Dead Man's Hand (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #2)

by Stacey Rourke

  Across the street, Madge rounded the side of her car and headed toward the passenger side door. Sliding out of the backseat like he had caught up with her to hitch a ride, paper-eater Marv gave a casual wave before sauntering off in the direction of the bus stop.

  Instantly, I stopped listening, my attentions fixed on the enigmatic chairperson. “Magical handcuffs won’t be necessary. I really hope no one was inconvenienced coming up with them. It would be horrible if they got bit by their familiar, or choked on their own tongue. Thanks for checking in. You take care now.”

  Not giving her another chance to respond, I ended the call.

  “Where’s Madge?” Nate spun in a slow circle, having temporarily lost sight of her.

  “Around the side of her car. We need to move before we lose her!” Supporting Bacon’s weight with my hands, I sprinted for Madge’s Pontiac. Clasping one hand on her waif-like shoulder, I spun her aside. Wrenching open the passenger side door, I acted fast to free her next victim from a fate as horrible as what Nate and Karen suffered.

  There sat a frail looking, old woman with a scarf wrapped around her bald head. The heavy bags under her eyes were amplified by the lenses of her fuchsia-framed glasses.

  “Your baby is hideous,” she stated, nose crinkling in Bacon’s direction. She wore bright red lipstick that sank into the deep lines and wrinkles that bracketed her lips.

  I was anticipating someone eager to bolt. An unwilling victim that would fall into my arms and profusely thank me, their valiant savior.

  Instead, I had to defend the honor of my little pink sidekick.

  “He’s a pig,” I corrected.

  “I’ll say. Maybe you could hide his ugly under a wide-brimmed hat?” Scarf-lady offered, adjusting a giant bauble of a ring that had slid down her bony knuckle.

  Jogging to catch up, Nate waved his hands over his head in a desperate attempt to catch my attention. “Her nana…” he wheezed. “That’s her nana.”

  With her purse clutched tightly in her fists like a weapon, Madge marched straight for the face she recognized. “Nate? What is the meaning of this? Did you follow me here?”

  Tipping my chin in Nate’s direction, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. “Her nana?”

  Planting his hands on his knees, Nate fought to catch his breath. “Her nana has cancer; she brings her here for her treatments.”

  Brow creased, Madge squinted in his direction. “Why are we telling this stranger my business? I could have sworn there was sort of an anonymous aspect to our group.”

  Jaw swinging slack, I rapidly blinked my way to clarity. “That’s why Madge is bald, and looks like a disheveled mess.”

  Tucking her purse under her arm, Madge cleared her throat and straightened her spine with palpable indignation. “Yes, strangely forward pink-haired woman, I shaved my head out of support for my grandmother’s fight, and occasionally appear distressed, and flustered because of it. Thank you for inquiring about something that is, frankly, none of your damned business.”

  Face blanching, I stared Nate’s way in hopes of rescue.

  All he offered was a bewildered shrug.

  Asshat.

  Wetting my suddenly parched lips, I tipped my face back toward Madge and offered what I hoped read as a friendly smile. “You know what? I think I just have you confused with someone else.”

  Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Madge shrank me with a glare. “And who, exactly, did you think I was?”

  Chin falling to my chest, Bacon’s snout gave me a supportive boop to the nose. “I… uh… thought you were an evil genie feeding off the addictions of your group members.”

  When all else fails, hide behind the absurdity of the truth.

  Madge stared my way for a beat, seemingly chewing on the inside of her cheek.

  Her head snapped in Nate’s direction. “Is she high? You really shouldn’t be around people in this state, Nate. It’s not conducive to your recovery.” Shoving her way past me with harsh pokes of her bony elbows, Madge gently took her nana’s forearm and guided her out of the car. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my sister flaked on bringing Nana to her appointment, again, but I was able to convince them to hold the spot for us. I don’t want to test their patience, as you have mine.”

  After slamming the car door shut behind them, the pair shuffled toward the sliding glass doors at the hospital’s entrance.

  Edging closer, Nate bumped my elbow with his. “I bet that’s why she rushed off at Karen’s apartment. Her sister probably texted her.”

