Page 16 of Sick Bargain

“She needs to burn,” I tell Director. “Remiel Sauder’s DNA is all over this, and I’m in charge of his life now.”

Director smiles. “Incinerate her then.”

7

BURN OR RUN

REMIEL

I’m staringat another calling card. Thick and expensive woven cardstock with a deep, vibrant ink. The skeletal torso splashed in purple with only five words written on the back made to taunt me once again.

See you tomorrow night, Remiel.

“What’s that?” Cain asks, coming from the back of the shop.

I shove it into my pocket. “Nothing. Done with that piano?”

He nods, sighing. “What’s wrong with you lately, Rem?”

Oh, nothing.I only sold my life and then almost died on top of a dead city girl by my owner’s very hands. I bargained myself in exchange for my brother because I have my own plan to stop our curse. I woke up in a muddy, wet forest where I know for a fact a woman was murdered last night, but can’t say shit about it to anyone without incriminating myself.

My mind is all messed up, unsure what the worst part of it all is. The sexual assault? The dying girl? My inability to do anything about it? The fact that I threw up his cum on the forest floor?

“I’m almost twenty-seven,” I say instead. “Three of my male cousins and a few of the uncles I’ve never met died at that age. I guess it’s just freaking me out. Like my clock is ticking down.”

Cain frowns, knowing all about the curse on my family. “But no suicidal thoughts yet, right?”

Yet.Like they’re inevitable. I guess they are. “Not yet. You staying in tomorrow night? You fucking better, Cain.”

“Yeah, wanna hang and ride out Initiation Night together?”

Probably best, so I nod.

Then the chimes on the front door ring, and I look up to see my brother and his best friend Keegan enter the shop. Through the front windows, the town is turning into a nightmare. In honour of Vile Initiation Night, everyone decorates their storefronts and yards with tributes to Vile House. I don’t. Ravens flock to my storefront every day, so it’s already decorated with them and their shit. ColouredPurgemasks are everywhere, and skulls in all ten colours line the streets and hang from the lampposts. I think some of them are even real skulls, painted to match the ten.

But each colour of mask has a fan club. People place the Vile Boys on pedestals, and they’re basically celebrities around town, so each house and place of business becomes a vigil for their favourite Vile Boy. Cain likes the blue-masked one, but whenever I ask why, he shrugs.

“Boys,” Soren says with a nasty grin. “Taking care of my shop?”

“My shop. You gave it up when you joined The Misfits.” I’ve never outwardly called him out for joining the gang, but he doesn’t deny it. “What do you want?”

“He’s here for me,” Cain says. “Wanna see it? I’ve fixed all the strings, but you have to pick the tension for the last few.”

“Lead the way, handsome.”

Handsome? I glare at Soren and stop him from following my best friend. “Leave him the fuck alone, Soren.”

“Don’t think he wants to be left alone.” He smirks, heading to the back room. My brother and I look alike, but there’s nothing timid about him like there is me. He’s exceptional at reeling people in and then gaslighting them into whatever shell of a person he desires them to be, but I’ve long since learned to block his attempts to meld me into a husk. Sometimes, it’s exhausting.

Keegan comes to lean on the counter I’m sitting behind. I’ve known him for most of my life, but I’ve never been close to him. He’s an intense guy who has little to no social skills, always seems on edge, and doesn’t form attachments to anyone. Except my brother, somehow. Pretty sure he killed his own parents, but no one could ever prove it, so he walks around as a maybe-murderer, which seems to garner him even more respect.

“Do you still play?” he asks, nodding at a cello on display. His voice wavers slightly, but otherwise, he’s stark still and staring at me.

I swallow under the power of his gaze, not looking at him fully. “Only when no one is listening.” I fiddle with the calling card in my pocket, and he looks, glimpsing the corner. “Do you need something?”

Keegan scares me. He’s unpredictable and uncomfortable to be around. His dark energy isn’t tamed, and the way he looks at everything so intensely freaks me out. His pale silver eyes stand out strongly against his tanned skin and dark brows, almost hidden behind his unruly dark hair. He doesn’t smirk or smile often, stuck with a mostly bland face, but it fits him. Suits his vibe and makes him hauntingly beautiful. He’s a tall man, over six feet, but his strength comes as lean, honed muscle rather than bulk. He’s elegantly strong, chiselled to stony perfection, and threatens people just by noticing them. Everyone I know, apart from my brother, is afraid of Keegan to the point ofrespecting him for it. He belongs in Moros, and it’s obvious to anyone who sees him.

My body is strong, muscled enough to keep me fit and ready to outrun my curse, but music is the only place I fit into Moros.

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