Chapter 6

Six

CALUM

Is it upsetting? Morally outrageous? Disgusting, as she called it? Did I insult her delicate sensitivities?

I don’t really care. It’s what I pay her for, to take my orders and obey them. My blasphemous appetites are keeping me and, therefore, the entirety of the West alive. Absolutely no apologies necessary.

“But no one can cook tofu to taste like steak, Mister Von Dovish. No one. I am a genius in the kitchen and even I cannot!” Monet rants as she blasts through the kitchen door mumbling about quitting for the sixteenth time this week. Our chef has been with us since my childhood. She’s not going anywhere.

Now that she has departed, I take the opportunity to check my pets in peace. It was never supposed to be a comforting area, but the cellar could probably look more pleasing than the dungeon it has become, with its weeping stones and cobwebs. But then it wouldn’t feel like mine.

The estate is supremely well cared for. It’s what my ancestors died to provide for the next hundred generations after them. Above ground, everything is cream, marble, curved white woods, and gold trims. Clean and presentable. Well mannered. But that’s the surface. Retreating underneath the wainscoted walls gives me a sense of home. Of comfort. The darkness creeps up my legs, infecting my soul like venom as I descend as if being lowered into the earth.

It’s not beyond my comprehension how much the house looks like me.

Down a tiny, narrow hall, at the second black wooden door, lives my jar room. Making sure each bacterium is appropriately buzzing, I feed the sourdough yeast and monitor the other systems from the control area. The mushroom grow room is small but ample enough to provide a quality supply for myself. Passing the dehydrator, I pop one and chew. The bitter taste doesn’t even faze me anymore. In fact, I appreciate the pungency.

Other than the storeroom, no one is allowed in these sections. Livia had her ballet lessons, and I had the basement. If Calum, the Callous King of West Side had a throne room, it would reside here.

There’s a thought… A throne. I’ll have a carpenter build one.

Once I complete my work, I exit to the hall, pausing from habit. Out of reverence for the damned, my body shudders when I pass the last door on the right. Air seizes in my lungs when I freeze, the hairs on my body standing erect.

“That fucking haaaaaaaaand!” Shoving my fists into my eye sockets, I squeeze them shut, trying to avoid the images that always flood my mind here. Nails black as coal. Nails. Black. Coal. Dust.

Move, Cal. “Come on! We have to move!” The ricochets of my own voice off the walls shake me from the memory. And that’s when I sprint like a little kid afraid of the Bogeyman hiding just underneath the stairs, waiting to grab an ankle on my flight away. Except my monster is the one who gave me life. His disease spread through half of my code until everything was infected with poison. Is death the only cure?

No longer craving steak, I skip through the kitchen, the smells of whatever Monet was cooking causing my stomach to churn with nausea. In the foyer, Giles holds the door for me as I flee the house and slide into my car, instructing it to take me to the first West Tech store for my daily rounds.

Exiting the Tesla at the back parking lot of the downtown location, the bell tower of the Crimson Angel rings out twelve peals. The sound is less muffled as I approach the street corner from the alleyway. If I look hard enough, the tops of the glass buildings disappear, and I can see it. The crumbling bricks of the belfry. When I look back toward the glass door of West Tech, an elderly man pushes a shopping cart, but stops to stare up into the sky with me. One of his eyes is missing, and the other is so crystal blue, it appears as white as the long, straggly strands running down his back.

Pointing a rugged wooden cane into the sky, he says, “I know who.” Turning slowly to me, his mouth opens in a wide, toothless grin. “I know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.” Just as the smile appeared, it’s gone, and he’s on his way, one wheel of the cart flopping wildly as he shoves it harder across the gaps in the sidewalk.

Shaking my head, I run my hand through my hair to push it off my forehead. Did that happen? Who knows?

Reality and fiction are only a matter of time.

Jane is wearing perfume. My eyes narrow suspiciously as her smile greets me entering the store with a loud chime of the door. Her face lights up as if she likes me. When I approach the glass counter, my nose gathers more of the scent. Very good, Jane. Well played. Lavender.

“Hi!” her voice rings out brightly as she sees me, flipping her long red locks over her shoulder, freckles sparkling in the streaming sunlight. Face like the changing leaves in fall and a body my dick could spring for.

