Malum Page 2

  Jessica.

  “He’s not answering his phone.” Daemon hangs up, his eyes going to Tinker nervously.

  “We have to buy time.” Tinker’s attention goes to the nurse. “Can you buy us some time?”

  The nurse looks reluctantly at us all, so I take this moment to get her attention. “Jessica? Please. If there is anything that I can ever do for you, I will be forever in your favor.”

  “Okay,” she exhales. “I’ll say that you haven’t had the baby yet and there are complications, but you should know, that I do have to deliver the baby to one of the Lost Boys after birth. Me not taking her already has put me and my family in grave danger, Tinker.”

  “I promise you, Jessica. You and your family will be protected through this,” Tinker reminds her confidently. I know we have her when the corners of Jessica’s eyes relax.

  “Okay.” I look around my room again. The room I’ve been hidden and kept in for the past months. I didn’t really care before when it was just me. Even though I was pregnant, the reality of having a child wasn’t real—now it is, and I will undoubtedly do what I have to do to get us out of this situation.

  “Okay, what are we going to do. She has to take her to a Lost Boy. Then what?”

  Daemon looks up at Tinker, then back to me. “You don’t have to worry about that part, Puella. It will be me that she will come to. I will make sure no harm comes to her and that she is returned to you safely, but we need to keep her quiet and still until The Kings arrive. Do you understand?” He runs his fingers through his hair, his eyebrows pulling together in stress.

  I reach for his hand, stopping his movement. “I understand, Daemon. I will do anything you need me to do, okay?”

  He nods and then drops his hand. The phone he’s holding lights up and he quickly answers it, speaking in Latin.

  Tinker comes closer to me. “Nate is going to be angry, Tillie, but only because he doesn’t know how to harness his feelings. There’s so much that you don’t know about yourself and your lineage of family. So much you have to learn, even train in, things that if you allow it, Nate could train you in. You can’t fight this lifestyle, Tillie. Don’t do what Madison did and ignore the signs, or not ask the questions. You, your family, you hold power in this world. Take that power by the balls and own it.”

  “What are you talking about, Tinker?” Maybe she has finally lost the screws that were loose inside of her head.

  She offers me an apologetic smile, though I’m not sure what she’s apologizing for. “It’s not my place, but truth is coming and when you reign, it’s going to cripple the system.”

  Before I can ask what she is talking about, Daemon cuts in. “It’s done. They will gear up.” Daemon’s eyes come to mine, and my grip around my baby intensifies. He notices. “I promise, Tillie. I won’t let harm come to her.”

  My throat swells as a single tear falls from my eye and rolls down my cheek, falling to my chest. “Promise?”

  Daemon nods. “I promise.”

  Daemon leans down, kissing my head. “Have you named her?”

  I shake my head, swiping the tear. His hand comes to her cheek as he whispers. “Micaela.”

  When the syllables fall from his mouth, I knew instantly that it was done. “Micaela,” I repeat, smiling. I look up to Daemon out of the corner of my eye, my heart thundering in my chest. Daemon and I have had a strange relationship since I’ve been on Perdita. Not sexual, just connected. On a deep level, a level I haven’t felt since—for a very long time. Where Nate and I had an intense deep connection, it was also sexual, fire, explosions and a mixture of hate. Don’t let Nate’s pretty face fool you, though. The devil furnishes his darkest souls with the prettiest smiles. Daemon and I, it’s pure, tame, calm. It was something more than friendship, but less than lovers, though I loved him dearly.

  “Do you trust me, Puella?”

  “On one condition,” I whisper, slipping Micaela into his awaiting arms. “Don’t die.”

  Daemon gives me a small smile, running his lips over my head. “I won’t. I’ll never die, Tillie.” He glares at me. “Do you trust that?”

  I clear my throat. “Get her back to me safe, and then I’ll answer you.”

  Tillie

  Emotions. Human emotions, to be exact, can be rather annoying to come to terms with. For instance, having a sister. Mine has always been deranged, crazy, and a little bit over the top. In the (very far) back part of my brain, I’ve always wondered if we were actually related.

