Page 25 of The Clash of the Damned
“You’ve changed, Amelia, you’re softer, almost nicer. I’m not sure what to make of it yet.”
“Well, losing the love of your life will do that to you. Makes you re-evaluate the way you did things. She chews at her lip. “I know you’ve mentionedthat you don’t know much about Logan, but I wanted to tell you a story of my upbringing. Did I ever tell you my mom was Chinese?” I shake my head. “Well, every Chinese New Year, she would give me a red envelope full of money. We were the only Asians at Ryder’s house, so we couldn’t go full out with a proper celebration, but I loved having this secret between us; it made me feel so special. After everyone was asleep, we would sneak out into the garden and release lanterns after, signifying our wish for the new year.”
“Your mom sounds awesome. I wish I could have met her.” I gulp, bracing myself to share a memory that I’ve never told anyone.
“She was. I miss her everyday.”
“When I displeased my mother, which was more often than I would like to admit, but I didn’t displease her enough to end up like Saige, she would whip me.” I pause, gathering my courage. “Do you know what a cat o’ nine tails is?” Amelia pales, which is confirmation enough for me. “The hooks on this whip would grab into my skin and pull out parts of it. She knew it wasn’t enough to kill me, not even an infection would stay long enough to do the job, but it would hurt like hell. Fighting back just meant a longer punishment. If I submitted, it would be over sooner.”
“Jesus, she was a psychopath.”
“I know.”
Amelia puts her head on my shoulder as she looks off into the distance and says, “When we put our plan in motion, I was so angry, and I wanted everyone to pay. But it hasn’t helped with this hole I still have in my heart. It doesn’t bring Mom back, and it hasn’t brought Luca back. Maybe we’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe it’s time we figure out how we start healing and fight for the people we love. Let’s do it together.”
Chapter 19 | Dancing Queen
Luca
After another body was found on the steps of the high school this morning, a Rogue with stumps for hands and feet, our community is starting to get scared. Our kind doesn’t admit that easily. We’re still not over the events that led us to the sitdown, and if this goes on anymore, we may become the type that kill first and ask questions later.
It got me thinking, do we really know our enemies and understand their motivations? Sure, Sloane is in the wind for now, so our options are limited. But has anyone stopped to understand The Children of Christ? We know about the altercation with Brooklyn, and that the Sorcerer’s had the father assassinated. There must be more to the story though, because the thing about a superiority complex is it’s always the loudest ones that have the most to hide.
A quick peek at the monitors on my desk at Tao shows me that the club is filling up, but it doesn’t mean I can’t spare a quick internet search. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for, and in seconds, I have the history of David, Mary, and Eden Smith in front of me. David soundedlike any American father, and I wouldn’t have paid him any attention in the past. There was nothing special about him.
When he was in charge, his cult, excuse me, church, did well, but it was never able to reach the levels of popularity it has now. Then it hits me why. David was trying to provide solace to people that didn’t believe in the Supernatural, so they ignored him. Eden saw that and solved the problem her father couldn’t.
She made them believe in the bogeyman and then offered them safety from it. If we retaliate and add fodder to Eden’s accusations, we’re going to give her exactly what she wants. So in cases like this, as frustrating as it is, we have to do nothing and reign in our occasional homicidal tendencies.
Logging into the shared drives of our network of clubs, I double check the earnings across them. Each Undead family owns one as part of our nightlife business, and they pay a percentage of their earnings to Tao as protection money. One or two of them have done better in the past, but for now, it’s stable.
Ready to join my club patrons, I can’t help thinking what an idiot I’ve been. I’ve been hiding and dealing with my grief when I could have been doingthis. I’m happiest when I’m doing things and am busy. This evening the club is packed to capacity, which we haven’t had for a while. As I lean back into my office chair, I contemplate the night ahead of me. To celebrate my return to Tao, I wanted to kick it off with something special. While tonight’s theme is a bit outside my normal fashion choices, it definitely makes the statement I need it to: Studio 54.
