Arachna

Lance awoke on the cool sheets of the hotel bed, his eyes absent of their usual heaviness.

The room around him was a soft brown. Light from the overcast sky filled the room through a crack in the almost-closed curtains.

Groaning, he clumsily rolled out of the bed, wishing more than anything he could stay under the covers forever. He stretched and finally stood up straight. He rubbed his tired eyes as he padded to the window then ripped open the curtains. The light stung his eyes at first, but he adjusted quickly.

The sky looked only moments away from releasing a torrent of rain.

He looked out at the city. The slums always felt dead and devoid of any happiness, yet in this part of the city, citizens ambled along sidewalks and drove down streets in clean, polished cars. A fountain stood nearly out of view. Its statue featured a black widow with its fangs bared, water spilling from them and pooling below. A child stood nearby, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. Moments later, he threw something into the water.

The mother grasped her child’s hand as he returned from the statue’s looming presence. Lance grimaced as they walked away. Where would he be now if his parents hadn’t died? On a bus, maybe, or a train. He would walk into a house that smelled of fresh pastries. His mother would round the corner with tears in her eyes and embrace him so hard that he couldn’t breathe. His father would hug him as well. They would eat and laugh and tell stories. They would let him stay as long as he wanted. He would be a part of a family.

That dream would never come true.

Tears rolled down Lance’s cheeks before he could stop them. He wiped them away, sniffling and swearing at his parents for abandoning him.

His watery eyes glazed over as he stared out at the rest of the city. He focused on the skyscraper in the center, taller than every other building, towering like a king over peasants—Landreau Corp, the company supposedly working on a secret project only a year after moving to Arachna.

Lance leaned forward and rested his head against the cool glass of the window, goosebumps rising along his arms as the cold seeped through and into his bare chest.

Soon, he would have to leave this room and join Kaela for whatever excursion she had planned for him. If she was as bad as he thought, he’d certainly needed that good night’s rest.

Again, no nightmare. That was a relief, at least.

A knock sounded.

“One second!” Lance called. He ripped himself away from the window and dressed in the clothes set out for him—under Eric’s orders, he guessed.

A pair of black elastic pants cleverly disguised as jeans, and a black shirt. The clothes smelled of pine and lavender, which would’ve been a lovely sensation had it not smelled exactly like the matron at the orphanage. A copper taste formed in his mouth, and he suddenly had the urge to spit.

Now clothed, Lance crept to the door, taking his time to look around, savoring every moment he could be in this room, safe and comfortable. No risk of being attacked or shot. No more moldy walls, chipped paints, or rancid smell. He stowed a few things from the bathroom in his pockets.

He wondered if he would be able to afford rooms like this once Eric started paying him.

Lance opened the door. Kaela stepped in without a word, wearing a royal-blue dress that covered one shoulder and left the other bare. Glitter shone like diamonds on the skirt as it floated just above the carpeted floors. A sneer played on her lips as she looked around the room, as if she was in a garbage can rather than a four-star hotel room.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice drawling on the word as if she was bored to tears.

Lance had wondered all night how this interaction would go. Already not a good start.

“Yeah,” Lance said hesitantly. “I can… barely keep my excitement in.”

“Most men can’t when they come to The Red Rose.”

Lance blinked at how fast her response was.

Kaela sneered down at the floor again, as if expecting the carpet to move out of her way.

What a snob, Lance thought as he stared at her eyes. Those yellow eyes were still a mystery to him, and probably not a mystery he wanted to crack, as the sight of them still sent a cold chill down his back. Those eyes looked at him now.

“Can we leave?” she asked.

Lance put a hand on his pocket, the switchblade resting comfortably within. He checked his other pocket, where two travel-sized bottles of shampoo rested. If he only owned a suitcase, he could’ve taken some towels as well. “Yeah, we can leave.” He nearly added a sarcastic ‘Your Highness’, but a lump formed in his throat when he considered it.

“Thank God,” she said, placing her hands firmly on her hips as she looked around the room once more. “Let’s get this day over with.”

Lance crossed his arms. “Is there a problem?”

Kaela hummed and glided to the window. “You can almost see it from here.”

“See what?”

“The slums,” Kaela breathed, a smirk on her lips. “Don’t get used to this. You’ll be back there before you know it.”

Lance balled his hands into fists but relaxed them when she turned around. “Are we leaving or not?”

Kaela didn’t answer—just walked out of the room and motioned for him to follow. “Did you learn anything at Derek’s bar?” she asked after a few steps down the hall.

Lance wondered what he should tell her and settled for a simple, “Mhm.” After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “Is there anything I’m supposed to learn from you today?”

“How to seduce men and women,” Kaela said without hesitation.

Lance stopped in his tracks, unable to hide his wide eyes in time as she peeked over her shoulder with a wicked smile.

“Ah, and the mask breaks already.” She chuckled. “I thought it would have taken longer than that.”

Lance’s cheeks flushed, and he waited for the back of her head to catch fire from the glare he shot at her. He racked his brain for a comeback, but anger clouded his thinking. “I’m not sure what you mean, but I’m just here to learn how you run things around here.”

“Well, allow me to be frank,” Kaela said as she summoned the elevator. “I don’t trust you whatsoever, and the idea of bringing you to the business I built from the ground up and telling you how it works makes me want to slap Eric across his grinning face.”

“Be a shame if someone were to tell Eric that,” Lance said, frustration honing an edge to his words. The way she spoke and carried herself, like she was better than him, made it harder and harder for him to bite his tongue.

“He wouldn’t care,” Kaela said casually. As they walked through the lobby, she lazily waved to the man at the desk. “See you next week, Johnny.”

He waved back with a smile.

When Lance followed Kaela outside, an older man summoned them to a limousine parked just out front.

“Why am I not surprised?” Lance muttered to himself as Kaela got into the car, and he slipped into the seat beside her.

