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Getting back in our cars, Munroe parks his just near the corner of the street we are on, while Slasher and I take ours closer into the fucking lion’s den.
The street where the house sits is lined with more cars than before, and I can see that the people in attendance aren’t just Reapers, which will make it easier for us to go unnoticed.
Slasher parks his car about halfway up the road, but I continue on, trying to get as close as I can.
When I find a spot, I leave the car unlocked and the keys in it, and head toward the driveway that has people spilling into it dressed in costumes, masks and face paint.
My nerves pick up again and I let them come, needing them to fuel my determination, because I have no fucking idea what I’m about to walk into.
Hang on a bit longer, Princess. I’m not leaving without you.
Zoe
“It’s an honor to get picked.”
Irina’s words from two weeks ago still echo through my mind. Even when I’m asleep, they creep into my dreams. They’re always present, and I know it’s because there’s a deeper meaning to them. Something my subconscious has picked up on, but that I haven’t deciphered yet.
Or maybe it’s just because she’s with me day and night. Since the prospects made their picks for tonight’s Brawl, Irina and I haven’t stayed at the mold infested house the Reapers call home. Instead, she moved us into another house which doesn’t run out of hot water, and isn’t dank and dirty. In fact, it’s clean, spacious, and reminds me so much of the house I grew up in.
“All yours,” Irina says. She comes strutting out of the bathroom without a stitch of clothing covering her naked body. “Don’t rush it. We have plenty of time.” The last part is added when she notices me eyeing the timer on the flatscreen TV in the bedroom.
I take my time soaking in the large tub. It’s big enough that I can stretch my legs without touching the edge. I moan in appreciation as the scorching water soothes my limbs, making me feel relaxed, like only a bath can.
My head is resting against the edge, and when I close my eyes, I can almost imagine I’m anywhere but here. Or that Ihad better company… ha! Irina isn’t company, she’s my new warden.
I haven’t seen Gunner since Irina told him he wasn’t allowed to see me, and that was almost a week ago. Of course, he didn’t take that well. But when Rusty showed up with some of the other Reapers in tow, he relented and left while I watched from the bedroom.
While I’ve been forced to spend more time with the woman my dad picked over his family, I’ve been working overtime trying to find something—anything—likable about her. The best I got is that she doesn’t smell and has nice teeth.
Sure, I could mention that she’s been nothing but kind, even making sure I eat a healthy meal three times a day. But that’s exactly why I don’t trust her. There are cracks in her armor, glimpses where I see her behavior for the mission it really is.
I just wish I fucking knew what she’s cooking…
Tonight, I’ll find out one way or another, I’m sure of it. It’s Devil’s Night, or Mischief Night, as some call it, and I have a strong feeling that it’s going to be worse than what I’m imagining. I can feel the foreboding in every fiber of my being.
With a sigh, I begin to wash my hair, finishing off with the lemon scented conditioner on the edge. Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I lavish enough for three turns into my hair. No matter how many times I’ve used it, I feel like I can still smell the stink from the Reaper house all over me.
Although I know it’s all in my head, I can’t get rid of it. My mental berating and pep talks do nothing to alleviate it.
When I’m done, I towel dry my hair and gather the long locks in two braids. Then I get dressed in the outfit Irina gave me. It’s a ridiculous French Maid costume, which includes a white petticoat, and thigh-high fishnet stockings.
The neckline is so low I’m worried my tits will fall out if I move too quickly. Then again, since I haven’t been given any underwear, it’s clearly meant to showcase my most private areas.
I don’t bother looking in the mirror before I exit the bathroom, almost walking right into Irina. “Sorry,” I mumble, like it’s my fault. Which it wasn’t since she was almost right in front of the door.
“Don’t worry,” she sing-songs as she corrects the latex halter top she’s wearing. “Are you ready for me to do your makeup?”
As I take in her already made-up face, I just nod and dutifully follow her to the kitchen, where all her makeup is already laid out on the table.
“So are you excited for tonight?” Irina asks as she hands me a headband. “I bet you are. I remember my first Devil’s Night Brawl. But a girl never forgets her first, does she?” She shoots me a wink.
“I guess,” I half-heartedly answer her.
After instructing me to tip my head back and close my eyes, she carries on her tale of reminiscence. “You’re lucky you get to see the Brawl now and not back before the Reapers were this big. In those days, the women never got any drugs, so they weren’t suffering withdrawals on top of everything else.”
“Really?” I force myself to say.
I get the urge to open my eyes and watch her when I feel a wet makeup brush against my skin. But I fight it.
