Manik

by Amo Jones

  She agrees. “There is. Obviously, it is the six demons, not the five. ‘Lucifer’ isn’t here right now.” She pauses, her eyes dropping to my mouth and then back to my eyes. “You’ll see him in the show tonight.”

  Wait.

  “I can’t perform tonight? I’m not ready—?”

  She raises her eyebrows, and I get the feeling that my meltdown is entertainment to her. Gosh. I really don’t know how to read this woman. One minute she’s nice to me, the next she’s not, the next I feel like she’s manipulating me.

  The six demons consist of them all, alongside the group of girls who join them in their sets, the Seven Angels of God. They’re the tricksters and the masterminds—or, you could say, magicians. Their expertise is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. None of Midnight Mayhem is.

  “You’re ready. Now, train the rest of the day, have an ice bath, and then get groomed.”

  “Wait!” I call out again, turning toward her retreating back. “But, I don’t have a dance?”

  She grins. “Oh, you’ll be freestyling.”

  Shit on a stick.

  “Picture me rollin’”—2Pac, Kurupt

  Craning my neck, I order the driver to pull into an empty spot. “You need any help, boss?”

  I shake my head. “No. I won’t need any help.” Looking down at the time, I see it’s 11:52 p.m.

  I need to be careful with how I execute this. If it wasn’t for pretty little Promise, I wouldn’t have gotten the tip off to her being here. The shit bitches will do to leap onto a dick.

  What the fuck is she doing here anyway. Her attempt to run from me was even worse than I expected. I crave the hunt, but I live for the capture.

  I get out of the limo, leaning in one last time. “Go around to the back entrance. I’ll meet you there when I get there.”

  He nods, and I shut the door. Dropping the hoodie over my head, I make my way to the entrance, my head down to avoid any and everyone. When reaching the guards at the front, I hand them my ticket without locking eyes with them. I know for damn sure that they’d alert Beatrice about my being here. She has a way of making men lose their minds and women die with envy. I shuffle through the crowd of people, silently dropping down to the front seat and waiting for everyone else to enter.

  As soon as the lights dim, I lick my lips. This bitch is in trouble.

  The familiar sets go through, interchanging like always. From the illusionists with the six demons, right to Promise and Micaela’s sets.

  Then the lights dim further and Delila comes out, holding a mic. She smirks so deep that the spotlight radiates on her face. “We have a new girl tonight ladies and gentlemen, and she’s about as surprised as you are because none of her movements are choreographed. She has no idea what we have in store for her. Sit back, relax, and let the Beat take you over…”

  The lights cut out instantly, and the crowd goes silent. Sinking deeper into my chair, I kick my legs out, my knees jiggling with—I don’t fucking know why. Nerves? Hell no. Anticipation? Maybe.

  A slow instrumental song introduces her, and her silhouette lines out the spotlight of a black drop sheet. Ariana Grande and Futures song “Everyday” starts playing, mixing into the soft slow melody her body wraps around, her legs kicking out in ways I remember all too well, her face is heavy in makeup. Once the rap intro comes in, the song moves to a slow torturous tune, haunting and hypnotic and completely up Mayhem’s lane. Her body wraps around each note that’s strung until the song is barely recognizable. A slow piano song starts, and its then that I realize it’s Halsey’s song “Control,” a darker song that has the light hint of a bleeding heart. When Halsey says ‘I’m meaner than my demons,’ Beat’s head twists around and her body drops to the floor in a disturbing rotation, her body slicked in sweat.

  My fists clench.

  She’s my fucking revenge, the last promise I made to my mom. To my dad.

  She finishes her set and the lights cut out. More sets happen after her, the Six Demons from Hell with the Seven Angels of God, and then Promise and Micaela’s little play around. The bike tricks, including the stunt they always pull with their man-made railway roller coaster they built.

  The lights are extinguished again, and Delila comes back to the center of the ring, her eyes cutting straight to me as if she knows why I’m there. “For our final act, ladies and gentlemen, we have something special lined up for you tonight for the first time ever.”