“What can I say? I’m a fan of the finer things in life,” Kaela said as she reached for a glass and took a bottle of wine out of the mini fridge. “So, since I’m obligated to tell you about how I run things, let’s go ahead and rip this bandage off. My business is called The Red Rose. There are four spread out across a few corners of the city, with another one dead center, which is where we’re going. Derek has about four bars, all of which take up the space that the Roses can’t.” She took a large mouthful of wine and savored it for a few seconds before swallowing. “I still have no idea why Eric brought you in on this operation. I never know what’s going on in that man’s head, but he usually has a reason for everything he does. This? You? I haven’t the slightest clue as to what he was thinking.”

“Maybe you just weren’t listening,” Lance said. “He said none of you had businesses in the slums. That even your people don’t like going there.”

She stared at him for a moment. “The pup bites back. Go figure. I would never have guessed you had teeth, with the way you were trembling last night.” She took another gulp of wine. “You know, in movies, people like you always end up dead.”

“I don’t watch movies.” As much as I’d love to.

Kaela smiled. He kept his eyes forward, watching her out of his peripherals. Her face remained composed and casual. She was impossible to read.

She released a deep sigh and took another gulp. “Whatever. I’m sick of arguing with you. Eric might just be using you for bait anyway, so let’s just get this day over with.”

Lance spoke before he could catch himself. “Bait?”

Kaela set the glass down gently into a cup holder, crossed her legs, smoothed some of the creases in her dress, then placed her hands in her lap. She stared at him with an innocent expression.

Lance gritted his teeth. She was toying with him, wasting as much time as possible so he would beg for her to explain. Suddenly, he was back at the orphanage with the constant torment and poking and prodding of the other kids. She was just like them. He balled his fists.

“You serve no purpose to this business,” Kaela finally said. “Eric most likely has some plan in mind, and he’ll use you to lure out some old enemy, effectively killing you and getting whatever it is he’s looking for.” She cleared her throat. “If our people were that scared to go into the slums, Eric wouldn’t have taken so long to hire somebody. Which leads me to believe that you… are bait.”

Lance clenched his jaw and couldn’t stop himself from gulping. She still looked at him with that smile. She was enjoying his ‘mask’ breaking.

“So you’re saying that he wants something important,” he said, “and the only way he can think to get it is to gain an inordinate amount of information on me, a random guy who lives day by day in a shitty gas station, so I can be bait? Not to mention he’s having my store fixed. Seems like a lot of trouble for little reward.”

“Fattening you up before he shoves you into the oven.” Kaela blinked slowly then picked her glass back up, refilling it with wine. “Oh, I hope I can get drunk enough to get through today.”

Lance clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as Kaela sipped her wine, completely unbothered.

Derek had tried to warn him, but she was as intense as he said. Maybe even more. He crossed his arms and stewed in his anger the rest of the way, that word searing into his brain.

Bait.

* * *

The limo stopped at a four-story building. The walls were dark red with pink-outlined figures dancing and holding each other in tight embraces. A red neon sign lined the front of the store, The Red Rose written in glowing cursive letters.

Brothels had been legalized years ago in Arachna, and they still drew in more business than any other nightlife establishments.

“Here we are,” Kaela said, sounding more pleasant than she had minutes before.

The alcohol must have taken effect, Lance thought with a smirk that he hid by wiping his mouth.

He stepped out of the car, following Kaela inside. The moment the doors opened, the smell of perfume escaped from inside. The birch hallway was lit with soft ambient lighting and decorated with paintings and pictures of nude men and women.

Kaela looked back at him with a pleasant smile, the first one he’d seen on her, and said, “Welcome to The Red Rose.” She turned and walked gracefully down the perfumed hall.

Lance closed in on himself, unable to shake the feeling that he didn’t belong here. The sound of pleased customers from the floor above didn’t help. He focused his eyes on the floor, clean and polished.

They passed a hall to the right, which led to an exit door, and only a few steps later, another hall to the left that led to a handful of closed doors, the only distinction of what was behind them in the form of a numbered golden plaque resting right beside each.

Escorts walked by, some scantily clad, others in the finest of dresses. He gulped and kept his focus on Kaela’s back.

“Feeling alright?” Kaela asked, smiling widely.

Much as he tried to hide it, nothing could disguise the redness in his cheeks. That smile on Kaela’s face told him she could see his embarrassment, and that she was enjoying it.

“Of course I am,” he said back, keeping his voice light and casual, despite wishing he could escape into his shirt.

Kaela let out a small chuckle. “We’re headed to my office.”

Lance relaxed, and when Kaela turned to look at him, she seemed to notice.

“What, you didn’t think I was going to force you on anyone, did you?” She laughed. “Maybe I will, yet.”

Lance balled his fists. Every chance she could get, she toyed with him. Moves like a cat, he thought. Apparently acts like one too.

They walked past a lounge area where men and women alike sat and drank. Some had women in their laps, others were sharing drinks with them.

“Since I’m obligated to tell you about my business…” Kaela said as she took a sharp right up a set of stairs then paused, her face twisting as if she was nauseous. “This, as you can see, is an all-female Rose. A couple of others are all-male, and one offers both. Maybe you’d like to drink a little and unwind with one of my girls while I get some work done?” She grinned.

“I think I’ll pass.”

Kaela’s smile grew as she looked back at him. “Surely you’re not afraid I’ll poison your drink, are you? Or perhaps this isn’t your preference. I can always have my driver out there take you to one of my all-male Roses.”

“I said I’ll pass.”

Kaela hummed then continued up the stairs. “Fine. Do you have any questions?”

“It’s not about your business, but… how does Eric avoid the police? And…” Something inside him halted the question from leaving his lips. Yet, as he opened his mouth to say something else, they came out anyway. “Are those your real eyes?” His voice faltered, and he cursed himself.

