by Mia Thompson
Sapphire stood stiff as a board, confused as hell. Either Shelly was a really good actress—like in an Oscar-worthy Sally Field “you like me, you really like me” way—or she was not the Copycat.
Chapter 13
“Corn dog?”
Sapphire shook her head and kept her eyes on Shelly as she ordered from the vendor.
Once the tears dried, Shelly seemed happy. She wasn’t the same girl Sapphire had seen hiding her depressed face and disfigurement under an oversized hoodie after the rescue. She even waved bye to the vendor with her stump. Sapphire couldn’t help but stare.
“What? Is it creeping you out?” Shelly made a motion with the stump, then took another bite of her corn dog.
“Oh, not at all. Sorry for staring.”
“My dad got me this super fancy prosthetic, looks like the real deal, but you know what? I don’t even use it.” Shelly shrugged and pointed at her hand. “This is who I am, and if people don’t like it, screw them.”
Sapphire blinked in amazement. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled everything as well as you have.”
They squeezed through a line of excited children, then moved up to the ocean overlook.
“I wasn’t handling it at all, for a long time,” Shelly said. “I felt like I’d lost everything I liked about myself. I didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t talk to anyone. I just sat by my window every day wishing… I was dead.”
“How did you get past it?”
Shelly looked to the ocean and the setting sun. “One morning, I woke up, and I felt okay, like I didn’t want him to rob me of more life than he already had.” Shelly shrugged and pulled up her stun gun. “The only thing I can’t get rid of is the paranoia.”
“I know the feeling.”
“My family thinks I’m nuts though,” Shelly laughed. “Ever since I came out of my depression, I’ve been running all over the place. I guess I’m trying to make up for the months I lost… Hey!” she squealed. “You wanna ride the Dead Drop with me?”
“Tempting, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay.” Shelly’s face turned shy and she scratched her arm. “If… if you ever wanna grab a drink or something, find me online.”
Sapphire smiled. “I’d like that.”
She walked toward her car, then turned to see Shelly join up with her friends, smiling and laughing. She watched them for a while, beaming to herself. With everything on her horizon dark, Shelly’s recovery was a nice, fat silver lining. She felt the guilt fall off of her.
A sharp ring tone cut through her joy and Sapphire raised the screen. Caller Unknown.
“Yes?”
Sapphire watched Shelly and her friends skip toward the Dead Drop with flailing arms as a woman’s breathing filled her phone.
A quick bleep, then nothing. The Copycat was gone.
Sapphire exhaled and stared at her phone, back at square one. She had no idea where to start looking. All she knew was that with every minute that passed, time was running out for her best friend.
• • •
Go home and kill her.
“I promised,” William tried to calm The Hunger. He sat on Sapphire’s bed and stared at the framed pictures above her computer.
He had a feeling Sapphire hadn’t put them up because she liked the people behind the glass, but because she wanted others to believe she did. The frames were decorated with hearts and unicorns. His daughter was not a hearts and unicorns girl.
Then prove me wrong.
William’s jaw tensed as he took the Polaroid out of his pocket again. The man’s face was pale and bluish and his shirt was caked in blood. The problem was his eyes; dead eyes did not sparkle.
Dial.
William took the phone, then dialed the number he’d coaxed out of the clergy and waited.
“Hello?” the priest answered.
William hung up and clenched the phone in anger. The priest was alive. Sapphire had deceived him. The Hunger celebrated as William gave in.
It was time to kill Chrissy.
He wouldn’t let Sapphire know until it was too late, until he had her. He moved across his daughter’s pink bedroom. He realized how many years she’d pretended to belong, just like he once had. Perhaps she had pretended so long, she believed she was truly human.
He should kill Father O’Riley as well to teach her a lesson. He’d enjoy watching the light go out of the imposter’s eyes.
William slid his hand over her framed photos. Or perhaps… he’d requested too much, too soon. He’d foolishly asked her to start by killing someone she cared about when he should’ve forced her to kill someone whose death would benefit her. If a child feared vegetables, you didn’t serve them broccoli straight up. You smothered the broccoli in cheese to mask its taste.
