The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4)

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  “No, dear, but there is a class if that’s what you’re—” Adorra quickly changes tactics when she realizes that Cassie is talking about the line of people, not any type of BDSM. “These people are waiting to use the phone,” Adorra says. “And I’m sorry, Paige, but I won’t be able to move you to the front of the line. Where comes one...”

  “So come we all,” I finish for her. The endless repeating of their motto feels a bit like brainwashing, but beyond that one thing, everything seems to be on the up-and-up. Everyone is allowed to call home, and there are smiles on the faces of everyone we see. Many have waved and enthusiastically welcomed Cassie and I as we moved through the tour.

  “This is the heart of the commune,” Adorra tells us as we enter the mansion. “We post all the day’s activities on the board.” I peruse the white board. Todays “activities” include a tantric sex workshop, a wet ’n wild water orgy, and a BDSM demonstration. The last one comes with a trigger warning and kindly urges all members to be sure they are “ready for the heavy” before choosing to attend.

  “And you’re in luck! We’re having a naked luau tomorrow night. Come get leid!”

  “I’ll pass,” Cassie says, her face going pale. Weird, but I don’t have time to wonder as Adorra pulls us along.

  “The kitchen is downstairs and the dining room is for meals,” Adorra continues and I pull my eyes away from the schedule. “We have to eat in waves, of course, as our little family has grown so much. We just ask that you respect the exalted leader’s privacy and stay out of the upstairs area whenever you are in the house.”

  “The leader?” I ask.

  “Yes, Kama is the founder and benefactor of Together We Come. This house belongs to her. You’ll meet her a little later.” She ushers us to the foyer where there is an old landline phone on an antique side table. A naked man is on the phone, quietly and calmly assuring the person on the other end that he is there of his own free will and he is not, in fact, brainwashed. His penis definitely reacts of its own free will when he spots Cassie and me, his eyes lighting up as well.

  One-nighters with randos hasn’t ever appealed to me. I have to actually like someone in order to be attracted to them, so I try to edge my way around his erect penis as we pass him. Attracted to him or not, the guy is blessed and I can’t quite dodge the entire dong. I brush against it and the spell Adorra cast over me must communicate my disinterest to him. He immediately nods and backs away, penis wilting.

  Damn. I guess that spell was for real. A girl could get used to this.

  Adorra gives us a quick peek into the dining room, and through the window I see quite a few people at the back of the phone line, which means that it wraps around almost the entire building. I guess it’s good I’ve got my communication toothbrush, because there’s no way I’m spending half a day waiting to make a call. One woman and two men decide to pass the time by having sex, right there in line. I’m not in the mood to watch a live-action spit roast, so I try to avert my gaze. Cassie, on the other hand, stares at them with wide-eyed wonder. “So that’s what you do with more than one boy?” she asks, amazed.

  “Yes, dear,” Adorra says flippantly. “It’s a great way to explore your own body and desires.”

  Another giant dry erase board covers most of one wall in the dining room. One quick glance and I immediately know what it is—a chore chart. And my name—along with Cassie—are already neatly written onto two squares below DINING ROOM CLEAN-UP CREW.

  So much for my relaxing spa weekend.

  Although, honestly, a little cleaning will be good for clearing my mind. The thing I’m really miffed about is that I only brought my broom. I hate cleaning with other people’s supplies.

  “This is the chore chart; everyone here contributes, though we only ask a few hours of your time a day. The rest of the time you are free to do as you will, explore any of our activities, or masturbate quietly in your yurt. It’s totally up to you!”

  “Masturbating alone doesn’t really seem to be in the Together We Come spirit,” I observe. “Or your ‘where comes one, so come we all’ motto.”

  Adorra gives me an assessing gaze that makes me think maybe I should stop with the questioning. I’m probably coming across as a little too much of a hard sell. But all she says is, “Together We Come does not require us all to synchronize our watches and cry out in ecstasy at the same moment. At its heart, this movement is about love. And that includes self-love.”

  “Well, that’s lovely,” I say. And it’s true. I am once again impressed despite myself. It helps that Adorra answers every question calmly and with total authority. It’s definitely not the hippy dippy whoo whoo sales pitch I was expecting.

