Devil's Playground

by Sara Clancy

  “What happened?” he asked. “Did it decide to go after Aleksandr instead?”

  “Maybe we loosened its grip,” Nadya said.

  Evelyn didn’t have the strength to look over to them as she answered. Her focus was on the man before them. The one with a wide grin and a familiar face.

  “No. It led us right to where it wanted us.”

  “What?” Nadya asked. “Why?”

  She motioned with her chin, “That’s Radmiar, right?”

  The twins glanced up. Instantly, they started to inch closer to Evelyn, making sure to be one pace behind. She couldn’t decide if this was the act of scared children or if they were just trying to use her as a human shield. In the end, it didn’t matter too much to her. Her body was running low on adrenaline. She didn’t know how much longer she could go before she crashed.

  Radmiar hadn’t moved. He leaned one shoulder against the window of the Louis Vuitton store, ankles crossed and a cruel smile on his lips. Calm and confident, his body language screamed that they were exactly where he had wanted them to be. Like he had planned it all. Perhaps if she hadn’t just been chased by a Fury, she would have found it intimidating. Now, it just came across as arrogant.

  With one sweeping hand, she pushed the kids onto her left side, angling herself between them and their brother. They went easily enough but were hesitant to move forward.

  “Just look straight ahead and keep walking,” Evelyn said.

  “You think he’s just going to let us walk by?” Nadya almost squeaked.

  “Yeah, it’s worth a shot.”

  She ushered them forward, keeping Radmiar carefully in the corner of her eyes. The vast part of her had assumed that he would just fall into step behind them. Stalk them from a distance. But Radmiar wasn’t Vlas. Far bolder, he stalked across the hallway to cut in front of Evelyn and waited for her to close the remaining distance between them. She wanted to hit the smirk right off of his face.

  “Hello,” Radmiar grinned. “You must be the infamous Evelyn. So nice to see you in the flesh.”

  There was something about the way he said ‘flesh’ that made it clear to Evelyn that he was longing to peel hers off her bones.

  “Look, Raddy,” she said with a smile. “Can we just not? Seriously, wait around a little longer and someone will be along to kill you.”

  Evelyn moved to step around him, only to be blocked. He snarled at her, barely able to hold onto his mask of civility.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yeah, I just don’t care.”

  Radmiar leaned closer, putting his face only an inch from hers, “I will gut you.”

  Evelyn couldn’t help it. Didn’t even try to. She laughed until her sides were sore and she was breathless. It clearly wasn’t the response he had planned on eliciting. His arms quaked. A telltale rattle that Evelyn knew well. He was barely suppressing the urge to hit her.

  “I’m sorry,” Evelyn gasped, unable to stop her hysterical laughter. Growing up, she had often wondered why people used the phrase ‘mentally unstable’. Now she knew. She could feel it. A rickety looseness around the edges of her mind. It made her laugh harder. “I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just done.”

  “You’re done?” he parroted.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Done. Look, I’ve had one hell of a night. I’m really too tired to pretend to be afraid of you.”

  “You won’t need to pretend,” he promised.

  “Honey, I just got chased around my childhood home by a demented version of my mother. And that’s after I almost got attacked by zombie sharks. You really think you can compete with that?”

  Radmiar’s eyes flicked down to his siblings before fixing them back onto Evelyn’s.

  “Are you insane?”

  “Not right now. But check back with me before dawn.”

  The fountain show had come to an end, and the dispersing crowd slowly seeped into the hallway. The increased audience made Radmiar take a controlled breath.

  “Do you take me for a joke?” he hissed through his teeth.

  “Well, you’re wearing a fedora. So ... yeah. Pretty much.”

