by K. L. Savage
“Okay.” Reaper pinches the bridge of his nose and there are footsteps running across the floorboards above. Hearing it makes him smile because it’s the kids running around the house. “Damn it; I’m so tired. Too much has been going on. The corn maze is still up for fuck’s sake. Skirt still doesn’t have a home. Tongue killed ten cops.”
“Nine,” Skirt mumbles. “I killed one.”
“Don’t argue semantics with me. I’m really not in the mood,” Reaper warns and Skirt nods, swallowing nervously. “Tongue, first thing is first, I need every detail about Daphne. Do you know anyone that would have taken her?”
“The same asshole that buried me alive,” I say off into the distance, staring at the playroom door behind Skirt’s shoulder. “He’s been leaving her notes. You know because you thought it was me. He is coming after me, Reaper. The Groundskeeper is still here in Vegas, and I think he has set his sights on me. He knows what I do to people. He left another note after that, sent her roses. I…followed her to her Aunt’s house. I just wanted…I wanted to see her one last time before I left.”
“Left? You were going to leave?” Sarah asks me.
“I was going to go to NOLA until I was invited back. I was going to get away, see the swamp kitties, try to forget about Daphne, and figure out if Vegas was really right for me.”
Sarah inhales and catches herself on a sob. “You’d leave?”
“Obviously not. I didn’t say goodbye to Daphne. I watched her for a little bit. She woke up. We fucked. I knew I couldn’t leave. She had flowers there from him. He left a note. He’s left her three fucking notes to stay away from me. She should have stayed away from me,” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling as I plop my head on the pillow. “Then Seer called—”
“We know. Seer called me too. Poor guy can’t get away from us. Why didn’t you say anything about the notes? We could have protected Daphne.”
“You didn’t even believe Daphne and I were together. You thought I was killing people, taunting her. You didn’t trust me; why the hell would I trust you?” The anger can’t be hidden because I’ve pushed it down for so long. “I thought I was on my own. I had Daphne. She was all I needed. I went to Maximo and asked if we could get married there, he had a condition. That I fight to kill and bring him in money, and I could have whatever I wanted. I wanted that for Daphne, so I didn’t have a problem with it. Until Skirt showed up.”
“I was there to make money too, Tongue,” Skirt combs his fingers through his long red beard.
“You aren’t ever alone, Tongue. You’re our family. No matter how fucking mad I am or disappointed or want to fucking kill you for hurting Sarah, I know it was unintentional, you aren’t alone. This is what we are here for. You’ve been worrying us, then the journals… We thought you were only obsessed with her, we didn’t know—”
I hold up my hand and silence him. “I am obsessed with her. I stalked her. Don’t think for one minute that my love for her isn’t unhealthy and dangerous because it is. I will kill everyone who gets in the way, including my own family.” I let the threat hang in the air, staring at all of them, daring them to stop me from finding her and bringing her into my arms once more. “He has her. What if she is buried? What if she can’t breathe like I couldn’t breathe? What if she’s banging against the wood, calling out for me, and I can’t hear her?” I twist my hands together, feeling useless. I’m a horrible protector. A few seconds of the lights going out and her fingers…they were wrapped around mine. They were right there and then they weren’t.
Then she was gone.
“I doubt it,” Badge says, pushing his foot off the wall. “He seems to care, leaving her flowers, warning her about you, doing his best to protect her. I think she’s fine. Well, as fine as she can be in the hands of a maniac.” He purses his lips, “No offense, Tongue. I mean, a more obviously unstable maniac.”
“No offense taken.” I’m actually a little annoyed she’s in the hands of another monster. I trust myself with her, she trusts me. There are a hundred different shades of crazy and the only one I know she has faith in, is mine.
Badge’s phone beeps, and he pulls it out of his cut pocket and grimaces. “Well, we have a new problem.”
“What?” Reaper snaps.
“There has been a missing person’s report filed by her Aunt with a ten-thousand-dollar reward.”