  “I figured that out. Thank you.”

  Nate stepped up on the curb to allow an SUV to slide into the parking spot beside us. “So… where do we go from here? We were kind of hedging our bets on Madge being the bad guy.”

  His question bounced off me, my mind whirling to place the pieces of this dizzying puzzle.

  “Octavia?”

  Struck by a sudden epiphany, I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. “How did we not see it? It’s so obvious! We just need to go after the person who’s been right under our noses this whole time!”

  Confusion creasing his sweat dampened brow, Nate glanced down at Bacon… who happened to occupy that particular piece of real estate. “The… pig?”

  For a beat, I found myself dumbstruck into silence. “Yes. My pig is a villainous mastermind who works under the alias Mr. P. Iggy. Or—in a world of the sane—I’m referring to the one person who keeps popping up at each and every turn. So much so, that we even gave him money to go away.”

  A spark of realization brightened Nate’s silver eyes. “Marv!”

  “That’s right!” Catching Bacon’s ear between my thumb and forefinger, I rubbed the pads of my fingers over his velvety skin. “It has to be. You made the call, and there he was. We just blew him off because he uses the human façade of a weird paper eater! If he is our guy, we need to find him. Any ideas on where he lives or hangs out?”

  Chewing on his lower lip, Nate peered at the steady flow of traffic moving in and out of the hospital entrance. A pregnant woman was being wheeled inside. An older gentleman with a walker shuffled his way toward a waiting Your Ride van. It seemed a perfect metaphor for the pulse of life of which he’d recently been robbed.

  “He seems to fixate on those of us in group, but I doubt he’s looking for a kill tonight. Not this close on the heels of Karen’s death. More likely, he’s scoping out the next deal to strike. During that phone call, he showed me what I could have. It was a vision of me at a roulette table, where with every single spin of the wheel, my number came up. For him to do that, I’m guessing he would have to be close by to work his magic, but remain unseen.”

  “Most likely. It would be hard to maintain a magical current over a wireless network.”

  “If that’s true, we might be able to find him with a group member, giving them a teasing glimpse of their deepest fantasies come to life.”

  Shushing Bacon, who had begun to squirm, I bounced on the balls of my feet to placate him. “I remember mostly drug addicts. This thing has yet to target any substance abusers. There could be a reason for that. Who else is there?”

  Nate’s nose crinkled in disdain. “There’s Brad… the porn addict.”

  A shiver of disgust rippled through me. “I don’t even want to think about what his enticing fantasy would look like. I’m guessing it involves a pizza boy getting a grossly generous tip. Any idea where the pervert lives?”

  A hot red blush spread up Nate’s neck to his cheeks. “I went to his house once for the most awkward poker game of my life. If I wasn’t an addict with an uncontrollable compulsion, I totally would have left before the first hand was dealt.”

  “How long did you stay instead?”

  “Long enough to lose my watch… and my pants.” Noticing the smile tugging at the corners of my lips, his tone sharpened with a hint of accusation. “Hey, I thought this was a judgment free zone?”

  “Oh, I never said that,” I called ove
r my shoulder, already striding back to my bike. “Think you can keep your pants on long enough to show me where this guy lives?”

  “I do!” he countered, falling into step behind me. “Do you think you can…” trailing off, he hunted for a witty comeback. Unable to manage a slam dunk, he settled for a three point free throw. “Oh, shut up. Your best friend is a farm animal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Knotting Bacon’s leash around a parking meter, my eyes narrowed at the Craftsman-style house across the street. “Pervert boy still lives with his parents? Somehow that makes his habit even ickier.”

  Unclipping his helmet, Nate hung it on the grip of my bike. “His mom offered me meatloaf after I lost my pants. She’s an attractive woman. I thought it was a metaphor for something else. It was a confusing night all the way around.”

  Pig securely fastened and supplied with fresh water in his Everything’s Better With Bacon bowl, I arched my back to stretch the cramping muscles. “I’m both terrified and intrigued by that story. We will be discussing it further—guaranteed. In the meantime, I need you to be honest with me.” Hands on my hips, I swiveled to face him. “Did you make things so weird with his mom that you won’t be allowed back inside?”