  “You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

  “No, I do,” Evelyn snapped as rage rushed up inside her. It boiled her blood, scorched her bones. Destroyed every trace of thought and reason. Glaring, she stepped closer to Radmiar. Unprepared for the sudden movement, Radmiar wavered, barely willing to hold his ground. “You’re the kind of creep that sneaks into girls’ rooms while they’re sleeping. What’s wrong, Raddy? Can’t take the risk of a girl fighting back? Well, I’m awake. I’m staring right at you. And I will knock you on your sorry ass.”

  “I’ve killed women for less,” he snarled.

  “Well, go on!” she screamed as she flung her arms out wide. The motions drew a bit of attention. Just enough to put Radmiar on edge. “I’m right here! Take your best shot and I’ll take mine!”

  Of all the people that passed them, the majority had clearly had a bit to drink. They didn’t have the attention span left to care about the confrontation. Fury burned within Radmiar’s eyes. Instead of quelling her own rage, the sight fed it. In the back of her mind, somewhere buried under the haze of emotion and fatigue, a voice told her that this might end in her death. That she was poking a predator, a killer. She felt like she was on fire. Burning alive. With only one chance to satisfy the gnawing beast inside her. She hit him.

  Radmiar hadn’t seen the blow coming. His nose crunched under her knuckles. Blood gushed out to cover her skin as he staggered back. Shock held him still for a moment. Then he charged her with a wild, feral cry. They crashed together, each past the point of reason. There was no thought or effort in the strikes. No higher plan of attack and defense. Each one was fueled by the same unrelenting need to rip the other one apart. A few untamed strikes and Radmiar hunched forward, driving his shoulder into Evelyn’s stomach. She latched her arms around his middle, using every bit of strength she had to throw him off balance. They slammed against the window of Louis Vuitton before staggering across the massive foyer. People shrieked. A shrill sound that Evelyn knew was supposed to be words. Consumed with rage, she couldn’t understand a single one of them.

  A sharp knee to Radmiar’s gut and an elbow to his spine dislodged him. He clubbed her knee with his fist, his blow landing higher on her legs as she yanked him back up by his throat. Her nails were short, but her grip was tight enough to draw blood. The moment he was up, she jerked her hips and brought her fist up unto his nose again. They reeled back, through the doors of a Prada store and into a display. Bags and shoes fell around them, catching her feet and blurring her vision. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. They pulled her clean off her feet and away from Radmiar.

  People were yelling again. Somehow, amongst the chaos, she realized it was the store’s security guard who was holding her, and that there was a threat of calling the police. Neither of those things stopped Evelyn from stomping her foot into Radmiar’s face the second he was close enough. The first two strikes to his nose had done some damage. But now it was truly broken. The tip hooked to the side on a strange angle and blood rushed free, joining the trickle that bubbled from his split lip. Crimson droplets fell to stain expensive leather and thin carpet. With a sharp twist, Evelyn jerked free of the strong grip. She charged for Radmiar. In a split second, she realized that he had grabbed hold of one of the metal frames used for display. She had just enough time to register his face before he swung. The blunt end hit her temple and the world went black.

  Chapter 12

  The moment the twins had directed Evelyn down the first hallway, Aleksandr had decided to go backwards instead of pressing deeper into the Bellagio. He knew his kids. Knew how they thought and where they were headed. Back to the Polaris. To room 3622. The Bellagio hugged the lake. There was a second exit that would give them a straight shot to the bridge back home. Aleksandr had never let them come into contact with the man in room 3622, but they
knew his reputation. Most importantly, as Alison had reminded them, he was currently on the orange list. Since he was the only man that was supposed to be working room service tonight, there would be very little risk of someone disturbing them once they were inside the hotel room. Getting entrance would be easy enough. Even at this time of night. They had Evelyn. And that man would open his door for any female. He knew, without doubt, that the twins planned to muscle their way inside and wait there for him to come and find them. He wasn’t about to keep them waiting.

  Vlas clearly didn’t want to go back out into the night. To retrace their steps back to the lake. But without Vera to guide him, he seemed to lock onto the closest relative at hand. Aleksandr detested having Vlas so close. The situation only made bearable by the thought that at least it wasn’t Radmiar he had clung to.