“So if we find her and return her, we get the cash? Sweet.” Slingshot stuffs a taco in his mouth, and I try to lift my arm to slap him on the back of the head, but my arm won’t lift because I can’t feel it.
“If I had my knife, I’d kill you for saying that.” I lean to the right and press my nose against his cheek. I hope he can smell the stench of my fucking breath, but I’m close to tearing into his skin with my teeth. “We will find her, and when we do, she stays with me. She isn’t going back to her Aunt.”
“She has to go back to her family, Tongue. That doesn’t make any sense. You sound—”
“—Crazy?” I whip my head around and stare at Sarah. “Maybe you’ve forgotten who I am. She isn’t going back. I don’t care what I have to do in order to make that happen. She stays by my side.”
“We can at least let her Aunt know that—” Sarah starts to argue and sits up in the bed, grimacing as she holds her stomach. “That isn’t fair, Tongue. You cannot be that selfish! She has family. You cannot be the only person in her life. That is toxic. Her Aunt loves her. You can’t take that away from Daphne. She’ll resent you for it. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but she will. You can’t do it. I won’t allow you to take that from her.”
“And what are you going to do Sarah? What are you going to do to stop me?” I chuckle, knowing I’m being a complete asshole, but I can’t focus on someone else loving Daphne when she isn’t even near me right now.
“I’ll burn you just like your fucking Uncle did! Just how he took from you, I will make sure you do not do that to Daphne.”
I inhale a sharp breath from her cruel threat. A few guys look away from us, shocked by her statement. I have to admit, I am too. “You wouldn’t,” I say on a held breath.
“I’d have Reaper himself hold you down. I love you Tongue but taking someone else’s love away from her because you want her all to yourself. That isn’t fair.”
“Love isn’t fair,” I say after a few seconds of silence.
“That isn’t true. Love should be the fairest feeling you should ever experience. The only thing it should never be is selfish.”
I disagree. I think it is the most selfish feeling on the planet and in existence. How is love not selfish when once you get a taste, it’s all you ever want? It’s powerful and all-consuming, then every word, every breath I get from her, every touch, it isn’t enough. And every ounce of energy she uses on someone else, I want.
Selfish?
That’s the least of my worries when it comes to Daphne.
“Save it, Sarah. Not everyone is perfect like you and Reaper. Me and Daphne are cut from the same fucked-up cloth. You don’t know her. You don’t know what she wants or likes. I know what she wants, and I know she’d never want to leave my side.”
“Spoken like a true psychopath, Tongue.”
“Spoken like a spoiled little brat,” I spit at her, suddenly wondering how the fuck I’m friends with such a naïve little girl.
“Enough,” Reaper warns, searing his brown, amber eyes at me. “You’re on thin fucking ice. Don’t talk to her like that, Tongue. Sarah, you know better because you know Tongue. Now, say you’re sorry. The both of you.”
“No,” Sarah and I say at the same time and the stubbornness in each of us has me smiling. I lift my hand to rub away the tilt on my lips.
“I’m going to die young because of you two. No, everyone. I’m going to die young because of everyone here.”
A ding chimes and Badge is taking his phone out, reading a message. “Okay, everyone put away your cocks, lady included,” Badge gives Sarah a knowing look. Everyone knows Sarah has
the most balls in the club. She glances away, folding her arms over her chest. “Mercy just messaged. He said he just received a package on his doorstep. He thinks it is from the Groundskeeper. He is on his way over.”
“Is he still in the FBI?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked. I’m assuming, yeah. He closed down the Hellhounds. The FBI has to be promoting him or some shit.”
They glance toward the ceiling when a loud pounding knocks on the front door. The dogs bark and Juliette’s voice is muffled from the planks between the basement and the living room. I stare at Tool who is smiling just from hearing her and before I would have called him crazy, but now I get it.
I’d do anything to hear Daphne’s voice one more time.
“I guess he is already here. I wish people would say that instead of saying, ‘Hey, I’m on my way’ when really they mean, ‘Hey, I’m here.” Badge stuffs his phone back in his pocket and stands there, still.