They ascended to the top floor, and farther down the hall they reached a dark wooden door. Kaela’s name was written across it.

“I should probably let Eric answer the police question himself, but…” She chuckled then turned around with a smug smile. “Since he trusts you so much, surely he’d be willing to tell you, right?” She laughed, but her eyes glinted with something like annoyance, and her posture stiffened. “Eric and the chief of police, Ms. Rotoya, have an understanding. A mutual understanding that Eric provides whatever she needs, including some extra funds for her men, and Eric gets more breathing room to do what he wants. As for my eyes, well… they’re real. The real question you have, I imagine, is why they are the way they are.”

Lance shrugged. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Well, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” A playful smile followed. “Maybe I will tell you when Eric uses you as bait. As a parting gift, you know?”

They entered Kaela’s office. The walls were a deep-auburn wood with a web pattern carved into them. A mini bar was nestled in a corner of the room. Lance avoided its gaze.

Kaela slinked to the chair behind her desk and sat upon it like it was made of glass.

Lance sat in the chair across from the desk, halfway expecting a needle to prick him.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Lance asked. “I don’t think I can assist with your business—that much is obvious.” He took a deep breath. He hoped it was obvious, at least.

His nerves were getting the better of him, and the urge to bounce his leg became relentless. He stretched them instead and leaned on them, then crossed his arms to avoid biting his nails.

“True.” Kaela hummed as she left her seat and poured two glasses of whiskey from the mini bar. She placed one in front of Lance then returned to her seat. “You really should have a drink. It’ll calm you down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, please. When you saw all those pretty employees of mine, your face went redder than the neon sign outside.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, looking anywhere but at the glass of whiskey. “Did you ever consider that was just the ambient pink lighting?”

Kaela smirked. “Then why is your face still red?”

Lance scoffed.

“Back to the conversation at hand,” Kaela said, making herself comfortable in her chair. “I think I do have a job you might like. And don’t worry, it won’t compromise your precious morals.” The snicker she tried to suppress as she took a sip from her own glass made Lance sick to his stomach.

“And what would that be?”

Kaela took another sip. “What did you think of those three stooges that caused trouble in Derek’s bar yesterday?”

When did she find out about that? “I think they’re a group of punks that like to start fights. Why?”

“Well, they’ve been coming around The Red Rose as well and harassing my workers.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Yesterday, they robbed one of my girls, stole some jewelry off her. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if she hadn’t been wearing a special necklace her grandmother gave to her before she died. I’m going to be busy here for a little while—I have some stuff to take care of. However, since you’re so eager to help, I need you to go to the abandoned building they’re staying at. I know you’re just going to be shocked to hear this, but it’s in the slums. I had one of Derek’s agents watch the place, and he told me they usually leave to cause trouble at around three. So, you still have time to get there and take the necklace back.”

“They could have sold it already,” Lance said, taking a deep breath as Kaela drew a long sip of her whiskey. “What if I can’t get it back?”

“Then you can’t get it back.” She rubbed her temples and took another sip. Then she downed the drink and shuffled some papers before pausing and looking up at him. “What are you waiting for? Go. You’ll have a friend of mine going with you. Her name’s Amari. Be nice to her, or I’ll make your life hell.”

Lance nearly scoffed as he stood from the chair. “I hope you’re not just trying to get me killed.”

Kaela looked up from her papers and grinned. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Lance wanted to dive over the desk, but instead, he walked to the door. “Don’t you have any other jobs I could do instead? I wouldn’t want to get in Amari’s way.”

Kaela opened her mouth to speak, her eyes dancing with a deadly fire, but the door to her office opened, and a girl peeked in.

“Kaela,” said the girl, “Margaret’s here looking for Roderick.”

“The old lady? Tell her Roderick’s out sick,” Kaela said. Then she paused. “And he doesn’t even work at this Rose. He would’ve been at the one on Hourglass Street.”

“I told her that, but she refuses to leave.”

Kaela sighed, but then a smile inched onto her face as she looked at Lance. “Lance, dear, if you’re not interested in pursuing that lead of mine, perhaps you could pursue Ms. Marga—”

“I’ll go check out the building,” Lance blurted, his face hot and his hands sweaty. He wanted to slap himself for breaking his composure again.

Kaela smiled sweetly and told the girl, “Tell Ms. Margaret the only man we have free at the moment is Bradley, and if she’s not interested in him, then she’ll just have to wait until Roderick isn’t sick. And kindly tell her she’s at the wrong Rose unless she’s looking to diversify her tastes.”

The girl smiled, nodded, and left the room.

It was impulsive, but he’d already broken his composure in front of her, so he said, “I hate you.”

“What is it they put on fishhooks, again?” Kaela asked. She made a motion like she was reeling in a fish, then chuckled as she stood to pour herself another drink.

When she turned around, Lance made a choking motion at her then left the room.

* * *

The sky threatened to rain down over the city, but it didn’t. Even as the clouds hovered above, dark and haunting, the streets remained dry.

Lance walked down the sidewalk with Amari, his hands in his pockets. He held the switchblade in one hand, comforted by its presence. He’d never kept a weapon with him in the slums. Never had the chance. Now he understood the appeal.

Amari was silent, her black coat swishing with every step. Lance glanced at her every few seconds. Her posture was straight, her walk confident and unwavering but just as graceful as Kaela’s. She seemed to have no reservations about walking through the slums.

“Kaela tells me you’re good at what you do,” Lance started. “What is that, exactly?”

Her long black braid swayed as she eyed him. Her eyes were a friendly brown, a complete contrast to the harsh stare of Kaela’s. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” She held a playful smile like Kaela’s, yet it felt more genuine.

“No, she’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“I’m what you would call a cat burglar. I break into rich people’s houses and take every shiny thing not nailed down.”

