A Poised Nuisance (Lithe Book 1)

by Iris RIvers

  Her gloves, though, were still Evelyn’s. Lithe had ordered her to burn everything from the night of her first kill, but—for some reason—she couldn’t give them up. Not when they were a gift.

  The only gift she’d ever received.

  “Hello, Detective,” she said into the night. The man turned his head, putting his cigarette out on the tree behind him. He dropped it to the ground.

  “Who are you?” he asked, squinting.

  Lara laughed. “Does it matter?”

  The detective said nothing, just stared at Lara as she approached—stared at the length of her legs and the fullness of her lips.

  “What are you looking at?” Lara asked.

  He moved his gaze from her lips to her eyes. “Nothing,” he said.

  “I saw you looking,” she said, dragging a finger across his throat, “at my lips.”

  The detective sucked in a breath. “And if I was?”

  Lara pulled the dagger up to his throat, her red lips grinning maliciously. “Then it would be the last thing you ever did.”

  AS LOWRI STARED INTO the photo of the man she’d ordered death upon, she realized she made a mistake.

  It was all she ever did—make mistakes, but this was huge. This could ruin everything.

  Lowri pulled out her phone and scrolled to find Ana’s contact. She shivered at the thought of facing Ana’s wrath. She would kill her, Lowri realized. She would truly kill her.

  Ana, Lowri texted with shaking fingers. I’m at the tower. I made a mistake.

  On my way. Ana’s reply was quick.

  Lowri impatiently paced back and forth, the wooden floor beneath her creaking with each step. It was quiet—so quiet that Lowri was able to hear the sound of tires against gravel come from outside. She looked out the window, noticing Ana’s car, and rushed to the stairs when she heard the door open, expecting to see Ana.

  Instead, she bumped chests with Lilah. Evelyn and Ana trudged behind her.

  “You brought them?” Lowri exclaimed once Ana reached the top. “I texted you only.”

  “Watch yourself, Lowri. They are also your leaders. If you tell me something, you’re telling all of us, whether you like it or not,” Ana snapped.

  “Yeah, we’re conjoined triplets,” Lilah joked, earning a laugh from Evelyn.

  “I hope this is important,” Evelyn crossed her arms. “I was having a FaceTime sesh with Will.”

  Lowri sucked in a breath. “It is,” she said. “Important, I mean.”

  “Well?” Ana raised a brow. “What is it?”

  “I got the wrong guy.”

  The three girls looked at each other in shock but also in confusion, hoping they had misheard her—misunderstood her.

  “Say that again,” Ana said warily.

  “I—I got the wrong guy. The detective. It’s not him. It’s not the one I saw.”

  “Oh God,” Lilah muttered, moving to lean against a wall. “This is just humiliating. I think we should start doing critical background checks before we start letting more people in here.”

  “Lowri,” Evelyn said. “How could you be so careless?”

  “I don’t know,” Lowri whispered. “I thought it was him. I was sure of it.”

  Ana closed her eyes slowly, which Lowri knew was a sign of anger. She did that a lot—show her emotions without really showing them; like through the simple move of a hand, the quirk of a lip. She’d never been open about her feelings—about the things that went on in her mind—emotionless to those who didn’t know her. But then, in this moment, Ana seemed uncharacteristically burdened, and Lowri couldn’t help but feel responsible.

  “Text her,” Ana said, her eyes still closed. “Right now.”

  “I don’t have her numb—”

  “Here,” Evelyn interrupted quickly, knowing Ana would burst if Lowri had completed her sentence.

  Lowri copied the number from Evelyn’s phone. With one last cautious look at the girls, she sent the text.

  “WHAT—” BUT THE DETECTIVE didn’t finish his sentence; Lara didn’t hear what he had to say, because he was dead in seconds—hands reaching to grasp his neck like he could somehow sew his throat together; could somehow stop the blood from pouring from his open neck.

