"So, costume party, or what's the deal?"
Rachel stared absently at the headlamps of oncoming traffic. "Yeah, something like that," she answered automatically, shifting in the back seat to prevent the faux leather of her thigh boots from pinching under the knee. They weren't practical, but neither was the decision to leave Meridian on her own. She'd wanted to bitch out Tom after he ran off to help Gloria without telling anyone, and here she was doing the same damned thing. No, she told herself again and thrust doubt from her mind. That was different. One way or another, the nightmare needed to end.
She didn't blame Tom for her problems. She had tried to kill him, and he still welcomed her into his life, shielding her from madness. Even now, he was trying to remain a good man in a bad situation, and if he just boned every woman who asked for it, it would make him—well, it would make him not Tom. He'd be just like all the college fuckboys who tried to stick their dicks into anything with a pulse. Or worse, like his father. The fact that he hadn't compromised himself, despite all the unfair bullshit that kept piling up, was one of the reasons she'd fallen for him in the first place.
Of course she'd been far too late. She had to admit it was probably for the best. Rachel hadn't been emotionally available since she alienated herself from her papi. She needed someone willing to fight past her barriers to get to the woman underneath, someone even more bull-headed than she was, without bringing their own baggage into it. It was more than she had any right to ask, but she'd never been strong enough to tear down those walls on her own.
"...a little late for Halloween though," the Lyft driver went on. He was still trying to catch her eye in the rear view mirror between casual glances at the smooth curve of her tits beneath the telltale latex. Most guys did a piss poor job of hiding their interest, pretending they were chill. Not Tom. The effort he put into shielding his eyes was comical and occasionally sad, because when he did catch an illicit peek it tore him up. She hated that about him, but she wouldn't have changed it if she could. Goddammit, why did life have to be so messed up?
"Eyes front," she finally answered. "I'm paying for a ride, not therapy." The driver would start hitting on her openly if she didn't cut him off, and she wasn't in the mood to do it nicely. He mumbled something under his breath, but took his eyes off the mirror and didn't speak again.
Rachel reached inside her purse for the gloves she'd brought with her, and brushed against the heavy metal in the hidden compartment. Part of her hoped it would stay there, that she was on a wild goose chase, and the worst thing she'd have to deal with was getting a lecture when she called Katherine to pick her up.
The others never realized how hard it had been for her. They still acted like she was some junkie strung out on heroin, who could be mollified as long as she got her hit, but she knew better than anyone how much Tom's mother must have suffered when he—when that ass-wipe—abandoned her. Tom could keep Rachel alive, but his ministrations couldn't erase his father's face from her memory. She could see him as clearly as the day he stopped her on the street. She could recall his firm hands when they cupped her chin and she stood powerless to do anything but stare up into his bright, soulless eyes. She could still smell the stink of whatever he'd been smoking, the foul weed that made his kiss taste like decay. The thought of it aroused her, and she hated it with such furious passion that she'd considered, more than once, blowing those memories out the back of her head with her own gun.
She would have if not for Tom. He wasn't weaker than his dad, as she'd first thought. The difference was like a smooth whiskey that warmed you from the inside versus the cheap shit that clawed its way down your throat. That was a good analogy. She wished she'd thought of it while she still had someone to share it with.
If that was all she had to contend with she could be happy. Hell, it would take a serious bitch to not be happy at Meridian, living with a good-looking guy who could jack you all the way up just by thinking about it, who could kiss you and make you feel, for a little while, like you wouldn't care if the whole world fucked off, as long as you could be near him. Instead of threatening her independence, it gave her everything she needed without taking anything away. But that was the problem. She got to keep the nightmares, because part of her, the part that couldn't forget Caratacos' touch, wanted them to stay.
Rachel had hoped sex would fix that part. She'd seen how Katherine had changed afterward. All the anxiety about the person she used to be had burned away, leaving her with a kind of peace that words failed to describe. Rachel saw it clearly in her eyes.