Lance repressed his laugh, instead allowing himself a smile. “What is it like, being a thief?”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling, but when he’d stolen, it’d been food or clothes. Those first few years after escaping the orphanage had been hard.

“Like being able to take whatever I want, whenever I want,” she said with a toothy smile that would rival Derek’s. “Saves me money at Christmas too. I stole this chemistry set once; I love that thing. Haven’t used it in a few years, though.”

“Are you from around here?”

“If you mean Arachna, no. If you mean America, yes. My parents immigrated here from Japan.”

“Where are they now?”

“In a small town, thinking I’m studying to be a scientist.”

“Hence the chemistry set?”

She laughed. “No, no, I’ve loved chemistry forever. I only know the basics, though.”

Lance gave her a smile until she faced forward again, and it slowly faded. She was so friendly. Maybe too friendly. Was she faking like Rob?

“So this is the slums,” Amari said once the buildings became shabby and run-down. “I’ve only been here a couple of times, but I swear it gets worse every time I come around.” She looked over her shoulder. “Have you really lived here your whole life?”

“Yep,” Lance said. “Since I was a kid.”

“Damn,” Amari said. “No wonder you look so weathered. No offense. Here we are.” She stopped in front of an abandoned building, windows broken, walls cracked. Nothing unusual for a building in the slums. “Why can’t guys like this ever stay somewhere nicer? It’s always an easy-to-break-into apartment. Just boring and drab.”

“Boring and drab,” Lance repeated. “Well, let’s go before they get back.”

“Agreed.”

Amari slipped into the alley with Lance, scanning the building. She pointed at a trash can. “I can use that to climb up to the window. Can you grab it for me?”

Lance darted his eyes from one end of the alley to the other, expecting a mugger to show up and gun them down. Gunshots often rang out in this part of the city, and their echo resonated in the back of his head as he moved the bin, waiting for a bullet to catch his back.

Amari balanced on the top of the can with ease then leapt up to the nearest window, peeking inside before sliding her body in with one swift motion. She poked her head out. “Coast is clear. You can come up if you want.”

Lance haphazardly balanced on the can. He took a deep breath and leapt. His fingers grazed against the windowsill, but he wasn’t high enough. He gasped as gravity tugged at his heels.

Amari grabbed his hand just in time.

Lance’s feet dangled in the air, and he lost his breath. “Holy shit.”

“Wow, you’re so light,” Amari said with a small, breathy laugh. Lance braced his feet on the wall as she pulled him up and through the window. “You really need to eat more.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, out of breath, trying to keep his composure as he balled his hand into a fist, his skin burning where she’d touched him. He wiped it on the back of his pants.

“No problem,” Amari said. “Search in the next room.” She pointed to the room on the left of the hallway they were in, her voice barely a whisper. “We’re looking for a silver necklace with an amethyst gem.”

“A what?”

Amari’s eyes widened. “You don’t…? Just—just look for purple and silver. And make sure to leave everything just as it was.” She turned to sneak into a room then paused. “But if you find any other jewelry, take that too. Better with us than with them.”

“Sure,” Lance choked out, his voice nearly cracking.

Amari didn’t seem to notice as she slipped into the room to his right, quiet as a ghost.

The floor was filthy, and trash was scattered across the entire hallway.

Lance slipped into the room as quietly as his feet would allow him. The air smelled moldy and humid, and clothes and empty cartons of food were scattered across the floor, alcohol bottles just as prominent. The bed was nothing but a stained mattress. He searched through the drawers in the room, some of them already ripped out of their place in the dresser. Lance thought his own store had issues, but this…

Lance searched up and down and found nothing useful, so he stepped out of the room and wandered around a few others, not finding anything in those either. Amari made no noise in the rooms she searched. She was so quiet, in fact, that Lance found himself wondering if she’d abandoned him, only for her to slip out of another room. Despite his attempts, Lance’s own footsteps creaked on the floor.

In the bathroom, the tiles were ripped out, the sink filled with dirty socks, the bathtub filled with old clothes, and the toilet shattered. Lance gagged at the smell.

He almost yelled to Amari to ask if she’d found anything, but he stopped himself.

The front door of the apartment building scraped open. Lance stepped out of the bathroom and spotted Amari, her eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights, and he waited for any orders from her. She regained her composure and gave Lance a thumbs-up before continuing her search. He narrowed his eyes at her back. If they were caught, Lance couldn’t fight them. He felt his pocket, where the switchblade rested. Better than nothing.

His vision flashed. An ear lay on the floor. Children screamed. His ribs cracked under the weight of repeated kicks. Kids chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Lance blinked, out of breath as he surveyed the room. There was no ear on the floor, no kids chanting. It wasn’t real. He gulped down air, composing himself as the vision left him.

The sounds of men talking and laughing among themselves remained downstairs. Amari didn’t seem bothered, but Lance could hear his own heart pounding over the men’s voices.

Amari sneaked out of the nearest room, shaking her head. She pointed at the other side of the hall, toward another set of doors. She held a finger to her ear then pointed at Lance.

“You want me to eavesdrop?” Lance whispered.

Amari held a finger to her mouth, her eyes burning with annoyance.

Lance inched closer to the stairwell, watching Amari pad to the next set of doors while he listened in on the slurred words of the conversation downstairs.

“I told you to stay back, Steven! Those jackasses might’ve given us their money if they hadn’t seen you. That broken arm makes you look weak.”

“Shut it, Grant,” another responded, his voice heavy and worn out. “At least my nose doesn’t look like roadkill.”

“I’ll show you roadkill!”

There were sounds of a struggle, then a third person tried calming the other two down.

So Grant was the one with the broken nose, and Steven was the one with the broken arm. Who was the last one, then?

That was the one who’d had the knife.

Lance took that knife out of his pocket, wondering if a name was etched on the blade somewhere. To his dismay, the small weapon had nothing of the sort on it; nothing but rust.