  Adorra nods in agreement. “It is, and I think you’re starting to see that a lot of thought went into how we could make our dream of the perfect loving community truly work for everyone. That’s why whether we’re talking about sex or chores, no one will make you do anything you don’t want to do. You can even switch your work assignment if you don’t want to be on the cleaning crew. The most popular is kitchen duty, preparing meals and such. But that’s all filled up with our long-term members.”

  “I want to change my assignment,” Cassie says, hesitantly. She points to an empty square under TOILET CREW. “Maybe here?”

  I stare at Cassie, wondering if I should explain to her that scrubbing pots is a whole different world from scrubbing out the crapper. Especially a public one. Adorra tilts her head. “We haven’t toured the bathroom facilities, but I have to warn you, it’s an ongoing issue. Lots of people, not great sewage… We don’t usually place the new acolytes there.”

  “Cassie, why on earth…?” But then I see the name in the square below the empty space she’s pointing to: MAC.

  Ahh. Okay then. Clearly, Cassie has decided to go after what she wants.

  Adorra hesitates a moment, but then smiles. “If that’s what you’d like, I’ll find someone else to fill your spot for dinner clean-up.” She glances at her watch. “Mac’s in charge of that crew, if you want to find him and—”

  “Yes!” Cassie grins and turns to me with a fist in the air. “High fist bump!”

  I don’t bother explaining to her that’s not a thing. I just lift up my own fist and tap it against hers. “Go get him.”

  As Cassie races out the door, I turn back to the chore board again, thinking I might be able to find my client’s sister more easily than I thought. If I know her chore duty, catching her at work and checking on her well-being should be easy as pie, but the name Vicky isn’t written in any of the squares. “Does everyone do chores?” I ask Adorra, fishing for information.

  “Oh, good question,” she says with a tight smile that tells me it was also one she’d hoped to avoid. “Well, as you know, you and Cassie are trial members here. As such, we want to give you the whole experience—warts and all. Uh, not that you’ll get warts of any kind. Everyone here is STD-free, as we discussed earlier—”

  I cut her off, realizing she’s trying to change the subject from chores. “Great, I’d rather not take the clap home as a souvenir. And I appreciate getting to experience a true day in the life here at Together We Come...which I assume means chores for everyone?”

  “Yes, everyone,” Adorra nods. She gestures to Mac’s name on the board. “Even our founding members are happy to chip in to make our community a beautiful place to live and play. Where comes one—”

  “Is that like a vocal tic you can’t control or what?” I ask, unable to hear the motto one more time.

  Adorra’s eyes narrow. “Why are you here, Paige?” she asks.

  Shit. I’ve pushed it too far with the talking back and made myself suspicious. Time for some damage control. Starting with an apology. “I’m sorry, I…” Pausing, I grasp for an excuse. Deciding that my best lie might come from my worst truth, I say, “I recently lost someone I cared about a lot. Maybe even loved, and it’s left some scars. I’m having a hard time letting new people in right now. That’s why I came
here, to get away and to maybe find a new way of living.”

  “I see.” The hard look fades from Adorra’s eyes, but she doesn’t quite give me that same warm welcoming smile from before. “Most acolytes come here as believers, not as someone still needing to be convinced that our way of life works.”

  “Does that mean you’re kicking me out?” I cringe at the idea of crawling back to Nico and telling him I only lasted a few hours before being made as a spy.

  “No, of course not.” Adorra’s hand gives my arm a quick squeeze. “We’ll just have to work harder to convince you that this is a place where you do more than come—you also stay forever.”

  Oookay. So that’s a little creepy.

  For the first time, a prickle of suspicion runs down my spine. We might all be equal here, but we’re not all accounted for. Which is weird because the more time I spend with Adorra the more this place is starting to feel like Hotel California—where you can check out at any time but never leave.

  Although that doesn’t explain Vicky’s absence from the chore chart. ”Is there a reason why someone wouldn’t be listed on the chore chart?” I ask.

