by Cerys du Lys
I haven’t done anything like that in a while, though. Still, people didn’t forget.
Now and again, the Dragons needed to send a message to keep other clubs from fucking around with us. It worked. Too well. I wanted us to start jacking territory from the Tigers.
Hit them while they’re weak.
Crash was vehemently opposed to the idea. He said he was looking out for the club’s best interest. We—I needed to stop provoking them.
My lip curled as I left the club, ignoring Crash’s worried face. I stepped out into the warm sunshine and saw Spike leaned against the post near the bikes, looking bored as fuck.
Let’s see what you’ve got.
“Spike, are you in the mood to hunt down Tigers?”
His lanky body pushed off the post as he lazily threw down his cigarette and dug it into the dust with his boot. “You know me too well.” He practically bounced to his bike and climbed on it, a ravenous look on his face.
Spike was just filled with so much life. It fascinated me. My moods were like a straight line. Everything was shallow and I struggled to feel the slightest blip.
Except for her. I thought for a moment about the blonde beauty tied up in the basement and salivated. Spike leaned over and thumped me on the back, grinning.
The motorcycles roared into life and it was almost like a live animal. Its energy flowed into me, shaking up my legs. We sped out of the club side by side, leaving a trail of dust. It was usually best to leave with more members, but things had been so quiet lately that I rarely bothered.
We sped into town, Spike blowing through red lights and jeering at me as his bike screamed past. Crazy bastard. I kicked the clutch and sped after him, weaving through cars. Spike’s curly, dark hair fluttered in the wind I looked to my side.
“You trying to get yourself killed?”
“Don’t be a killjoy! I just like the speed.” He gave me a wicked grin and gunned his bike.
I followed him through Victoria’s quiet, boring streets. Where the hell is mayhem when you’re looking for it?
Spike grimaced at the stop light and disappointment snapped inside me like a taut wire.
“Let’s go into Tiger territory.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
My boredom was making me reckless. We charged through another light and passed Ralph’s gas station on the north side of town, where our territory ended. Our red colors weren’t welcome here; white tigers were spray painted on brick buildings, or a simple swath of white paint. I let Spike roar ahead of me, allowing him to lead us into the seedier streets of northern Victoria.
Maybe it will take the edge off of cleaning shit all day.
Spike whooped with delight as he made a quick, right turn and he gunned his motor. I grinned as I swept the corner, cutting in front of a car, whose furious honks stifled as he recognized the colors on my bike.
Two little Tigers.
Two bikes roared up the streets with Spike in hot pursuit, screaming like a madman. I throttled my bike to catch up and picked up my shotgun, laying it across the handlebars. Spike rode beside me, aiming his own handgun at the Tigers. Aiming carefully, I waited until there was a stretch and then pulled the trigger.
The blast took him squarely in the back and he slumped over the side, red blossoming his white shirt like a flower. The bike careened to its side and the other Tiger’s bike smashed into it. A box of vials attached to the bike crashed into the ground and spilled over the road. The man screamed as he flew from his bike and tumbled on the asphalt. We halted our bikes and I held out my hand to keep Spike from shooting the man.
Spike grimaced as the man screamed and rolled over, revealing bright red strips where the road peeled away his flesh.
“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt,” he said in a lilting voice.
Maybe he was too much of a joker.
“Spike, watch him,” I barked.
He gave me a quick, serious nod and I picked up the box of vials, which were filled with a red-tinged liquid. Several shattered on the ground, their contents rapidly evaporating in the sun. I never saw anything like them before. I peered at them closely and saw bloody eyes printed on the glass.
The Tiger blanched as he saw me carry the box of vials. He sat up and glanced warily at the nozzle of the gun pointed in his face by Spike.
“What the hell is this?” I said coolly, staring into his anxious face.
“Medicine,” he said too quickly.
“Oh? For what?”