  “No, not at all.” Nate took a brave step forward, only to reconsider and shrink back. “Wait… I forgot about the ‘Do you want sauce with that’ part of the ordeal. Yeah, I should definitely stay here and keep Bacon company.”

  Lips pursed, I shook my head. “I’m disappointed in you, Nate. I’ve only known you a day, but I know you’re better than that.”

  His head hung in shame. “I know.”

  “You two stay here.” I jerked my head toward my swine side-kick, who was rooting around in his water bowl in search of the ice cube I occasionally threw in there. “Bacon, you’re in charge.”

  “Why him?” Nate tsked.

  Jogging across the street, I shouted back, “Because he’s never lost his pants!”

  “He doesn’t wear pants!” Nate lobbed back.

  “See? You have so much to learn!” A car honked in annoyance that I wasn’t moving fast enough. Granting them a middle finger salute, I quickened my pace.

  Hopping up three cement steps, I flipped my hair from my eyes and knocked on Brad’s door. It was a cute, albeit modest house. One in which you would anticipate the door to be opened by a fifty-something mom with graying hair and high-waisted slacks. That… would not be the case. I guessed the vixen leaning against the doorframe to be around forty. Her parts appeared to be primarily plastic. She had a headful of flowing, platinum extensions, and enough Botox and fillers to erase the signs of aging to an eerie, mannequin level.

  With one elbow on the door jamb and her bust straining against her shockingly transparent sundress, she sized me up with a bored glance. “Can I help you?”

  “Uh, hi.” I offered her a tight smile and an awkward wave that made it seem like interacting with humans was a new experience for me. “I’m looking for Brad. Your… son?”

  Pushing off the door, she rolled her shoulder to stick her tits out farther still. “Step son, and I’m sure he’s downstairs molesting himself. That’s kind of his thing.”

  Leaving the door hanging open, she sauntered inside with her hips swishing in a way that would make Shakira envious. “Suddenly, his addiction makes sense in a much more disturbing way.”

  “What was that, doll?” she asked, tossing her cascades of hair over her shoulder.

  “Your home is lovely!” I corrected, smile widening. “Where can I find Brad?”

  “Down those stairs.” The scantily clad MILF jerked her hip toward a six-panel door. “I would knock first. Really, really loud.”

  Without another word, she meandered off.

  Hand on the door knob, I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste the coppery rush of blood. Squeezing my eyes partially shut, as if that could somehow protect me from any traumatizing images I may stumble upon, I peeked inside. To my great relief—and regret—there was another door at the bottom of the stairs. From behind that blared the campy music soundtrack of cheesy porn, accompanied by overexaggerated moaning.

  Can we just pause here to discuss that? Sure, sex is fun. That doesn’t change the fact that no one makes that much noise unless being paid to do so. If you’re really having that good a time, are you going to be physically able to announce that pleasure audibly? Hell no. You’re going to be riding those waves of pleasure and praying your O face doesn’t look like you’re choking on a chicken bone.

  Inching down the stairs, I said a silent prayer for all parties on the other side of that door to have their pants on, then I knocked with two crisp wraps. A beat later, I knocked again.

  When he didn’t answer, I said a silent prayer to any god, goddess, or deity that happened to be listening, and hesitantly opened the door. One step inside, and a shroud of regret instantly fell over me.

  “Another girl?” Brad marveled with a throaty chuckle. While shirtless, he was dressed from the waist down as a handy man—toolbelt included. Leaning back against the counter of his wet bar, he let out a throaty moan as a curvy red-head licked whipped cream off his chest. His phone was nestled between his shoulder and his ear as he murmured his desires to whomever was on the other end of the call. “Are they going to make out? There is nothing hotter than a little girl-on-girl action.”

  With resolute strides, I closed the distance between me and Brad and snatched the phone from his hand. “Marv? That you, ya creepy little paper-eater? Secrets out, pal. You can go ahead and reveal yourself.” Brave words for someone expecting Marv’s scrawny frame to appear. That… was not how this went down. “Jinn? Big ass scary Jinn!” I called out.