The corner of her mouth twitched in an almost-grin. Becca had been part of the conversation when Katherine described the difference between tongue wrestling and riding the sausage, and her wild, desperate expressions had given away just how horny the girl had been. Becks hid it well, especially around Tom, though to be fair the man spent way too much time with his head up his own ass.
She'd miss that girl. In some ways, Becca was Rachel's opposite, soft on the outside but under the skin there was something firm and unbreakable. Maybe that's why they got along so well.
"You want me to drop you off on the street?" the Lyft driver called back as they reached her destination.
"That's fine."
"You okay?" he asked, looking at her again through the mirror. Something about the tone of his voice told her he meant it, that he wasn't shooting his shot. She must have looked even worse than she felt.
"Yeah," she replied and tried to think of something to add that would sound less cold. He pulled the Kia to a stop on the wrong side of the street so she could get out without crossing it, playing the gentleman even after she shut him down. Great job, you dumbass bitch, she thought, you always chase off the good ones.
It didn't matter. It was Tom or nothing for her now, or maybe his dad if that could be called a choice. A life of happiness with the best friends she'd ever had, or giving in to a spiritual disease that would rot her soul if it didn't kill her outright. Fortunately, she only needed to make that decision if she intended to survive the night.
She stepped into the cold air, forcing herself to breathe it in. The latex suit did nothing to keep her ass warm, but the boots and leather jacket kept her from shivering. They also made her feel like a badass, and she needed that more than she wanted to admit. She pulled on her gloves, then after a short deliberation, removed the pistol from its hiding place and stuffed it into a jacket pocket. Lastly, she pulled out her phone, powered it down, and thrust it into her jacket as well. The purse would only get in the way now, so she carried it as far as a dumpster and tossed it in. Hundred and fifty bucks down the drain. She wouldn't miss it.
The familiar dormitory was mostly dark, but light shone unexpectedly from the window of her old room, where the current resident assistant lived. She no longer had card access, but that wouldn't matter. She was only there to confirm her suspicions, and she could do that without breaking in.
"Rachel?"
She spun at the sound of her name to see Jackie, the missing RA, coming around the corner.
"Where've you been?" Rachel asked harshly to hide having been startled out of her skin.
"I thought that was you," Jackie replied with a southern Indiana accent. "What are you doing sneaking around my window?"
"I wasn't sneaking."
Jackie rolled her eyes. "Rach, you're creeping around like a bad Bond villain. They could replace the entire dictionary entry for 'sneaking' with a video of you right now. What are you even wearing?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"Look, I'm sorry," Jacqueline Harper stared at her feet like a child caught misbehaving. "You're probably pissed because you recommended me for this job and I screwed up. I had to listen to the Dean yelling at me for half an hour too."
"Why? What happened?"
Jackie sighed mournfully. "Mom's brother died in a car wreck last week. I dropped everything when I heard about it and drove out to spend time with her. She doesn't have anyone else."
"Where? Your uncle, I mean. What happened? Did he live around here?" Dread lanced up Rachel's spine, but Jackie shook her head without looking up.
"No, not even close. He was on a road trip through the badlands and a truck jackknifed in the opposite lane. The cab flipped over the barrier and he hit the semi head-on."
"Shit, I'm sorry," Rachel said with genuine sympathy, masking a sense of guilty relief. At least it wasn't another casualty of her fucked up life.
"Your turn, why are you creeping on me?"
"I was worried about you, Jacks. Police report said you went missing."
"Yeah, school security has been extra jumpy after all the weird stuff on campus, but I never thought they'd call the cops on me. Elwin PD called my mom, and she sent me straight back to school."
Rachel drew her into half a hug. "You should have at least called it in, but I get it, shit happens and all you can do is roll with it."
"Thanks for understanding," Jackie said, relieved that she wouldn't have to endure one of Rachel's lectures. "Want to come in and catch up? It's been at least a month. Then you can explain why you look like a street ninja."