  With the show over, the crowds had dispersed, allowing them to pick up a decent amount of speed. The lake was still, peaceful, and clear. A shallow little pool instead of the writhing hellscape it had been. Aleksandr pushed himself to go fast, still deciding to deal with Vlas once he had made it back to the Polaris. They took the stairs two at a time, pushed their way across the bridge, and slid down the bannisters on the other side, exploding back into the space-themed casino drenched with sweat and barely able to keep on their feet. Aleksandr staggered his way to the elevators, panting for air. Vlas followed.

  “What?” It was all Vlas could get out.

  “Furies,” Aleksandr said with the same amount of difficulty.

  “What?” It was more of a grunt than a real word.

  “Greek myths,” Aleksandr muttered before he stalked towards the elevator. It bothered him that his older brother followed.

  “So, what? They just show up and attack random people?”

  “Not random,” Aleksandr said. “Vengeance.”

  They slipped into the first available elevator. It was both a blessing and a curse that they were alone. Aleksandr clenched and released his fists, waiting for his brother to make the first move, sure that the blade of a knife would cut into his flesh soon enough.

  “Well that’s just not fair,” Vlas whined, catching his brother completely off guard.

  “What?”

  “Why come after me? What did I do?”

  The numbers set above the door clicked, seeming to go at a far slower pace than normal as Aleksandr gaped at his brother.

  “The murders, Vlas. I’d say they’re coming after you because of all the murder.”

  “So, what, they just take the dead guys word over mine? Where’s the due process in that? I have a right to a lawyer.”

  “I don’t think creatures of ancient legend care about modern legal systems.”

  “Hypocrites,” Vlas snorted.

  He knew he was going to regret asking, but he had nothing to do for a few more floors, “How?”

  “It’s all fine and good for them to kill someone for vengeance and not me?” Vlas snapped.

  “You hunt innocent people for fun.”

  “Hookers, junkies, and hobos,” Vlas corrected. “If anything, I do a public service.”

  “It was all for your own amusement,” Aleksandr muttered.

  “Which is another reason they should thank me. Vera and I gave their pathetic lives some purpose before we put them out of their misery.”

  “This conversation is over.”

  Vlas barked a laugh. “You don’t get to be all high and mighty when they’re coming after you too.”

  “I never wanted to kill anyone.”

  “But you enjoyed it,” Vlas smiled.

  Aleksandr turned and held his brother’s gaze, “Only once, Vlas. I only enjoyed it once.”

  It took a moment for Vlas to understand his meaning. Slowly, the color seeped from his face, washed away with his smile.

  “Mom or dad?”

  “Mom,” Aleksandr said.

  “How?”

  “Slit her throat.” The confession rushed from his mouth, the words themselves void of the chaos raging inside his skin.

  Aleksandr had built his identity on the single basic fact; he wasn’t a sadist. Unlike so many others of the Sokolovsky clan, he was born without that driving force. There was no joy in torture, no delight in death. Everything he knew about himself rested on that one single fact. And it had all threatened to crumble when he had stuck his knife into his mother’s throat. Because he had finally understood what his family had been saying for so long. Killing his mother had been one of the most euphoric experiences of his life. So what does that make me?

  “You wouldn’t have dared,” Vlas hissed, his jaw twitching and tears welling in his eyes.

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  Aleksandr could only smile and give the answer Olga had offered him so many times before, “Why not?”

  There wasn’t that much space in the elevator but Vlas used every inch to his advantage. He hurled himself into Aleksandr, driving him back into the unforgiving wall. The carriage trembled with the force and the doors opened with a sharp ping. Bracing his forearm across his brother’s neck, Aleksandr pushed Vlas back, just enough for him to get in a decent swing. The mangled knuckles of his fists struck Vlas on his temple and made him stagger to the side. He toppled out of the elevator and dropped onto the floor. It was only as he followed that Aleksandr noticed the change. They weren’t in a hallway. But a forest.

