Thousands

by Pepper Winters

  Lucky for me, passers-by didn’t peg me as too out of place. I might not be wearing the latest catwalk fashion like my chosen hunted, but apart from a little toil from spending the night outside, my sundress was still appropriate; my hair still acceptable.

  I was merely the fifth wheel to this quad of happy spenders, and no one noticed me lurking behind them.

  My ears rang with their plastic laughter as they regaled tales of flirting with men last night only to drink their gifted cocktails before telling them they were too ugly for their tastes.

  The more I listened, the less I liked them. Although, one girl didn’t say a thing, merely nodded and smiled when her friends were looking and cringed and rolled her eyes when they weren’t.

  I liked her but not the others. I didn’t know why not liking them helped my resolve, but I continued to follow, eager now for an opportunity to rob rather than dreading it.

  Finally, they stopped outside a café to read the menu, and my opportunity was handed to me.

  I slammed to a stop. Two of the obnoxious girl’s handbags remained slung carelessly over their shoulders, one silver purse and one turquoise begging me to take them.

  So I did.

  Without looking around, my two hands vanished into two handbags and stole two purses.

  A split second later, I turned and walked the other way.

  The moment I marched away, the shakes started. A drenching of anxiety. A rush of sick excitement. A drowning of self-disgust.

  Oh, my God.

  I’d stolen for my own gain.

  I hadn’t left a note apologising.

  I’d judged those girls on their moronic conversation and bitchiness.

  But I was the one in the wrong, not them.

  Holy hell, I stole from them.

  My heart couldn’t believe I’d become a criminal while yet more adrenaline spiked, making me drunk on such a scam.

  I didn’t look where I was going as I tucked one purse beneath my arm and unzipped the silver one. Inside was a wad of hundred-dollar bills with more credit cards than I’d ever seen.

  I didn’t know the first thing about credit card fraud, so I only took the cash and zipped up the wallet again. Passing by a café with its sunshine-bathing clientele, I left it on an outdoor table, hoping a nice waiter would find it and drop it at the nearest police station.

  At least the girls would have a chance to have their cards and other mementos returned. I’d just take their cash. I’d use it wisely and gratefully and get myself home where I’d never have to steal again.

  “Hey, you!” a screech whipped my head around.

  The blonde girl who’d regaled and cackled about leading men on last night pointed at me. “Stop her. She’s a thief!” Her gaze went to the turquoise purse in my hands.

  Her brunette friend yelled, “That’s my wallet! See!”

  Pedestrians frowned, not willing to get involved just yet, giving me a few seconds to panic before everything exploded.

  For a moment, I froze.

  I couldn’t deny their accusations as they were entirely true. I was the one at fault, and all I wanted to do was apologise and beg for forgiveness while returning their property.

  But if I did...I’d be arrested, and my previous imprisonment would begin all over again as a ward of the Monaco state rather than free at home with my mother.

  No.

  I couldn’t be locked up again.

  By anyone.

  “Stop, you little bitch!” Seeing as onlookers weren’t tackling me to the ground, the girls took matters into their own hands. “Get your thieving little ass back here!”

  They charged.

  I bolted.

  I didn’t think. Instinct took over.

  I ran as fast as I could through congested streets beneath hot sunshine. I weaved and parried. I didn’t look back. My lungs burst, my bones screamed, my eyes darted for a safe haven.

  I might’ve run for two hours or two minutes—fear turned it into an unwinnable race. Gasping for air, I careened down a side street, hoping that by being off the main road, it would help me disappear.

  I hoped wrong.

  Oh, no...

  Swallowing my terror, I came upon a dead end.

  No, no, no.

  Spinning around, I took three steps back the way I came only to slam to a stop as the slap of expensive sandals heralded the appearance of my victims.

  They skidded into the alley, breathing hard, sweat dancing upon their perfect brows. They were all so pretty with styled hair, immaculate makeup, and top-of-the-line moisturised skin, but for three of them, no beauty could hide the ugliness inside them.

  The blonde wearing a polka dot dress sneered. “Trapped now, aren’t ya, you little thief?”

  I huddled in the shadows, wishing to God I hadn’t done what I did, desperate to make amends. My voice deserted me. Silence became my old friend and enemy.

  The girls didn’t care.

  They pressed forward. “Give us back our stuff, bitch.”

  I tossed the turquoise wallet to them, watching it skid in a dirty puddle.

  “And mine,” the blonde demanded, her gaze locked on the cash in my hands.

  I opened my mouth to tell her I didn’t have it. That I’d left it on a café table and would gladly take her there to make amends, but a black-haired girl who looked more in control and cruelly intelligent than her fellow holiday goers pulled out her phone.

  “Ladies, don’t stress yourself.” With a cold smile, she said, “Let’s call Harold and have him sort this matter out, shall we?”

  The girl who hadn’t spoken, who stood a little away from her friends and hadn’t joined in the spiteful retelling of hurting men’s feelings, cringed. “Miranda...I don’t think—”

  The black-haired girl shot her a look.

  She shut up.