Rachel hesitated, then gladly relented, so relieved that she wasn't even annoyed to have made the trip for nothing. She didn't believe for a second there was no danger, but doubted a sex fairy could camp out in the girl's dorm without someone noticing.
"Did you hear Gloria's dad started a scholarship fund in her name?" Jackie pulled out her key card and led the way back toward the side entrance.
"No."
"They say it's a trust fund, hundred percent out of pocket. I hadn't realized they were that well off."
"Her dad's some international executive, but her mom's the one with the money. Family's loaded."
"Really?" Jackie was clearly surprised. "Glory seemed so—I dunno, normal, I guess." She swiped her key card and opened the door for Rachel, but they never made it into the building. The long hall was empty except for a single student, standing awkward and uncertain beneath the lights. The girl reminded Rachel of a ratty, old doll, the kind you see in horror movies. Jackie cursed under her breath.
"Holy shit, there you are!" a familiar, nasal voice exclaimed. Kennedy Wiseman, Gloria's best friend, stumbled toward them, looking like she'd been on the losing end of a cat fight. Her hair hadn't been brushed or washed in far too long, and she wore an impressive bruise under her left eye.
"Ken?" Rachel stared openly, "What the hell happened to you?"
Kennedy stopped in the doorway, backlit by dim amber light from the dorm's ceiling, and stared at Jackie for a few seconds before answering with a crooked grin. "I was about to ask you the same thing, you leaving us and all, just before Glory died."
"That's enough, Kennedy," Jackie murmured, visibly deflating, then turned her head to explain, "Ken thinks Glory was murdered, and she's pissed off that nobody's doing anything about it."
"People don't just die, Jackie." Kennedy's voice was eerily light, but her posture and expression, and the orange glow at her back, made her appear sinister, even hostile.
"Sometimes they do," Jackie argued. "The doctors said she had an aneurysm. It's time to let it go."
Kennedy snarled without losing her grin. "Screw you. Something's up, and I'm going to find out even if nobody else thinks it's worth the effort. Just because she was black—"
"You're being ridiculous, Ken."
"Am I? Sloane killed a nurse and got a memorial service. Where's Glory's memorial?"
"Her dad wanted a private ceremony for the family and a few close friends. You know that, you were there."
"Her dad's in on it too."
Jackie rubbed her temples. "Oh god..."
"He's just some white dude who married into money!" Kennedy advanced until they were a foot apart, and it was clear Jackie was forcing herself to stand her ground. "You wait, he's going to take out his wife next, and once he has her cash nothing will stop him from rubbing out the rest of the kids."
"The fuck's wrong with you, Ken?" Rachel interrupted. Kennedy had always been a little flighty, but she'd obviously taken Gloria's death more than hard. She needed professional help.
Jackie glanced back at Rachel to avoid meeting Kennedy's eyes. "She confronted him when he visited the school. I had to talk fast to stop the dean from expelling her on the spot."
"You tried to make me think you're my friend, but you only want to shut me up. You even said so!"
"I told you to be quiet, you were making a fool of yourself."
"You wanted her out of the way too, didn't you? Can't stand some black bitch being smarter and prettier than you. Am I right?"
Jackie closed her eyes and held her breath, obviously wishing she were anywhere else.
The troubled girl hugged herself dramatically and turned around, as if about to storm off. "You and everyone else! You all wanted her to die! But you were the worst! When she needed you most, you just... you just..."
Without warning, Kennedy spun on her heel and thrust her arm forward. Rachel could only watch as Jackie staggered backward and nearly fell off the step and onto the grass. She didn't cry out. She couldn't make a sound at all past the long blade of the kitchen knife embedded in her throat.
"Oh fuck!" Rachel rushed to catch her friend. "Fuck! Jackie? Jacks! Fuck!"
