by Amo Jones
I examined it quickly. The blood red oval stone was held together by a metal dragon that was woven around it.
It was ugly.
I’d never wear it, let alone guard it.
I laughed, but Hope’s hand came to my face and she forced it toward her. “This is not a joke, Sass. We don’t have much time. Damnit,” she exhaled, shooting off the bed and rubbing the palm of her hand over her tummy. She seemed off. Weird. And not in a way that made me comfortable. “I thought I’d have more time.”
“Hope?” I asked, suddenly heavy with regret. I should have known better than to laugh. I know this life. This world. “What is it?” Our family, the Royals, were anything but royalty in Kiznitch. We were the mundane, never special enough to become Midnight Mayhem. My father watched security cameras and my mother was a nurse—that’s all we would have ever been and what I would have ever been.
My door opened and the man who was with Delila stepped inside. I squeezed the pendant in my hand instantly to hide it. “It’s time, Saskia. Let’s go.”
I nodded, my eyes going to Hope. I quickly shoved the pendant into my side pocket and made my way to her. “I love you. I will text you, okay?”
Hope turned to face me, her hands coming to my face. Hope was beautiful. She had long blonde hair that had a natural curl, and dark brown eyes. Her skin was so soft and flawless it made me envious at the best of times. At thirty-eight, she looked twenty-eight. Her eyes searched mine, pulling me in for a hug. Her lips came to the shell of my ear. “Do not trust anyone, Saskia, and when you must, you run.”
I never thought much on how this would happen. How I would come about as being a part of Kiznitch. A part of something that essentially ripped my family apart. Only, Hope was right. The reason to why they took me wasn’t at all what I was expecting.
Not even close.
There’s a knock on my door, pulling me out of my thoughts from the past. I swing it open and find Perse leaning against the frame. Perse is with King, and the story to how she got here is contrastingly different to mine.
“Hey! I was thinking since we are set to disembark tomorrow, we could swim some laps tonight?”
Perse and I have been swimming laps since we boarded this ship as a way to keep fit. There is a gym, but running on a treadmill is almost impossible when the ground isn’t stationary.
“Sure,” I say, clutching the door handle. “What time?”
My room is nicer than what I would expect from a cruise ship, but not entirely, because this is Midnight Mayhem. The whole crew is on the same level, too, which is convenient. I’ve been with Midnight Mayhem for almost three months now, which means it has been three months since I last saw Hope. We keep in contact through texts, but I haven’t seen her in the flesh. I’ve somewhat noticed the distance that I’ve started to feel from her, and I don’t know if that’s because of my current predicament or something else. I’m hoping for the former.
“Now?” Perse answers, her eyebrows raised. I instantly felt a connection to Perse. I didn’t know what it was at first, but I felt it, and I think she did too, only she looks at me more like a fragile doll who can’t handle things. Oh, so much she has to learn. So much I want to share with her, only I have colossal sized trust issues.
“Sure! I’ll grab my things and meet you down there.”
Perse closes the door and I move around my room, gathering what I need so I don’t have to come back here until I’m ready for bed. I think I prefer doing shows in America as opposed to international, and for the first two weeks we were abroad, I was sick, popping ginger tablets as if they were candy.
Opening the bathroom door, I pull down a towel from the high cabinet and begin shoving things into my duffel bag before moving to the other side of my room to shut the sliding door that leads to the balcony. The balcony is probably my favorite part of my room, with the five-piece dining table which overlooks the infinite stretch of the Pacific Ocean. My bedroom is small but cozy, equipped with a bathroom and tub, and a walk-in closet. No kitchen, so that means we all eat together in the restaurant.
I make my way down to the elevators and once I’m in, I hit the button for the top deck. I can’t wait to be on real soil. Any soil.
Just as the door is sliding closed, an arm comes in and stops it. I didn’t have to think twice to know who it was, what with the shiny gold Rolex on his wrist strapped around his tattooed arm.