“Hello, Jane. How did your mission go last night?”

A flame lights in each of her round cheeks as she pretends to be shy. “Um, not so great.”

Leaning against the counter she just cleaned, I press in my fingertips, hoping to leave some residue as I ask, “Oh? What happened? Did someone spot you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Despite swallowing, my voice still comes out like I have rocks in the back of my throat. “Tell me everything.” Sure. Last night’s images are seared into my hippocampus, but I want to hear it from her. See if I can get a lead on what she thinks happened.

The sparkling emeralds of her eyes dazzle me as she gasps with my insistence. “Well…there was a man.” I wait, quite patiently, I may add, as she pauses. Proud of myself for how long I’m quiet without erupting. “And he chased me.”

My brow furrows. “He chased you? And you got away?” She bites her plump, dusky pink bottom lip and nods quickly. Slipping around the glass, I press up against her side and put an arm around her shoulder. Slightly less than professional. “Are you okay, Jane? Did he hurt you?”

“No! No, he didn’t. I escaped, but…I didn’t get the mushrooms, I’m so sorry.” If she could cry, I’d suspect she would muster up some tears right about now. Removing my arm, I use a finger to tilt her chin up to me.

I gaze into her sad eyes and say, “You don’t need to be sorry about that. I’m only sorry I put you in danger when I said I would help you.” Her lips quiver as she inhales, and the scent of that intoxicating flower fills my being. An overwhelming urge to kiss or bite her until she bleeds comes over me. Dropping my finger, I retreat before the urge becomes a need.

“I still feel like a huge disappointment to you.”

Feeling lightheaded, the laugh at her statement rumbles from my belly. “No, no, Jane. You’re not a disappointment to me. I’ll tell you what, how about we go out Friday night and find some together.”

Her hesitation is palpable. “Well, I have plans already on Friday night.”

My smile doesn’t leave my face. “Oh, yes. Your date. I had forgotten.” I hadn’t. Not for one moment, but we could both play the game. If she was willing to cancel some schmuck for me, then I had my answer to the unspoken question. How important am I? What was it that Ace taught me when we were fourteen? Ah, time to up the ante. “How about tomorrow night, then?”

Almost too quickly, she responds, “That will work! Where should we meet?” Got her. Ugh, it’s too easy.

“I’ll pick you up. Where do you live?”

Lacing a strand of her hair around her finger, she twirls it around and around. “I can text you the address, but don’t you know it already?”

Tilting my head at her question, I ask, “Huh?” Instant panic strikes my chest. Why is she asking that?

She snorts a little laugh. “I thought you knew everything about everyone, eagle eyes.”

Snatching her fingers from her hair, I brush the locks off her shoulder with the back of my hand as hers drop to her side. “Well, I was being polite.” With one last deep movement of air, my nostrils gather her scent for safekeeping. My mother, sitting at her desk, smiling as I walked in and gave her a morning hug. Every time. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something warm. It’s supposed to be pretty chilly.”

Her deep pink lip curls up. “I’m hot natured.”

Nodding, I keep the words I want to say to myself. Always backing away from her, my eyes memorize the tiny dots sprinkled along her nose and the exact way she pokes her tongue out of the corner of her mouth with concentration until I reach the curtain of the warehouse.

Then, and only then, do I turn my back on her.

Striding to my primary hacker’s domicile, the wall opens with a loud shuffle as concrete crumbles fall in the doorway, dust blowing up with the change in air pressures. The stench of baby powder deodorant and some type of microwaved food invites me into Echoes’s lair like a dirty welcome mat. Alpha sits next to her curvy figure, the two going over the scene between Jane and me. But they quickly feign disinterest as I waltz in and sit on the futon behind them.

“What’s the sacrifice?”

Echoes turns slowly in her chair and shoves her thick black frames up her nose. “Hello to you, too, Cal.”

Ignoring her, I slide my glance to Alpha, who still hasn’t turned from the monitors. One eyelid involuntarily twitches at watching her watch Jane. “Money? Fame? An appendage? Death? What is it, Alpha?”

Echoes places a hand on the back of Alpha’s chair as she continues to click through the screens in front of her. Maybe she hasn’t forgiven me like I thought. Oh, I loathe groveling. It’s so tiresome.