He froze like a scared deer and I gave Spike the slightest nod. The pistol Spike held whipped across the tiger’s face, shattering his nose. Blood sprayed from his face as he clutched what remained of his nose.
“You fucking bastards.” The sudden click of Spike’s gun made his eyes widen. “No—wait! It’s a new drug—Red. One vial sells for seven hundred bucks.”
Spike and I exchanged a look. “If it’s so popular, why haven’t I heard about it?”
He doubled over as dark blood streamed from his nose and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
“Let’s take this back to Crash.”
“All right, boss.” Spike inclined his head towards the Tiger. “What should we do about him?”
I handed the box to Spike and he holstered his gun to carry it. I looked down at the animal crouched on the baking cement. His eyes darted to his dead comrade, who lay facedown in a thickening pool of his own blood. I scanned the patch on his chest. He was just a member. I lifted my shotgun and rested it against his temple.
“Do you know who I am?”
He shook his head.
“Go back to your club and tell your President that Cain sent you.” Spike gave me a sharp look that I ignored. “Go!”
The Tiger scurried to his feet and scrambled back on his heavily scratched bike. He gave me a terrified look before he started the motorcycle and peeled off.
“Well,” Spike began in a dry voice. “It’s the middle of broad daylight and there’s a body lying in the street.”
I shrugged my indifference. “Just leave it. Half the cops in this city are in our pocket, anyway.” Across the street was a bar with a closed sign. “I’m thirsty.”
Spike laughed off his nerves and crossed the street with me. Using the butt of the shotgun, I shattered the window and broke off all the sharp edges before climbing inside.
Spike followed me through without a word. I’m starting to like this guy. He really goes with the flow.
Inside was a grimy dive bar with badly chipped glass mugs and floors that looked like they had years of stains. I walked behind the bar and grabbed two glasses, pouring whiskey for us both.
“That should get their attention.” Spike shook out a cigarette from his pack and promptly lit it. He took the glass I offered him. “Are you trying to start a war?”
I smiled behind my glass. “This whole city could be ours. We have the manpower and the resources. We should strike now while they’re weak.” But Crash doesn’t want that. I frowned.
“Well, I’m for anything that gets me out of housework.” He winked at me as he took a drag from his cigarette.
I pried open the cash register, but there was nothing but petty change. However, underneath was a 12-gauge shotgun, which I grabbed and tossed to Spike. He caught it deftly.
“Bit of a thief aren’t you?” he grinned, the cigarette rolling between his teeth.
“I’ve never really understood ownership.”
He nodded towards the box of vials. “What do you suppose this shit is? A stimulant?”
“Maybe you should try it—see what it’s like.”
“Nah, I don’t do drugs.”
I do. Not too much, because I couldn’t stand being addicted to anything.
Losing control was not something I ever wanted to happen to myself, but I savored the heightened emotions they gave me. I fingered a vial in one hand and debated whether I should test the drug on the girl I locked up in the basement.
“Let’s take this shit t
o Crash. If it’s really worth that much money, Dragons should stake their place in this business.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” He threw back his head and downed the glass of whiskey.
My limbs buzzing from the alcohol, I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and headed back outside, where there was a cluster of half-horrified, half-elated people surrounding the dead gangster. When they saw me duck under the broken window with the shotgun resting on my shoulder, they scattered like roaches.
* * *
Crash fingered the vials of Red as Spike leaned against the counter and eyed the club whore bending over the pool table. Technically, he was supposed to be outside.
The President looked unimpressed. “I’ve heard of this. It fetches for a pretty good price.”
“Then why aren’t we distributing? If we let the Tigers control this market—”
“I don’t care!” He ground his cigar into the ashtray and my nose stung at the smell.
He slid off the stool and stood very close to me, close enough so that I could count the scars on his lined face. I had to bury my smile. Didn’t he know that intimidation didn’t work on me? The nuns at Christ’s Cross tried beating me into submission. All it succeeded in doing was make me better at hiding my crimes. I knew that Crash could slice and dice me if he wanted, and that was why I respected him.