Killian steps inside, and when he notices me, he steps away, making sure he’s on the other side of the elevator. The doors close, keeping us confined to a space that is small enough to feel him breathing down my back.
I tense.
“You know…” Killian smirks, and I can’t help but seek him out. I try not to look at him as much as possible, because when I do, it’s like a magnetic force is keeping me there and I have to use all of my strength to pull away. As though he’s peering into my soul. Like he’s looking beyond my overrated exterior and sees all of the ugly parts of my soul, but instead of being revolted by them, he wants to challenge them. He bathes in the presence of my demons, teasing them with his stupid grin.
He leans back against the wall, the sharp curves of his jaw accentuated by the dim lighting.
Killian is gorgeous. That is obvious. But I know gorgeous. I get told the same, and that doesn’t stop the thoughts that go through my brain. Beauty only neutralizes the evil in a person. It blinds people with its surface to conceal the darkness that swims beneath it.
He smirks, probably assuming I was checking him out. I wasn’t. I was more sizing him up. “You know I could have you spread eagle underneath me, screaming mercy within three seconds if I wanted…” He lifts a smoke from his pocket and brings it to his lips. My eyebrows raise in challenge. His eyes narrow slightly. “And before you blow the rape whistle on me, first of all, fuck you for thinking that, and second of all, fuck you again because guess what.” He inhales from his cigarette, kicking off the wall and coming toe-to-toe with me. He blows smoke rings into my face, and it’s the only thing that is distracting me from his mere proximity. His lips curve over his perfect white teeth. Wish I could say they were veneers, but unfortunately not. The man is just genetically blessed. Blessed by Satan. “I’m not fucking interested in you anymore.”
The doors ping open and he steps out, winking at me in his retreat.
I exhale, my heart thundering in my chest.
This is a good thing.
This is what I wanted.
Blank. Black. Is it? Black walls cave in around me and my hands fly out to stop them from crushing me to death. I’m reaching but nothing touches my palm. I scream as the invisible walls continue their impending climb toward each other.
The invisible fist of the scene that unfolded in my head clamps around the connecting valves of my heart, forcefully tugging on them. Goddamnit. I quickly push the open button and step out onto the top deck, exhaling deeply through curved lips, and praying, fucking praying, that from now on, Killian stays away from me.
I wish I could say that I didn’t remember my childhood.
I wish I could say that what happened to Perse happened to me, but unfortunately, I was not lucky enough. Like a sick psychological thriller that keeps playing in my head on repeat, my father’s murder plays on repeat. My mother dying not long before.
Chills break out over my flesh as I spin around to run back into the elevator and go back to my room, only Kenan bumps into me and I jump in shock, tossing my clothes at his face as I reach for something—anything—that I could use as a weapon. My muscles tense as tremors wrack my bones.
“Wow!” Kenan raises his hands in surrender. “It’s me…”
I suck in copious amounts of air as my heartbeat slows. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“—Hey!” Kenan’s hands come to both my cheeks, and he swipes away the sweat that’s rolling down the side of my face. “It’s me.”
I let out one last shaky breath, then smile, collecting myself. “Thanks. Sorry. I had a nightmare last night, so I�
�m a bit jumpy.”
Kenan holds my stare. Warm brown against pale lifeless blue. “What was it about?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head, leaning down to pick up my bag and throwing it over my shoulder. “Nothing at all.”
I make my way toward the pool, where Perse is already doing laps. After my shake up with Kenan, I don’t feel like being in a pool of water and vulnerable, so I zip up my Abercrombie hoodie and slide my sandals back onto my feet. I’m almost certain the LED neon lights from the pool are only intensifying the white of my linen short shorts too, making my skin appear darker.
“You not coming in?” Perse asks, brushing her wet long red hair away from her face.
I shake my head.
“Come on…” she teases. “Then we can go for a drink and chill out for the rest of the night.” Perse is tenacious with her friendships.
I groan. She’s right. I do need to release some stress, especially after that encounter with Killian.
