Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin)

by Gena Showalter

Silence.

  “Who?” she demanded.

  Again silence.

  Annoyed by such an abrupt end to their conversation, she stomped from the vehicle. Behind her, the door shut and locked automatically.

  She was supposed to remain in her trailer again today, but she wanted to deal with her father rather than run, and she wanted to get it over with. Waiting would only make things worse.

  The sun was bright, glaring. In an hour, the circus would open. Right now performers bustled about, setting up shop while trying to pack up everything they wouldn’t need. The day would be hectic. And oh, was Solo in for a shock. When the circus left the outskirts of New Atlanta, he would meet a whole new crop of monsters—and he would grow to love the bars that contained him.

  Don’t think about that right now. She might lose her nerve.

  Vika raced out of the sectioned-off area where the performers lived and through the games and rides. First she bypassed the big wheel. Soon, each basket would twirl round and round and upside down as a performer swung from the bar stretched across each cart. None of the patrons would realize those performers were anchored to the bars with flesh-colored cuffs and weren’t in any danger of flying to their deaths.

  Next she passed the roller coaster that would shoot through man-made tunnels decorated to resemble different planets, each one filled with bright lights, mystical holograms, and spooky mist. Only, the mist wasn’t there for visual effect, as the humans always assumed. It was there for physical effect. In the particles was a small dose of adrenaline, making the ride seem more exciting than it actually was.

  After that, the bumper cars came into view. An electric shock would be delivered to every driver who was hit. For some reason, people loved watching their fellow humans jerk against the sting, loved hearing the ensuing curses and growls, loved being chased at high speed, where revenge was eventually taken.

  She turned a corner and entered the food court, the scent of fried bread and meats wafting through the air, followed by caramel and citrus. Once she cleared the canopy overhead and snaked around another corner, the games Jecis used to earn even more cash from the otherworlders who had already lost their appeal came into view. Pin the Tail on the Wedlg, Rakan Piñata, and the Delensean Rack-and-Sack were the current crowd favorites.

  Tears beaded at the backs of Vika’s eyes. Hardly anyone peeled back that layer of “fun” to peek at the seedy underbelly of the circus. The tricks, the lies, the cruelty. People came and they played and they laughed. They watched the performances in Big Red and marveled, captivated by feats no human—or otherworlder—should be able to do. And then they left, totally ignorant to the evil they had just supported.

  Finally the main tent came into view, a big, red monstrosity her father had patterned after the circuses of old, and Vika tripped over her own feet. Jecis was inside, preparing for the first show.

  Trust, X suddenly said. Set the otherworlders free. Walk away. Today. Now. This minute. Never look back.

  How she would have loved that. “If I do, they’ll only be captured again.”

  Trust.

  “You don’t understand.”

  Don’t I?

  Vika reached the entrance and swept inside. Bleachers filled every inch of space that wasn’t used by the center ring, and of course, the hidden space in back where the performers changed. In the ring were spotlights, poles, wires, nets, equipment, boulders, and smoke machines.

  As a little girl, she had dreamed of having an act of her own and making her father proud. Now, she was very glad he’d always denied her request, too afraid someone would see her, want her, and take her, even back then. To be stared at, judged, and critiqued by strangers? No, thank you.

  A hard hand latched onto her forearm and forced her to turn. Mini-bombs of fear exploded through her when her gaze landed on Matas, who was glaring down at her, a blazing fire in his eyes.

  “What are you doing here, Vika? You’re supposed to be in your trailer.”

  I will not cower. “Have you forgotten rule number one?” she forced herself to snap.

  A cruel grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “We’re going to be married at the end of the month, which means your rules are out and mine are in. And do you want to know the first one? You do what I say, when I say, or I hurt you in ways you cannot even imagine. And don’t forget you owe me for letting Kitten go unscathed.”

  There’s still time to leave, X said.

  I can handle this, she assured herself, even as her blood chilled in her veins. “My father will not be amused. He doesn’t want you to mistreat me.”