  Glancing back at me, Miranda pressed a few buttons on her phone. Her smile was beastly. “You really shouldn’t have taken what wasn’t yours. Now Harold and his friends will have to teach you a lesson.”

  Her brunette friend in grey shorts and white polo held up her hands. “Whoa, wait. We don’t need to get the men involved.”

  I hoped she’d stand with her quiet friend and stop whatever was about to happen. Instead, her lips spread over sharp teeth. “Don’t let them have all the fun. We could do it.” She put up her fists with a mad laugh. “Just rough her up a little.”

  Blondie wrinkled her nose. “Eww, I’m not hitting someone. I might break a nail.” She flashed vibrantly pink-glitter fingernails. “They’re gels, Monique. I spent hours at the salon yesterday getting them done.”

  “No one is breaking a nail or resorting to D.I.Y,” Black-haired Witch snapped. “We are ladies, and ladies do not brawl.” Her chin came up. “Ladies deliver vengeance without getting their hands dirty. Therefore, Harold will take care of her. I have no doubt he’ll have a lot of fun teaching her how it feels to have things taken without consent.”

  My knees buckled at the darkness in her tone. At the way her eyes glittered at the innuendos barely hidden in such a terrible sentence string.

  I didn’t need to be taught.

  I already knew.

  Knew how it felt over and over again to have personal things taken without consent.

  How my body had been used as entertainment for others.

  How I’d had no say in it.

  The betrayal.

  The horrible knowledge I was worthless to the person hurting me.

  Oh, my God, what have I done?

  They were right.

  I’d taken something of theirs without consent. I was just as bad as the assholes who’d hurt me. They had every right to be hurt and angry. I was hurt and angry. I’d been hurt and angry for years.

  I wanted to open my mouth and apologise. To assure them that I would never steal again as I knew all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of such theft.

  But once again, my throat closed up, hiding my words, silencing my
pleas. I wished I’d never used muteness as protection. I wished I could break such a curse and scream.

  Then Miranda stabbed me with yet more horror as she murmured, “Harold is ingenious with his punishments. I imagine he’ll come up with something quite unique to remind you that stealing is not okay—” She narrowed her eyes, looking like a serpent ready for her next meal. “—Especially stealing from us.”

  The mental images she painted.

  The memory of ropes

  and chains

  and whips

  and classical music

  and blow jobs

  and rapes

  and pain.

  No!

  Falling to gristly knees long since ruined from doing such a thing, I collapsed into submission before them. Clasping my hands together, I fought every safety mechanism and willed my tongue to move.

  In jilted begs, I whispered, “I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t mean...I have no excuse. I know what it’s like. I don’t need a lesson. I’ve had too many lessons.” Tears drenched my face without me crying as if my eyes evicted every droplet in preparation for the beating I knew was coming.

  I never screamed with Alrik.

  I never cried with Alrik.

  I wouldn’t do that with this new punishment.

  Old habits would never die.

  “Please...” I hissed. “Please, don’t do this.”

  Blondie and the girl who wasn’t like her friends stumbled back, alarm painting their pretty features.

  Blondie switched from cursing me to rationality. “Hey, Miranda...know what? No harm done. We’ve got the cash back. I can cancel my cards. It’s fine...”

  “I agree.” The nice girl tugged the black-haired one. “Come on, let’s just go.”

  But Miranda shook her off, the same glint in her eye that Alrik used to get glowing brighter. “Nope. What’s done is done. She needs a little payback.” Moving forward, she held her phone to her ear and smiled as whoever she’d rung answered. “Harold, baby? Yeah, it’s me. Look, I need you to come here. A chick just tried to rob us.” Her smile turned from beastly to downright fatal. “Yep, that’s what I said. I knew you’d understand.” She nodded. “Yep. I’ve told her that you’ll come ‘talk’ to her. Make sure she doesn’t do it again.”

  Laughing at something he said, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Okay, baby. See you in five.” Hanging up, she pointed a finger in my face. “And now, we wait. Get ready, bitch. You’re in for a world of pain.”

  Chapter Three

  ______________________________

  Elder

  THE OCEAN HAD a power over me that could circumnavigate the mess in my brain better than anything. It was one of the many reasons I’d chosen the sea as my home.

  Normally, the chaos from land slipped from my shoulders the moment I stepped on board. Normally, I could breathe a little easier, focus a little better, and pretend to be normal after fighting addictive tendencies.

  Normally was the key word.

  It wasn’t occasionally or infrequently; it was normally: as in usually, consistently, reliably.

  Damn Pimlico had changed that.

  Yesterday had been one of the hardest days of my life, and that was saying something after the fuck-ups I’d caused.

  Selix had arrived at the hotel. I’d had a joint. And I’d paced until my heart galloped as if I’d jogged for miles trying to decide what to do.

  Stay or go?

  Accept or deny?

  Chase or sail?

  She’d left out of some stupid courtesy to help me.

  But what if I didn’t want to be helped?

  What if I should man the fuck up and help myself, instead of making it her responsibility to enter a world where she had nothing and no one? Why did I have to accept that she’d given me her love and then taken it right out the goddamn door with her?