  “You’re doing that thing again…” Peyton says, flicking her fork in the air to accentuate her point. At least, that’s what I think she’s doing. “Do you not like your dinner, Tills? I mean, you should be thankful. God knows Nate would have killed you by now if you were on your own.”

  I grind my teeth in an attempt to ignore the verbal jab on a subject that she realistically knows nothing about. “No, Peyton, it’s not the dinner.”

  She shrugs her plump shoulders, the tips of her red hair bouncing from the movement. She has gained weight over the years, but it looks good on her. Of course it does. See what I mean—not related. “Suit yourself.” I watch as she continues to shovel spoon after spoon of food into her mouth when Carter clears his throat.

  “Tillie, are you aware of what we are telling you? Do you know how important this is?”

  “Important what is, Carter? The fact that you want me to go back to my life with my best friends and carry on like nothing has happened in hopes of gaining dirt for The Circle?” I choke on my words, unable to say them aloud.

  He grins. I have to squeeze my fist underneath the table to stop it from flying across the table and clipping him in the jaw.

  I hate Carter with enough fire to burn the world down.

  I recollect myself, picking up my glass and taking a sip of water. I allow it to slide down my throat before I gather my next words. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not a snitch, Peyton, and I will not draw my friends out to get hurt.”

  “Oh but you will,” Carter counters, slowly lifting his drink into the air and grinning at me. “Where is Micaela, Tillie?”

  Something sharp caresses my heart at his tone, but I swallow down the fear and answer, “She’s in her crib.”

  Realization sinks into my bones at the thought of what he and Peyton are capable of. They wouldn’t hurt her, Tillie. Chill. I shoot up from the table.

  Carter’s eyes only darken, a devious smirk towing across his mouth. I run out of the room instantly, the adrenalin seizing my limbs. Long, dark walls of the hallway melt to a puddle under my feet as my heart thunders in my chest. One step. Two steps. You’re almost there.

  She wouldn’t touch her. She wouldn’t. Micaela, in Peyton’s sick mind, is the leverage that she has over me. As long as she has my daughter, she knows that I am the puppeteer and she’s pulling the strings. If she so much as touches a hair on Micaela’s head, that snaps all the ropes and releases the monster she abetted to craft. I was beaten as a child. Continuously. I am not only on a first name basis with abuse, but he and I go way back.

  Entering my bedroom, silence falls around me with nothing but the pitter-patter of my light footsteps.

  I suck in a breath as I reach the crib. My eyes close. I open them— “Peyton!” I scream, spinning around and running the exact way I came from. Only this time the blood spilling from the walls is my rage. I’m going to kill her and anyone that gets in my way.

  Peyton is sitting at the head of the table, a fork with potato hanging an inch away from her mouth.

  I attentively step closer. “I swear to God, Peyton, you have roughly five seconds to tell me where the fuck she is before I rip your goddam throat out.”

  Her eyes flick over my shoulder where guards stand, strapped with automatic weapons. “See, I think you won’t, because you can’t, Tills. Because I own you. I always have, and truthfully, I probably always will.” She pats her mouth dry. “Now. If you take a seat, I can explain exactly what is going to happen from here on
out, and you will nod and agree like a good little girl, or I will” —her eyes pierce mine, pinning me— “destroy the only thing you care about. Capiche?”

  She went there.

  I collapse onto a chair, my throat swelling. “God, Peyton, when did you turn so dark.” I’m disappointed in myself for not taking her evil seriously. I never would have thought she would lower herself to harming me, let alone threatening her twelve-week-old niece. I see it now, though. I see whoever it is that’s working behind the scenes has taken control of her. There’s no saving her now. I know this. The realization slaps me across the face like a heavy backhand. She’s my enemy, and I am hers.

  Peyton giggles, swiping her hair out of her face. “Probably around the same time you tried to steal my boyfriend, Tillie. Now, I am truly sorry that I have to do this to you. Or I’m not, I can’t really decide, but maybe.” She leans forward, her eyes slicing through me. “It is your fault for the life that you live, did you ever think of that?”

