Page 45 of Darling

The lights were off, but the inside of the warehouse could never have been described as dark. Aside from the music, which was as loud and bass-heavy as Wendy had assumed it would be, there were rainbow strobes placed strategically next to disco balls and hanging mirrors that threw flashes of colorful light all over the space, illuminating it like the inside of a kaleidoscope. The warehouse had one large bar in the very center of the first floor and two on opposite sides of the second floor, which was more of a mezzanine that overlooked the dance floor. The machinery had been pushed to the sides of the warehouse ground and walled off with velour drapery and police tape, so no one was able to get close enough to hurt themselves. There was a giant net stretched across the ceiling with tiny holes cut into it, from which tiny slivers of metallic confetti slowly fell as the music and general rowdiness shook the building. Scattered across the mezzanine were couches someone had clearly shipped over from the dump, and there were so many balloons on the ground that you could barely see your own feet. The DJ was set up on a platform of crates overlooking the crowd, and there were large neon signs for the exits and bathrooms. Wendy remembered what Minsu had said earlier—know all your exits—and was glad to see they were easy to find.

To be completely honest, if Peter had just taken her straight to the party instead of ruining everything by running her all over the city, she probably would have felt like it was worth the risk of sneaking out. It was better than the cool-kid parties she’d seen on TV back home, and it was certainly much better than she had imagined. The mirror/strobe combination alone was completely out of this world, not to mention the confetti installation. She did not feel like this was worth the drama she’d suffered tonight, but it was entirely too late for that.

Fyodor slung his arm over her shoulders and moved closer to yell in her ear over the music. “Ominotago and Tink have to say hi to family,” he shouted. “Stay with me. We will go upstairs.”

Wendy had been so distracted by the flashing lights that she hadn’t noticed Tinkerbelle waving at her.

Five minutes, Tinkerbelle mouthed as Ominotago pulled her away. Stay with him.

Minsu and Charles were also leaving. Charles held up his wallet and nodded over at the bar. Fyodor held up three fingers and nodded. Wendy twisted around to see what had happened to Peter, Curly, and Nibs, but only managed to glimpse the bright shock of Nibs’s red hair as the three boys disappeared into the crowd.

Fyodor leaned in again as he guided Wendy to the mezzanine stairs. “Hunting,” he said.

Wendy didn’t know what that meant, but it still filled her with dread. She allowed Fyodor to use his large body to push through the crowd so she wouldn’t have to struggle past drunk screaming people on their way up the stairs. He muscled his way to one of the couches, which were all occupied, and sat on the arm. The guy sitting next to the couch arm scooted over to get out of Fyodor’s way, and Fyodor took the opportunity to slide down onto the seat. The other kid, clearly unhappy at being way too snugly seated next to a boy he didn’t know, got up. Fyodor scooted over even further, brushing up against the kids on the other half of the couch, and smacked the now empty seat next to him. Wendy wasn’t sure what was ruder to do, so she just sat down in the vacated space.

Fyodor leaned in again. “Charles and Minsu will be here soon. Then, we talk.”

Wendy wanted answers now. “What did you mean by hunting?”

Fyodor made a tight expression and looked around before continuing. “This—” he gestured around at all the people, “—is a place where he finds boys to bring home. He can tell, somehow, who is hungry. Who is lonely. He tracks them like a hunter, impresses them. Reaches out with a hand of treats, da? Like he’s bringing in a little kitten?” Fyodor put his hand out, cupped like he was coaxing a cat out from under a bush. He looked around again to make sure Peter wasn’t nearby.

“Some come out. Some, not so much. Maybe he’ll try again later, maybe not.” Fyodor shrugged. “He is a picky man and very smart. Dangerous.” He raised an eyebrow at her emphatically. “This, you know.”

“Is this where he met Curly?” Wendy asked loudly. The music was screaming, and this very much felt like a conversation that should be had in whispers, but it couldn’t be helped.

Fyodor shook his head. “Curly came to him. Sometimes there are worse things out at night, on the streets.” After the expression Wendy made when hearing this, Fyodor frowned deeply. “Do not judge Curly,” he said fiercely.

“I’m not!” Wendy replied quickly. “I’m just worried and scared for him … among other things.”

Fyodor accepted this and instead looked very, very tired. He rubbed his eyes and put his head in the palm of his hand, leaning over his knee. “It will be good when this is finished,” he said.

Minsu and Charles elbowed their way through the crowd, followed closely by Ominotago and Tinkerbelle. At the sight of Ominotago, the kids on the other half of the couch got up and wandered off, clearly recognizing her.

“Sorry,” Ominotago said, handing Wendy an apology drink. “My cousins helped set this up, so I had to at least say hi.”

“Oh … thank you, but I don’t drink,” Wendy said, looking into the cup suspiciously.

Ominotago shrugged. “It’s just soda with some maraschino cherries in it. I didn’t want to assume.”

“I do,” Fyodor said, and snatched one of the shots Charles was balancing on a platter in the cradle of his arm. He threw it back with the desperation of someone who isn’t drinking for fun. “How much longer do we have?” he asked, coughing.

Ominotago pulled out her phone. “Twenty minutes. We almost didn’t make it in time.”

“In time for what?” Wendy asked.

“The police to get here,” Ominotago said so quietly that Wendy had to read her lips.

Wendy didn’t get a chance to say anything to that whopper of a statement before Tinkerbelle covered Wendy’s mouth with her whole hand.

“We can’t talk about it anymore,” Tinkerbelle hissed. “Just make sure you’re with one of us and head for the exits. Don’t worry about them grabbing you. I said I’d protect you, and I meant it.”

Wendy smacked Tinkerbelle’s hand off her mouth and pushed herself up from the couch. “Fuck this. I’m taking my chances and walking home. Thanks for the drink, Ominotago, it’s been swell.” Wendy whirled on her heel, ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“WENDY, STOP!”

The only reason she turned around was because it was Minsu who had shouted. He sounded more serious than she’d heard him all night, his voice strangled with desperation.

Wendy faced the group. She could see Peter, Curly, and Nibs making their way up the mezzanine stairs on the other side of the building; it wouldn’t take more than five minutes for the trio to reach them.