27. Hellena

27

HELLENA

A ll I hear for the first few minutes is a ringing, muted hum in my ears.

This isn't real. He can't be here.

My eyes shift around the room, trying to make sense of the scene. Autopilot clicks on, taking in the details.

To our left, Clive and his two lieutenants are fuming, the other two men stepping forward aggressively. I recognize them from the compound, if not their names.

Across the plush, red carpet, the thin, skeletal man looks at everyone around him like they personally offended him but somehow manages to look intrigued at the development. His entourage are two dull-eyed bodyguards who look like they used to eat bodybuilders for breakfast.

"Hellena?" Evan whispers, but I can't snap out of it.

The Mayor is just to our right. Six men and women jockey for position behind him. A woman, presumably his secretary, the way she behaves. Another man who is clearly there for protection. The rest are politicians, possibly city councilmen.

And the last one is a young man I would recognize anywhere, even slouched and disguised in glasses. A man who I never expected to see here.

A man who has never technically lied to me. The logic is almost humorous.

I wonder if he's ever been completely honest with me.

Because Tell isn't here, not as himself.

I catch his eye, and he swallows, barely able to meet my gaze. With an awkward shrug, he leans over, offering Evan a robe to give me, pointing uncomfortably between Vice and me, trying to insinuate the meaning. Evan takes the hint and covers me.

The warmth of the fabric does little to chase away the chill gripping my spine.

The source of my mental fugue starts to talk, and his voice snaps me back, out of my haze. Instantly, I'm sweating, panicking.

Evan squeezes my hand, stepping closer.

"Thank you all for having me. I'm so honored to be here." Marco takes in each guest in turn, smiling a sycophantic grin. "I understand that this is unconventional, to have a guest from outside the system, outside the Family, so to speak."

"It's a violation of everything we stand for!" Clive is in Marco's face.

"Stand down, big man! We can help each other. This union will be mutually beneficial to both of our organizations. My Family has come a long way in the last several years. I have resources I think you will find appealing."

The mayor chimes in, looking like a dog with a bone. "The Vices have all but taken over the entire western seaboard. He's a premiere power, and our neighbor."

"And how is that any of our concern?" Devonde whines.

Everyone else is on edge, waiting for Clive to lash out. Even the Matron is gripping her podium, unsettled.

"I'll tell you why it's your concern, Mr. Devonde of Devonde Pharma and Medical. I'm honored, truly. And might I say, I am thrilled to meet you. Big fan. Not surprised that you're here, either." Marco is pure sleaze. But it works.

Devonde raises one eyebrow, a quiver of a smile thinning his lips. "Go on."

"I'll give the sales pitch, I guess. I have men in every major city. I own every trade route. Drugs, guns, running dozens of operations that generate an obscene amount of money. Money that could benefit the expansion of your club." The insult is clear.

"How did you find out about our organization ?" Clive barks.

"That is an excellent question," the Matron belts out, pure authority and grace.

"Ah, you see, my late wife grew up in Sanctum Harbor. She was one of your own. Always wanted us to come back here, maybe retire here. But when my beautiful daughter ran away, disappeared, we searched everywhere. Ultimately, the loss of her only child led to her untimely death. She just gave up ."

My heart nearly stops.

My mother is dead.

It has to be false, a ploy. Every word out of his mouth is meant to manipulate, coerce. He weaves stories, gaslights, flat out lies through his teeth.

He glances around the room, pleading with each member for pity. The remorse on his face is a farce. "I do miss her…"

It must be a lie. It has to be.

The hair on my back of my neck is standing on end. Alert, ready to lunge at a moment's notice. Or run.

I realize I'm gripping Evan's hand with murderous intent, my fingers aching. He squeezes back, leaning a shoulder against me to quiet my shaking.

Marco is still spinning his tales, reaching out to each member of the gathering. "This get-together of yours, it's quite the soiree, isn't it? Pull out all the stops, don't you. My kind of place. And that show? Sweet mercy, she was hot ." His eyes drift to us, and my skin crawls.