  Ah, yes. I handled that with my usual cool-headedness.

  While the facial features of the beast who materialized from thin air strongly resembled Marv’s, that was where their similarities ended. His bare chest rippled with muscles that tapered down into a swirling mist of golden wisps. Onyx talons stretched from his fingertips, ragged slices cut into the flesh of his torso. All of which appeared self-inflicted.

  “You’re quite the delectable treat. I’ll grant you whatever you wish.” Jinn-Marv flipped his Mohawk ponytail over his shoulder, floating just below the basement’s drop down ceiling. “You need only speak your heart’s desire out loud.”

  “See now, that is not going to happen.” Wagging one finger in the air, I cut off that line of thought right the hell now, secretly wishing there had been a casual way to bring my swords into the house. “I won’t be making any wishes. I want no part in that mess.”

  One corner of his mouth curling into a smirk, Brad’s lecherous gaze wandered the length of me. “It looks like you already are, and I am on board.”

  “What? How am I...?” As it turned out, stepping into the room during his wish cast me as a player in Brad’s shockingly unoriginal fantasy. My jeans and black tank top were replaced with a slutty French Maid costume. Oddly enough, the changes didn’t stop there. “Are my boobs bigger? What the actual hell? These things are pushed up so far they could choke me!”

  “Yeah, they could.” Brad bit his lower lip and nodded his exuberant appreciation.

  Jinn-Marv rolled his fingers, nails clicking together. “Speak the words, child, and I’ll make her your plaything the remainder of your days.”

  Grabbing Brad by the ear, I slapped a hand over his mouth. “If you utter even one syllable, I will rip your tongue out of your mouth and slap you with it. I need you to know that I’m here to save your dumb ass, but it’s not because I like you or approve of any of this. This is disgusting, and you’re a cockroach. Stop viewing women as pieces of meat and you may actually be able to find a real one that’s willing to touch you. In the meantime, get the hell out of here before I reconsider kicking you in the nuts just for funsies.”

  In case my message was having any difficulty sinking through his thick skull, I turned him toward the door and gave him a kick to the ass for good
measure.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Biting his lower lip, he kept his horny leer locked on me as he obeyed my command.

  “Just keep walking, creeper,” I barked, jabbing my index finger toward the stairs.

  The second it shut behind him, the red-headed vixen vanished in a puff of white smoke.

  “Octavia,” Jinn-Marv swirled around me, wisps of his mist-like lower body brushing the ends of my hair from my back. “You’re a far more delectable treat than that overly beaten meat. I can taste your obsession, it whispers to me all that you long for.”

  “First of all, mad props on that ‘beaten meat’ comment. That was quality snark, my friend. As to the tasting thing, I suggest a palate cleanser. Because any and all fantasies of mine involve me being far more covered.” I waved my hand at the skanky ensemble he cursed me with. “Layers. I’m a big fan of layers.”

  Hovering above me, his pointy black tongue dragged over his teeth. “I will have you. Mark my words: moments from now, you’ll be begging to make a deal.”

  “Pretty confident for a guy with a paper-eating alter ego.”

  A snap of his fingers, and the clothes I came in with returned. I cannot stress enough how relieved I was not to have a draft blowing up my tailpipe anymore.

  The Jinn kicked up a current as he swirled around me in another taunting pass. “It’s far easier to go unnoticed when I make a nuisance of myself. Then I’m free to stalk my next victim, for my only master is the power of the wish.”

  That statement gave me the first inklings of an idea, I just needed to keep him monologuing long enough to work out the details. Truth be told, I was still wishing I could have found a way to smuggle in my swords. His talons of terror would have seemed slightly less off-putting if I was armed with more than the footprint of an idea.

  Feet planted in a wide-legged stance, I squared my shoulders and met his haunting stare head on. “I guess we’re all slaves to something. Me? I’m Netflix’s bitch. Absolutely can’t turn down a good binge. Now, before we get back to the ominous threats, I have a question I have to ask. Do you have a little lamp that you live in? Follow up question: is it furnished like the one in I Dream of Genie, or is it more of a ‘phenomenal cosmic power, itty bitty living space’ thing from Aladdin?”