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The siren is, once again, placed in the driver’s seat. “Deni!” she says with a wide, scary smile.
“Hey,” I say, slipping into the back like the perfect third wheel I am.
“Hey, kitten.” Celeste meets my eyes in the rear-vision mirror. I look away, trying hard not to blush - which never works. Does she think I’m into her now? Do I think she’s into me? She did get me a gift.
Our drive takes us past the smoking factories and out to the commercial port, where shipping containers and crates wait to be picked up and shipped across the state. Despite the shortness of the trip, I’ve looked death straight in the eyes more than once by the time we arrive at the gates of the shipyard. I much prefer Celeste’s usual driver.
A security officer steps up to the driver window. He looks at each of us in turn and, coming to Celeste, gives her a quick nod. Without a word, he steps back and opens the gate for us. We roll into the shipyard and come to a stop beside a yellow container with the words Yanwang International written across its side. Around us, the city has gone dark, only skyscraper windows in the distance shining like stars. A few flickering lanterns illuminate the shipyard.
After turning off the car, Mel pushes back her seat, cranks her backrest to be almost horizontal, and kicks her feet onto the dashboard. “Have fun!” she says with an ominous voice. “Yell if you need me.”
I find myself shivering as I step outside, my breath beginning to crystalize in the air. Celeste opens the boot and hands me a coat, plush fur lined with silk.
“Thanks.” It smells like her when I drape it over my shoulders. When I slip my phone into the coat pocket, it slips down with a heavy thud. I reach into the pocket to find it has no bottom, my phone having slid between the lining and the fur. “Wait, are you giving me your hand-me-downs now?”
“What?”
“This has a hole in the pocket.”
“Not it doesn’t.” She slips her hand into the pocket with mine, our fingers brushing as she reaches into it. “Ugh.” She looks displeased. “I’ll have to get that fixed.”
I spin around. “Well, if you decide to ditch it, let me know. I like it.”
“YIt is my favorite,” she says. “But you do look much cuter in it than me.” She leads me over the muddy gravel toward the container. It’s a miracle she doesn’t fall in her heels, though she makes it look easy. “You still don’t like Mel?” she asks. “She’s the one who found him for me.”
My stomach lurches. “Found who?”
With a flick of her wrist, the locking mechanism keeping the container doors closed creaks and the doors open, just enough to admit both of us. A lonely lightbulb flickers on overhead. As the room lights up, my stomach sinks further. In the center lies a single chair tipped to the side. Tied to it is a man, the front and armpits of his shirt wet and clinging to him with sweat. He blinks at us for a moment before starting to squirm and wriggle, babbling unintelligibly into the fabric that's gagging him.
My feet freeze to the floor. Even though I’ve only seen him once, his face is burned into my mind. I remember the wolfish expression on it as he unbuckled his pants while watching his friend pin me to the wall.
“He’s all yours,” Celeste says, leaning against the side of the container. Then she looks back at the door. “Unless you want me to wait outside?”
I stare at her, speechless. It takes me a few moments to find the words I’m looking for, all the while listening to him whimper. “What is this?”
“Justice, if you want it to be.” She shrugs. “Or dinner.”
My eyes find him again. It looks like he tried to escape but didn’t get very far. He looks pathetic the way he’s lying there, sweating and whining as if he were the victim. It makes me angry – it makes me want to hurt him. All the images of breaking his bones and tearing his arteries I’ve been trying to suppress come flooding back. It’s like I’m back in that room again, my skin crawling with the touch of them. I’m unable to look away as I back out of the door. “No.” I shake my head. “No, I’m going home.”
The wind whips my hair as I step out into the dark shipyard, away from the image of that pathetic man. The image of him at the club, though, won’t leave me so easily. It already haunts me in my sleep most nights. Unable to face Mel in the car and not knowing where to go, I step outside of the circle of light thrown by the lantern overhead and just squat down, burying my face in my hands.Fuck.
“You’re ruining my favorite coat.”
I look down to see the bottom of the garment sitting soggily in the mud. “Shit,” I mumble, getting up. “I’m sorry.”
Celeste lifts my chin and cups my cheek with her hand. The blue in her eyes is almost grey tonight and her expression is surprisingly tender. “You’re frightened.”
The way she’s looking at me makes me want to cry, like when someone asks if you’re okay and you’reabsolutely not okay. Blinking back the tears, I say, “Is this meant to be funny?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
Her thumb traces my cheek. “If you want to survive, you need to learn to control your impulses. And that can’t happen if you don’t embrace what you are.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you punishing me because… because I kissed you?”
She tilts her head, her expression full of pity. “No, of course not. You said you wanted to kick their asses.”