His finger stopped on a photo of three people, taken years ago. Sapphire, Charles, and…
Perfect. He removed the picture from the wall.
Now William only had to decide who The Hunger was to feed on first.
• • •
Sapphire passed by a giant van in the driveway, giving it a twice-over. If her mother had bought this vehicle, seating twenty, Vivienne had lost it.
She opened the door and smelled something she hadn’t since Julia lived there. She followed the scent into the kitchen and her jaw dropped.
“I made cookieees, fresh from the oveeeen.” Vivienne stood in a flower-patterned apron and matching oven mitts, holding a sheet of steaming cookies.
It was official: she had lost it. Vivienne Dubois got baked, she did not bake.
“Mom, what’s going on with you?” She approached Vivienne with worry. “Tell me the truth; do you have one of those personality-altering tumors?”
“Heavens no,” Vivienne chirped then set the sheet down and rubbed her palms together. “Let’s see if we have some milk.”
“Seriously.” Sapphire stared at her mother, or possibly the alien who had taken over her mother’s body. “Enough with the charade.”
“It’s not a charade, Sapphire.” Vivienne poured the milk into a pitcher, then flipped the cookies onto a plate. “I was sick for a long time, and now I’m better. This is the real me.”
“So you’re telling me you actually went to rehab and got better? You really haven’t had a drink since the wedding?”
“That’s right.”
Sapphire dreamt of this day when she was a child, but now that it had arrived, it was hard to believe it.
“And,” Vivienne continued, “I did go to rehab, for about a week. Then I left.”
“But you stayed sober?” Sapphire reached for a cookie, and her mother slapped her hand.
“Where are your manners? Guests first.” Vivienne grabbed the plate and moved toward the living room. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.”
“They?” Sapphire followed her mother into the living room to find fifteen women and one Søren scattered on the couches and chairs.
Søren looked up from his conversation. “There’s our guest of honor. Come join us, Sapphire.”
Vivienne forced her to the couch, then beamed and motioned to the group. “Sapphire, meet my family. Our new family.”
“Cookie?” Søren held the plate in front of Sapphire’s nose.
She pushed the tray away. “What do you mean family? Who are these people?”
Vivienne sat down and patted the hem of her skirt. “I got out of rehab and that’s when I met Søren who is the leader of The Camaraderie of Light. Søren, and…” Vivenne pointed across the room. “Bianca, Michelle, Karen, and the others, showed me I had been living in darkness all these years. They showed me the light, and that’s how I got better.”
Sapphire flinched when Søren touched her leg. “Sapphire, the reason we’re all here tonight is to heal you and your mother’s relationship. The group has been feeling your negative energy. I mean, Bianca just had the worst case of diarrhea out of sheer worry.”
Bianca nodded.
Sapphire didn’t get shocked ofte
n—serial killers included—but this shocked the crap out of her… and Bianca apparently.
The group hummed and Vivienne kneeled in front of her. “My darling daughter…”
“Uhhhmmmmm,” the group held their palms up to Vivienne and Sapphire.
“The day your father left us, I thought I was going to die. I loved him more than you can imagine, and I didn’t feel I could breathe without him. From that point on, I took to alcohol and sex as a means to forget, to cover the pain I felt inside, and… worse.”
“Uhhhmmmm,” the group continued.
“I started resenting you. Not by choice, I just… you looked so much like your father. Every time I looked at you, I was reminded of him and it hurt too much. I blamed you for the hurt it caused me. I’m sorry for being such a bad mother, but I’m making up for it now.”
This was what her mother had been doing. One word: Overcorrection. Sapphire looked at the people surrounding them. This should’ve been a moment between a mother and her daughter. Not a mother, her daughter, and fifteen humming maniacs.
Søren nodded. “Now you tell us your demons so that we can help deliver this baby of darkness from your body. Push, Sapphire, push.”