President Clive hasn't backed down, pacing a rut in the carpet, his fists balled at his sides. "This soiree is a centuries-old tradition that you should not have been invited to! You have no business meddling in how our town is run, how it's run for decades."

"President!" the Matron snaps, cutting the air with her hand.

"Sorry. But so what if he knows what we do here? He's already despoiled our sacred meeting. The Block will need time to deliberate on whether we see fit to continue participating if this is the way things are going."

"Oh, come on now, Xavier!" Vanderberg yells, put out and fuming. "Hear Mr. Vice out. I thought you, of all people, would see the potential…"

"Thank you, Tyler. May I call you Tyler? President Clive, I've heard so much about the Block. Your club is legendary. Notorious. I'm sure we can reach some sort of an agreement, and if not…" Marco wags his hands, tipping them back and forth, an ambiguous motion.

"If not, what ? You leave us alone and never show your face in Sanctum again?"

"Well. There are ways by which we can maintain a peaceable existence." Marco grins from ear to ear like a shark. It's a veiled threat.

"Precisely! We can coexist ." the mayor offers energetically.

"Bullshit. Matron, get this clown out of here or I'm out," Clive shouts, planting his feet and pointing.

"Actually, if the Block is out, I may be interested in what you have to say. Unless you're implying what I think you are. I will not be giving up any territory." Devonde starts with a smile, devolving into a vacant stare that drops the temperature in the room a few degrees.

"Whoa, I get it. You're all kings in your own castles here." Marco is still grinning, ingratiating. But his tone drops, flat and unwavering. "But I will point out that I'm working my way north. And it would be troublesome if we started running into conflicting routes with the Block. Stepping on each other's toes, if you will."

"Step on our toes and see if you still have a foot, asshole," Clive snarls.

"We want to work with you, not against you." Marco is losing his temper. I know the signs too well.

Vanderberg looks taken aback at the statement, the implication. "Uh, I was of the understanding that we're all here to create an alliance, right? No one is moving against anyone else."

Vice stays silent. Stock still.

This is a hostile infiltration dressed up as a friendly visit. It's a warning that he's coming whether they like it or not.

Rage is boiling up in my chest, choking me.

I want to scream at him. I want to tell the Matron to kill this man, or at least have him removed. I want to strangle him myself. But I can't move. I'm frozen.

"Please, let's not come to blows or fight just yet." Marco flips back to the smiling, gracious guest. "There's plenty of time to negotiate."

"Indeed," the Matron snaps. "This certainly gives us a lot to consider . I'm sure our leadership will have very specific terms if we are to court any alliance."

"Whatever makes you feel better," Vice croons, opening his hands benevolently. I'm surprised my breath isn't fogging in the freezing chill that settles over each of the leaders.

"Be mindful that you are a guest here, Mr. Vice. You are only here by my organization's permission, and that can be remitted easily." The guards at every door back up the Matron's statement, making their presence known.

"Oh, of course, my apologies. Don't let me interrupt your party. I love a good time! I understand there's still a grand finale of sorts?"

"That is correct. I think you might find it very interesting to witness."

"What is she talking about?" I manage to whisper to Evan, never taking my eyes off the predator in the room.

"It's a…"

"The auction will commence shortly," the Matron announces. "Please find yourself a seat below, or indulge yourselves with any of our refreshments, food, or otherwise. I will follow up with each of you before the night is done."

Her orders are followed, the entire gathering rising to leave. She's the hostess, but that only seems to be the tip of the iceberg if this meeting is any indication of her prominence in the Sinful.

Clive storms out first, likely leaving with his entire crew. The other groups follow, talking among themselves.

Evan looks just as baffled as I am, watching, trying to piece together what just happened and how it may affect us.

"Auction?" I ask, my mind still numb.

"You'll see." He pulls me to my feet, but I can't stop staring at Marco, whispering closely with Vanderberg, soothing the mayor's ego. He catches me looking, his piercing gaze revealing nothing.

I have no idea whether he recognizes me.

Which means asking him the questions burning in my heart is out of the question. I shouldn't go near him, period.

But I need to know.

Is my mother really dead?

If she is, I'm certain he killed her.

