Page 47 of Dead Love
For the first time in years, I was tired of digging graves. I had dug three more the night before, and though Kora had helped to release some of that energy, it was impossible to focus on my work. Every corpse that came through Quiet Meadows was another version of Kora. Young. Innocent. Barely there.
In the shower, I leaned against the wall, letting the steam turn my vision blurry. With my blood throbbing, I fucked my fist until it hurt, until I lost control over her. And once I had a second of clarity, I went over my plan: the first step was to figure out who was behind the Echo deaths so that I could either blackmail them into adding a fake Kora to the list, so that no one would ever suspect me; the second step was to completely ruin Kora, to the point that when I destroyed her, she wouldn’t recognize herself. Because then, I wouldn’t care anymore. Her transformation would be complete. I could kill her, then.
But I wasn’t going to do any of that yet.
I drove to 52 Peaks, a nightclub in Folium City. Large columns, ending in scroll-like fixtures, held up the roof of the club. Purple lights illuminated the white paint. Inside, there were two levels; a dance floor with circular neon bars, and a top-level with metal railing to keep the herd inside of the pen. It was a weeknight, but the crowd was still decent. Laser beams shot across the space while metal leaves hung off of the sides of the second floor. Naked metal statues flaunted themselves throughout.
A man acknowledged me. A flat cap sat on his head, a leather jacket wrapped around his arms. I stood beside him, keeping my eyes forward.
“You mind if we hang out?” I asked.
He grinned, his smile more perfect than a dental model’s. “What did you have in mind?”
“Where can I find Echo?”
“Echo?” He sniffled. “I never have that.”
“I need itnow,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Where can I find it?”
“You realize they’re linking that shit to murders, right?”
Which was exactly why I needed to find it and figure who was killing these people. I needed to do somethingnow,before things got worse with Kora.
But what did ‘worse’ mean for us?
Us.
“You’re not a cop, are you?” he asked.
Idiot. “If I were a cop, would I be straight up asking for Echo?”
“Find it somewhere else.”
He trailed the walls to an area outside. I waited a minute, then followed him out to the back. He knew something; I just needed him to say it.
The door led to an alley with a few patio chairs and tables. The man was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, joined by a few other people. He met my eyes instantly.
I held out a hand. “Let’s start over.”
We shook hands, then he offered me a cigarette. I declined.
“Cops like to come undercover to the club now, and there’s only so much they’ll let slide,” he said, letting smoke expel from his mouth. “They areruthlesswhen it comes to Echo.”
“They come here often?”
“They think it’ll be easy to hunt. But no one knows exactly where the Echo comes from.”
My mouth went slack. “You really don’t sell Echo,” I said.
“I could make a killing if I did. That shit gets you so high, you can’t even tell. It’s like your senses are on fire.” His eyes widened in amusement. “You know they mix it into drinks now? It’s all crushed and you think you’re drinking a Long Island or a beer and thenbam!” He smacked the back wall. “That’s why I always buy bottled water when I’m here.”
A shadow stretched down the alleyway. “Deacon,” a male voice said. The dealer shook hands with a man in a v-neck shirt and jeans, his arms and shoulders buff, his white hair shining purple under the exterior lights. “I see you’ve met Vincent.”
“You two know each other?” the dealer asked me.
“We’re acquainted,” I said, glaring at Andrew. For once, he wasn’t in uniform.
“I’ll see myself out,” the dealer said, shaking my hand.