“I can’t believe I have to babysit you two all the time,” the third guy said, his voice light and growly. “I wouldn’t have lost my knife if you two idiots would just learn to fight like men.”

“Cram it, Andy,” Grant said.

“No, you cram it, bitch! Cram another tissue up your nose so you stop snorting blood.”

One of them chuckled, but it sounded closer.

They were coming this way.

Lance nearly tripped over himself trying to get to Amari. “We gotta go. They’re coming.”

Amari swore, the steps creaking as the men ascended, one of them laughing. “I didn’t find the necklace.”

Lance shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get going. Now.”

Amari dashed to the window and leapt out. Lance didn’t think, despite his body hesitating. He didn’t have time to change his mind. The voices were too close.

He jumped out behind her.

Amari landed on her feet with a graceful thud.

Lance wriggled his arms, trying to maneuver himself so his feet would face the ground, but he was too late and landed hard on his side. Pain rippled through his shoulder and back. He groaned and cursed. Amari covered her mouth.

“Are you okay?” she asked through stifled laughter.

Lance stood up slowly. “I’m fine… except when I breathe.”

She looked up at the window. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Lance caught his breath as they dashed from the alley, his ribs aching with each pant. The faint voices of the three thugs barely reached him from the street. He could only make out laughing and cursing, nothing of interest.

“Do me a favor and don’t tell Kaela about my landing.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

* * *

“You found these but not the necklace?” Kaela asked, her voice as flat as her hands on the desk, pressed down as if suppressing a monster from escaping. She scanned the jewelry on her desk: a few rings, a brooch, and a bracelet. “You’re sure this is all they had?”

Amari propped her legs on the desk, picking at the holes in her jeans. It took everything in Lance not to gawk at the sight, especially with how Kaela didn’t seem to care.

“Pretty sure,” she answered. “They came back early before I could search the rest of the place. Sorry, girl.”

Kaela gently shoved Amari’s legs off her desk. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can try again another day.” Kaela poured a glass of wine and handed it to Amari. “But we have their names. That could be useful, maybe.”

“Cheers,” Amari said, tapping her glass against Kaela’s and downing the wine in one go. “Anyway, I’ll be headed home now.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow, Amari,” Kaela said. They hugged before Amari strutted out of the room. “Love you, girl.”

“Right back at you,” Amari said as she left.

“Didn’t know you were so close with your employees,” Lance mused, his arms and legs crossed. Amari hadn’t said a word about his fall.

Kaela rolled her eyes. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, of course we’re friends.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

Lance sighed. “Sorry about the necklace.”

Kaela leaned back in her chair, adjusting her hair. “I can’t lie, I’m just the slightest bit impressed that you didn’t get caught and beat up by those fools. Or disappointed. I’m not sure yet.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Thanks?”

“Who knows? Having their names could be useful to Eric.”

“Look, why…?” He considered shutting up, but when Kaela cocked her head to the side, he had to commit. “I just… Why hasn’t Eric sent Derek to kidnap them? I mean, he does that, doesn’t he?”

“No, you were a special case. There are a few things he could do with them. But who knows? He might give them a job like he did you.” Sarcasm laced her voice.

“I’m beginning to think you don’t like me very much,” Lance said, too exhausted to hide his own sarcasm. He wondered if he would have to commit to this back-and-forth game with her forever.

“I don’t,” Kaela said. “But I guess I must learn to… Really, it all depends on how tomorrow with Eric goes.”

She grinned at him, and he already knew the word that was stirring in her brain but didn’t reach her lips.

Lance clenched his fists, which he hoped was unnoticeable in their crossed state. With a twinge of fear nipping the back of his neck, he stared into Kaela’s eyes. Tomorrow he would have to see Eric’s, which were like two black voids.

“I think I should get back to my store and see how much progress Derek’s men made.”

“You want a drink before you go?” Kaela asked.

Lance was already at the door, and he turned to her. “No. Thanks, though.”

That devilish smile appeared on her face again. “I aim to please. Speaking of which, I called a taxi to drive you back. See? I can be nice.”

“Maybe you’re just drunk.” Lance left the room as Kaela’s playful voice rang out once more before the door clicked shut.

“Good luck with Eric tomorrow.”

Lance pretended not to hear, but the lump in his throat was much harder to ignore.

Lance stepped out of The Red Rose. Amari was leaning against the wall beside the entrance, a cigarette between her fingers.

She spoke through a cloud of smoke. “You did good today.”

“Thanks,” Lance responded, watching the smoke cloud rise into the afternoon sky.

The clouds were starting to dissipate. Still no rain.

Amari’s eyes darted to the entrance, her voice dropping. “She’s not all bad, you know.” She tossed the cigarette down and stomped it out. “She’s cold to a lot of people until she gets to know them.”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Amari sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. “Just give her time. Prove that you belong with her and the guys. She’ll warm up to you.”

“Just like a cat.”

Amari raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

With a shake of his head, Lance wished her a good night and started walking down the street.

“Hey,” Amari said.

Lance turned around.

Amari pointed to her left at a taxi, the driver waiting patiently. “I think that’s for you.”

“Oh.” Lance thanked Amari and hopped into the taxi, giving the driver the address of his store.

The car lurched forward, and soon, The Red Rose was out of sight. He sighed, leaning back into the seat, watching as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, shining down on him and warming his skin. It was peaceful—hopeful, almost. Everyone seemed to have treated him fairly enough, save for Kaela, though he was unsure of their intentions. And now he was returning to his store, a completely refreshed version of it, at that. The idea was too much for Lance to resist the smile he aimed toward the sky.

Whatever was awaiting him at his store would be better than what it used to be. Ideas swirled around in his head: a new paint job, perhaps a new register, and maybe even a new bed to sleep in—no more stiff neck and sore back.