Evan tugs at my hand, trying to get me to leave. "Let's go. We need to find a spot."

In a daze, he leads me out, down the spiral staircase.

"Are you…?"

"No. I'm not. You know who that was, Evan."

"I do. And I'm glad you kept it together. If you would have exploded in there, it could have cost us."

"Are you seriously worried about your standing? Your reputation? My mother is dead ."

"I don't give a shit about my reputation. It could have cost you your life. Mine, too. You were a spectator, a guest in that meeting. My guest. I'm not on equal footing with any of those people, Hellena. Making any one of them an enemy during the Sinner's Ball would be a death sentence. The only reason the Matron allowed it was because of your performance and your relationship to me."

"I'm sorry. My whole world just got turned upside down."

"Don't apologize. You didn't know. I'm sorry about your mom…"

We're huddled together behind a growing mass of onlookers, some seated, others clustering together. Every guest holds a paddle, a number painted on the front.

"Hellena, there's something I need to tell you?—"

Applause drowns out his words, the Matron and an auctioneer taking the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the most anticipated event of the night, at least for many of you."

"What is this auction about?" I shout over the clamoring voices, the announcer charming the crowd.

Evan looks annoyed, worried. "I–It's the coup de gras of the Sinner's Ball. People offer items for sale to bid on. It's how we make a lot of the money here every year to pay for this. Businesses and individuals trade everything from property, to goods, to agreements. It's a good faith gesture."

Several beautiful men and women strut the stage, all of them wearing numbers.

"Do any of these goodwill gestures involve selling people?" The volume settles, allowing us to talk more freely.

"In a way. It's a common trend to offer up a…"

"Willing sacrifice?" I laugh, disgusted. "For sex?"

"For whatever the volunteer is willing to do. It's like what I told you before, give and give in return. They bid on anything and everything. A cruise with a beautiful woman, a night with a world-class masseuse, a private island home, literally anything. No one knows what's for sale until it's announced."

"And the bidding begins, just like that?"

"Most of these people have more money than you could dream of, Hellena." His eyes flit around the room, looking for something. "That's why I wanted to talk to you first, warn you?—"

"Warn me about what?"

"First up on the docket… let's see, ah! Thank you, Matron." The masked teller takes a card from the golden woman, scanning it. "I see! Normally, this sort of buy would wait until the end, but I think it will set things off with a bang! Are you ready?"

Unlike a normal auction, the crowd goes insane, screaming, drunk, and ravenous.

"The first item, the very star of the show you witnessed earlier!"

Evan's neck strains, his teeth grinding.

My stomach sinks. No .

They're going to auction Evan off. Panic wells up in my throat.

"Evan, they can't do this." My voice is barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "They can't make you do anything."

Especially what I know the buyer will want from him.

The look he gives me breaks my heart.

Thoughts scatter through my head, how we might escape, but I know he won't run away from his duty.

"Sinners! Welcome the grand prize of the night, the beautiful, sensational Demoness herself, Hellena!"

My knees nearly give out at the proclamation.

I look at Evan, bewildered. The look he gives me in return is filled with hurt, pain, regret.

"Evan?"

He only shakes his head. "It'll be alright. I promise."

"NO!" I shrug off the hands that try to grab me. "Did you–did you know?"

Impossibly strong arms wrestle me away, toward the stage.

"How could you, Evan? How could you?" I'm screaming at him, fighting against their hands as they drag me to hell.

And he looks away. Ashamed.

Leering faces swarm my vision, all laughing, joyful. They think this is part of the show. Just another performance by the demoness.

I'm held up for all to see, leaning against my captors for support under the spotlights. One of the guards tears the mask from my face, and the cheering only increases.

It's madness. A nightmare.

"You've seen what she can do, ladies and gentlemen. You can have a night of dancing, or perhaps more, starting the bid at?—"

Paddles jerk into the air before he can say the number. My focus blurs, my ears blocking out the bids, the frantic rush to win me. Instead, I look through the crowd, hoping to find a familiar face, anyone I know.

Anyone who can help end this insanity.

For a second, I see them, emerald eyes in the front row. Tell is looking up at me, raw horror splayed across his features.

