Friday, October the third, nearly midnight, and nothing sings in the dark forest behind Riddle Lane. Fox, my most trusted guard, is at his post around the front of the property. Stationed directly before the gate nestled among the military fence. Out here though, past the pool, the underground garage, the luxuries being Lydia James Flynn affords me, there’s nothing but trees and creatures and the pretense of anonymity.
I tilt my head and look up at the stars blanketing the velvet night sky.
The silence unnerves me, and I wish, not for the first time, I could speak to my mother. A yearning I can never shake. But she never cared what I wanted and she escaped as soon as she could, leaving me to crawl over her motionless body on our living room floor. My nine-year-old fingers curled in her brains and no one found us for days.
That’s the story my uncle told me, anyway.
And where was Lele,I asked him, hoping my brother didn’t share the turmoil, too. Ten months younger than me, and yet I’ve felt far older my entire life.
I’d die to protect him. Given his track record, I might have to.
But not then.
Uncle Lynx never told me where Lele was following the haze of her suicide.
He took us in after we—his niece and nephew—became orphans. His brother, my father, was an addict.Wasbeing the keyword. Now, maybe he’s with my mom, but I kind of hope not, for both of their sakes.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my tailored pants and I reach my hand in on autopilot, not taking my gaze from the quiet woods. When it’s quiet, something is coming. Considering Lele isn’t home yet, I wonder if he’s what the omen is for.
I glance at the unknown display on my screen and swipe to answer the call. Anonymous callers aren’t unusual in my world. My number never shows up on anyone’s system and burner phones are a dime a dozen in the playground of my career.
“Lydia,” I answer. No use in pretending I’m someone else. It’s why I have Fox, and the gun on my hip.
There are ticks of silence on the other line. I wonder if something has gone down in one of my warehouses or maybe at the ring. A fight to the death in the latter? It’s never happened, but my lawyers have warned me there’s potential liabilities at Dark Chapel. The warning made me laugh.
Of course there are. It’s an underground fighting ring inside of an old church. Jesus probably isn’t too thrilled with me on account of that, but the money it takes in is enough to quell my moral worries.
Still, silence on the other end of the line.
I shift my stance on my covered back deck, second story, and tip my chin higher, staring not at the stars now, but the woods.
I’ve ventured back there once to plant protection spells and offerings. You can never be too careful on land you use for crime. There’s a barbed wire fence at the top of the hill, marking off my property, but I know it can be cut, and we don’t position guards there. My money is plenty but it isn’t infinite. Besides, black salt does a lot of the work for me.
And who would be stupid enough to come down this hill in the thick of trees in the middle of the night, seeing the turrets and spirals of the only house on Riddle Lane?
Then again, this is Stone Fell. We’re on the outskirts, in the Hollows, a place most locals don’t even know exists. But stupidity isn’t hard to find in town.
A raven caws in the distance and I don’t flinch, but my pulse elevates, and I circle my fingers tighter around my phone.
I don’t hang up yet, despite the fact any other given day, I would’ve already done so.
Something tells me I need to hear this.
My intuition isn’t always right, but it’s got a good winning record.
Besides, Lele isn’t home yet.
It’s not unusual; he loves strip clubs and blow dens and bullshit dressed up in luxury. But he does his own work, too, and he contributes in his way. He’s fiercely protective and he’s full of love, but only for me and for Fox. Even Uncle Lynx, back in Virginia, he can’t stand. I’ve never quite figured out why, but he says we were raised differently. It makes me irritated, hearing his excuses. If anyone has something to hate, it’s me.
While it’s true that most of my childhood is a blank frame, the pieces I’ve constructed drip in agony. And I don’t recall Lele anywhere near me then. If anything, he got off unscathed. If he wanted, he could be free.
Even living here in Stone Fell was a move dictated by my uncle. He needed control in the mountains of North Carolina,and so he sent me. We’ve been here a year, and I’m not sure I’ve made my reputation as known as I’d like, but I’ve done my best. Word is the higher-ups in Ellicottville, across the tracks, are starting to take notice, even though Lynx has made it very clear I’m not to encroach on their territory.
Regardless, people are afraid of our name, if they even know what to whisper. Being an enigma shields us in ways Lele can’t quite understand.
If only they saw the horror movie playing on a loop inside my own mind every night I lay down and I have to face what we’ve done.
I wonder if that’s the real reason Lele can’t make a good decision to save his fucking life. He already thinks we’re both hellbound. There’s no use in trying to claw his way up to heaven.