  Lara pulled a glove off carefully then touched a finger to the blood covering the blade. It was thick, lustrous—like the finest of metals; like the richest of fabrics. It was an incredibly horrible oxymoron, she realized. The color of death. The fact that red was the color of blood but also the color of a prepossessing sunset. The color of rubies and roses and lipstick kisses.

  The color of dresses and coats and darkened parties.

  Of Kai.

  She kneeled down on the concrete, where the man lay dead, and pressed three fingers to the open wound on his neck. She rubbed the blood across both of her palms, feeling its stickiness, its intensity. It was overwhelming, the death that coated her.

  Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. It was an unknown number.

  I was wrong. That wasn’t him. I got the wrong guy. Please tell me you didn’t kill him yet.

  Lowri, Lara realized; it was Lowri. Her fingers bloodied the screen as they hovered over the keyboard. Instead, she opened the phone app and called Ana.

  “Lara?” Ana said through the speaker.

  Lara could feel the blood from the phone screen spread across her right cheek. “Is it true?” she whispered. “I killed the wrong guy?”

  “You killed him?” Ana said. “Is he—”

  “Is it true?” Lara began shaking, pacing the streets. She brought her left hand up to her face, rubbing it down her cheek. It was covered in blood, she remembered. She was now coated in blood. In an innocent man’s blood. “Tell me!” she yelled.

  “Yes,” said Ana. “It’s fine, Lara. This is a small mistake. We’ll—”

  “This is not fine!” she said, looking up at the cloudy sky. “I just killed an innocent guy. Someone who did nothing wrong. I’ve messed up again—”

  “This is Lowri’s fault, not yours—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I fucked up—like I always do. I ruined something. Something that... that...” Lara dropped to the ground, staring at the dead man lying a few inches beside her. Something that mattered to her. Something that meant something.

  She felt incredibly alone there, on the concrete. With the endless sky above her, filled with stars and planets and supernovas—all a part of something grand, something exquisite. All connected. She was nothing but a slight inconvenience resting on planet Earth; nothing but the bane of each existence she came across; nothing but the ruination of all things good.

  “I ruin everything,” she said finally, whispering into the open air.

  “Lara—”

  “Don’t worry about the body,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Lara—”

  “It’s probably best if I don’t see you guys again. I won’t tell anyone about you, I swear. But I can’t do this anymore—not when I’ve done more harm than good,” Lara said sadly.

  “We’ve all made mistakes, Lara. Calm down. Stop being temperamental—”

  “Goodbye, Ana,” she said. And then she ended the call, leaving her alone, resting beside a dead man, with the realization that she would never have friends, never have relationships—not when she was herself; not when everything she touched soon burned before her eyes, turned to ashes that scattered across her feet as tears fell from her cheeks.

  She swore to herself she wouldn’t forget it again.

  KAI KNEW WHERE LARA lived—much to his disgust—and his knowledge of her address was beginning to be increasingly fruitful. He’d decided, as Clarke and Farrow left his apartment, that he wasn’t going to sit back and let things unfold anymore. He was going to piece the puzzle together himself; he was going to find the revenge he craved when Farrow could not.

  And the only lead he had was Lara, so he followed it. He followed it to her front door, first knocking—to check if she was there—t
hen pulling out a debit card from his wallet. He wasn’t sure this trick would work, but still, he forced it between the crack of the door. Much to his surprise, it unlocked after a few seconds, allowing Kai to enter quietly, pulling his hood down from his head as he closed the door behind him.

  Her apartment was so unbearably her. It was empty, plain—like a room with no emotions, no attachments. This is what Lara’s home would be like, he thought. Full of nothingness.

  He walked along a hallway, opening and closing doors to find Lara’s room, needing to make sure the apartment was completely empty. When he reached the end of the hall, there was only one door left, and Kai gingerly turned the knob. Her bed was empty—her sheets ruffled and bare. A strange sensation settled deep inside his chest. He was looking at her bed, the place where she slept. The place where she said she’d dreamed of him. It felt entirely intimate, like her sheets had his name written all over them—not in ink, but in blood.