Lance was pulled from his trance when the car slowed down and parked on the side of the road. “Uh, sorry pal, but this isn’t the place.”

The driver turned, taking his hat off, revealing greasy blond hair and two dark eyes peering at him over a pair of shades.

Eric waved, and Lance just looked at him, mouth agape.

Eric mimicked the face, bursting into laughter afterward.

“How the…? What are you doing here?” Lance asked.

“Well, hello to you, too, Lancelot,” Eric responded, his cane lying comfortably in his lap. “How have your days been so far?”

Lance stuttered and looked around, almost expecting Kaela and Derek to appear out of nowhere as well. “Good… I guess.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Eric said, pulling the shades back up over his eyes, smiling proudly. “I know our allotted day isn’t until tomorrow, and I’m sure you would love to return to your simple little store and sell your simple little things for a simple brand of people. But wouldn’t you rather have some fun? Maybe live a little? I have a very important business deal in a couple of hours, and I figured you should tag along with me. You might learn a thing or two, more than you have in these last two days combined.” Eric’s smile widened, his teeth creaking against each other.

And despite the shades, Lance could feel those eyes on him.

“Am I correct in saying that?” Eric asked, his head cocked to the side.

Is this… some kind of messed-up test? “Actually,” Lance said, that lump in his throat returning, “there is something I’ve learned in my two days here.” He leaned back and crossed his legs.

“Oh?” Eric lowered his shades again, his fingers tapping his cane like they always did. He leaned in a little, making Lance worry that he might find a knife in his gut before he could say anything else.

“There’s this trio of guys, names are Andy, Steven, and Grant. They tried to cause trouble at Derek’s bar, then they robbed one of Kaela’s employees of her grandmother’s necklace.”

Eric’s playful smile disappeared, and he stared intently at his cane. “Fascinating,” he said. “I don’t believe I know any gentlemen by those names. But I am getting sick of this trio of suicidal maniacs trying to disrupt an honest business with their foolishness.” He sounded serious, but his voice was dramatized, like he was trying to sound sarcastic. “So, only their names, huh?”

Lance nodded.

“And those little pranksters took a necklace, hmm? Well, I suppose we’ll just have to get it back, then, won’t we?” Eric buckled his seat belt. “What do you say about paying them a visit and having a friendly discussion about their antics? I have some time to kill before my meeting.”

“Uh, I don’t know about—”

“Perfect!” Eric floored the gas pedal, and Lance was thrown back against his seat.

Friendly discussion. The tone in which Eric had said that sent a chill down Lance’s spine. He rested his hand on the switchblade in his pocket, Kaela’s words forcing their way to the front of his thoughts.

Eric looked pleased with himself as he said, “Lance, if you would be so kind as to direct me to their lovely abode?”

Lance tried to buckle his seat belt as he gave the address, his voice shaking despite his attempts to stop it. He hoped Eric would assume it was from the vibration of the car.

Eric sighed. “Get ready, Lance. The rest of this day is going to be most memorable.” He patted his cane absentmindedly. “Most memorable, indeed.”

* * *

Eric pursed his lips as he parked the taxi across the street from the tattered building. Lance sank into his seat, but when Eric looked back, he straightened himself.

“Well?” Eric said. “You think they’re still home?”

“Uh,” Lance stuttered, “they should be. I was just here about an hour or so ago.”

“How did you sneak in?”

Lance pointed at the alleyway. “Climbed in through a window.”

Eric hummed. “Then it’s a plan. You’ll sneak back in through the window, and I’ll distract them at the entrance.”

Lance looked at the wolf on Eric’s cane, staring him down. What would happen if he said no? What would it matter to Eric if they got back a necklace or not? Was this it? The moment Eric used him as bait?

“Wait a few minutes for me to check the upper floor so I can make sure nobody’s up there,” Lance said as he got out of the taxi.

Eric followed him. “Sure thing, Lancelot!”

They parted ways when they crossed the street, and Lance slipped into the alleyway, taking a glance back at Eric before disappearing around the corner. Eric had that grin on his face, standing in front of the entrance like it would open for him.

Lance gulped then looked down the alley. He could make a run for it—disappear into the alleyways and never be seen again. He’d done it before. But those first years outside of the orphanage, scrounging and struggling to survive, stealing enough food to eat or selling enough drugs to buy his store—he couldn’t do that again.

He balanced himself on the trash can and leapt to the window, his fingers barely finding their grip on the edge. He muttered a curse to himself and braced his feet against the brick. He almost slipped but managed to pull himself through the window.

Breathless, he looked around the messy hallway, somehow littered with even more trash since the last time. No sign of the men. No shouting or talking. He smiled and looked back at the window. If Amari could see me now.

He checked each room for signs of the three men as he sneaked down the hall, avoiding crumpled cans and food wrappers. When he reached the stairwell, he glanced down from the railing at the main level. The floor was rotted, and the windows were broken and boarded up. A chair was tucked under the doorknob.

The men were sleeping in old sleeping bags, huddled close to each other.

Wait, Lance thought, scanning the floor. Where’s the third one? Where’s Steven?

Lance sighed at the handful of doors at the end of the hall as a knock sounded on the front door.

Lance froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Crap,” he whispered. “Dammit, Eric.”

“Hey!” Steven’s voice rang out from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. “Who’s at the door?” Footsteps approached, stomping the floor.

He was coming.

Lance whirled and made a run for the bathroom door. The boards creaked and moaned under his rushed footsteps. He reached out for the knob when his foot landed on an old can. He gasped as the can slipped out from under his foot.

His body crashed onto the moldy floor, his teeth piercing his tongue.

“What the hell was that?” Steven asked.

Lance hissed, his ankle aching and a copper taste filling his mouth. He spat, and a few droplets of blood dripped onto the floor. He looked down at the blood, the world freezing around him.