“I don’t want the club dealing in drugs. It gets us too much time in prison.”
Crash’s brown eyes met mine and I wondered if there was weakness in them that I couldn’t see. “I disagree. We need to control the market or our grip over Victoria will weaken.”
Another look crossed over his face, reminding me of the times adults would visit my orphanage and peer at me. It was like he pitied me. “Cain, you can’t control everything. You’ll learn that when you become President. I’m sending the club in a better direction, one that keeps us all safe.”
I didn’t really give a shit about safe. That’s not why I joined the club, and I’m pretty sure that’s not why Spike joined it either.
“This should be a club decision. We need to vote on it.”
Crash’s lip curled and I didn’t bat an eyelash. I wasn’t going to back down on this.
“Get Tank. He’s outside.” He brushed past me, his shoulder knocking into mine.
Another body sidled up next to me and nudged my ribs. “You’re on his shit list now, buddy.”
Spike. “Clean my fucking boots, prospect.” I gave him a smile to let him know that I was joking.
Tank was outside with some of the others working in the garage. I knew that he was hurting for money because his old lady passed away, leaving him with two kids to feed. He wouldn’t be hard to convince.
“Tank, come in. We need to vote on something.”
The old man with long, shaggy hair dusted off his hands and followed me back inside. The members trailed inside the office room, which held a long, wooden table surrounded by chairs. Crash sat at the head of the table, twisting the gavel in his fingers. I sat down on his left. The leather-padded doors slammed shut.
“We’re here today to vote on whether we should start dipping our hands in Red distribution. It’s a new drug—highly addictive and profitable. It also carries an eight-year prison sentence for possession. All of you know that I’ve been trying to sway the club in a more legitimate direction away from drugs and guns. It keeps us safe and it keeps us out of jail.”
Crash glowered at me as I leaned forward. “Spike and I found a couple Tigers with a box of this shit. I think it’ll benefit the club if we seize control of distribution now. If we don’t, we’re allowing the Tigers more room to expand.”
“Let’s vote. Nay.”
“Yea,” I said.
Tank rubbed his forehead. “Yea.”
“No.”
The last vote settled on Max, the treasurer. “Yes.”
Crash slammed his gavel on the table and stood up abruptly. He gave me a dark look as he swept from the table and I followed him outside.
“Come on, Crash. It won’t be as bad as you think it will be.”
I grabbed his arm and he whirled around, his face beet red. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Vincent.”
I let him go as fire raged inside my chest. “It’s Cain.” Why would he use the name the sisters of Christ’s Cross gave me?
There was something in his eyes that I recognized in my victims but seldom felt myself: fear. He’s a beast who lost his fangs.
JULIA
The moment that dead-eyed, pale bastard left me in the dark I laughed to myself. This is supposed to be torture?
Boredom rapidly settled in. I wasn’t tired so I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t hear a goddamn thing; I couldn’t even hear the sound of my breathing. So I coughed. Nothing. Hey! I said it out loud—or I thought I did. The headphones blocked out everything.
I couldn’t see, feel, or hear anything. Just blackness suffocating me, making me question my own existence.
I had no idea how long I was in there, chained to the bed. In my head, I counted but gave up somewhere around nine hundred. I struggled in my restraints, desperate to scratch an itch on my belly that drove me insane, and then I was screaming so hard that I felt the vibrations, felt my raw throat. Nothing. There was no stimulation.
Fuck. I hate this.
My body felt like it was suspended in space, floating in the abyss. Maybe this was what death was like. Or Hell. There was nothing but the nonstop chatter in my head, which grew more and more panicked. I dwelled on my past. Bryan got shot over and over, his head jerking to the side as his skull vomited dark blood. I was back on the kitchen tiles, staring at a widening dark pool. Then I snapped out of it and I was still restrained on the mattress, still trapped in my fucking head in the sea of black.