  Adorra gives me a long, hard look. I must have touched a nerve. “Some acolytes have special chores, so they don’t need to be listed on the chart. They know who they are and what they must do.”

  Riiight. There’s something about that faux sweet look on her face that reminds me of someone...but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  Before I can figure it out, Adorra sinks to her knees and presses her forehead to the floor. She does it with such grace that for a moment I just stare down at her, but then someone clears their throat from behind me.

  I turn around to find an older woman with frizzy gray hair that springs out from her head in all directions and also has some...I squint, looking closer, but yes, there are actual twigs and leaves in her hair. Not in an artistic, hipster wedding way, either. Maybe she rolled on the ground and they got caught in her hairdo or else there’s a small tree growing out of her head. Both seem equally possible. Judging by those goo-goo eyes, there could definitely be some roots gouging into her gray matter.

  “Helloooooooo,” she says, her smile bright but eyes not quite focusing on me. “I’m Kama Sutra. Welcome to the family. You have good birthing hips. We should get you in with the larger monsters.”

  I blink. “I’m just here on the trial…” I try to explain. So I will not be getting knocked up with a minotaur baby, or whatever. “Kama...Sutra…?”

  “That is the name that our leader feels most comfortable with,” Adorra explains, getting up from her full-body bow.

  “This is my house,” Kama gestures. “My land...well, it was. I’ve offered it up to Together We Come. It makes me so happy to see all these people here!”

  “I don’t know what we would do without our leader,” Adorra says, but I can’t tell if the affection in her voice is genuine. Okay, so coco bananas lady is loaded and gave up her house and land to a cult, probably out of pure loneliness. Surrounded by all this acreage of woods and rattling around in a Victorian mansion does not sound all that great. A new shiver runs down my spine, the one not related to the cult at all. Growing old and wandering alone around an ancient house might be exactly what my own future holds.

  Kama smiles broadly, then tilts her head, as if listening for something. “Yes, I hear you...” She looks around her as if confused and then at last focuses on the door. “Oh dear, Adorra, would you mind…” Vaguely she gestures, but Adorra seems to understand and hurries over to pull open both double doors and lock them in place. Once the entrance to the dining hall is wide open, Adorra falls to her knees once more. Kama does as well and then, reaching over, tugs at the hem of my skirt.

  “Dear, Hairy Underwood is entering the room now,” she says as if this should mean something to me. I get that I’m supposed to get down on the floor with them, which I’m not really into, but even the naked guy on the phone is on all fours in the hallway, so...

  The floor is sticky beneath my knees, leaving me unimpressed with whoever had dining hall cleanup last time. There will be satisfaction in giving it a good scrubbing tonight after dinner.

  “He is here,” Kama breathes.

  A litter carried by four shirtless and well-muscled men enters the room, knocking all thoughts of cleaning out of my head. They’re wearing cut-off jeans showing off legs that I would gladly do some squirming against later. Just as I’m wondering exactly who has the honor of being carried around on the cushioned platform held aloft by these bronzed pecs and oiled shoulders, they carefully lower the palanquin to the floor.

  I strain my neck to look while still prostrate. A mangy old Dalmanther stares back at me glassy eyed. There’s something unnerving about his steady gaze and the way he sits so still; I could swear he was dead.

  It takes me a second to realize that is exactly what he is.

  Dead and stuffed.

  15

  I choke back a hysterical bubble of laughter as I realize that we are all on the ground bowing to a taxidermied Dalmanther. I try to quiet my giggles by placing my forehead on my hands, my nose almost to the floor. Hopefully I look like I’m being reverent.

  My knees are starting to hurt so I peek up and find that everyone else has gotten back to their feet and I’m the only one still kneeling.

  “Sorry,” I say, clambering back to my feet. “I just got, uh, lost in the moment.”

  “Of course, dear,” Kama trills. She looks in my general direction, her eyes unfocused. “It happens to me all the time.” Yep, I definitely believe that. “But you have pleased Hairy with your piety. He says you may address and approach him.”

  Adorra gives a sharp exhalation of surprise and leans over to me, “A rare honor,” she softly informs me.

