Chapter 31

Thirty-One

"What's your name?" I ask the boy as we help him to his feet. He's in rough shape, weak from lack of food and his beating. He'll take time to recover, but at least we found him before it was too late. He keeps the joker card clutched in his hand as we help him out of the mausoleum. I don't think any of us want to force him to hand it over. Not yet. We have plenty of time for that.

"Melvin," he answers, his throat rough. "It's Melvin."

"It's nice to meet you, Melvin," I reply, helping him make his way across the uneven ground. Many of the graves are in disrepair here, either because they are old or because the caretakers no longer care about this part. The mausoleum is well-kept, though, as if someone tends to it often. Of course the rich get better service even in death. They forget those who can't afford such a grand statement of wealth.

"How many of them are there?" Club asks, his mind already on the task at hand. He's likely planning out every detail, wanting to make sure we don't miss an opportunity. Melvin decided he wants revenge, so we'll give it to him, even if we have to carry him to each destination.

"Three," he answers softly. "Two boys and a girl."

"Do they live close by?" Diamond asks.

Melvin nods. "Yes. About five minutes up the road. We all lived in the same part of town."

"We'll drive," Spade says, gesturing to the car. He knows as well as we do that this boy won't be able to walk far. His strength is already starting to fail. Likely, he has some broken bones we can't see or at least some fractures, but he's being a trooper with the pain. Revenge is a great motivator.

We all pile in Diamond's black Dodge and follow Melvin's directions to a subdivision. I'm surprised Melvin came from the suburbs, but I'm not surprised the others do. Sometimes, kids like these can be the meanest, especially if they are their daddy's little princess or mommy's little man.

We pull up outside a quaint white house that matches all the others. They are all perfectly manicured and built exactly the same, like the builder could only come up with one design and figured a hundred more would be great. It's horrible. I prefer the bright splashes of color of the cirque, but this is exactly the kind of place Roger would have liked. That thought only makes me hate it more.

"Who does this house belong to?" I ask, looking up at the dark windows.

"George. He's the leader," Melvin says. "The others listen to every word he says."

Spade pauses. "And how old is George?"

I understand his question. None of us want to kill a kid, but Melvin asked for revenge, and we have to give it to him. Still, it feels a little wrong.

"Eighteen," Melvin says. "The three of them are all eighteen. I'm the youngest. I won't turn eighteen until next year."

"Oh," I muse. Well, that fixes that. They are old enough to know better. Besides, they tried to kill Melvin and clearly had every intention of doing so. "Well, let's get George taken care of then. Which window is his?"

Melvin leads us around back and points to a window with a light on inside. The curtains cover it, but we can see through a gap that George is within. He's sleeping like a baby, sprawled across a bedspread with cowboys drawn on it despite the fact he nearly killed a kid. He probably thinks Melvin is already dead.

Bastard.

Heart reaches up and gently pries the window open. George doesn't stir, but then again, I don't expect him to.

"We can't do it here," Diamond says. "We'll take him out to the woods with the others."

There would be too many potential witnesses if we did it here. His parents are probably snoring away, unaware of the little monster they raised. Unless they are monsters too. Monsters often make more monsters.

Heart gestures for Spade to come inside with him. I watch as they sneak through the window and stalk around, searching. Heart picks up a nude magazine open on the bedside table and wiggles his eyebrows at me. I roll mine and gesture for him to hurry up. His giggle is so soft, it doesn't wake the kid. No, what wakes him up is Spade pressing a cloth against his mouth. It takes three seconds of struggling before he passes out. Heart lifts him and roughly tosses him out the window, uncaring how he lands. He'll probably have bruises from it, but that's the least of his worries.

We repeat the process at Alan's house and again at Veronica's. None of them get the chance to scream, and none of them struggle for long. We shove them all in the trunk of the car and drive back out to the graveyard. How poetic that they'll find themselves in the same spot they left Melvin in. Melvin seems tickled pink by the idea, smiling despite his injuries and inability to hold himself up. He's currently slumped on a gravestone, watching as Heart ties the three kids up in the mausoleum with their backs together.

Diamond kicks their feet to wake them up. When that doesn't work, Club tosses a bucket of water on them, and they come to, sputtering.

I sit beside Melvin, watching. Melvin is leaning against me, needing support, but this position still gives him the ability to look cool, something I know a kid his age would be worried about.

"Welcome to the game, little shits," Heart declares as they look around and start panicking. Veronica starts to scream, so Heart slams his baseball bat into the ground right beside her leg. "I suggest you stop that, girlie, or I'll have to take your tongue."

She immediately shuts up, whimpering and trying to press back against the other two boys. Weak. She's only part of the group as eye candy. George tips up his chin and looks around before finding Melvin sitting against me. His eyes narrow in anger.

"What the fuck is going on, dweeb?" he snarls. "What are you doing?"

"How are you still alive?" Alan asks, staring at him. "You should be dead."