I start undressing, tossing my clothes onto one of the sunbeds and kicking off my sandals.
“Atta girl.” Perse chuckles.
I slip into the water, flinching at the coldness. Tying my hair into a topknot, I keep my attention on Perse.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, obviously sensing something is off.
I lick my lips. “I’ve just, I guess been thinking about my parents a lot on this trip. It was something that we had spoken about doing one day.”
Perse nods. “I know that I don’t know much about you.” She swims closer and takes a seat beside me on the inside edge of the pool. “But I’m here if you ever need to talk. I know that you have Callan and Kenan—”
I snort. “I don’t know about Callan, but I know I can sort of trust Kenan.”
Perse ties her hair into a low messy bun. “Well, I’m glad you’re smart.”
The neon lights that line the inside of the pool light up our bodies underneath, and just as I open my mouth, Callan starts laughing loudly from the other side of the deck.
“I might put her on the hoops with Maya.”
My eyes pop open. “Really?” I’m shocked that Perse is wanting to put Callan with the others.
Perse gauges my reaction, kicking up onto the side of the pool. “Would you prefer that?”
I look at her, shocked. “She doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh, I know.” Perse glances out to Callan, where she’s sitting beside Killian, King, and Kyrin. Without trying, I find Killian, who is already watching me from beneath hooded eyelids. My chest flutters when I catch him staring. “I just know that she feels a certain way about you, and if that makes you uncomfortable being around her, I can move her. She’s a great dancer, but you’re better.”
I shrug, snatching my eyes away from Killian before he sucks me into the vortex of whatever it is that he’s trying to get me into. “I’m sure. All the shade that she throws my way doesn’t touch me.”
“Good.” Perse taps my leg. “Forget the laps. Let’s go eat.”
“Zaika, come down here, please. Stop climbing that tree!” my father bellowed from across the perfectly manicured grass. I liked climbing trees. At seven years old, I already knew that when I finally own my own house, without bossy parents, I will be planting one gigantic tree that branches off purely for my pleasure. I love to climb.
I giggled, turning around to face Mama and Papa. Mama looked worse today. Worse than she did last week. My smile fell. I knew she was sick. Papa had said that she didn’t have long to go. She got the cancer bug and apparently, that was a bad bug to catch because doctors didn’t know how to cure it yet. I cried every night and prayed that it turned into a normal bug. One that made her cough and sniffle instead of wither.
I climbed down the tree and skipped to where Papa and Mama were standing.
“We made some lemonade, Zaika,” Mama had said, gesturing into the house. I trolley’d through, passing the kitchen and going straight for the sitting room. I kicked off my shoes and started twirling my hair around my finger.
“Zaika,” Papa said, kneeling down in front of me. His eyes were like mine. Bright blue. Papa said that we were descendants of mermaids, which is why our eyes were the color of the Atlantic ice. “After this lemonade, I am going to need you to pack a bag. You won’t need it yet, but I need you to pack one for an emergency. Can you do that, Zai? For Papa? For Mama?”
My eyebrows creased in confusion, but I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip. Nodding my head. “Yes, I can. But why?”
Papa’s wrinkles around his eyes crinkled. “That’s not important right now, princess. Right now what is important is that you pack your bag.”
After docking and organizing our vehicles the next day, we settle into a parking spot close to the port. We’re lucky our crew numbers are large, but we still need at least a day to unload the ship.
I’m making my way back to our RV when I pull open the door, finding Callan and Kenan playing cards at the table. They’re both wearing no shirts—with Callan wearing a small camisole bra and leggings.
She gawks at me briefly before going back to the game at hand.
“Hey, Baby G.” Kenan nods his head, eyeing me up and down. If it was done by anyone but Kenan, I would have had an issue with the way he openly gawked at me. “Tired?”