“What are you talking about?” Echoes asks.

Lifting a finger to the back of Alpha’s dark brown hair, I say, “Alpha? What’s the sacrifice?”

With great effort, she turns in her office chair, which lets out desperate cries for oil. Her bright blue eyes narrow at me, a tiny sneer coming to her upper lip. “Sorry, why don’t you ask your genius?”

Deep breath in. And out. “Do I need to fuck you both here to get you to obey?” It’s what they both want. Well, Alpha wants and Echoes wants her. The thing is, I have no interest in fucking Alpha unless I’m desperate. And I’m not.

At my question, Echoes’s eyes dart between my face and Alpha’s like she’s watching a tennis match and hoping her side wins.

“You think you’re so desirable.” Alpha scoffs.

Apparently, I had walked in on a girlfriend bitching session about the boss. Pulling out my phone, my finger hits the fourth contact. “Hey, it’s me. I need you to do something. Find out what kind of sacrifice⁠—”

“Hang up! Hang up right now!” Alpha yells across the room, the sound shrill and irritating.

Holding the phone out to the side of my face, my eyebrows raise at Alpha’s insistence. “I’m talking with Delta. He says ‘Yes, sir’ when I call.”

“Hang the fuck up, sir, and I’ll tell you. I don’t want him involved.” Alpha’s leather-covered arms cross and a pouty little huff pushes past her lips. Echoes returns to her wall of screens.

“Delta?” I check with my second spy.

“Yes, sir. I heard. If you need me—” I end the call.

Resting my elbows on my knees, I ask, “Well?”

Alpha lowers her fingers to her sides as she fiddles with the bottom of her seat. A loud whoosh interrupts her thoughts as she deflates in the chair. “I don’t know.” Raising my phone again, she yells, “Wait! Stop. Don’t call him back. When I went to the spot where Halcyon meets the representative, a-a woman approached me. Her face was covered by an owl mask, and she was wearing a dark crimson cape. She said she knew who I was and who I was working for, but she wouldn’t tell me her name. When I said you wanted a meeting, she demanded an appropriate ‘sacrifice’ before you would be worthy.”

“And? What is this sacrifice, Alpha?”

She shrugs. “She said, ‘He’ll know what it is.’ Then she disappeared back into the woods. Echoes followed her as far as the cameras could, but she walked for miles.”

Echoes nods her black tousled hair bun emphatically and agrees. “To the west.”

Leaning against the scratchy cushion, I stretch my arms across the back of the cheap metal frame. My head flops against the wall, resting there. If I let the lenses in my eyes relax enough, I’ll go blind.

Is there a difference between life and death? Does one know the moment they cease to be living? Or is death the place we are supposed to be? Our natural state. Everything dies that was once alive and we only live as long as the last person who last remembers us.

What happens if I don’t rage against it?

“I’ll figure it out. Thank you so much, Alpha. That was quite helpful.” A bright smile warms my cheeks. “I love a good puzzle.” The women before me hesitantly monitor my movements toward the door with cautious glances. “Have a nice day.”

There. That was pleasant. God, I am such a swell guy.

May as well get actual sleep. When was the last time? It’s all starting to run together. The car will take me to bed. And it knows exactly what to do. Like a machine. No thoughts or feelings. No questions about my intentions. Only pure obedience, while I have total power. In a world filled with chaos fighting order, I bring a piece of control.

Gentle fingertips brushagainst my forehead. The first thing I realize is I’m sober. And I’m awake, which means I must have slept.

Peeking an eye open, I spot a face similar to mine, except tears fill her golden gaze. “You’re not well, Cal.”

Smirking, my voice is hoarse as I answer her. “Does that mean you aren’t, either?”

“Alpha and Echoes were worried. They called me. How much have you been using?” Her hands continue to brush my hair off my face. It’s nice. Like when I was sick with the flu as a child and Mother made me soup herself, not letting Monet touch a thing. She always did like it when she could take care of me.

“Too much, obviously.” Sitting up, my arms stretch as my twin stands and arches her back. Eyeing her stomach, I finally see some signs of life growing within her. “Mama bear instincts already kicking in, I see.”