"Oh, you tried," Melvin croaks. "Almost succeeded too, but my friends arrived." He gestures to us, and I smile behind my mask.

"Friends?" George spits. "Don't be stupid, Melvin. We're your friends."

"Is that how you treat all your friends?" Diamond asks, kneeling. "Nearly beating them to death and locking them in a crypt?"

George's face twists, but it's a mask just as ours are. "That's what he told you? He's lying. The dweeb is always lying."

"Shut up," Melvin spits. "You can't pretend your way out of this one, George. Daddy isn't here to save you this time."

George's mask slips away. "You should have died."

"Why?" Melvin asks. "Because you don't like me?"

"Because you don't deserve to live," he spits. "Not a dweeb like you, wasting space and time. You've always been a freak. We took pity on you because of who your parents are, but I'm tired of you tagging along like a lost puppy."

"A freak, huh?" I ask, tilting my head. "It's a good thing we're freaks too, isn't it, Club?"

Club glances at me, and I can tell he's smiling behind his mask. "That's right, baby. We're all freaks."

"So I guess it's a good thing Melvin called us," I purr. I glance over at him. "You think you can stand?"

"For this, absolutely," he says, but when he goes to stand, he grunts in pain, and I have to help him.

"Fast or slow?" Diamond asks Melvin.

Veronica begins to whimper again, fighting against her ties. Alan is struggling too, fear in his eyes. Only George sits still, his chin tipped up, unafraid of death.

Monsters make other monsters.

"Who's your daddy?" I ask him, but he keeps his lips tightly shut.

"The mayor," Melvin offers helpfully. "He's an asshole."

I nod. "Of course he is." I hold out my knife. "The fast way."

Heart holds his bat out. "The slow way." He giggles.

Melvin reaches for the bat but hesitates. "I don't know if I have the strength for the slow way," he admits before grabbing my knife instead.

Smart. Melvin is a force they are not prepared for, and that was their mistake. They should have considered him an ally, but at least these monsters weren't able to corrupt him.

"How did they get you into the mausoleum?" Spade asks Melvin.

Melvin weighs the knife in his hand. "Veronica asked me to meet them to hang out. I always liked her and thought she finally liked me back. I thought we were going to be making out by the end of it. Instead, it was all a ruse. George and Alan jumped me the second I got in here." His eyes meet hers. "She laughed the entire time."

Any questions regarding Veronica's involvement disappear in my mind. She's worse, letting them kill someone for her entertainment. The abuser might be a monster, but the person who watches and does nothing is so much worse.

"Alan first," Melvin says. "He kicked me first. I'll give him the same honor."

As I help Melvin closer, Alan starts to grunt and try to free himself.

"Stop, Melvin! Stop! Please! We made a mistake! We won't do it again!" he begs.

"No," Melvin says, leaning down. "You won't." He plunges the knife right into Alan's chest without a moment of hesitation. Usually, when faced with the reality, everyone, even those desperate for revenge, hesitates. Not Melvin, though, and my estimation of his strength goes up. Alan gurgles and slumps over, but it's Veronica's screams that suddenly pierce the air.

Heart grabs her jaw and squeezes painfully, cutting her off. "Now what did I say, girlie?" He pulls out a knife, and she voices a muffled scream, tears running from her eyes.

"Don't," Melvin instructs, and Heart immediately puts his knife away. "I have something better for her. She's claustrophobic." He points to the half-opened stone coffin behind us.

I grin, impressed as hell by him. "Now that's a nice idea. I like that."

Melvin meets George's eyes. "Do you regret it even a little?"

George's lips curl. "No. I'd do it again."

Melvin nods. "I thought so." He sets the knife down and stands up. "I changed my mind," he says before reaching for Heart's bat.

Heart giggles and tosses it to him. Melvin doesn't waste time, clearly thinking he won't have the strength to swing more than a few times. He bashes the bat against George's head, and the asshole goes down. He swings again and again, splattering blood over us, the walls, and the floor.

Veronica starts to scream again, so Heart jerks her up and tosses her into the open coffin.

"A little assistance?" Heart asks before Spade and Club come over to help him push it closed. Diamond stands next to me, both of us watching as Melvin destroys his bully's skull until I'm certain no one will recognize him.

Veronica's scream cuts off suddenly when the stone lid closes. Only a faint whisper of it can be heard, and it makes me smile.

Melvin sways, and I reach out for him, stopping him from toppling over.

"The card?" Diamond says, holding out his hand.

Melvin reaches into his pocket and presses it into Diamond's hand, still panting from the effort of swinging the bat. Despite his weakness, his eyes are alight with a fire I know will serve him well.

"To the cirque?" Diamond asks. "Or a new life?"

Melvin wipes his face and meets our eyes. "The cirque," he rasps. "I never fit in anywhere else."

I grin. "Then welcome home, Melvin. Welcome home."