  “Actually, I think he’ll change his mind when he sees this.” Matas held out his free hand. A small, black device rested in the center of his palm. He used his thumb to press the button in the center, and a blue screen crystallized in the air.

  Colors flickered inside that screen, a picture soon forming.

  Vika, inside Solo’s cage. Vika, bathing him. Vika, kissing him.

  Leave, Vika. Leave now, X beseeched. Run to Solo.

  Oh, sweet mercy. She wanted to, she really did, but she had to contain this situation first. If her father ever saw this, Solo would be killed. “D-don’t show him, Matas. Please.”

  His fingers closed over the device, and the screen vanished. “I hid a camera in the zoo a while back. I’ve been watching you, and I know you’ve been giving the animals treats they were never meant to have. Treats your father paid for. I always let that slide, but this . . . no. I can’t.”

  Her knees shook, threatening to buckle. “I’ll run away,” she threatened. “If you tell him, I’ll leave. I’ll help the authorities find the circus and shut it down, and you’ll end up without a job.”

  Vika, please. Listen to me. Never try to bargain with evil.

  “You do not threaten me,” Matas growled—just before he backhanded her.

  Her head whipped to the side, her cheek stinging. The taste of blood coated her tongue. Another beating, and from a male who repulsed her? No. No! She wouldn’t let that happen.

  She grabbed her blade and struck, slamming the tip as deep into Matas’s side as possible. Maybe he roared, maybe he didn’t, but he did stumble away from her. And as he stood there panting and gaping at her, she looked down at the crimson-soaked blade. Horror washed through her, her blood no longer cold but frigid, little ice crystals making her feel heavy, achy.

  She’d just stabbed someone. She’d just hurt someone in the worst possible way. Maybe she’d even killed him. Yes, she’d done it to protect herself, but it was still something her father would have done.

  I can’t be like him. I just can’t.

  Oh, Vika, X said sadly. I’m sorry.

  “You’re going to pay for that.” Scowling, Matas thundered toward her, closing the distance before she could back away. He slammed his meaty fist into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground.

  Another impact, her brain rattling against her skull.

  He punched her a second time. And just like that, it was lights out for Vika.

  Sixteen

  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.

  —ISAIAH 43:2

  SOLO HEARD THE TWO men arguing before he saw them, his ears twitching as he listened. He’d expected X, who had popped in a few minutes ago to cryptically say, “Control yourself, for she has need of your aid, not your temper,” before vanishing. But no, this wasn’t X.

  “I’ll kill you, Matas.”

  He recognized the harshness of the voice, knew it belonged to Jecis.

  “I told you I was sorry.”

  “That doesn’t make it better!”

  “I showed you the video. You know what she did.”

  “And it’s a problem, but it’s my problem. You should have come to me. Should have let me handle it. Now—” A wild roar of rage Solo had heard only once before—from himself, the day he’d discovered his parents’ decomposed bodies. “You were to get her preg
nant, make her want to stay, give her something to do. The look in her eyes lately, just like before, when she—but you ruined everything!”

  Matas was to impregnate . . . Vika? Despite the fact that she disliked the brute?

  “I gave you a gift,” Jecis continued shakily, “my most treasured possession, and you broke it. I should exile you from my circus.”

  “She stabbed me, and I reacted,” Matas said, his own voice shaky. “It will never happen again. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “Not accepted! You nearly killed her with those blows.”

  “Let me take care of her. I’ll make her better with my magic.”

  Her. She. They had better not be discussing Vika.

  “You’re not touching her again. If any other man had put me in this situation . . . if any other man had hurt my baby like this . . .”

  His baby. They were discussing Vika. Solo didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He was on his feet and squeezing the bars a second later, dread barraging him, right along with fury and desperation . . . so much desperation . . . But he couldn’t act on a single emotion, not with the cuffs shooting debilitating drugs into his system.

  What had been done to her? How badly had she suffered? Would she survive?

  Questions, questions, so many questions formed, but one fact crystallized: He would repay the one responsible. Not because he’d decided to use Vika to escape. Not because he’d realized she was his only hope. But because. Just because.

