mica doesn’t have a Human at his joint.”
Being Human could catch me good coin. Every whorehouse in the Pleasure District has already begged for my services at one time or another. Humans are rare. So is the chance to have sex with one, and sex sells well in The Bend.
I may hate myself most days, but I don’t hate myself enough to be subjected to that. The only coins I get from the owners in the Pleasure District is when I take on the job of hunting down a patron that ran off without paying, or something of that likeness.
“I’m not interested in lending my body out.” I finally sigh. In the spirit of joining together as a team, and partially due to the fact that both Marcello and Juilliard are staring at me like Joss had done so many times when he was begging me to play nice, I point at her weapon. "I like your gun. How did you find ammo?"
It’s a good change of subject and my small insurance that they won’t be shouting that stupid nickname around. The small gesture makes Hedda perk up. Her shoulders straighten and the hint of a smile returns to her lips.
"I make the ammo myself. I'm a collector of Human artifacts. Some would say I have the most extensive collection this side of the wall. Sadly, many Human things have rotted away, but I've found ways around that and I quite fancy the boom this makes when I pull the trigger." She pulls the gun from her holster and strokes a finger down its silver edge. Her weapon is much newer than Marcello's and much better taken care of. "Maybe I'll give you a proper tour one day."
Making her own ammo... now that sounds like a terrible idea. I mean, clearly it works. Whatever she is using shot from her gun and killed
that man but, damn, the chances of it blowing up back in her face had to be high. I wouldn't trust it.
"I'll look forward to that," I say, albeit a bit tensely.
"I still don't trust that she is who she says she is," Hedda continues.
I'd be offended except I am well aware that all Hybrids would find it hard to believe that the creature responsible for getting away with their murders is Human. And the likelihood of it, just simply the percentage of chance that "the Ghost" is Human is so, so low. Only I am well aware at every hour and every day that this silly nickname belongs to me, a one-hundred percent mortal Human.
It's a shame on their part they could be killed so easily. Which, in my opinion, only shows how comfortable Hybrids have gotten with this way of living. How comfortable they have gotten with the idea that Humans are no longer a threat.
"Also, technically, I never once took claim on that silly nickname." I crack a slight smile, Saints, I can't help it. "Marcello came to that conclusion all on his own."
Marcello's face falls flat as he stares at me, stares into my soul. Part of me has the audacity to suggest that maybe I should feel bad for making this harder than it has to be. That part is very, very small. It's fun to tease Marcello like this...
"She'll need to prove her worth to this team before I join." Hedda briskly puts her gun away.
"What?" I gasp.
"See what you did there." Juilliard chuckles and places a hand on my shoulder. Turning my head, I glare down at his fingers until he slowly removes them and inclines his head with the slightest apology.
"What do you want her to do?" Marcello asks cheerfully. He moves from beside Hedda to stand behind me, grabbing me with both hands as he looms over me. His nearness makes every cell in my body burn red hot. I don't move. He lowers his mouth to my ear, keeping eye contact with Hedda while he waits for her response. "You asked for this."
"I did not." I bristle, shrugging his arms off me. "If you two don't stop with the constant touching, I'll be keen to cut your fingers off." I look at Marcello. "Then you'll have two robotic hands."
Hedda examines me with the highest level of scrutiny. She picks apart my appearance similar to how I would pick apart my victims. When she opens her mouth, her words sound more like a threat than a task. Because if I fail, I'd never make it to Games to begin with.