I have no idea if the big hair, large hoop earrings, and all the sparkles will work for Tao, but like with most risks in life, I won’t know if I don’t try. The theme hints at the darker side of drugs, but they won’t be availabletonight. Studio 54 was notorious in the day for its recreational cocaine habits. That’s a minor inconvenience considering everything else I’ve dealt with recently, and if some do show up tonight, I will deal with it too. But with the random raids we’ve experienced lately, I’ve made Dom swear to keep his guys away. What I do know though, is my talent for this business hasn’t gone away. What happened with Mom and Amelia didn’t change that. Just like what happened with them doesn’t take away from all the good that’s happened here. It’s those memories that helped shape me into who I am today, and no one can take them from me. The ghosts of my past may still haunt me, but they don’t need to define me.
I greet as many of the staff as possible as I leave my office. They need to see my face and be assured of our future during these uncertain times. Between the cult, the deaths, and our erratic business, people are uneasy, and I’m finally back where I belong to fix that. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that life is not as black and white as we’re led to believe. Our decisions are clouded with so much gray. Waving to another staff member, I search for Silva. Before I join the party, she and I need to chat. While the state of my personal life may be questionable, one thing I do know for certain after what happened on Thanksgiving and with what I found online? There is a war coming for our empires, and I want to be on the right side, the side that survives.
Our nightclub is larger than it appears from the outside with its various levels, and it can be easy to get lost. So we’ve kept the focus on the main dance floor for tonight and closed the kitchen. We don’t want any unwanted guests in unwelcome areas. A human ending up in the donor room after all this religious business would be fucking disastrous for Tao and the Undead.
Entering the main bar and dance floor area, I’m greeted with a sea of metallics and bold prints from our guests. The disco ball sparkles, adding a softness to the room that isn’t normally present with our standard red decor. Before I join them on the dance floor, I spot Silva by the bar. I’m pleased to see waiters running back and forth, delivering drinks under her watchful eye. Before I can reach her though, an Undead stops me, wearing a slinky pink, sequinned dress that barely covers her breasts. “I heard the donor room is closed tonight. That’s a pity. I’m hungrier than I thought I would be.”
I don’t miss the extended look she gives me before I return my best smile to her. “Yes, we thought with all the humans here tonight, it would be safest. If you come back tomorrow, it’s on the house. Just tell them I sent you.” Her shoulders sink as she walks away, and I finally make a beeline towards Silva.
The crowd cheers as the DJ spins the decks while the singer belts out an upbeat number. For a moment, all is right in my world, even if it contains more glitter than I prefer. A small smile forms on my lips, and I start thinking through themed evenings I can add to Tao’s roster.
“You look like you’re scheming,” Silva calls out in between slinging cocktail shakers and martini glasses, a new hobby she picked up while I’ve been away. Her sparkly, gold jumpsuit and her gray slicked back hair looks out of place behind the bar.
I give her a sly grin. “You know me too well–” I pause mid sentence as I’m distracted with Amelia standing on the edge of the dance floor, almost like she’s waiting for someone. Like she’s waiting for me.
“You know that Undead didn’t really care about the donor room right? She was flirting with you.” I shrug. While I know Silva is right, it’s hard to care about romance right now.
“We have things to discuss, but it can wait for one dance.”
Confused as to why Silva would push us back together, I turn to look at Amelia and feel my resolve start to crumble. It would be much easier to give into her than hate her. But something in me resists the idea of fully trusting her again. We lock eyes, and if someone could eye fuck me, it’s her. My silver lamé dress barely covers the important bits, but that doesn’t matter. The dress clings to me like a second skin and exposes my toned thighs and biceps, perfect for the sweltering heat from the dance floor. I look fucking fabulous, and that’s all I care about. Although, no one warned me how much sequins itch.
Giving in, only slightly, we move towards each other as if it’s second nature. Amelia delicately touches one of my curls, piled on my head and covered in glitter. “You look stunning. Everyone’s eyes are on you tonight, and it’s not because of who you are.”
“I know. That was the point. They need to know I’m back and not going anywhere. I was trying to make a statement.”
