Chapter 16

Sixteen

It becomes apparent why no one knows where they are going or where the cirque will set up. Diamond doesn't use maps or directions to find where he's going, simply follows the call, the one vibrating within our chests. Cirque Obscurum decides where the cirque sets up and what town it will be in. If there's a call in that town, she sends us there as well, which is what's happening now.

Diamond simply drives, his eyes on the road. Every now and then, he takes a turn, left or right depending on that feeling. No one interrupts his concentration. We all sit quietly in the car and watch the scenery pass through the windshield.

The town of New Lockland isn't large, but it isn't small either. This town is big enough to sport sizable subdivisions around it in large, circular patterns, but it's not the bustling metropolis of a city. It's within those subdivisions that we find ourselves, a nice middle-class neighborhood that feels too much like the place I came from. I know better than most that the perfectly manicured lawns and white picket fences can hide monstrosities. Just because the house is painted white doesn't mean whoever lives there is innocent.

Somehow, I'm not surprised when we pull up to a well-maintained white house. The shutters are open on the windows, more decorative than useful. The small porch has the same white metal posts as the rest of the street, each house a cookie-cutter copy in a different color. Some of them are pale green, some pastel blue, but this is the only white one. Like our masks, it hides something inside. It mocks us as we all climb from the Dodge.

"Should I wait out here?" I whisper, staring up at the dark windows. There's no movement inside, not at this late hour. The sky is clear, so the moonlight washes everything with a blue tint, showing that not even the wind stirs the flowering bushes before us.

I realize I probably shouldn't be here, not while I'm still on crutches. I don't know exactly what all this entails or if every call is as traumatic as mine. Perhaps we're going to find this person and bring them back without any trouble. No one has truly explained how this all works. I only know how my calling went and I barely understand that.

Diamond turns and looks me up and down, as if reminding himself that I'm still on crutches. I'm a liability. I know that, but it still hurts when he nods.

"For now. We'll come get you when we're ready."

I lean back against the car and watch as they forgo the front door in favor of the back gate. They move quietly, so as not to attract attention from the neighbors, but I'm not sure if they need to. This neighborhood feels as dead as it looks. Though nosy neighbors are always a thing in the suburbs, this place is more likely to ignore atrocities than look too closely at them.

As if the thought causes it, the call in my chest grows stronger, and I double over beneath the weight of it, gasping for breath. Fuck, it wasn't this bad at first. My crutches are the only things keeping me upright, that and the car I lean against. It ebbs away long enough for me to catch my breath before I straighten and begin following the path the others took. Whatever the call is, it wants me with them. It wants me to see, and I am helpless to ignore it.

The grass is so perfectly manicured, I don't even trip over it as I hobble through the open gate. The backyard is empty, no toys to reveal a child might live here or furniture to indicate anyone uses it at all. It's just as perfect as the front yard, and just as much of a mask. If your home looks perfect, no one questions what's inside. No one asks you about your nightmares.

The back door is sliding glass, and it gives me the perfect view of the inside. I hop onto the cobblestone patio, coming closer when I see movement inside. There's a lamp on, the small light source casting a yellow haze over everything near it. There's a couch and a book lying atop the table beside the lamp. It looks like a crime novel, one of those mystery, solve the puzzle books. The sliding glass door is open, stale air coming from inside. When my chest aches with the call, I step over the threshold, being careful not to make any sound.

I don't see any signs of the guys, but a few steps into the house, I hear a shuffle and a grunt of pain. I follow the sound to an open door at the top of the stairs—a basement. This house has a basement. I hadn't even realized. There weren't any openings outside to indicate there might be one.

The lights are on at the bottom of the stairs that lead to it, so with my newfound strength, I begin to descend them. Another grunt of pain sounds, followed by some thumping. I move slowly, deliberately, as I get closer to the landing. I don't look until I'm there. I refuse to. I'd rather be faced with the whole image than only a part of it, but when I reach the landing and turn, I wish I hadn't come down the stairs at all.

Diamond, Club, Spade, and Heart circle a man who is on his hands and knees on the floor. He's panting in pain, his hand clutching his stomach. He looks normal enough, perfectly middle-aged and respectable, except . . . this basement is clearly sealed off from the outside. The concrete walls are smooth and thick, and there aren't any windows to let in light. It's sparse down here, only a thin twin mattress shoved against the wall covered with dirty blankets breaking up the gray. Photographs hang on the opposite wall, each of them depicting a different person, a different woman, in horrible positions and settings.

That's when I see her.