She glared at Søren, then exhaled. “I get it mom, I do. And if you get your cult to leave, I’m happy to talk to you.”
The women made a collective gasp at the c-word.
“Sapphire,” Vivienne said appalled. “We’re not a cult! We’re merely a small group of devoted people who live together on a compound and worship our religious beliefs by following our leader’s every word.”
“Hello?” Sapphire waved her hands. “That’s the damn definition of a cult, Mom!”
“Language,” Søren reminded. “Cursing is a tool of darkness.”
“No!” Sapphire pointed at him. “Don’t even try your crap with me, you… brain rapist.”
“You don’t understand, darling,” Vivienne stood. “When we give up our material wealth obsessions, we gain something in our soul…”
“Oh, God! That’s how you drained the account over the summer. You gave it to him!” Sapphire turned to Søren. “And now that my mother’s money is almost gone, you’re coming for my inheritance, is that it?”
Søren looked appalled. “Not at all.”
Sapphire didn’t believe him. He may not be a killer, but he had the mind of one. The most dangerous quality a sociopath can have is charisma.
“Isn’t the fact that I’m better proof enough?” Vivienne patted her fake boob. “Look at me. I’ve even taken a vow of celibacy.”
“No, you haven’t!” Sapphire spat. “I just saw you and Søren in the kitchen the other night.”
Vivienne waved it off. “We can make love to Søren all we want, that’s for rehabilitating purposes. But no one else.”
“Wh—gross!” Sapphire’s eyes bounced between the nodding women. “Wake up ladies, this is a cult!”
“She said it again!” A woman covered her ears. Another prayed to the Ming vase. Bianca’s face scrunched to a raisin, but maybe she just really had to go.
Søren studied Sapphire, then put a hand on Vivienne’s arm. “Vivienne. I can’t have your daughter taint your progress with her negative energy. You evidently moved out of the compound too fast. I suggest you come home with us.”
Vivienne shook her head. “I’m her mother. She needs me.”
Needs. Sapphire stared at her mother. Needs!?
“As you wish.” Søren nodded and kissed Vivienne’s forehead. “Ladies.”
Sapphire walked ahead to grab the front door, then waved her hand as fifteen women poured through and got into the van outside. Søren was the last to step out. He turned to her with his palms up. “With time, Sapphire, you’ll see that in darkness lives an endless ocean of—”
She slammed the door in his face, and turned to her mother. “I’m going to bed.”
“You need me to tuck you in?”
Sapphire glared at her, then left. That word again. Need. It was nails on a chalkboard. Sapphire hadn’t needed Vivienne for a long time, and she certainly didn’t need her now. Had Vivienne truly cared about her, she would’ve visited Sapphire in jail and she would’ve done everything in her power to borrow money from her rich friends for bail. She never thought she’d miss Alky-Vivienne, but Cult-Vivienne was worse.
Sapphire’s thoughts stopped when she saw the birthday card on her bed.
Happy 11th Birthday.
Ding dong… it read.
“Ding dong?” It dawned on her. Sapphire ran down the stairs and opened the front door to find another birthday card on the step.
Happy 12th Birthday.
…The witch is dead.
The munchkin’s song played in Sapphire’s mind as she stared at the card and wondered two things. One: Was it fair for one child to end up with a cult member for a mother and a serial killer for a father?
Two: Who was the witch?
Chapter 14
Sapphire stared at the Polaroid of Chrissy again and felt queasy.
She put it back in her purse, but it didn’t help. Chrissy’s face was burned into her mind. Her friend’s skin was pale—a rarity for someone who would marry her spray tan if she could— and her eyes were desperate.
Sapphire pushed away her salad and grabbed a chip; it was all she could stomach. She looked around the courthouse cafeteria. Aston was nowhere to be found. She knew she should feel satisfied, but she couldn’t help but search the packed place for him.