"Huh, I never actually thought I'd have to use that thing," Kennedy mused, "I really thought she'd just run away and hide in her room again so we could talk privately. I probably messed it all up going off the rails with you there. She's been a terrible RA, but she couldn't exactly bail on her job while you were watching. Oh well, live and learn."
Rachel looked helplessly into Jackie's eyes. They were alert for another moment, pleading, filled with terror, before they lost focus and her body went into shock.
"Help!" Rachel cried out, "Someone help!"
"Chill, Rach, she's just dead. Or she will be in a few seconds. Nobody's going to come anyway. You know how I know? Because I screamed at first too, right out there on the quad. Tore up my throat screaming, but nobody ever cares. It's fine though, it all worked out in the end. We have more important things to talk about."
Rachel looked up in disbelief through tears that threatened to fall. The door slowly closed behind Kennedy leaving the three of them in the dark.
"I really do wish Glory was here," Kennedy said, "but she had her chance and blew it."
"I'll kill you for this," Rachel hissed as Jackie's body went limp.
"No you won't," Kennedy chuckled. "It's okay, everything will be better soon. Much better."
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"You're not that stupid, Rach. We're sisters, you and me. Glory's gone, but we can still be family. He's been trying to get you back this whole time. All I need to do is bring you home."
Rachel's heart performed a flip of grotesque excitement as Kennedy's words wormed their way through her mind.
"You've been with him."
"Understatement of the year," Kennedy giggled and a beatific smile surfaced as she called up recent memories. "I can still feel his beautiful cock. It's like a snake sleeping in my gut."
"Oh god, Ken. How long?"
"Hours at a time!" She grinned wickedly through the girlish blush that rose in her cheeks.
"Fuck that! How long has he been controlling you?"
Kennedy sighed, oblivious to Rachel's disgust. "Daddy's not controlling me, he just opened my eyes. I never understood why you didn't figure it out ages ago. He found Glor and me together, but he took her first. I think I was a little scared when he put his dick in her—I don't really remember—but it made her so happy, and when my turn came I knew we were both where we belonged. He thought you'd come find me once she was gone, because I was your only clue. If anyone knew what was going on with her it would be me, right? But you never did."
The realization hit like a physical blow. She'd been such an idiot. "You have no idea how fucked you are," she said, shaking her head in revulsion. "Glory's dead because of him. He'll kill you too."
"No Rachel, Tom killed Gloria, not daddy."
Rachel laid Jackie's body on the ground and stood, bile rising in her throat. "That's bullshit, she was dead as soon as she tasted his blood."
"What do you know about it?" Kennedy accused, suddenly furious. "Glory was in the highest heaven, and your boyfriend took that from her, then he killed her. He scooped out her soul and ate it because he's jealous of his father's power!"
Rachel slowly pulled the gun from her pocket and pointed the barrel at Kennedy. "Where is he?"
"Close," Kennedy replied, her anger suddenly gone. "I think you knew that, though. It's why you came back. Am I right?"
"Tell me where or I swear, I'll—"
Kennedy took a step closer, ignoring the chill in the air, her stringy, brown hair catching hints of moonlight. "You can put the gun away. I'll take you to him right now."
Rachel gritted her teeth, itching to pull the trigger. She'd be doing Kennedy a favor, though the crazy bitch would never know it. She looked back where Jackie's body lay in the grass. They'd been talking just a few minutes ago, now she was pale and still, and Rachel was powerless to save her.
"Just leave it, someone will come along and clean it up."
"You're as sick as he is."
"If you want to stay and try to explain, suit yourself. I'm leaving."
"You think you can just walk away? They'll find out it was you."
"Will they? Maybe. I've never killed anyone before, but daddy will take care of it. You should have seen the last two cops that got in his way. One of them sucked him off while her partner shit himself. They're both dead now."
Rachel's chest constricted. Strangely, she didn't feel the revulsion she should have. Instead, her thoughts went back to Meridian, to Tom, who had that same indecent power over people, but he'd turned it around without thinking about it. Without him she'd have been as crazy as Kennedy, or worse. His fear had frustrated her so badly, but she'd been nowhere near scared enough.