  She disappears behind the curtain and then a spotlight flashes onto the center of the ring where Beat stands again in nothing but a tight little lace bralette and sweatpants. “Pony” by Genuine starts playing, because of course it does. I roll my eyes at the mundane song of choice, but that quickly changes when I watch as her little body spins around the ring, possessing it like this is her show and everyone is just here for the ride. She completely owns any stage or dance floor that she’s performing on. She’s no longer the quiet and demure Beatrice Kennedy, somehow, she becomes fucking Amaya Corvo. The little fucking minx she was supposed to be. The enemy she was always meant to be to me.

  The song hits halfway and my head straightens as the tune dips, slowing down completely, yet staying the same. “Pillow Talk” from Zayn starts playing and she turns to look over her shoulder, grinning while curling her finger.

  What?

  A dark figure steps out to the light. Shirtless, baggy jeans and oiled all over. He drops to the ground as the beat drops, wrapping his arms around her legs and she pulls away, dancing solo, but he comes after her anyway. When it says “fucking him” she rolls her body against him, who I now recognize as one of the six demons, Lucifer. They both dance together, wrapped up in each other, their bodies slide over each other to the song, and then Lucifer kicks it up a notch, pulling out one of his fire sticks. He takes a swig of gasoline and then blows on it, shooting sharp flames across the ring, aimed right at Beat. She dodges it with a roll of her torso, going across the ring as he flicks the stick around his arm, watching her, preying on her. I’m waiting for that flame to light up his beard.

  I clench my fists, my jaw ticking. I don’t know why this pisses me off. Not because I’m jealous, but because she’s my toy and only I get to play with her like that.

  The song and their show ends with a huge round of applause as they dip back behind the curtain, I get back to my feet and slowly push past legs and limbs that are in my way of the back exit. Once I’ve reached the end, I duck behind a little corner that’s hidden from the public eye and push through the curtain.

  Now, I’m not just fucking pissed, she’s managed to get my dick hard too. A little inconvenient but I’m not surprised. She had a catastrophic impact on me and I didn’t expect that shit to go away overnight.

  I see the limo parked behind one of the trailers with the driver standing quietly beside the door. He sees me and nods his head, I reciprocate it.

  Where the fuck is this girl.

  “Snitch”—Obie Trice, Akon

  “That was insane!” I say, tying my hair up into a high ponytail. I mean, I loved dancing at the studio and I always take massive joy in dancing for the cameras but dancing for a live audience, that was something else. I can feel myself latch onto the euphoria jumping through my veins.

  Lucifer, which feels weird calling him that because it’s not his real name, chuckles, running his hands over his beard. “Yeah? Glad you enjoyed it. Not many people do.”

  I shake my head. “I more than enjoyed it.” I run my hand over my stomach, watching as his eyes lower to the movement. I didn’t know that he was coming out, and I didn’t know that the guy who came to the bridge that night was Lucifer either. He said that they had been watching me, and that there was a whole lot that I don’t know about Midnight Mayhem, that I believe.

  He tilts his head, his taut muscles clenching with every step. “Thirsty?”

  I lick my lips. “A little.”

  He smiles, enough for the soft ends of his eyes to crinkle. “Meet me at my trailer, bab
y girl. There’s a few of us there.” Then just as he walks past me, his hand swipes across the flesh of my stomach and my abs tense.

  I’m feeling reckless, so why not. And anyway, I’m almost certain my days on this earth are numbered due to my psychopathic ex-maybe, sort of, chasing me.

  Or maybe he’s not.

  What if he’s not and this could be my life? My head swims with hope. I take the first step up to the trailer I’ve been staying in with Promise, but a hand slams over my mouth and yanks me backward.

  I try to scream, but it’s no use, because nothing comes out.

  Lips come to my ear. “Aww, come on, Cubby. You don’t think you can move on without me, do you?”

  Then a cloth comes over my nose and everything fizzles out into the darkness of my brain.