  The scents of pine and wet leaves filled Aleksandr’s nose as he looked around. All the trunks were uniform in size and shape. Set in even rows that seemed to go on forever. The dirt under his feet was loose but even, squishing slightly as he took each step. Above them, the canopy wasn’t made of pine needles, but balloons. Ribbons were attached to each, the colorful slips coiling down to bounce just above Aleksandr’s head. He reached up to touch one. Nothing’s there. I’m in a hallway. Nothing’s there. A spike of fear shot through him as his fingertip tapped against the ribbon. It was solid. Real. He leaped back, crouching low to keep as far away from them as he could.

  “What is this?” Vlas asked as he got to his feet.

  “The Furies feed off of your emotions. The more they scare you, the stronger they become.”

  “And you’re afraid of balloons?” Vlas laughed.

  “I’m afraid of what comes with them,” he corrected before it occurred to him. “How are you scared of the woods? You’re a hunter.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, they aren’t here for me.”

  Vlas didn’t have to explain after the first arrow sliced through the air and embedded itself in the tree by Aleksandr’s head. Laughter drifted from the thick cluster of trees. Light and breathy and completely deranged. The sound had been a near constant soundtrack to Aleksandr’s childhood. It was the blissful giggle of Vera and Vlas on a hunt.

  Both boys turned around, desperately searching for the elevator. For an exit. It was gone. Replaced by the perfectly spaced orchard. Aleksandr was careful not to lose his bearings and he broke into a run. He knew this hotel. Keep a clear head. Judge by feel. They can mess with your mind, but your muscles remember. He promised himself this on a constant loop. Still, his thoughts strayed, returning to the newest revelation as the arrows came ever closer to hitting their mark.

  “You jackass!” he roared at Vlas.

  His brother almost fell over as Aleksandr suddenly cut in front of him. Down this hallway to the ballroom. Back through there to the staff exit. He rattled off the directions even as he hurled obscenities at his brother.

  “What are you talking about?” Vlas snapped.

  Neither of them could see where the archer was, but their aim was getting better. The next one sliced through the sleeve of Aleksandr’s shirt. Close enough to draw blood. Far enough to know the Furies were just messing with him. He clenched his teeth against the pain and ran faster, struggling to keep track of the steps.

  “Your biggest fear is someone doing to you what you did to others,” Aleksandr said between panted breaths as Vlas
fell in pace beside them. “Do you have a functional soul?”

  “Is that what you’re supposed to do with fears?” Vlas shot back. “Confront them?”

  “Not inflict them!”

  “It was therapy!”

  Vlas hissed the words over his shoulder. As if he truly believed that he could convince the Furies. That all of this was negotiable. He just needed to say the right thing, present the proper argument, and they would come to see the world his way. If Aleksandr had the spare breath in his lungs, he would have laughed.

  Working by instinct, he jerked to the side, protected his head with his forearms as he cut across Vlas. The visual hallucination was seamless. It played across his other senses, trying to lure his brain into believing everything it was told. None of it was enough to stop the real world from existing. Aleksandr plowed into a tree and felt the double doors of the ballroom smash against his skin. With a resounding clash of metal, the doors flung open, leaving him to stumble through the tree and into the empty room.

  Being in Vegas, no one stayed in a single room for too long. Eventually, the allure of a new novelty drew people away, and this party was no different. Without the pounding music and constant chatter, the room had fallen into a crushing silence. Everything of expense had been stored away for the night, but the decorations had been left for tomorrow. The brothers’ hesitant footsteps echoed off of the walls and stirred the thick layer of confetti that covered the polished floor. The silver and gold balloons, having only been given a night’s worth of helium, had already begun to drift down. They hovered at different points, some merely an inch off the floor while others were still beyond reach.