I open my mouth to call for him, beg him to save me. But he runs, off into the darkness.

He's gone. Evan sold me out.

Gavin's far away. And I'm held tight by two guards, my hands behind my back. My brain pulls me back, latching on to a number. The bidding is slowing, reaching outrageous sums, weeding out most of the attendees.

"Eight hundred thousand dollars!"

There's a pause.

Then a single voice above the rest, that awful deadpan I know too well. "Five million dollars."

Dead silence follows. I'm going to be sick.

"Five million dollars, to bidder 6175… going once?"

My throat closes off. I can't breathe.

"Going twice?"

My legs give out.

"Sold! What a start! We've got so much more to come…" The crowd cheers, but I don't hear any of it. I'm shoved along, down the steps backstage.

Directly toward Marco.

Of course, he'd want to single me out. Of course, he'd want to speak to me after he bought me.

"Oh, Hellena, it is you! I was so worried for so long. And I finally found you."

"Y–you bought me." I spit in his face.

"I would pay any price to have you back. And now I have you, you're mine again. Back where you should be." Every slimy word is a lash across my back, a slap in my face.

Coiling anger overcomes my shock, boiling my blood. "Is she really dead?"

"Your mother? Yes. I'm so sorry, Hellena." he reaches out, offering me an embrace.

I recoil, disgust twisting my face. "Fuck you. You killed her, didn't you?"

He looks aghast at the accusation. "She took her life."

My jaw drops. It's not impossible. He made her life miserable. "Then you drove her to it, so it may as well have been you."

"How could you say such a thing? I loved your mother. She's the one who told me how to find you here… or gave me clues to it, at least." His tone is glib, like we're old friends catching up.

"I'm sure she screamed till her last breath under your torture ." There's one thing I know, and that is that she wouldn't give me up like that.

Marco's eyes darken, his lip twitching in a snarl.

"It didn't take much, my dear. You were all she had left. When you left, it broke her. There was barely anything left of the woman you remember when she died."

The flat, cold tone of his words hammers into my soul. He did it.

He as much as admitted it.

But there's nothing I can say. I need to focus on getting away from him.

"Don't worry. I won't let the same thing happen to you," he continues, turning to watch the stage, the next man and woman up for sale, both smiling prettily. "I'll take you away, and you'll live like a queen."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

His laugh is empty. "Do you think I would spend that much money to simply have one evening with you? I'm not interested in that."

"Good, cause I would never?—"

"You seem to think you have a choice in this, my dear. As far as I'm concerned, you are just returned property. Property I had to pay twice for."

"They won't allow it. For you to take me hostage." I hope. It's a bluff.

"True." He motions, and his men move in, escorting us toward the doors. "But for all they know, we are just going to grab a bite to eat. When anyone realizes you're gone, it won't matter."

"That's not how things work here. You can't just come in and do as you please." My argument falls flat. I know he can. He knows he can.

I just have to wait, find my moment to run.

"A miscalculation that these small-town bumpkins will soon learn they made, dealing with me."

We're almost to the doors. If I get the guards involved, get them asking questions…

No one is leaving yet, so there's a chance.

Before we reach the foyer, I see him. Evan. He's striding toward us like a thunderhead.

My heart leaps and shatters again in the same instant.

He betrayed me. But he might be my only way out of a worse fate right now.

"Ah, the boy-toy dancer. Did you come to see us off—" Marco's mocking tone is cut off with a resounding thud of Evan's fist across his jaw, sending the older man soaring to the marble floor.

His bodyguards are on him, drawing batons. I only get the briefest glimpse of his eyes under his mask before he explodes into motion, solid black and enraged.

That gaze sends a lightning bolt into my gut. It's not Evan.

It's the other side of him, completely unleashed.

"Run." I hear the word like he shouted it right in my ear.

In a flash, two of the guards hit the ground, a broken arm, a dislocated knee. I take the cue, slamming my elbow into the gut of the guard at my shoulder, dashing for the door.

Right as the windows explode, the colossal panels on either side of the entryway bursting inward with a resounding, deafening concussion.