She smiles and rubs her belly. “Yeah, I think so. But I also just love my brother and worry about him. You weren’t yourself at dinner the other night.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s two.”

My brow furrows. “What day?”

Livia sighs pointedly, placing a hand on her hip. “Cal…it’s Thursday.” Her hair’s grown out, and she’s started wearing headbands and less of that junk on her face. The large purple sapphire looks heavy on her bony finger, our mother’s ring. No more leather pants. It’s leggings and an oversized hooded sweatshirt now. She’s domesticated.

“Thank you, Mrs. Freidenberg. I’ll take it from here.”

“Monet cooked tofu steak for lunch. She says it’s delicious.” Before I can protest that lie, she says, “Okay, she said it was shit, but you’d eat it to spite her.”

I must have passed out in my clothes again. As I head toward the bathroom, I peck a kiss on my sister’s cheek. “I love you and thank you for checking on me.” Turning before I close the door on her, I say, “But if you bust into Von Dovish estate unannounced again, the guards will have to kill you.”

Livia gasps and picks up a pillow and throws it at me as I laugh, slamming the door shut.

By that evening, Jane texts me her address with a smirking emoji, as if I don’t already know where it is. Despite claims of being hot natured, she’s dressed in a puffy overcoat with jeans tucked into fur-lined boots. A bright green knitted hat lets some of her flaming red hair escape underneath it.

She reaches out a hand to open the passenger door when the Tesla pulls to the curb, but I quickly lock it. Jumping out, I cross around the front of the car to her arched eyebrow, then place my palm on the handle until the vehicle opens. With a wave of my hand, I help her inside.

“Thank you. You’re a gentleman.”

Sliding back into my cushioned seat, I tap on the control panel and punch in the next location. “What’s your music preference?”

“Um…I-I like everything. What do you like?”

Clenching my jaw, my eyes gather hers in a tight embrace. “Classical.” Pulling up Mussorgsky’s “Bydlo,” the car takes off toward the park.

“Do you play any instruments?” she asks. Fiddling with her coat’s zipper, her face finds mine, illuminated by the blue lights of the console.

“Piano and cello. Do you?”

Rubbing a palm down her jeans, her voice comes out quick and breathy. “No. I never learned.” She does a nice job of acting nervous around me.

“Were you more into the performing arts, then?”

Her red hair falls over her shoulder as she snaps her head to me. “No. Why do you say that?”

Taking the tip of my forefinger, I tap the end of her freckled nose. “’Cause you’ve been acting up in my dreams.” Jane snorts a loud laugh, and I chuckle in response, but the sound is drowned out by the euphonium rising in crescendos to the music. “I see you took my advice and dressed warmly.”

She nods, then spots my hands on my lap. “No gloves for you?”

“No, I don’t like to wear them when foraging. I want to make sure I have a good feel for the flora. I’ll teach you.”

As the car pulls into the parking lot, she reaches for the door, but before she can open it, I reach across and slam it closed, giving her a warning look. Poison clouds my vision as I command her, “Stay.” Once again, I get out and open it for her. As her curves brush past my body, my cock pulsates with blood.

“Thank you, again, kind sir.” Her long black lashes flirt with me. Sliding a hand down her arm, I grasp her cold palm. Gathering her second one, I use my hip to close the car door, while rubbing her fingers together vigorously between my warm skin, blowing the heat from my breath on them. Frosted air curls around us.

“If you get too cold, we’ll go in early.”

As if she’s locked in a trance, she takes a long time to respond. When she does, her voice comes out breathy and timid. “Oh, I won’t. I want to do this.”

Dropping one of her hands, I keep the other and guide her toward the woods. The two of us silently take in the crisp winter air and the spackling of starlight above us in silence. It’s a good night, clear. We barely need flashlights for hunting.

Closer to the trees, I explain how to look for the areas most likely to have the mushrooms and what dangers to watch out for. Holding back some low branches for her, I tug her gently through a thicket and point to a log for her to step over.

“They like the warmer sides of these logs. Like moss. See here.” Kneeling, I point out some that are too young to harvest. “Psilocybe cubensis. These like humidity. They’re subtropical by nature, but will grow on cow dung, sawdust, or rich soils.” Flashing my phone at them, I point out a few budding sprouts.