  He was quite certain vengeance would finally feel good.

  “Remain calm. Remember what I told you. She needs tenderness right now,” X said, popping in and looking slightly weaker than before, his skin not quite as bright.

  “Help her,” he demanded.

  “I tried, but I cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. No one can.”

  Finally Jecis and Matas stomped around a corner, entering his line of sight. Both men were scowling. Jecis cradled Vika in his arms. Vika, who looked like a broken doll.

  Solo’s knees almost gave out. Pale hair cascaded around her in tangled hunks. One arm hung limply. The other was smashed against Jecis’s chest. Her face was smashed against his chest, as well, hiding any damage there.

  The fury at last detonated, and he uttered a roar that rivaled Jecis’s. Both men tripped over their own feet.

  “Calm.” X said. “You must stay calm.”

  The males were coming closer and closer to Solo’s cage, so close their evil brushed against his skin. His heart hammered as though trying to drill a nail into one of his ribs. He’d never been one to enjoy his job, to take delight in snuffing out life, but he would have enjoyed and delighted this time.

  “Calm.”

  It should have been easy for him. In his line of work, he’d seen the effects of domestic abuse a thousand times before, and had thought himself too hardened to ever care. He’d always told himself the people who stayed in that type of situation deserved what they got. Now, having seen the bruises on Vika, learning she was deaf, knowing she had been raised in such an insular world, suspecting she had no idea there was something better out there . . .

  But even if she had known, she would not have left the circus. He remembered what she’d said. You would also sentence the other captives to death.

  She wanted them freed. She wanted them safe. Even at a terrible cost to herself.

  Suddenly a puzzle piece slid into place, and a clear picture of her character began to form. She cared for her charges with all of her heart. Not just to assuage a guilty conscience, but because she placed others before herself. She stayed here, accepting her father’s abuse, Matas’s abuse, even the otherworlders’ abuse, to save those under her supervision. And yes, there were probably other reasons, maybe even a thousand more, but the otherworlders were a big one, he was sure.

  Even more miraculous, she understood why the otherworlders acted as they did and didn’t hold a grudge. How could she, and still be willing to break the rules to distribute cookies and chocolates?

  What kind of person could do that?

  An answer immediately formed. The kind his mother would have loved.

  A pang erupted in the center of his chest, deep and burning, probably leaving a scar. One he welcomed.

  “What did you do to her?” he shouted with an emotion he’d never before used. An emotion he couldn’t even name. It was too hot for mere fury and too cold for something as controlled as calculation, springing from a place deep inside him, where instinct proved to be the dominant force.

  Jecis stopped a few feet away, huffing and puffing with his own rage. “You. What have you done to my daughter, beast? How have you bewitched her?”

  “Give her to me,” Solo demanded.

  “Don’t you dare.” Matas, who was clutching his bleeding side, opened his mouth to say something. Shadows rose from him, high and higher, reaching toward Jecis . . . but the misty skull hiding under Jecis’s skin turned—without Jecis moving an inch—and snapped its teeth. The shadows retreated and Matas closed his mouth.

  “She deserves better than the likes of you two,” Solo snarled.

  Matas leapt forward, grabbed the bars, and shook the cage. “Keep talking, I dare you. I’ll do even worse to you, you—”

  Moving faster than either man could track, Solo closed the distance, wrapped his fingers around both of the man’s wrists and squeezed. In seconds, the bones were crushed.

  Matas howled, sending black birds scattering from their perches on top of the motor home. “Stop!”

  “When I’m done,” Solo growled, and he definitely wasn’t done. He twisted one of Matas’s arms, forcing the man to spin around or lose the limb, and slammed the lower part against the bars, breaking those bones as well.

  This time, Matas screamed.

  Solo still wasn’t done. He jerked and slammed the upper part of the arm against the bars, breaking the bones there, too. Matas released another scream, this one high-pitched.

  The entire tussle lasted less than three seconds.