Whispers filled the hall, muffled and indiscernible, as if they were coming from inside the walls. Lance forgot to breathe, spitting out more drops of blood. The pain withered away, and the shouts of someone behind him faded in the cacophony of chants growing louder in the walls and under the floorboards.

“Monster!” they cried. “Monster!”

Lance was only brought back from his trance when cold steel pressed into the back of his neck.

“Hands up, shitheel!”

Lance instinctively put his hands up. He allowed himself to crane his neck enough to spot Steven, one hand cradled in a tied-up T-shirt, the other gripping a revolver.

“Hey, guys!” Steven called out. “We got a visitor!”

The gun nudged Lance’s head. With the windows being broken, he hoped Eric would hear their shouts from outside the entrance. Eric would save him, right? Kaela couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be bait.

“Down the stairs,” Steven said.

Lance followed the order without question, the switchblade burning a hole in his pocket.

His ankle pained him with every step down the staircase, and his mouth filled with that revolting copper taste, but he kept walking. His heart raced as the whispers licked his ears, indiscernible.

He glanced at the front door on the way down, then at the two men shuffling lazily out of their sleeping bags and rubbing their eyes.

Maybe if he was fast enough, he could knock the gun out of Steven’s hand. But could he move faster than Steven’s finger could pull the trigger?

Then again, he thought, he only has one arm. Surely he can’t hold a revolver that well.

The thought was stupid. But it would be more stupid to let these men do whatever they wanted to him once he reached the bottom of the stairwell.

Andy and Grant were both looking at him now, sick smiles on their faces. Somehow, even in this situation, they still weren’t as scary as Eric’s.

He paused for only a second, considering whether it was worth the risk, and Steven shoved him. He caught himself with his aching foot, and pain shot through his ankle. Lance nearly collapsed, catching himself against the wall.

This is it. All or nothing.

“Oh my God,” Lance said, looking at the entrance, allowing the fear in his chest to rattle his voice.

Steven turned his attention to the door, as did Andy and Grant.

Lance pulled his switchblade out of his pocket and whirled, slapping the gun out of Steven’s hand. The blade flicked out from the handle, and Lance plunged the knife into his broken arm.

Steven shouted in pain. Lance made to push past him, but Steven was quick. A strong arm found Lance’s body, and Lance spat the built-up blood in his face, his skin burning at the touch.

Steven yelled and sent a punch into Lance’s chest.

Lance flew down the rest of the stairs, landing hard on the ground. The air left his lungs, and he clawed at his chest, begging them to work again. He gasped for air as kicks found his arms and stomach. He curled into a ball and waited for it to stop.

The whispers became louder, turning to shouts.

To chanting.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Lance’s vision darkened around the corners.

Finally, the air returned to his lungs, and he gulped it down. The kicking stopped, and someone pulled him to his feet. He was face to face with Andy.

“You,” Andy hissed. “I remember you from the bar. Your friend beat the hell out of me and my guys here. Hurt our feelings pretty bad.” He released a breathy laugh and sank his fist into Lance’s gut.

Where the hell is Eric?

“Is that who was at the door, huh? Your bar friend coming back for round two?”

“I don’t know him,” Lance wheezed. “I was just working there for the day to make some extra cash.”

“Oh yeah?” Andy threw him to Grant, who threw a punch to Lance’s face. Pain seared through his jaw. Stars dotted his vision.

His vision cleared enough to see Andy marching over to Steven and pulling the knife out of his arm. Steven screamed in pain, but Andy didn’t seem to care. He marched back to Lance, holding the bloody knife for him to see. “Then why the shit do you have my damned knife?!”

Lance didn’t get to respond before another kick plunged into his stomach.

“Fine,” Andy said, wiping the blade on his pants and pocketing it. “Since you’re such a fan of my knife…” He grabbed Lance by his shirt and held him close to his face. His breath reeked of alcohol and fast food. His teeth were rotting. “I’ll just have to use the rusted one to gut you.”

Something pressed against Lance’s stomach, and he looked down to see a rusty knife angled at his belly.

Lance almost called out for Eric, to beg him to do something. Pain tore through his body, and a knife was about to do the same.

A car engine ignited across the street.

Lance looked toward the entrance, fear and anger and disappointment flooding him.

So he was the bait—nothing more, nothing less.

No, Kaela was wrong. He was worse.

He was a loose end.

Now it made sense why Eric wanted to renovate Lance’s store; and, even more, why he wanted to do it with Lance’s own money. He wanted the slums and its information, but he didn’t want Lance as an employee. He would likely put one of his own people in there. All that information Derek and Kaela had given him was for nothing because he would end up dead anyway.

Eric had fed him to the wolves, and now he would die alone in the slums.

It was bound to happen sooner or later, he supposed.

He almost laughed at the irony. Some small part of him thought that maybe he would see his parents again, but the cruel realization immediately hit him that they’d never wanted him anyway.

But the sound of the engine didn’t fade away.

Andy glanced at the entrance. “That your friend?” He smiled. “Well, we’ll just take care of him too. Pay him back for what he did to us.” He flipped the knife in his hand, angling it at Lance’s neck. “Starting with you.” He raised the knife above his head to plunge it into Lance’s neck.

A crash like an explosion or a clap of thunder shook the building. Wood splintered, and a cloud of dust filled the room. The force sent them all to the ground.

Lance blinked away the dust in his eyes and crawled to a corner of the room, pain searing his body. Tears welled in his eyes. He leaned against the wall, almost smiling when he saw the taxi sticking into the building.

Eric hadn’t abandoned him after all.

Gunshots rang out, followed by the quiet clicking of an empty cylinder.

A gangly figure stepped out from the smoke, his hat and shades gone, replaced by greasy blond hair and onyx eyes.