  “Fuck you!”

  Rage bubbles beneath my skin. “You so much as breathe near her, Peyton, I’ll burn you in your sleep and dance around your corpse. The only reason I haven’t done something drastically insane is because of Micaela.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the hard wood table. “So give your niece a kiss. She’s the only reason you’re still breathing right now.” I know that if I kill Peyton, there’s a chance someone will harm Micaela. I’m not open to gambling on her future. I don’t care for the idealism of perfect parenting. The perfect mother is one who is the best version that she can be, not something the media and society state they should be. I mean, look at who Micaela’s father is… who I am.

  My thoughts go back to Peyton and her stupid comment about her—whatever he was to her. Boyfriend? Hardly.

  “What boyfriend?”

  She’s had many over the years, and yeah, they’ve all mostly enjoyed my company more than hers. That’s mainly because she tries too hard to please people. When she would be dressing up in short skirts with a face full of makeup for movie nights, I’d be in the living area of our trailer with my Ren and Stimpy pajamas on.

  Her face morphs into hatred, her eyebrows pulling in tight enough for wrinkles to form on her head. “Jase always preferred you.” She exhales. Jase as in the older Jase Venari. He was hardly her boyfriend and she was shared amongst him and a couple others. “Fuck Jase and fuck you. I’ll bring you all down now. I’ll do it for our mom, for our name as a Stuprum, for it all,” she whispers, standing from her chair to glare at me. “You will get your daughter back when you’ve done as I’ve said. Comprende?”

  I grit my teeth. “How do I know you are taking care of her, Peyton?” Peyton clicks her fingers, and I turn in my chair when I hear the door open behind me.

  The nurse who helped deliver Micaela, Jessica appears, holding Micaela in her arms. Micaela smiles up at Jessica, her small little hand coming to her neck.

  My mouth opens slightly, as I battle with the biggest war that lives inside of me. Trust. Trust is the hardest to deliver, but the easiest emotion to receive. When my eyes clash with Jessica’s, I can see her silent reassurance. She will take care of it. I know this. At least until I’ve satisfied this sadistic bitch that is my sister. A guard yanks Jessica back through the door, and I twist back around to look at Peyton.

  “What the hell do you want,” I seethe, gritting my teeth.

  She smiles, relaxing back into her chair to continue eating. “I’m glad I have your loyalty, sis. Sit.”

  I do, squeezing the armrests of the old oak wood as I slowly plant my ass back down. “What is it?”

  She cuts into her sirloin. “I need you to be my eyes and ears. Do you understand?” Peyton snaps, and I flinch from the tone of her voice.

  My eyes come to hers. “Yes, I understand.”

  I hate her and I hate this dining room. It’s everything that Peyton would want, only in a damn office in the tallest building in New York City.

  “Good,” she mutters, leaning back in her chair. “Because you’re going back out there tomorrow, so be packed and ready.”

  “Peyton,” I deadpan, trying my hardest not to upset her while trying to coax my utter anger and deceit underneath a cool demeanor. “I can’t just walk back into their lives and not expect questions. What about Micaela, Peyton? Huh? You think Nate is going to not ask fucking questions?”

  Peyton watches me and then smirks. “That’s why you’re going to turn up on Madison’s doorstep, crying that I took your baby. Realistically, you don’t have to pretend.” She shrugs like it’s nothing too much to stress about. Her eyes come back to me. “Then they will feel sorry for you while also wanting to come after me. They’ll invite you back into the exclusive pack and then?” She takes a sip of her drink. “Then you wait for my call for the next move.”

  “You’re crazy.” I shake my head. “What makes you think I won’t tell them everything?”

  She pins me with a glare. “Because under all those pretty features and hot little body, Tillie, you’re smart. You are the smarter one out of the two of us, and you know what will happen if you do so.”

  I lean back in my chair, my brain spinning with all the possible ways I can take this scenario. Right now, I know I don’t have many options. She holds all the cards in her hand right now, so for right now, I have to play the hand she has dealt me.