  Kai shut the door, venturing back into the living room.

  He wasn’t sure where to look first; wasn’t quite sure if he knew what he was looking for. He needed to be quick though, because he had no idea when she’d be home, and the possibility of her finding him, in her home, looking through her things, was a dreadful thought.

  There were a few things scattered on her floor—shoes, clothes—but she had no boxes that could be used to hide things. No photographs, no impulsively bought trinkets one might find in the dollar section of Target. Kai walked to the kitchen counter, sitting on the tall chair that rested just beneath it.

  And that was when he saw it: the note. It was near the stove, quivering in the bleakness of the kitchen. Kai stood and moved to pick it up, feeling the paper between his fingers. He turned it over slowly, so slowly that he could feel his fingers twitching with anticipation. He pushed down the folded corners, avoiding the script across the front. He read it carefully, then, allowing each word to drown him, to sink into his cavities and fill his beating heart.

  Refuge may be found within the bell tower, Wednesday at midnight.

  Bring no one.

  Miserere oblivione delebitur.

  He nearly fell to the ground then; he nearly dropped the paper to the floor in unceasing shock. The feeling that spread across his body was pain, he realized. Excruciating pain. The pain that came along with betrayal and death.

  Miserere oblivione delebitur. He knew what the words meant: mercy forgotten—the same words that were written alongside his parents’ death bed.

  The front door opened to the left of him, a shocking noise in the miserable silence that Kai had been standing in.

  Lara. She was there, in the same room as Kai, eyes red from tears. Her face was wet, he noticed, not only from the tears but also from blood. Thick red blood that coated her cheeks and palms. Kai’s mouth dropped open. What a harrowing coincidence, he thought. That she’s here to witness her own betrayal; that she’s entered at the same moment of my discovery.

  Lara looked down to the note in his hands—to the confession it silently bore. He could hear teardrops of blood drip down from her hands and onto the cold floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her without blood—without the scars and the bruises.

  Perhaps it would always be there. Perhaps they were both too broken to be healed.

  “You,” he whispered, chest heaving.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, though she didn’t sound alarmed—just despairing. She was still staring at the note.

  “What have you done?” he said, stepping back like she held a weapon, like he was protecting himself from her perpetual peril.

  “Kai—”

  His name against her tongue was an agonizing sound. He never wanted to hear it again—not from her lips. “You killed my parents.” He knew she didn’t—wasn’t truly there for their deaths—but she was a member of the cult that had killed them; she was a contributor to the countless murders that had happened since then.

  “What?” Lara asked. “What are you saying?” She took a step forward, but Kai took another step back, his shoulders bumping against her kitchen cabinets. Lara’s red lipstick was smeared, blending completely with the death spread across her pained face.

  Lara looked like she’d been slapped—Kai had never stepped away from her before. He’d told her—the night at the church—that he didn’t fear her, that he couldn’t fear her, but his face was painted with it for the very first time. Lara’s bottom lip began to shake, and Kai watched it.

  He held up the crumpled note, rage building up in his bubbling veins. “Want to explain this?”

  “That’s nothing,” Lara said quickly, her voice shaking. “I found it somewhere. On the street—”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he said. “Not now. Not when you’ve ruined the lives of so many. Of me. You’re already in too deep.”

  “I’m not, Kai. You sound delusional—”

  “Is that why you kissed me? So you could trap me inside the palms of your hands, aching and pleading, then cut open my throat like your little friends did to my parents? Is that it?”

  “Please,” Lara said, and for a moment he was back in the church, his hands against her waist as she begged him to slip down her pants. “Let me explain—”

  “Explain? What is there to explain?” he yelled. “You hate me, don’t you? So why would you explain? Why, when you should be happy, rejoicing in the fact that I’ve found your secret?”

  “Your parents,” Lara whispered. “I didn’t know that they were—”

  “Murdered?” Kai sneered. “By your cult? By Lithe?”

