Carnival

by Kory M. Shrum

  Mel understood then, with perfect clarity, that Piper knew about Terrence. Maybe she didn’t know who he was or what he wanted, but she sensed the danger. Likely it wasn’t only Piper but King and Lou who knew as well. If they knew, that meant she didn’t have much time to resolve this on her own. They would step in, and she couldn’t have that.

  This was her burden. Hers alone.

  Melandra placed a hand on Piper’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  A shaky breath escaped the girl, but the deep worry darkening her face didn’t recede.

  “Go home,” Melandra said finally, removing her hand. She took the pen and notepad. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  At first Melandra thought Piper was going to resist, put up a fight, demand to stay until the shop was locked up, or maybe escort Melandra up the stairs to her apartment door.

  Instead she grabbed her phone. She bent and seized her backpack from the floor and hefted it onto one shoulder.

  She frowned at Mel. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  “Good luck on your test.” Melandra followed her to the door.

  Piper stepped out into the night. The smell of fried food from the convenience store across the street greeted them. It instilled a craving for egg rolls and orange chicken in Mel’s gut. Add to it a nice side of white rice.

  The icy wind gusted, pulling tears from Piper’s eyes. “Night.”

  Melandra locked the door behind her and followed her as far as the picture windows allowed. When she was out of sight, Melandra stood in the dim shop, considering her options. She wasn’t going to clean the front door glass or call the distributor. Not tonight.

  Her phone rang.

  Her heart skipped a beat in her chest and her stomach twisted. The sudden urge to empty her bowels filled her. She looked down at the ancient cordless phone beside the register as if it were a beast come to life. Each trill echoed louder and longer, until it made her think of a rabbit Grandmamie had once killed.

  “We gotta eat,” the old woman had said. It had screamed as she’d pulled it from its wired hutch.

  Melandra answered on the fourth ring. “Madame Melandra’s Fortunes and Fixes.”

  “Do you have my money?” he asked in lieu of saying hello. Terrence had always been an impatient man.

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Don’t fuck with me, woman. I will go to the police and tell them the truth. I’ll tell them what you did.”

  “Maybe I want to go to prison.” What was meant to be a joke came out remarkably calm. I meant that, she realized, surprised. At least in prison, I’d know I was paying for what I did. Then this guilt wouldn’t be able to grow inside me like a cancer, poisoning all my days. And he wouldn’t be controlling me anymore.

  Terrence laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was an irritated, bitter sound, punctuated by a sucking of teeth. “Only a dumb bitch would say that. Clearly you ain’t ever been in prison.”

  Melandra said nothing.

  “Listen to me,” he began. “Either you bring me what I ask for, or I’m going to come to that shop and take it, you hear me? I’m tired of playing around.”

  She pulled once on the locked door then mounted the stairs to her apartment as he ranted.

  She found it dark and quiet. Lady was with King tonight. She’d insisted that King take her, suspecting this very moment would come.

  Terrence laughed, and Mel heard the real pleasure in it. “Oh yes, I’m going to enjoy reeducating you, woman. You know, I learned a few tricks in prison, too. I know how to do more than just slap a bitch around now. You wanna find out what I learned?”

  Melandra’s eyes fell on the duffle bag on the kitchen table. It was little more than a shadowed outline in the pale moonlight filtering through the window. She turned on the light and crossed to the table.

  “After I beat you so bad you can’t walk, I’ll leave you one good eye so you can see me burn every one of your mamie’s cards.”

  Melandra opened the bag. At the very bottom were the bricks. They filled one half of the bag. On top of that lay a coil of rope as thick as Melandra’s wrist. Lastly, the revolver she’d had since ’78 sat tucked into a loop of the rope. She counted the divots marking each chamber.

  What would Terrence do when he realized the duffle had no money?

  On the table beside the bag were her instructions to King, including the power of attorney for him to dissolve and reallocate her assets per her instructions.

  King was a good man. He would do what she asked of him. She’d done her best to apologize for this burden. She was sorry to ask King for this last favor, but she trusted him.

  “You hear this?” Terrence asked. The sound of ripping paper crackled through the line. “That’s them cards right there. You hear it?”

  “I have the money,” she said, in what she thought was a convincing panic.

  In truth, she felt almost nothing. It was funny how her mind had blanked, shut down in the face of his threats. Had it always been this way when he’d tormented her? Or was this a new development? She couldn’t recall.

  “I’ll bring the money down to the canal,” she said. “There’s a little plaza by the Julia Street station. Be there in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said fiercely. “And if you don’t have my money I’ll be turning what’s left of you over to the police.”

  She lifted the gun from the bag and felt the weight of it in her hand. The metal was strangely warm, as if alive. It was ready. And so was she.

  “I’m on my way,” she whispered as her hand tightened on the revolver.

  “Good.” She heard Terry’s smile through the phone. “I’ll be waiting.”

  31

  Piper brought the two mugs of coffee over to the sofa and sat down beside Dani. She placed one of the steaming mugs into Dani’s hands.

  Dani barely managed a thank you before Piper returned to the subject at hand. “I’m just saying there’s a lot that can go wrong.”