“Yeah.” I move through the kitchen and begin heading for my bedroom. When Perse moved out and she and King got their own bus, I took what would have been her room, much to Callan’s disgust, I’m thinking. She and I used to be okay, but I feel like the more that time goes on, the issues she has with me intensify. I’m pretty sure that Kenan can pick up the tension too, but we can’t change someone else’s opinion of us. All we can do is let them brew over whatever they have stewing in their head, knowing that we won’t be at the table when they decide to serve up their dish.
I open up the fridge and take out a cold water. “I’ll see you both in the morning. ’Night!” I move past them both and head for the stairs, eager to get away from Callan.
“’Night!” Kenan calls out as I hit my bedroom door. I close it gently behind me and flop down onto the soft mattress. I’m relieved that we’re off the ship and back in our own buses, and I’m really relieved that I didn’t bump into Killian once.
Not. Once.
Dried leaves crunched beneath my feet, the aching only beginning to pulse through my veins further. “Sweet Dreams” by Marilyn Manson is playing softly in the background as trees line a dirt path that leads into the forest.
“Hello?” I called out, only my voice never came. My hand flew to my throat, where I clenched hard. “Hello?” I repeated, without success.
I peered down at the gown that I was wearing and flinched at the splatters of bright red blood. I tilted my head up, just as I felt something drip down the side of my throat, my hands swiping it away.
More blood.
“What?” I whispered, confused. The bright full moon sat angrily in the backdrop.
“Tell me more,” a voice boomed from near the back of my neck.
I screamed, jumping away from the unfamiliar voice. “What do you want from me?”
A hand slammed over my mouth, shoving me backward until my back was against his chest. “Everything.”
I shoot up from the bed, sweat sticking my pajamas to my flesh and my heartbeat thrashing around erratically.
“Nightmare?” I instantly recognize the voice as Kyrin’s. We haven’t spoken much, which apparently that isn’t unheard of with Kyrin, but I recognize his voice. I turn toward the dark corner of my room, unable to see his body that’s buried in the shadows.
“What are you doing in here?” My elbows sink into the mattress as I push myself up.
“Interesting question…” another voice mumbles, and I freeze. I usually feel his presence before I hear it, and that’s saying something because Killian isn’t exactly docile.
I swing my legs off my bed and run my fingers through my hair, swiping it out of my face. I begin to me
ntally prepare myself for the energy that I’m about to exude through this encounter.
“I’ve got a question too,” Killian adds, and he must have stood from wherever he was in the room because now his boots are in my view.
They were in here while I was sleeping, and while that should be creepy—and is creepy—it’s not the worst thing that they’ve ever done.
“What is it, Killian?” I tilt my head up to face him. From this angle, he looks feral. It’s not even about the clothes that he’s wearing, or the way his features hit every single angle at the right moment, but it’s how he holds himself. How his shoulders are always back, his muscles tense and the expression on his face completely void from emotion. His personality shifts depending on who he is with, which means he may have bigger walls than mine. You can’t treat everyone the same because not everyone deserves all of you.
“Why do I get the feeling that I know you?” he asks, cocking his head.
I divert my eyes. “I don’t know why this conversation couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Answer the question.”
I chew on my bottom lip.
“Tell me more!”
I flinch at the hoarse voice that haunted my sleep just seconds ago. Sometimes, I don’t know if the nightmare is just that—a nightmare—or are memories. It gets confusing when you have to differentiate what is real and what is fake. What are the parts that are a product of my own subconscious? Attempting to either raise issues or bury them, and what parts are imaginary?
“You don’t,” I answer truthfully. “I mean, aside from our obvious connection with Kiznitch, you don’t.”
There’s a long pause.
“Lower her guard.” Kyrin brushes out from the same spot in the corner.
Before I can ask what lower means, Killian is leaning forward, his fists sinking into the mattress on either side of me, his nose almost touching mine. I fall onto my back, wanting some space between us. His scent is lethal. The sweet sting lingering over my skin before settling in the air between us. His cologne is strong, just like his personality, but it’s also mixed with the smell of his fading cigarette, which brings it to a whole new level.