It’d been a rough day in court, and there were only two more days to go before Mr. Goldstein estimated the jury would deliberate. Even her lawyer looked ill when Detective Capelli was on the witness stand and swore he’d seen her face on the security footage from former serial killer, current dead guy, George Rath’s job. The jury had devoured Capelli’s unfortunately true story.
The whole day had felt off. Sapphire had caught Marissa Pearl staring at her, not once, but seven times today, with this peculiar, intense look. The woman must really want to see her behind bars.
Sapphire sighed and focused on one of the many cafeteria TVs. The news covered another earthquake. This time in Ventura, much closer to L.A. than the previous ones. She’d felt the minor aftershock when she woke up this morning. The Californian earthquakes and the unbearable heat were fitting considering the apocalypse taking place around her.
Petunia’s face suddenly blocked the screen.
“What do you want?” Sapphire eyed her cousin’s mink purse. “I’m fresh out of puppy pelts and baby tears.”
“What’s with the tone, cousin?” Petunia snagged Sapphire’s chip bag and sat. “I thought you’d be happy. You murdered Charles, found out you have the honor of being a Dubois by blood, and stole half of my company. It’s a win-win for you isn’t it? Oh I forgot, you didn’t get the shitty fishing cabin, did you? Aw, sad face.” She popped a chip in her mouth.
“I didn’t murder Charles, and again, what do you want?”
“Since you’re kind of a part of DubCorp until you lose the trial, dad wanted me to let you know about the masquerade ball at the country club tonight.”
“Why?”
“He’s making an announcement. I’m thinking he’s fixed the problems your murder scandal caused with our allies and he’s going to retire tonight and give me the company.” Her lips drew to a pout. “Anyhoo, he said it’s important that we both be there.”
Sapphire stared at her cousin. “I can’t go to the country club; I’m blacklisted.”
“I know.” An evil leer grew on Petunia’s lips. “That’s why I suggested we should hold his announcement there. Your exile must’ve slipped his mind in all the excitement.” She threw the empty bag on the table. “Thanks for the chips, cuz.”
Sapphire stared after Petunia as she passed a table with a birthday card on it.
She hurried up to grab it. Her father was still here; Sapphire could feel his eyes on her as she opened it.
Happy 13th Birthday.
Come to the ball and receive your present.
Sapphire’s body tensed and she tried to spot him in the busy cafeteria. Of course, she knew she wouldn’t see him unless he wanted to be seen. The man moved in and out of space like a deity.
A firm hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned and sent out a punch to the throat of her assailant. He dropped to the ground and gasped for air.
“Jesus, Barry!” Sapphire rushed to help him up.
“You… left… your purse…” Barry squeezed out, as he pointed at the table and held out her bag. “This place is loaded with criminals…”
“Oh, thanks.” She grabbed her purse. This was how her father’s messed up game made her act. Poor Barry. “Hey…” Don’t say it. “How’s…” Don’t. “Aston?” Damnit.
“I’m not sure.” Barry rubbed his throat. “He’s not at home and he’s not picking up when I call.”
Barry walked off and Sapphire fought the urge to call Aston to see if he was okay. She opened her purse to make sure nothing was swiped before Barry got to it. Her hand stopped on the Polaroid of Chrissy again.
She pulled it out, but this time, her eyes moved away from Chrissy’s face and onto the details surrounding her.
There was a partial image of an item in the corner above Chrissy’s cot before the photo cut off. She looked up.
Maybe her father was human after all; he’d finally made a mistake.
Sapphire knew where Chrissy was.
• • •
“Knock knock…”
Someone was knocking on his head and being excruciatingly loud. How to make it go away?
“Knock knock…”
“Who’s there,” Aston mumbled, still half asleep.
“Mikey.”
“Mikey who?”
“Mikey doesn’t fit in the keyhole, so let me in! Hahahahah.”
Aston opened a bloodshot eye. The chief’s six-year-old son’s big grin was an inch from his face. He moaned at the explosion in his head. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Dylan?”
“You’re in our house, silly,” Dylan giggled. “Why are you naked?”