  “Yes,” Dani said, before bringing the mug to her lips and blowing.

  Piper chewed her lip nervously. “Lou has many, many talents, but she doesn’t really specialize in trying to keep the bad guys alive, you know?”

  “I know,” Dani said, following her with her gaze.

  Piper was pacing her living room again, unaware that she was doing so. “What if he stabs her or shoots her or something because she’s trying not to hurt him?”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s been stabbed and shot before,” Dani offered, doing her best to keep her voice level, steady, in order to balance out Piper’s obvious concerns.

  Piper huffed. “Yeah, I guess she’s kinda indestructible. No. See, that’s what we start thinking, and then bam, she’s going to get seriously hurt. Maybe even die. That’s how the universe is. It doesn’t want you getting too cozy, thinking you know things.”

  “Will you sit down beside me?” Dani asked.

  Piper stopped pacing. She crossed to the sofa with her coffee mug and sat down beside her once again.

  Dani placed a hand on her knee. “We did everything we could. All we have to do right now is wait.”

  “Oh god, then there’s Mel!” Piper exclaimed. She put her coffee on the table and began pacing again. “What are we going to do about her murderous husband? That guy is just as much of a monster as the dudes Lou hunts. No wonder she was so calm when that dirty cop pointed a gun at her.”

  Or when Dmitri Petrov’s men threatened to shoot her in the head. Piper had caught herself from saying these lasts thoughts aloud at least, realizing that Dani didn’t want to be reminded of Petrov.

  “King’s working on that,” Dani said from her place on the sofa. “Piper? You’re doing it again.”

  Piper stopped pacing. “Sorry.”

  “Come sit down.”

  Piper sank onto the sofa for a third time and sighed. “Sorry. I’m sure me freaking out isn’t helping your PTSD. I’m just so worried about everyone and I feel
like I’m not doing enough.”

  Dani reached across the sofa and put her hand on top of Piper’s.

  A cool chill skittered across Piper’s skin. She licked her lips compulsively. After several beats of agonizing silence, Dani broke it first.

  “This is better,” she said, placing her mug on the coffee table and turning toward Piper.

  Piper settled against her sofa cushions. “Me sitting and shutting the hell up?”

  “No.” Dani cocked her head playfully. “Freaking out. Together. It’s better than doing it alone.”

  Piper’s heart swelled in her chest. It seemed to double then triple in size.

  “Piper,” Dani began, glancing first at her hands before flicking her eyes up to meet Piper’s. Then she laced their fingers together. “Can I kiss you?”

  Piper only managed to swallow against the knot in her throat. “For real?”

  “No ulterior motives. No secrets. Just kiss you.”

  I think it’s the only thing I’ve wanted for like fourteen months, Piper thought.

  She shrugged. “It might be cool.”

  Dani mimicked her. “Yeah. Cool.”

  “Really cool.”

  “Absolutely cool.”

  “Would you mind if I just—”

  “Please—”

  Piper was across the sofa before permission fully passed Dani’s lips. She kissed her once, twice, and somewhere between the third and fourth kisses the flurry of lips devolved into one long, continuous make-out session.

  Piper pulled back, breathless. “Should I keep going?”

  “Yes.” Dani’s kisses fanned across Piper’s cheek to her neck and down to her collarbone. “Assuming that’s what you want.”

  “I like this. This is nice.” Piper swooned, heat flooding her head.

  She pushed Dani onto the flat of her back against the sofa and bent to kiss her again. But she hesitated. “Wait, is this too much too soon? Aren’t you—”

  A deep blush had filled Dani’s cheeks. She came up onto her elbows, trying to snare Piper’s lips. “I’m okay. I’m really, really okay.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to trigger—”

  “Piper!” Dani exclaimed, grabbing the girl’s shirt and pulling her back down. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  32

  Lou waited until Konstantine’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. He lay on his back, his face turned toward her. His eyes were closed and moonlight collected in his dark lashes as his chest rose like a cresting ocean wave. The woodsy scent she’d come to associate with him—amber and sandalwood—surrounded her. It was on his clothes and hair, of course, but also on the pillows and sheets.

  On her.

  She couldn’t explain why she’d agreed to stay, or why she’d propped her back against the headboard and drunk her warm coffee until he’d drifted off to sleep. She couldn’t explain why it was sweet—the fact he slept so well beside her.

  He trusts you, her father’s voice said in her mind. Do you trust him?

  That was the question. And why did trusting him matter? It was more important that she trusted herself. She knew there was nothing he could do to her that would break her.

  That should be enough.

  With her eyes, she traced the light cutting across his cheek, down to his lips. They rested slightly open, with a hint of teeth between them. She wanted to kiss him.

  Hell, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to do a lot more than kiss him.

  She knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t disappear once they’d crossed that final threshold, as she had with every other man in her sexual history. She would keep fucking him. And if she did…

  Then what?

  She leaned toward his lips, moving in to seal that mouth with her own, when a shocking jerk reverberated through her body. It was like catching a fishhook in her navel. It yanked hard through her abdomen, sending electric sparks up her spine.

  Her back arched with a sharp inhale.

