Page 41 of Priest and his Anarchist

Biting a cigarette into my mouth, I light the end as the rest of her body falls to the ground.

Blood stains the trunk of my cigarette, and I pluck my blaring phone from my pocket. Heels clink over the dead girl’s hair as a waitress stops at my table.

She bends over to refill my glass, ensuring to dip low enough to give me a full view of her tits.

Glaring up at her, I ignore them and blow smoke rings in her face.

Her face falls as she straightens and clears her throat, obviously trying to not be too obvious. “Anything else I can get for you, boss?”

“No.” I glance down at the name that’s flashing over my screen. “No. Thanks.”

My thumb glides over the screen when Evie’s face fills my vision.

“So, I’m throwing a party at your house tomorrow, because guess what!”

Being my sister’s best friend, she also managed to insert herself into my circle. I’d tolerated her at best when we were kids, until I realized as far as my tolerance for humans goes, she’s about the most I’ll ever extend to.

“What, Ev? What’d I miss?”

I skip the part about a party at my because there’s no such thing as telling Evie no. We all figured that out long ago. It was pretty fucking clear the day she punched Vaden in the nose when he called her pretty. She was four years old.

“I’m taking over for Dad!” Her words die out in the back of my brain. She always dreamed of attending an Ivy college and going through all the college experiences. We found out she hung around for the girls to start Riverside when she startedgetting college acceptance letters in the mail and ignoring them. Evie is smart. Too fucking smart. Way too fucking smart to do what her pops does, since despite everyone’s knowledge of him not being involved in the EKC, he very much is. “—So I’m studying at Riverside! But anyway!” A door closes in the background. “I’m happy.”

“Ev, what happened to Brown? I thought you wanted to go Ivy, do all the shit that normal people do.”

Her laugh is strangled. “You and I both know that could never happen.”

“It sure as fuck could.” I butt out my smoke. “Say the word and I’ll give you whatever the fuck life you want.”

Silence.

“Except that. I can’t give you that.”

She groans, probably rolling her eyes. “I’m not holding a torch for you, Priest. Jesus. Ew.”

“I was talking about Vaden.”

Silence again. This time a second longer.“I hate you.”

“I know.” I gesture up at a waiter—a different one. “So long as you’re happy, Ev. You know I won’t let anything happen to you, whatever path you choose.” I let her ramble on about other shit that only Evie can talk about before ending the call.

Chapter Eleven

luna

he loved to watch me rot.

Between overgrown vines and aged structures, I love the streets of Northern Spain at night. Daylight bores me. It’s easy to notice beauty with the aid of the sun. It’s what comes out when you have nothing but the guidance of the moon that excites me.

Steam from my hot chocolate warms my nose as my heels clink across the cobblestone pathway. Laughter sings through the air from a group of young girls ahead. Careless and happy. Freedom looks like that. Like happiness with friends after a night out drinking. I wonder what their story is and why they’re here. Snuggled between foliage of pastures lies the valleys of L’embruix, a town known for its antiquity and ancient architecture. It’s a town that isn’t visited often, simply an uncut diamond among polished gems. Most people prefer the salty coastline of Amalfi or a setting sunset in Venice.

Gasoline and buttered popcorn perfume the street when I turn the corner, and I pause when the sound of two-stroke engines ring through the night. Pointed peaks of lilac and gray stretch to the sky with the words Midnight Mayhem written over the flowing drapes of the entrance.

The pathway is warm and playful, thanks to the radiance of fairy lights. Things have changed too much over the years with Midnight Mayhem. What was once a single family of Kiznitch, where all four Brothers traveled on the road together to perform at the famous stroke of midnight, has collapsed, leaving everyone performing in different parts of the world. I personally haven’t been back to this one in some time.

Someone pulls back the fabric before I reach the entrance, and a tall figure wearing only dark jeans and boots stands before me. I’d recognize him if I hadn’t seen him since, well, since I was young enough to hold my mother’s hand and walk right into the Devil’s hutch.

The painted outline of polished bone and streaks of crimson crack when he smiles. Good to know they’re keeping the clown skull.

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