  Selix hadn’t swayed me in either direction. He’d sat flicking through a hotel magazine for hours while I willed the pot in my system to help make a better decision.

  And the decisions I came to was...I couldn’t let her do this.

  I couldn’t let her put herself in harm’s way for me. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t the only one with a screwed-up brain. Others had what I did, and they lived a normal life. They weren’t fucking pussies, untrusting of doctors or unwilling to try new things.

  I would be more like them. I would get my life together. I’d find Pimlico, take her to England without touching her, and by the time we arrived, I would’ve calmed down and be able to be around her without fucking her. Then, once I had her back in my life and knew she was safe, I’d see someone and discuss a regime or pill that could help me. I would take control of my mind so I could deserve everything Pim gave me so purely and selflessly.

  It was a plan I could live with.

  So, I’d marched from the hotel with Selix in tow and patrolled the streets for hours. Side alleys and main arteries, shops, and restaurants. I kept my eyes searching for a flash of chocolate hair or a glimpse of sensual limbs.

  But I couldn’t find her.

  Anywhere.

  It didn’t matter.

  She couldn’t have gone far. She had to be in Monte Carlo. And as the sun set on our first day apart, I settled in for the challenge of tracking her down—confident in the knowledge that I would find her because I wouldn’t fucking stop until I did.

  But then my phone had rung.

  And the call I’d been dreading finally arrived.

  The Chinmoku had found where my mother was living with her brother. They’d followed her from my house on the hill and raided her brother’s home late last night. They’d managed to murder a second cousin I’d never met before the security detail I had watching my estranged family stepped in to defend anymore from being executed.

  Another member of my blood killed all because of me.

  But at least my men had slaughtered the two Chinmoku who’d attacked.

  Only two.

  It was a motherfucking insult by the leader of the faction I used to fight for. Did they think they’d only need two to take out my entire dynasty? There were countless of them and only one of me, yet I planned on painting my hands in blood until they were all extinct.

  They’d made the first move in this long, overdue war.

  It was my turn.

  As per my request, if and when the Chinmoku ever found where my mother had hidden, my men were to get everyone out. They’d tried. They’d used negotiations and threats, but my mother had stuck in her heels.

  My men had saved her life, and the lives of my cousins and whoever else was related to me. My men being the bane of her life.

  She didn’t care that she would be dead without me watching over her.

  All she cared about was that my father and brother were dead, and that sin could never be absolved.

  The security team called to discuss potentially drugging my family so they could be moved to safety while fast asleep.

  I was about to agree when I’d looked up at congested streets, watched shopkeepers and children and happy men with loving wives, and I couldn’t do it.

  They had free will just like Pimlico.

  Who the fuck was I to do something without their consent?

  So I’d hung up and made the hardest decision of my life: to return to my family and face what I’d done. To finally talk to them and beg their forgiveness so I might keep them alive until I’d done what needed to be done.

  Pimlico was not family, no matter how much my heart disagreed.

  I had to make a choice then and there, and it motherfucking broke me in half.

  Pim would survive without me.

  But my family would die because of me.

  I never had a choice.

  At two in the morning, I’d stepped on board the Phantom, hoping to find that reliable magic where problems were halved and worries were muted but this time...nothing.

  The rocking of the tide didn’t calm me, the tang of salt
didn’t soothe me, and the open-skied horizon mocked me because there was no such thing as freedom.

  It was a sadistic joke; utter make-believe to think I had the freedom to love a woman and remain living in a world where I hadn’t resolved my past transgressions.

  I had to put things right before I deserved anything more.

  As the engines kicked in and my home sliced through the harbour out to sea, I did my best to ignore the paralyzing pain of leaving Pim behind.

  My family had to come first. I owed them too big a debt to forget that. Even though all I wanted to do was find the woman who’d stolen my heart and get on my knees before her.

  To tell her I might never be able to have a normal relationship, but I needed her. I wanted to be selfish and keep her even though I knew she didn’t belong to me.

  My arms were empty without her, my heart useless, my honour nothing more than scum.

  That was yesterday.

  This new day was just as painful.

  “Morning, sir.” Jolfer smiled, not knowing the torment I lived with as I marched onto the bridge.

  I nodded but didn’t greet him back.

  I’d come for one thing only. To check he’d changed course from England to America.

  Glancing at the instruments and the large nautical map pinned down with heavy magnetics on the centre table, I inhaled deep, doing my best to shed the debilitating guilt at leaving Pim behind.

  Jolfer stroked the old-fashioned marine schematic he preferred. He hadn’t evolved to computer screens and technology plotted directions. He preferred his sextant, tidal currents, and other seafaring tricks to get from point A to B.

  If I was honest, I preferred his way, too. It was a nod to our past as men on the sea. Besides, if the Phantom ever lost power or we were stranded on a lifeboat with no Siri to tell us which direction to sail, he could look at the stars and find our way home.

  Then again, so could I.

  Before I met Pimlico, I spent most of my time on the bridge. It was my favourite place apart from playing cello on the deck or swimming in the sea.

  Now I hated everything and everybody as each wave roll and engine purr took me farther away from her.