“I see them!” She leans a bit closer and takes a sniff.

“They don’t really smell⁠—”

“Oh, I, um…” A little laugh escapes her as she raises up. “I just like the smell of the dirt. Weird, I guess.”

A tight knot forms inside my stomach and twists as she says it. My eyes latch onto her inquisitive gaze for maybe too long. Is that true? Does she like the earth? Her confession startles me.

But before I can speak, she asks, “You mix these with another species, though, right? Or get different ones?”

Clearing my throat, I stand and help her up. “Uh, yeah. There’s another one called Penis Envy.”

Rushing through the still air, her giggle waves out like the ocean, and it causes my cheeks to puff up with a smile. And my cock to feel some comfort of the candidness. A sound so intoxicating, it makes me glad I didn’t dose tonight. “Penis Envy?”

“Ha, yeah. A contact of mine grows it. We’ve relied on his benevolence for a while, but I’m looking to get into that strain on our own. It’s our most popular product to ship out inside the computers to the families in other cities. Of course, it’s popular among West Side residents, too.”

“Well, with a name like that, I’d say so.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, my fingers itch to gather some up, to remember exactly what it feels like on my palms. But, as usual, they’re too sweaty around her. Swallowing, I inhale the dampness thickening the atmosphere, using the moisture to wet my throat for what I need to say. It’s time.

“I have to tell you something, Jane.” Without a glance at her, my body leads us to where I know a family of fallen logs rests near the frozen creek bed.

“Yeah?” She pushes back some pine branches.

“I feel like I’m going to get in trouble if I tell you this…” I hate how nervous I feel. “But we’re outside of work, and this is personal, not business.”

She skips past some twigs and glances at me as we near a clearing. “What is it?”

Turning her so we face one another, I brush back some hair that’s fallen into her face, drop her hand, and tug my hat down lower over my ears. I don’t know why, but they’re so hot. “This isn’t necessary for any advancement and there’re no strings… I just. Hmm, how do I put this?”

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she crosses her arms, waiting. If I could see her eyes, it may be easier to ask. But she stares at the ground.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime? On a date? Obviously, saying no is not…” Finally, she lifts her big eyes to me. There’s a little fear behind them, so I try to make my voice steady and clear. “This has absolutely nothing to do with your job.”

Her body relaxes as her face brightens into a wide grin. “Yes. I would love that, Cal.” Placing her small hand back in mine, I squeeze it gently, all the tension in my stomach easing.

“Great. I know the perfect place. How about tomorrow night—” Slamming my free hand to my forehead, I quickly say, “Oh, wait. You have that other date.”

She grimaces. “I’d much rather go out with you, but I shouldn’t bail on him this late in our plans. But I’m free all next week!”

Interesting. Well played, Jane… “Sure, sure.” Attempting to make my voice sound peppier than I feel, I ask, “Since you are such a popular gal, how about next Wednesday?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

With a wave of my arm, I showcase some fallen tree trunks near the old creek bed. “And here we are.”

A gasp leaves her mouth as she spies the area. The branches above create a romantic canopy, stars dotting the sky twinkling as if putting on a show for us. Moonlight hits the water and wanders over to the shore where a perfect circle of logs surrounds budding wildflowers. White caps glow underneath the fallen trees like snow. We kneel together and pull out my phone to flash the light on them for closer inspection.

“And if you’re ever in doubt, use this app to scan them. It’ll identify the species.” Holding up my screen, I show her the program. We pull some and place them in the baggies I brought in my pocket. After going over some more tips and tricks, we head back to the car without any difficulty.

“Thanks for showing me all this tonight,” she says, warming her hands on the vents in the car. Since she’s so hot natured.

“Thanks for coming with me. And for showing an interest in West Side’s trade. It’s what keeps the people here less destitute than the East and South. I’m trying to help them survive and to wake up.”

She stares out the windshield as her face grows serious. “You do a good job.”

Not yet. As the Tesla slows near her place, she turns to face me before getting out of the car, her pink lips pale with the frigid temperatures. “Have a good night, Cal.”

Letting my eyes crawl up her cleavage, I meet her innocent face. Trying to remove the desperation I suddenly feel, I clench my teeth and say, “Have fun on your date, Jane.”