  Great. First day in the sex cult and the only thing I get to touch is a taxidermied dog. I should put that on a t-shirt.

  I approach Hairy the same way I would any unknown Dalmanther—carefully. Although in this case I’m not concerned about him attacking me, but rather buying time. How am I supposed to address a long-deceased Dalmanther?! All eyes are on me so I try to not mess it up.

  Once in front of him, I can see the fur on the top of Hairy’s poor head has been nearly rubbed away. He also has a rather strong musty odor. Despite all the pomp it feels like a sad afterlife for such a strong and powerful animal. I hate to think of the day when Shit will no longer be with me, but when it happens I’d never do this to him. A better way to honor him would be a Viking funeral, letting him go out the same way he lived—in a blaze of destructive glory. Maybe I’ll let him take my Thunderstick with him into the afterlife as a chew toy.

  Crouching on my haunches, I stare into Hairy’s blank eyes. Pretending he’s any other wild animal, I hold out my hand. “Can you smell my pet, Shit? I bet you can.” Slowly I reach out and stroke one of his ears, instead of the silk of Shit’s fur, poor Hairy’s is brittle with age. “Good boy,” I croon to him softly, my heart breaking a little bit for the poor guy. “You’re a good boy, Hairy.”

  That’s about all I can take of that, so I stand and return to my place beside Adorra. She eyes me in a way that I can’t tell means she approves or if I just messed up royally. But that question is quickly answered when Kama throws her arms around me and then licks my face, starting at my jaw and then all my way up to my eyeballs.

  “That’s from Hairy,” she informs me breathlessly. “He likes you. And this…” Kama reaches into her pocket and pulls out a candy bar that she presses into my hand. “This is for you. Find some friends tonight and have a good time.”

  I look down at the bar in my hand. It’s the size and shape of Hershey bar, but instead of the mass produced shiny brown wrapper, it looks more bespoke. I turn the bar around; it says Darkest Desires Chocolate: Made with Humans!

  “Thank you...is this made out of humans?” I ask, hoping that this place isn’t secretly cannibalistic.

  “Well, there are some secret ingredien
ts,” Kama says. Lowering her voice to a rather shouty sort of whisper, she adds, “Shhh, don’t tell.”

  “I...won’t,” I promise, looking down at the bar and wondering if cannibalism might be Together We Come’s dirty little secret. Could this be where Vicky disappeared to?

  “It’s just a chocolate bar,” Adorra says, her voice tight.

  “Oh yes, that too,” Kama easily agrees. “It’s lovely. Really gets the jingles jangling!” Kama adds, performing a bizarre little jig.

  Adorra is suddenly at my side and snatches the candy from my hand. “Kama Sutra,” she hisses. “That’s a lovely gesture but Paige is not a full member.”

  “Is that right?” Kama replies. She blinks at me and then Adorra, clearly confused. “We haven’t fucked?” she asks.

  “No, we haven’t. I’m not into…” I try to think of a polite way to tell her she looks homeless but can’t. So I pivot, “And why is that chocolate bar important—?”

  “It isn’t,” Adorra cuts me off. “Chocolate is an aphrodisiac. The label is a misprint.”

  I try to get more out of Kama, but she is occupied with her stuffed Dalmanther, tilting her head like she’s listening to him. Finally, she nods. “Thank you, Hairy. I’d forgotten about the plan. My goodness…” She reaches up and scratches at her head, dislodging a branch so that it hangs down her back. “Perhaps you’re right and we should have a little siesta before dinner. You always know the right thing to do, Hairy, my darling.”

  With that Kama drifts toward the door and the shirtless men silently lift Harry’s litter and follow after her. I can’t help but stare at their retreating bums. I tug at my skirt. Also, if those boys can wear short shorts I’m going to change into my preferred dress uniform, daisy dukes and a halter top.

  As Kama drifts through the phone line crowd on her way to the stairs, she calls out, “Who wants to join me and Hairy for an afternoon siesta?” Several people who’d been waiting on the phone leave their place in line to follow Kama up to her room. I wonder if any of them realize siesta is Spanish for nap, not afternoon sex orgy.