Reaper’s head bobbles for a second, staring at Badge like what the hell is he doing and says, “Well, are you going to go answer the damn door?”
“It is answered.”
“Badge, go get Mercy and see what he has.”
“He can find his way down. It isn’t hard.”
Tool snorts and twists the screwdriver behind his ear. Reaper laughs, grabs my knife that’s on the counter and throws it at Badge. It lands right in the material of his shirt above his shoulder, nailing him to the wall.
“I’m really sick of being tested. My patience is gone.” Reaper stalks up to him and grips the handle of the knife, flicking the edge so it cuts the shirt. “I beg someone to argue with me again for the rest of the night and see what the fuck I do. Just see.” Prez points the knife over Badge’s chest and gives him a wicked snarl. “It’s been too long since I’ve felt a heartbeat in my hand. Do you catch my fucking drift, Badge?”
Badge gulps and nods.
“Great. Now, go get Mercy. Let’s get Daphne back so Tongue can get his fucking crazy on and we can all get back to normal. Okay?”
“Yes, Prez.” Badge starts to walk away, and the basement door opens, heavy boots clonk, and I know it’s Mercy finding his way down. Badge was right, but we aren’t going to question Reaper when he is about to snap.
Sarah wipes her cheek and turns her back toward me, and a large part of me dies knowing she’s mad at me. She’s right. Everything she said about me was right, but I can’t admit that.
Yet.
“Mercy, please tell me that the package is a snow globe your sister sent you,” Reaper unlocks a small mini-fridge next to the staircase and takes out a small bottle of whiskey. He opens it, tosses the cap, and chugs the entire bottle down. He notices Sarah crying and grabs another bottle, shuts the fridge with his boot, and sits on the edge of her bed. “Here, Doll. Drink this and sleep.” He tilts her chin up and lays a kiss on her lips. “Everything will be okay.”
She chugs the bottle, then tosses it behind her, and the airplane bottle smacks me right in the face.
The guys snort and Skirt holds out his hand for a high-five and she slaps his palm.
That was just lucky.
Well-deserved, but lucky.
“Uh, no. I don’t have a sister, sorry. So, there isn’t an address on it, but it had a note that said to deliver it to Tongue. So, here, Tongue.” Mercy hands me the box, placing it on my lap. My arm is strapped to my chest due to the wound.
I brush my hands over the ribbon, and I rub the silk, pinching my brows together. I stroke the fibers, playing them like a harp. They are soft, beautiful, and familiar. The rich brown tying the tan paper over the square is something I’ve seen and felt before. A sourness turns my stomach, and I untie the bow, watching the strands fall to the side. The breath that leaves me is broken and devastated as I bring the strands to my nose and inhale. “Oh god,” I tighten my fist around the silk.
“What? What is it?” Slingshot wipes his mouth and sips a coke. The slurping noise breaks me, and I reach over, throw the cup across the room. The top falls off as it slaps against the wall, and ice scatters across the floor.
I shove the brown pieces in his face. “It’s her goddamn hair!” I roar, then stare at every face in the room. “It’s her fucking hair. No,” my voice breaks as I bury my face along her beautiful shiny strands. I inhale, like I did that night she was asleep. The citrus hints has my mouth watering for tangerines. I’m hungry for Daphne. I’m starving for her.
I miss her.
“It’s her hair,” I whisper, feeling smaller. I am not a small man. My size is the one thing I use to intimidate people, but now I’m worthless. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know how to handle it. What do people do in these situations? I’ve never loved before. I’ve never felt so lost and weak.
“Tongue,” Sarah turns over and reaches out for me, pushing away her anger for me.
I don’t hesitate. I grab my best friend’s hand and try not to lose it. My chest rises and falls quickly, and pressure builds inside me. I can’t breathe. This is why I’ve stayed in the shadows. This is why. I don’t know how to deal with situations like this. I want to kill this Groundskeeper guy, once and for all.
He took what is mine.
I’m going to get her back, and I don’t care if the attempt kills me.