  Konstantine’s eyes opened instantly. “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes pinched closed. Lou searched the darkness. Her compass whirled wildly, trying to fix on a space and time. The frantic, desperate pull was unquestionably urgent.

  Who? her mind begged. Where?

  Piper? No.

  King?

  “Louie,” Konstantine whispered. His cold hands touched her burning face. “What’s wrong?”

  The compass latched onto its target at last.

  “It’s Fish.” She pried open her eyes. “I have to go.”

  “Take me with you,” he said, still cupping her face.

  She managed to get the coffee cup back to the nightstand, surprised she hadn’t spilled its contents all over them both.

  “No,” she said. “Call King.”

  Konstantine’s irritation was clear. She’d scared him. “And tell him what?”

  “Fish is hurting her. We need to move now.”

  “Where are they?”

  “At her house.”

  “How can you know that?” Konstantine was on his feet. He bent to remove his phone from its charger.

  How could she explain it to him? That once she’d been in a place, knew its smell, its taste, she could recognize it as well as a face she’d seen before. And even if she could articulate the experience for him, now wasn’t the time. The darkness pulled at her skin, her body, her face, like a torrential river. Its current was hell-bent on carrying her to where she needed to be.

  “He’s at McGrath’s house.” She turned her head, glancing at him from the side of her eye to make sure he was listening. “Tell him.”

  Then she let the darkness take her.

  She opened her eyes and found herself in a kitchen, holding the Browning pistol she’d taken with her to Konstantine’s.

  Outdated checkered tile ran from wall to wall. The kitchen looked ransacked. The cabinets stood open. A stack of pots had been pulled from their resting place and thrown across the floor. A drawer had been yanked from its track. Forks, spoons, and butter knives were strewn like confetti. They sparkled in the moonlight pouring through a kitchen window. Sugar packets littered the counter and floor. Two chairs had been turned on their sides.

  It was the blood that stopped Lou in her tracks.

  A large splash lay on the tile, soaking through a few of the sugar packets. It had turned half of the white paper a dark red. Then a trail began. It dripped toward the living room. Lou followed it to the base of some stairs.

  A woman screamed. The sound echoed through Lou’s spine, sparking electricity through her arms to her fingertips. Two shadows swept over the white walls above. Lou took the stairs two or three at a time. The blood had soaked into the carpet at the top. A new trail formed from this landing into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Lou placed a hand on the bannister, listening for a moment to make sure she knew where the sounds of struggle were coming from.

  Definitely from the bedroom straight ahead. The door itself confirmed this.

  It hung at an angle, with splinters jutting from the busted handle. McGrath must have locked herself in the bedroom to buy time. Fish must have busted through the door shortly after.

  A lamp flew past the open door and shattered against the wall. Ceramic shards and lightbulb glass rained down on the carpet.

  Then Fish was there.

  He rounded the bed, hair in disarray. His chest was heaving like a wild dog’s and his body was hunched as if in hunger. He was snarling. The sight of him like that—more beast than man—stunned Lou.

  Perhaps because it was so different from the drug lackeys she so often hunted. Different from the fools like Walker who went quietly, ignorantly, to their own deaths. She’d seen this level of maniacal animalism only a few times—in Dmitri Petrov most recently, as he demanded that she account for the murder of his son. Before that, it had been Nico, who’d wanted Konstantine’s complete and utter destruction for inheriting the wealth and power he’d believed belonged to him.

>   But those outbursts, those demands for retribution, had made sense to her.

  Fish’s made no sense. Logically, McGrath owed him nothing. She had never wronged or hurt him. How could he look at her as if he deserved her life? As if he deserved her pain?

  When he rounded the bed out of Lou’s sight, Jennifer screamed.

  The fear in the cry cut through Lou’s confusion and sharpened her awareness to this single moment in time. She pulled her gun and pointed it. She remained hidden in the hallway, but her shot was clear. All she had to do was pull the trigger and spill his brains all over the wall.

  Take him alive. We need him alive. We need him—

  “Fuck.” Lou lowered the gun and rushed into the bedroom.

  Jennifer stood in one corner with her arms out as if bracing herself against both walls. Her chest heaved. Her eyes were wide and frightened. An overturned lamp gave her face a severe, ghostly appearance.

  Her eyes flicked from Fish to Lou only a second before Lou seized him.

  She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him back through the dark.

  Not to La Loon—though oh how she longed to do it—but instead to the kitchen, putting distance between the murderer and his target.

  The jarring outdated kitchen tile reappeared. Her bare feet squeaked against the floor as she released Fish, shoving him forward into the cabinets. A butter knife shifted underfoot.

  He hit the edge of the counter hard. All the air left him in a surprised oomph. When he turned, he lost his balance. His black sneakers slid on the sugar packets. His arms pinwheeled as he struggled to right himself, kicking one of the pots into a corner.

  His struggle gave Lou time to slip the gun into her waistband and free her hands.

  Once he was able to right himself again, Fish saw her for the first time. His eyes roved her body, taking in the oversized sweats and t-shirt. Her bare feet and disheveled hair.

  Lou expected the usual questions. Who are you? How did I get here?

  Instead, Fish charged her.