  My eyes peel open, forcing them through the glue that feels as though it has set between my lashes. My throat clenches, and when I go to pull my hands apart behind me, they lock and the light ding of chains alerts whoever it is that’s near me that I’m awake.

  “You sleep well, Cub?” Manik’s voice reaches out from the dark corners of wherever I am and pulls all of the fear out of my soul.

  I have nothing to say. This isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t something superficial or false like it was when I was locked in his basement. This has substance. He blames me for his mom’s death, and I most certainly blame him for my parents, since he slaughtered both of them like they were animals.

  Heavy footsteps thud through sloppy puddles, and that’s when the smell hits me. Urine mixed with the strong metallic stench of fresh blood.

  I gag, but nothing comes up.

  When his dark jeans come into view, I can finally focus and I see him standing on the other side of a cage.

  “You killed my parents,” I mutter, grief I thought I had swallowed years ago makes a reappearance and holds my throat hostage. I thought I had grieved them and moved on, but how can you move on from something that you didn’t see the full picture of to begin with.

  “Yes,” he answers, his voice flat and emotionless. I almost didn’t recognize it because it sounds so different from the Aeron I thought I knew. Then again, I didn’t know him at all. “That was after your dad put a bullet between my mother’s eyes and then skinned her, sending me her remains on every single birthday I had after her death.”

  His words hit me like a bullet, exploding in my gut. “I don’t believe you.”

  “And I don’t care,” he replies simply. Lowering himself and clenching the bar between his hands. He leans forward so that I can finally see his face. The same face that used to make me feel so many things in my soul, now makes me want to hurl.

  “I hate you. You’re evil.”

  He laughs, standing and going toward the entry of the cage I’m in, pulling it open. “I’m not evil, Cub. Right now, I’m the fucking devil walking in the flesh.” The cage shuts behind him with a loud clink and he comes closer to me. I crawl backward until I’m in the corner of a soiled mattress pushed into the corner. I’m still wearing the clothes I danced in—tonight? Or was it last night?

  My eyes squeeze shut. “Just get it over with, Aeron, I can’t do this for long.”

  He laughs, and it isn’t the laugh that I’m familiar with. It’s a laugh that conjures every single fight or flight signal I have in my body and tells me to run.

  But I can’t. I’m cemented here like a helpless pawn in his game. Only this isn’t a game, because in a game you get lives, and in this one, I only have one.

  “I won’t do that, Amaya, I’m not going to make you despise being alive, I’m going to do something worse.” He leans forward until his lips are mere inches from mine. “Wanna know what that is, Cub?”

  I don’t answer.

  His smile deepens and if I wasn’t already pressed against the poles indenting my back, I’d move backward even more. Has he always been this scary? He continues. “You’re going to beg me to keep you alive, to own you. You’re going to hate the things I make you feel, Cub, but you’re going to crave the soothing that only I can give when I make it all better. Even for a second, and that, my little Cub, is exactly why I own you.”

  “You killed my parents,” I repeat, though I’m not sure why. To remind myself why I hate this man so much? I don’t have hate in me, but my God if his presence doesn’t evoke something similar.

  He ignores me, tilting his head over his shoulder. “Wanna know what this place is, Cub?”

  I ignore him.

  He grabs my thigh, dragging me down the mattress. I can’t fight the tears anymore, allowing them to drop down my cheeks.

  He hovers over my body, a fist at each side of my face. “I said, do you know what this place is?”

  I shake my head because I’m afraid of his unpredictability. Even when you’ve decided to meet your fate, you are still human, therefore you still get twitchy when someone who you think is going to kill you advances on you.

  “Come.” He yanks me up to my feet and starts to drag me out of the cage. I ignore his hands twisting in mine, dominating me at every turn.

  We step through puddles and he pulls open another door, down into a bright hallway. The walls are thick chipped concrete, the light above us flickers on and off with every step. The smell reminds me of an old drain that hasn’t seen the light of day in centuries, and is aging with every step. I can hear water dripping quietly, tip tapping through the clashing of the ground. He continues as we pass many heavy silver doors, just like the one we came out of. I try not to make it obvious that I’m watching everything, mentally taking in anything that I can. It’s something my pop always said—thinking of my pop makes my heart thunder in my chest so I quickly divert my thoughts. I let my eyes scan over Manik’s broad back instead. The tattoo on the back of his neck that dips below the collar of his shirt. But I know what that tattoo is, and I know what the rest of it shows too, the large demon that takes up his back.