“Tongue open the box,” Reaper orders, reaching slowly for the strands of hair hanging from my fingers.
I rear back, holding them to my chest. “No. Don’t take them from me,” I say, not wanting to part with the only thing I have left of her.
“We can find her if we know what is in the box.”
What if I open the box and it’s a body part? Or worse, her heart?
I reach down, somewhere inside my barren fucking soul and find the last bit of strength I have, tear the paper off the box and peel the lids apart.
A fucking piece of goddamn paper.
In a box.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I reach inside and throw the box off my lap. I stare at the words and grind my teeth together because it’s a note for me, and I can’t fucking read it. I know my name when I see it, but that’s it.
I want to read it. I can’t be less than anymore. I want to be the man Daphne deserves.
“Let me see it, Tongue. I’ll read it,” Sarah offers, and Reaper peels my fingers off the page, one by one.
“It’s okay,” he reassures, but he’s just saying that. It isn’t okay.
Nothing about this is okay.
It’s not even embarrassing anymore, it’s shameful.
Reaper hands the letter to Sarah and everyone sits back, waiting to see what it says.
“Tongue,
I couldn’t bury you alive, but I can still bury you.
Ring around the rosy. Daphne’s hair is cozy.
Ashes.
Ashes.
You will. Fall. Down.
-Groundskeeper”
Sarah stops reading and lays the letter on her lap and the silence is a high-pitched ring as the dizziness takes over.
The anger. The rage.
“Tongue. I need you to calm down. Your heart rate—”
I grab Reaper by the throat to shut him up. Like I give a fuck about my heart rate. I sling my legs out of bed and my fingers itch to crush his windpipe. The man that had no idea what to do a second ago is gone, I know what to do.
This is the man I’ve always been.
I’m the horrors people check their house for, I’m the reason people are afraid of the dark.
As they should be.
Because I’m the worst fucking thing this world could have ever created.
“Sorry, bud,” Doc pierces my neck with a needle, and I growl when my hand falls from Reaper’s throat.
“Daphne,” her face flashes in front of me and the floor falls out from under me.
All I can think about is how the Groundskeeper was right.
I will. Fall. Down.
Holy Moly.
This place is go
ing to crumble and fall on top of me. That’s how I’m going to die.
“Aren’t you going to eat? You have to eat. You have to keep your strength up. We have a lot to do. Lots. Lots. Lots. We will be here for along time. I have friends you know. Here. Coming. Here. This place is big enough for everyone. You know, it used to be an old insane asylum.”
I push the canned green beans around on my plate. The metal fork squeaks against the plate, and I stab a string bean. The effort it takes for me to bring it to my lips is exhausting. My entire body is shaking. It’s freezing in here. I can’t wait for the sun to come up and for it to get warm. The desert nights are so cold and there isn’t heat here. If this building doesn’t crush me, I’ll freeze to death.
I’ll never see Tongue again, but maybe I’ll see him in the shadows if I’m lucky.
I open my mouth to chew on the green bean, but it falls from my fork, and back onto the plate. I try again, but the trembling is too strong. I can’t get the food to stick on the fork. I’m crying, not that it matters the man in front of me, he doesn’t even seem to notice.
And he is still wearing that fucking mask.
I’m waiting for my mind to fail me to conjure up some sick, twisted, bent form of reality. Every time I see the old, tattered curtain hanging in the window blow from the wind coming inside the busted glass, I always think it’s my brain playing tricks on me.
I’ll be fine. I’m strong. I can do this. I can make it until someone finds me.
Someone will find me, right?
Tongue will look for me. He won’t give up on me. He loves me. He’s made for me. People who love each other don’t give up on one another. No, I know he is searching for me. I feel it.
“You aren’t eating!” he slams his fist on the old wooden table and I jump.
“I’m trying.”
“You aren’t trying hard enough. God,” he runs his fingers through his air, tugging on the locks. The veins in his arms pop, and he rocks his jaw back and forth, either trying to calm down or figuring out if he wants to eat me.
Not in a good way.
I’m worried for my health.