Kennedy had started off across the quad, walking briskly, even eagerly, toward her goal. With one last look behind her, Rachel followed.
"I used to think school was a big deal but I get it now," Kennedy called back. "It's all about the thrill. People will put up with anything if they think they'll get a little pleasure from it."
"Shut up."
"Did you know Sloane was bi?" Kennedy continued. "I didn't until daddy told me to find someone close to you guys. Penny was an obvious choice, since she was still technically Kath's roommate, but she blew me off. Guess she's not the slut everyone thinks she is. Sloane was way easier. All I had to do was get her drunk and drop a few hints that I might eat her out." She laughed quietly. "In the end she was the one with her face between my thighs while he took her ass from behind."
Keep talking, Rachel thought, fueling her anger with every hated word. The Kennedy she knew was gone, and what remained was nothing more than a puppet. She'd soon see the man responsible, and counted on that rage to keep her head clear while she emptied her pistol into his goddamned face.
"The only one that gave me trouble was that warehouse guy." Kennedy patted her pockets, looking for something. "I had to give him a blowie, but he must have liked it because he was ready to do anything for a shot at the grand prize."
"You lured him back here?"
"I didn't have to, daddy let me do him on my own. Have you ever had to act like you're impressed by a three inch dick? It was worth it though. He stole for me, then punched the guy he stole from when I told him to, and that was enough to get him on the news. He even lied about me being there. I can't describe how good that kind of power feels. I can see why daddy likes it."
Her words were bold, but through the crazy Rachel could see glimpses of the truth—Kennedy was scared, weak, and tired, embracing the darkness because it was the only way she could excuse what she'd done. Even the nickname she used for him tasted vile on her tongue.
"You don't have to do this anymore, Ken. Tom can help you. I know he would if he knew how much you're suffering."
Kennedy grinned over her shoulder, incredulous. "Tom will be dead soon, unless he joins us. Daddy might give me to him. I don't think I'd mind that so much, but I doubt it'll happen. I mean he sent you to do his dirty work, right? He isn't even man enough to come himself."
"He doesn't know I left."
"Really?" Kennedy frowned. "That's too bad, but it won't change anything. I'm sure he can put two and two together, or if he doesn't care enough to look for you, Kath will. She's smart and our hideout couldn't be more obvious. When she figures it out, she'll drag Tom here by his balls."
"That fucker will bleed out long before anyone else shows up."
Kennedy laughed, "Remember those cops I told you about? They shot him before he got them under control and it left a bruise. A fucking bruise, Rach. The only thing you're going to do is scream like a dirty whore while he spends the night tearing up your insides."
That ugly thrill ran up Rachel's spine again. It made her want to vomit. Her hand tightened on the handle of her pistol with its magic bullets, and for the first time she regretted the trigger lock that would prevent her from using it if she had any doubts.
"Here we are," Kennedy said, gesturing at the steel door behind Stewart Hall.
"Should have known he'd crawl back here," Rachel sneered with far more bravery than she felt.
"Oh, he didn't! He only returned when Tom didn't call and you didn't look for me. We were living in some crack house near the railroad, then moved to a motel for a couple of weeks. This is way better. The third floor is wide open and we've got a couch and beds and everything—there's even a TV. I mean it's not Rancho Valencia or anything. We had to paint over the windows. People would probably notice lights inside a building that's supposed to be abandoned."
Kennedy produced a small key and leaned forward to unlock the door. Rachel struck as soon as she heard it click, throwing her weight against the smaller girl who banged her head against the metal jamb. She grabbed a shoulder to spin her around, then held her against the cobalt bricks with a forearm against her throat, pressing the barrel of the pistol into her chin. Blood trickled from a cut near her hairline, but Kennedy just smiled.
"That wasn't very nice, Rachel. You can kill me if you really want to, but it's not going to change anything. He knows you're coming."