  He pushes through the final door at the end of the corridor, and an echoing of laughter breaks out. My eyes clench from the assault of light, the dirt on my flesh clinging to me at every turn.

  The laughter cuts out just as Manik lets me go. He starts speaking in Russian, so I let my eyes adjust and am shocked at what I see. The walls are molten lava red, with burnt black hues smudged at the edges. There’s thick mahogany wood cutting through the middle of the walls, slicked in varnish. There are around five circle tables layered in perfect order with the same red tablecloths and gold ornaments in the middle, the figures look like naked women sculpted out of—is that actually gold?

  Manik turns to face me. Where the hell are we? There’s a thick reflective glass that’s directly in front of the tables, and when I finally allow my eyes to scan around to the men who are here, I notice them all scowling at me in disgust.

  Ah, I see. More enemies that I didn’t earn or ask for.

  “Dance.”

  “What?” I ask, my eyes catching his. Is there no part of him left behind? But, even as I try to conjure some shred of humanity from him through eye contact alone, all I get back is black emotionless orbits.

  “Uh, um, ok.”

  He gestures to a little door that’s hidden beside the large pane of glass and I make my way to it, not sure what I’m going to find on the other side.

  I step through, finding it empty, but full of despair, fear, and pain. It clings to the air like a bad smell.

  Halestorm “Familiar Taste of Poison” starts playing softly and I close my eyes, slowly letting my body shift to the song. I take myself back to the ring, back to the feelings I felt when I was there, dancing, with Lucifer. When the music kicks up, I spin around in a ballet move, grabbing at my dirty hair, not caring at all that I probably look a mess. The chorus drops and so does my body, tears streaming down my face.

  He killed my parents.

  Now, he’s going to kill me.

  After he makes me want to kill myself.

  He owns me.

  I have nothing.


  The song ends and I stay on the floor, sobs taking over me. How did I manage to mess my life up so epically?

  Clapping sounds from the entryway and Manik’s heavy boots come into view. “Who taught you how to dance?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughs, his head tilting back as I swipe the pathetic tears from my cheeks. “Think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss, Cub, I must admit, the filthy word looks as good coming out of your mouth as my cock does going into it.”

  He grabs onto my arm and yanks me up. “Behave yourself and I might feed you.”

  In a flash, we’re back in the human-sized cage and he’s in there with me, seated and pressed against it. “I have a problem, Cub. My tour starts next week, and I can’t leave you alone here. If I do, there’s no doubt someone might try to, you know,” he smirks, tilting his head. “Take you. Not that I give a fuck, but the thing is, is I’m a greedy bastard and I really really wasn’t kidding those months ago when I said that I don’t like people playing in my sandbox.”

  “Numb”—XXXTENTACION

  Conceal.

  “Kill for you”—Skylar Grey, Eminem

  I don’t know when I fell asleep, but it mustn’t have been long after Manik told me about his touring. I curled into a ball and cried myself to sleep.

  I cried for the parents I lost.

  The grandparents who died.

  And finally, I cried for the girl I once was.

  I spin around, turning to curl upward. I have no idea what time it is, but I’m gathering, because I feel more awake, that it must be sometime during the day. I got enough sleep.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” Manik says from the corner, getting to his feet and walking out of the cage. “Actually, I might be a while.” Then he leaves. Was he there all night?

  Rubbing my hands over my face, I lean against the pole. It’s forty minutes later-ish that the cage door opens again and another figure steps forward. He’s young, with a white zip-up hoodie on and dark slacks. He has similar shoes to the ones Manik wears, only dirtier. His face looks young, I’m guessing around mid-twenties, but there’s an ugly scar that ripples down the middle of his face and over his lip.