Eric waved a hand in the air, dispelling some of the residual dust floating in the room. His smiled faltered when his eyes landed on Lance. Something flashed in his eyes, a deadly look that sent a cold chill down his spine. His smile returned when he looked at the three shaken men scrambling to their feet.

Steven pointed a revolver at him, pulling the trigger over and over as the gun clicked.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Eric said as if greeting old friends. “What’s with the revolver?” His eyes widened like he was excited. “Ooh, are we playing Russian Roulette? I love that game!” He laughed, and a gunshot went off.

For a moment, Lance thought Eric had been shot.

But Eric stood with his own revolver in hand.

The revolver dropped from Steven’s hand, and a red stain grew on his shirt before he collapsed. Blood pooled around his lifeless body.

“I win,” Eric said, lazily pointing the gun at Grant and Andy. “Do either of you want to play?”

They looked at each other, fear evident in their eyes, and stood still, as if scared that they too would be shot if they so much as flinched.

“I guess not.” Eric put his revolver back into his trench coat and leaned on his cane. “What a disgusting place. You guys really should clean up around here. I mean, seriously…” Eric walked to Steven’s body and tapped it with his cane. “Corpses on the floor, ripped wallpaper, and for the love of God, what is that stench?” Eric sighed and reached into his coat again.

Grant hid behind Andy. Lance almost laughed when Eric pulled a handkerchief out and pressed it against his nose.

“Anyway,” Eric continued, facing the two men again. “It has come to my attention that you three… well, two now, I suppose, have been terrorizing my establishments. Is that correct?”

Andy just shook his head, the rusted knife gripped firmly in his hand as if he’d completely forgotten he was armed. Grant was still hidden behind him.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, we have, but we didn’t mean anything by it,” Grant said, glancing down at Steven’s body. His voice shook worse than his hands. “Look, man, you can see where we live. We’re just trying to get by.”

“By robbing and beating the hell out of my employees.” Eric took one step closer, his hand placed firmly on the handle of his cane. “Well, let me tell you both something.” The blade unclicked from its holster, but Eric didn’t unsheathe it fully yet. “None of you are leaving this room alive. Not you, not your friend, and certainly not that dead body.” Finally, the blade was out in the open, a few inches longer than Eric’s forearm. “Question is… who wants to go first?”

Andy’s breathing became labored, and his grip on the rusty knife tightened. He roared and charged at Eric.

Eric smiled at the challenge and tossed his handkerchief. It landed on Andy’s face, blinding him. Eric sidestepped the charge, swiping his blade along the back of Andy’s arm.

Andy shouted in pain and turned around to face Eric once again, switching his knife over to his good arm, teeth bared like an animal. Instead of charging, Andy lunged for Eric, swiping wildly at him.

Eric stepped back, avoiding each attack as nimbly as Derek had. Grant pulled out a knife of his own. Lance opened his mouth to warn Eric of the attack, but he’d already sidestepped again, and Grant and Andy clashed their knives against each other’s. Eric twirled like a ballerina on stage and sliced his blade through the air.

The room was silent for a breath. Then a thud followed as Grant’s hand landed on the floor. Grant screamed and fell back, blood spurting from his arm. Andy watched in horror, his skin paling.

Eric whirled again and plunged the blade into Andy’s chest. Blood splattered on the floor, the blade jutting out the man’s back. He gasped and gurgled, trying to speak.

Eric leaned in close and whispered something in Andy’s ear. Andy’s eyes widened.

The slick sound as Eric pulled his weapon out of Andy’s chest cavity sent a wave of nausea through Lance.

Andy fell back, dead the instant he hit the ground, and Eric took the gun back out of his coat and fired two bullets straight into Grant’s head, silencing his groans of pain.

Eric said nothing. His gun was already back in his coat. He picked the handkerchief off the floor and wiped the blood off his blade.

Eric knelt next to Steven and searched through his pockets. “Ah,” he said, fishing out a silver necklace with an amethyst. “Is this the one?”

Lance nodded.

Eric’s blade slipped back into his cane with a click. “Family is very important, Lance. I’m sure Kaela’s employee will be very happy to have this back.”

Lance sniffed and swallowed the blood that traveled to the back of his throat. The taste gagged him. The blood on the floor—there it was again, the ringing of the word in his ear.

Monster.

“Your nose is bleeding,” Eric said, picking a new handkerchief out of his coat and tossing it to Lance. “Here. You need to look clean for the meeting.”

Lance took the cloth and held it to his nose. He tried with all his might not to glance at the severed hand on the floor, yet the way it twitched still caught his attention.

“Won’t the cops come when they hear the gunshots?” Lance asked, running a hand through his hair to get a better view of Eric’s face. He rolled his eyes. “Forget I said that.”

“We’re gonna be late,” Eric responded with a serious glance at the bodies scattered across the floor. A flicker of his smile returned when he looked at Lance. He walked outside the building, and Lance stepped carefully around the bodies to follow, keeping the handkerchief to his nose.

They got into the taxi, and Eric had the simplest smile on his face as he backed out of the building, as if he hadn’t just murdered three men. Wood crumpled and fell from the ceiling. The taxi was bent in the front, and the windshield was cracked.

Lance had seen Eric in action now, graceful but deadly. He fixed his gaze on his own two feet, the sight of those men burned into the back of his eyes.

Lance tried not to scowl as he stared out the window, watching everything pass by in a blur. Whatever this meeting was, he just hoped it ended much better than the events of a few moments ago.

“Well, that could have gone better, eh?” Eric said, as if he’d read Lance’s mind. “Are you okay?”

Lance tried not to show his surprise at the question. “Y-yeah… fine. I don’t think my nose is broken.”

“That’s good,” Eric said. “Try to clean up as best you can. I don’t think our potential business partner will believe that’s ketchup on your face.” His smile returned to that lazy, wolflike grin.

Lance tried to think of something in response, but all he could do was look at the cane in Eric’s lap.