  Solo could have reached out and raked his claws across the man’s jugular. He definitely would have, if he hadn’t feared Vika would be penalized for his actions.

  Tears leaked down Matas’s cheeks, and his knees buckled. But the man didn’t fall—he couldn’t. Solo kept hold of his arm, applying pressure to each of the new wounds.

  “P-please,” Matas begged.

  Had he made Vika beg before he’d hit her?

  Solo lifted the male’s arm a few inches higher.

  As if she sensed the tension, a moan rose from her. It was the first noise she’d made, and one that proved she lived, that she was still in pain.

  “Give the girl to me,” Solo repeated. “I would never hurt her.”

  “Please . . . please,” Matas said.

  Teeth bared with masculine aggression, Jecis said, “Oh, I’ll give her to you all right. She thinks she wants you, and a little alone time with you should change her mind, teach her better, and make her appreciate what she has.”

  Without hesitation, Solo placed both hands in the air, palms out. Matas collapsed into a groaning heap, cradling his arms to his chest and attempting to slither away.

  “Vika,” Solo said. “Give her to me. Now.”

  “No,” Matas managed to shout past his sobs. “She’s mine! You said—”

  “Silence!” Jecis boomed. “I have made my decision, and it will stand. Twice she has chosen the animal over you, and so I will give her what she thinks she wants. And you,” he said to Solo. “I’m placing my very heart in your hands. You will guard it.”

  Vika was not the male’s heart. A man guarded the treasures of his heart, fawned over them, placed their welfare above his own. Jecis had done none of those things.

  “He’s a beast,” Matas cried. “He’ll maul her. Look at what he did to me!”

  Ignoring him, Jecis said to Solo, “If she dies, you die. If you injure her in any way, I will injure you a thousand times worse. You are only to
scare her. To make her hate you.”

  He was done talking. He wanted the girl. “Give! Now!”

  “Open the cage, Matas,” Jecis demanded. “You’ve still got one working arm, yes? After that, change the lock. I don’t want Vika able to set herself free during the solar flare.”

  Murmuring, still crying, Matas lumbered to his feet.

  Every muscle Solo possessed tensed, his body readying to jolt into action the moment the lock disengaged. He would grab Vika, and he would run. He would get her to safety, and he would return. He would save the otherworlders, just as she wanted, and he would destroy her family, just as she didn’t. Or hadn’t. Maybe she’d changed her mind.

  Only, the now glaring man pushed the button that caused the cuffs to pump him with sedatives, and strength abandoned him in an instant. His arms and legs became too heavy to move, and black dots winked through his eyes.

  “Touch her,” Matas snarled, even as he whimpered in pain, “and I’ll slice you into pieces.”

  “Enough,” Jecis said, closing the distance and peering into Solo’s eyes. “When the solar flare hits, you’ll discover there are monsters worse than you out there. They’ll come for you, and they’ll try to eat you. Keep Vika in the center of the cage, and they won’t be able to reach her. You, on the other hand . . . you’re so big, I bet they’ll be able to get you no matter where you’re lying. You’ll have to fight them.” He grinned, but there was no amusement to the expression. “That should be just the thing to scare her and keep her from ever wanting anything to do with you.”

  Solo cared nothing for the warning. He collapsed, saying, “Will . . . kill . . . you both . . .”

  • • •

  Eyelids splitting apart, Solo sat up with a jolt. Residual sparks of fury blazed in his chest, each one serving as a reminder. Vika. Beaten. Carried into the cage. His to save. He twisted—and found her lying on her back on the opposite side, still, too still.

  Despite the aches and pains in his body—new aches and pains that proved he had not imagined Jecis setting Vika down and giving Solo a beating of his own—he scrambled over to her.

  There were two cuts in her bottom lip. One was from before, and it had opened up, and the other was new. But that was it, the only damage that he could see. For her to sleep this deeply, to have moaned so thickly, there had to be more. He gently ran his fingers over her scalp, and felt two egg-size bumps. Between one heartbeat and the next, he’d partially morphed.