When is he coming back?
The wish alarmed me slightly, but my mind seized on it.
I hope he comes soon. He’ll come soon. It’s been too long. Just a bit longer. Any minute now.
How long had it really been?
The thoughts repeated over and over and I was sick of myself. I jerked against the restraints because it was something to do, because I felt the slightest friction when the cuffs dug into the foam. I imagined him coming back in.
The lights flared on and Cain crept back inside. I couldn’t remember what he looked like so his face looked like Bryan’s, but crueler. He had pale hair. His unnaturally white teeth grinned as he showed me a six-inch blade, which he dug between my ribs. I choked as if it really happened—maybe it did. I could feel liquid pouring from my abdomen, but it was cold.
PLEASE LET ME OUT! PLEASE!
I moved my lips and screamed, hearing absolutely nothing. I was dead. I was in Hell. This was my punishment for all of the terrible things I did in my life. Bringing Bryan into my fucked up life was no doubt the worst thing I ever did. My nose was blocked and wetness streaked down my cheeks.
I deserve this.
Something exploded above me and I shut my eyes as pain stabbed them. Was this real? Was there light behind my eyelids? Rough fingers grasped my cheek and ripped off the blindfold.
Joy soared inside me as I felt his hands on my face. I opened my eyes cautiously and a blinding whiteness stabbed them. The headphones lifted from my head and I sobbed with relief. I could hear my shaking, sore voice and the air moving through the ventilation, and a man breathing next to me.
“I’m sorry, Julia,” he said in a gravelly voice, “but it was necessary.”
“What happened? Where am I?”
I remembered vaguely a man called “Cain” imprisoning me in this chamber, but it was hard to separate that image from the confusing blur of everything that happened. Or didn’t happen.
He made a deep sound in his throat as he reached for my wrists and released them. I sat up as he uncuffed my feet. “You’re unraveling a lot faster than I imagined.”
Strangely weak, I leaned forward but he caught my shoulders in his hands and I felt somethin
g stir in my body as he pulled me into his chest. My eyes opened and watered at the bright steel that surrounded me.
“It’s overwhelming to have it all back, isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you wish to have them back on?”
I was overwhelmed. His arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers teased the edge of my shirt and grazed over my skin. Every small feeling was magnified a thousand times, as if all of my senses were on overdrive. I stood up to get away from him, but almost immediately missed his warmth. I kept my vision towards the ground—it was a lot less painful. Then I saw a glimmer in the drain and I remembered. My ring.
Whirling around, I saw the handsome, pale man sitting calmly on the mattress. His pale blonde hair was almost shoulder length. He was probably Swedish, but his accent was American.
Who cares what the fuck he is. He’s a monster.
I remembered everything he did to me and blood rushed to my face.
“You.”
“Me.”
I backed away and yanked on the doorknob, twisting it. I pounded on the door and screamed at the light upstairs. Maybe they would hear—maybe they would take pity on me.
“There’s no help for you out there.”
His horrible voice echoed around me, filling me with dread. “Why are you doing this to me?”
I turned around to look at the pale ghost standing in front of me. His black MC cut contrasted horribly with his skin, making him look even less human. A smile formed on his lips that had absolutely no warmth behind it. He reminded me of how I used to feel around Bryan.
“The sooner you accept that you’re mine, the more motivated I’ll be to save your life.”
He’s lying.
His gray eyes looked up and down my body with a lustful expression that I knew only too well. How many men had I reduced to putty in my hands after a few minutes of attention? Perhaps he wasn’t a monster.
He’s just a man and all men can be manipulated.
If I let him fuck me like I let Bryan, what was the difference?
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Just tell me.”
I could see the way my words affected him. His endless eyes remained blank but he kept approaching me as if he couldn’t help himself. “I want everything. Everything.” Like a moth to the flame, he stopped in front of me and seemed to inhale my scent. To him it was intoxicating.