"I don't give a fuck," Rachel snarled. At one time, when it was her job to keep them safe, she'd have sacrificed anything to protect the girl in front of her, but snapping her neck now would be no different from Tom putting Gloria out of her misery. The real Kennedy was gone. The one who took her place was a danger to everyone, including herself, and she was destined for a long, agonizing death.
"You'll see," Kennedy choked. "Whatever you decide now, you're still going to open that door and go up those stairs, so we'll all get what we wanted in the end."
The light switches didn't work and dark shadows filled the stairwell as Rachel took the steps one at a time, the gun cradled firmly in both hands. She wasn't religious, but she whispered a prayer as she ascended. Keep the others safe. Whatever happens to me, let them be safe.
A sickly combination of blood, sex, and acrid smoke assaulted her nose before light from an open door fell across the steps. Unable to bear the tension, she sprinted up the last few and kicked it open.
Nearly every available surface was covered with candles dripping wax, and a large metal brazier filled with an amber, viscous liquid occupied the center of the room. The body of a naked woman, covered in blood and filth, hung limply from her chains against one of the load bearing pillars, with streaks of dried blood across her chin and chest. Assorted clothing—far more than could have been attributed to this one person—had been piled carelessly in a corner.
"Sorry about the mess," drawled the low voice that had been echoing in her memory for weeks. "The maid's on vacation."
She whipped around to face Caratacos, gun at the ready. He sat with his back to her, feet crossed on a table, watching a flat-screen television that had been propped carelessly against one wall.
"You motherfucker," she managed, though she had to fight to call him anything but wonderful. His presence ignited the old chemistry and she yearned for his touch. Her hands trembled, and she feared she wouldn't be able to hold the weapon steady enough to get a clean shot. He needs to die, she repeated in her mind, forcing the doubts away. He needs to die, he needs to die!
Caratacos stretched luxuriously. "You didn't execute my little plaything, did you? That would be a shame." He sucked at his cigarette. "Not as pretty as I like them, but she made up for it with enthusiasm."
Pull the trigger now! She bit her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing herself to concentrate. Shoot him! He's right there, shoot him!
The beautifully vile creature stood without haste, casually brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt as he grinned down the barrel of her gun. He sucked another mouthful of smoke from the dirty, brown cigarillo in his fingers, and savored it before exhaling to one side.
"You won't need that," he said, moving slowly toward her. She barely stopped herself from taking a step in his direction. "It won't do you any good, anyway. I learned a handy trick from a bitchy little Aes Sidhe who believed she was immune to me. She spread her legs just to prove it. I gotta hand it to her, she was resilient but in the end she came around. They all do. She showed me how my gifts could make me stronger, extend my life, and wouldn't you know it, damn shit actually works."
He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the censor which burst into flame, causing Rachel to jump.
"I've been using her little secret, adding to it, for almost two-hundred years. I've lost count of how many have contributed. You're just one insignificant cunt in my long, glorious legacy."
"I'll kill—I—I'm going to kill you." Rachel stammered out the words trying to make them a reality. "I'm getting you out of my head once and for all."
"Tell you what," he chuckled and spread his arms wide. "Just to show you I'm not so bad, I'll let you take the first shot, then we can get down to business."
She shivered again at the richness of his voice. In his presence, the nauseating smells became sensual. An itch began somewhere behind her abdomen, and a dampness spread between her legs. Her body was preparing itself to welcome him, even as her will dissolved beneath his smile. The weight she'd been carrying since he forced his tongue into her mouth was lifting, replaced with a sense of ecstatic freedom while thoughts of Meridian began to ripple and fade.
At the foot of the stairs, hand pressed against the cut on her head, Kennedy permitted herself a weak chuckle when two shots rang out above her. Rachel hadn't the strength to finish her off, and now her last symbol of resistance was gone. Soon, her master would give the stubborn woman his seed, claiming her life and her love forever.