  I exhale. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  Tillie

  I knocked three times with no answer, so I sink onto the cool steps in front of my best friend’s plantation-style mansion. There have been so many times that I’ve been on these steps, and not one time did they ever feel empty like they did now. Wind whisks through the trees that line her long circle driveway, causing the spray from the water fountain to splash against my face in light misty waves.

  Madison was raised with money, but make no mistake, her life was not privileged. I think that’s why she and I clicked so hard and so fast. Her other best friend, Tate, on the other hand…

  I don’t have anything against Tate, but she is everything you would expect from a rich bitch who was raised with a gold (that’s right, not silver, gold), spoon in her mouth, but even when Tate and I don’t see eye-to-eye, we still have a common ground to form a bond on—Madison.

  I sink my face into the palms of my hands, for the first time, reality starts really sinking in. She took my daughter. My sister is undeniably fucking crazy, and there’s a very real possibility that she could harm her if I don’t do exactly as I’m told.

  I lost Daemon.

  I lost my sister—somewhat.

  I lost my daughter.

  I have no one. I am no one. Nate is going to hate me for thinking I ran with his daughter, and if he doesn’t already, he sure will when all of the truth comes out. Either way, I can’t win and the walls inside my head feel as though they’re closing in on me.

  I hear a car pull up, headlights sneaking through the cracks of my fingers. I swipe the tears off my cheeks and zero in on the car. A matte black Audi comes into view with the license plate “KINGII.” My heart thunders in my chest. There’s only one person who would have that license plate.

  Nate.

  I shoot up from the step, swiping the fresh tears from my eyes. A car door slams shut, and then another with heels clicking against the stone driveway. I know instantly that that wouldn’t be Madison because she doesn’t wear heels. It could be Tate. I choose to ignore all theories and remain focused.

  “Tillie?” His steps are slow, calculated. I can’t see anything else but the outline of him. He’s wearing dark jeans, heavy boots, and a leather jacket with a hoodie underneath.

  I clear my throat, thankful that I can’t see his face, or his eyes. “She took her, Nate, and she’s not giving her back.”

  He pauses and then cranks his head over his shoulder. “Get the fuck back in the car.”

  I wince at the tone, only to realize for once, it’s not aimed at me. He turns back to me. “What do you mean
she took her?”

  I can’t stop the tears now, they’re free-falling all over the place. I try to swipe them away, angry at the fact that my body might be doing it robotically from Peyton ordering me to show up all damsel in distress. “Peyton took Micaela and she’s not g—” I choke on my words, a hiccup interfering my speech. “Giving her back.”

  Nate flies forward, his hand coming to mine instantly. He pulls me into his chest. I didn’t expect it. My body turns rigid.

  His hand comes to my chin, and he squeezes so roughly that I flinch. This, I expected. He yanks my head up to face him. I see his eyes now, at least the curve of them. “If I find out that you’re lying to me, Tillie, regardless whether we have a child together, I’ll fucking kill you, do you understand? Don’t fuck with me when it comes to Micaela, Tillie. I swear to God…”

  “Nate!” Madison’s voice claps through the air like a bolt of lightning.

  I pull my face out of his grip just as Madison pushes him to the side where he falls beside me lazily. “Oh my god!” she screams, her hands coming to my face. “I tried to tell them that you wouldn’t run. I told them…”

  I exhale my held reprieve, pulling her in for a hug. “I wouldn’t run, Madison, but Peyton has Micaela and she’s not giving her back. I can’t do anything, I’m powerless.” It’s not a lie.

  Madison turns to face Bishop and then turns her head toward the house. “Come on. We can talk more inside. Nate!” she snaps at Nate as he’s walking toward the house. “Get rid of your ho.”

  He flips her off, and then pushes a couple of fingers into his mouth, whistling out. I watch as a blonde girl crawls out of the passenger side of his car. “Yeah?”

  Oh glorious, she actually responds to his dog antics. Gross.

  “Find a ride home.” He turns, dismissing her.

  “Good to see he hasn’t changed much,” I mutter under my breath.