A woman no older than twenty is huddled in the corner, her eyes bloodshot and her face dirty. She's too skinny, the kind of thin that comes from neglect and starvation. There's a manacle around her ankle that's attached to the wall, making sure she can't go anywhere. Her skin is rubbed raw where the metal touches her, as if she's tried and failed many times to free herself. She watches the guys circle the man on the floor but doesn't move, too tired to do anything but watch.

There is nothing in her eyes. Only emptiness, like she has given up, but as I look closer, I see a single spark within. No, not given up, not yet, but she's close to it just like I had been.

No one seems to have noticed my arrival despite me knowing I must have made noise.

"How many victims are on that wall?" Diamond asks the man on the floor. "How many have you hurt?"

The man laughs despite being at the mercy of these men. He lifts up on his knees and looks Diamond right in the mask. "Forty-three," he says proudly. "Forty-four if you count the one over there."

Diamond nods to Heart. "You heard him. Forty-four cuts. One for each victim."

I'm helpless to look away, my eyes riveted to Heart as he steps forward and begins to slice with a small scalpel rather than the large hunting knife he carried during my call. How many knives does he have on him? How many tools does he use?

"One, two, three, four, you should have locked your back door." Heart giggles as he counts. "Five, six, seven, eight, suffer a cut for every hate."

The man grunts but doesn't cry out, gritting his teeth against the small cuts on his back, shoulders, arms, and stomach.

"Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, your blood is coating the concrete floor," Heart finishes and steps back with a grin.

The man scowls at them, bleeding from all his cuts, but his eyes are still clear and brutal. He's hard in his pants, as if this is exactly what he wants.

"Is that all you've got?" he says, his eyes on Diamond.

I can't see Diamond smile behind his mask, but I feel the aura in the room darken. Club straightens and looks toward the woman chained to the wall, making sure she's okay. She still watches, no protests or screams for help coming from her. The only change I see is a small smile curling the corners of her lips as she sits with her chin on her knees like she's watching a movie.

Spade flips out a knife. "I say we take away his weapon."

Diamond glances at Spade and nods. "I agree."

The man's confidence disappears as Heart steps forward again and begins to unbuckle his pants. When he tries to fight him off, Club comes forward to help, keeping his arms folded behind his back as Heart tugs his pants down around his knees, leaving his wrinkled cock standing tall before us. Spade wastes no time as the man begins to scream, really fighting now. Without boasting or teasing, Spade brings his knife down across that dick, cutting it off.

The gore causes me to put my hand to my mouth. Something in me is repulsed by the scene. It's disgusting and horrible, but I can't look away. Another part of me, some deeper, darker part I have yet to examine, revels in the sight of the man screaming in pain, of his cock being tossed in the corner like dirty laundry. Spade wipes his hands on the man's pristine shirt, leaving behind a red stain.

Club releases the man, who collapses to the ground, sobbing.

Diamond turns toward the woman in the corner. "Would you like him to die or live?"

I notice for the first time she has the joker card beneath her hip. It's clean, unlike mine, but the red foil is unmistakable. How she managed to keep it on her, I don't know, but her fingers touch the joker's face, her bright blue eyes focused on Diamond.

"Die," she croaks, her voice rough. The bruises around her neck tell me she's been choked repeatedly. Her vocal cords may be damaged, but she says the word loud enough for them to hear.

Diamond nods. "Good choice. Serial rapists don't deserve second chances, even when they are dickless."

My eyes widen as Diamond steps forward and draws a sword I never noticed he had. It comes from a sheath at his back, beneath his clothing, and the sound it makes as it slides free is loud in the concrete room.

"May you suffer the same nightmares you caused," Club growls just as Diamond swings the blade, slicing clean through his neck.

I gasp and fall backward against the wall as his head hits the ground with a thump and blood squirts from the arteries. His eyes are open, wide in shock, and his mouth is opening and closing slightly from lingering nerve movement.

At my sound, everyone looks over at me, finally noticing that I've been standing here, but I can't stop looking at the moving mouth—at the horror and grotesqueness of it.

I have to get out of here. I can't stomach this.

Turning with the intention to climb the stairs, I feel a hand close around my good ankle, and I look over my shoulder and down to find Heart's mask looking up at me.

"Where are you going, Queen?" he asks, his eyes sparkling behind the mask. "The fun isn't over yet."

My stomach roils, my eyes latching onto the moving head. "I can't."

"You can," Diamond says, his eyes hard, "and you will. You are one of us. We obey the call. Now you will too."

Without any other choice, I slowly descend the last few steps.