  Lara flinched at the word, tears forming atop her lashes. Kai realized, then, that it was true. She was a part of Lithe—she was a part of the past he’d been trying so desperately to uncover. She was a part of something that had destroyed him, a part of his worst moments and torturous losses.

  “Don’t bullshit me. You knew all along, didn’t you? When you saw me for the first time, back in the audition, you knew. When you danced with me, you knew. When we kissed, you knew.” He nearly spat on the ground with the hopes of removing her taste from his mouth. Her breaths. Her pants. His vision went dark.

  “No,” Lara said, choking on her tears. “Kai, listen to me.”

  Kai threw the note to the floor, shaking his head. “I’m done listening to you—to the filth you’ve been spewing since the moment I met you.”

  More blood dripped from her skin. Kai looked to her clothes, her pockets. He could make out the outline of a blade, the metal rusted and stained.

  “You just killed someone,” he stated. It wasn’t a question. He knew—even if she lied—that she had. He was standing before a cold-blooded murderer.

  He was standing before Lara.

  Her eyes went wide. She looked down to her clothes, to the blood that leaked onto the floor, as if she’d forgotten she was covered in the evidence of her deed.

  When she said nothing, Kai clutched his stomach. “I’m going to be sick—you make me sick!”

  “He wasn’t innoc—” She cut herself off, looking down at her shaky hands.

  Kai shook his head. “I hate you,” he said, clenching his fists. “I hated you before, but this is different. This is worse. I feel it crawling across my skin like a sick parasite—gnawing and pushing into my veins.” He pointed to his heart like that was where he felt it, the pain. “I will never unfeel this, Lara. Do you understand? There will be no more momentary slips. No more church kisses. If I could, I’d vow to never see you again. But we have the recital—so I’ll wait. I’ll wait until you’re leaving the auditorium, alone and inconsolable, to ruin you.” His chest was heaving.

  “You have no one anymore, Lara. You’ve never had a family, never had friends, but at least you had me to toy with—to manipulate. But now? Now, you don’t even have that. You’re completely and utterly alone. I hope it feels execrable. I hope the pain kills you.”

  He walked past her, shoulder bumping roughly into hers as he moved to
ward the door. “Congratulations, Lara,” he said, putting his hand on the knob. “You’ve won. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

  Lara fell to the floor, her battered knees scuffing against the wood. He didn’t wait for her chest to start heaving; didn’t wait for the tears to start falling. He simply slammed the door behind him, hurrying to leave her wretched presence and ran from the building, her sobs echoing against his mind. He relished the sweet sound—the sound of her complete destruction.

  Lara was drowning in annihilation, and Kai was burning alive.

  ACT II

  Our covert shall never rest against the ears of an unknown. When a sister betrays another sister, there will be no mercy.

  Follow their heart and blood, and once they are found, broken and lying, steal the life they stole from Lithe.

  —The Official Enchiridion of Lithe, published in 1929

  CHAPTER ONE

  “A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jeweled vision of a life started anew.” ––Aberjhani

  December 2019

  So this was betrayal.

  Kai had been given at least a month to sit in it, to taste its bitterness, and each day seemed to pass with more agony than the last. He hadn’t been sad, hadn’t been angry; he was simply left devoid of feeling, with a hollowed-out chest and dried-up tear ducts.

  People said that the betrayal of a friend hurt more than that of an enemy. That, if one was to feel a blade pierce their heart, they’d rather it be a foe than a companion; they’d feel less anguish if the cause of their death was a person of evil and malice.

  But Kai believed it to be the opposite. He thought, as he remembered the card he’d found in Lara’s apartment, that he couldn’t possibly feel worse than he had felt then. He believed he truly hated Lara, for each time he saw her face, his heart began to boil and turn to stone, but when the tears slipped down her cheeks as she begged Kai to allow her to explain, he knew his feelings before were minuscule—they were nothing compared to the sentiments he now held for her.