He’s wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt. My eyes glance down each arm, staring at the black tattoos etched into his skin: traditional hearts, skulls, pirate swords, a ship on his forearm, other nautical symbols and occult images. I meet his gaze and he’s smiling like he didn’t expect me to show but he’s happy that I did.
“Are you ready?” he asks simply by way of greeting.
I steel myself and nod once.
I’m not ready at all. Being near this man is a heady mixture of emotions. He’s attractive, incredibly attractive, and I wonder if that’s what drew my sister to him in the first place. But as much as I was to run my fingers down his cut muscles, I also want to stab him in the eye with a sharp knife just to see him bleed. I hate him as much as I’m drawn to him, and I won’t forget that he’s intimately involved in Lucy’s disappearance.
The feeling of his hand on my thigh from the night before still lingers in my mind. It was like being caressed by a cadaver, like dead, rotten flesh reached up from freshly tilled grave soil to grab my body, but I stayed still, I didn’t move, I let him touch me how he wanted. If I let him know how much I despise him, how badly I want to join his club just so I can burn it down from the inside, then he’ll never let me in.
As it stands, I don’t think he knows who I am, but he’ll figure it out sooner or later.
I only hope it’s not for weeks, and by then it’ll be too late.
“This way then.” He moves inside and I follow, but instead of going into the sitting room from last time he takes me down a side passage to a door that leads down a flight of stairs. The basement is cool and humid, rimmed with concrete blocks. The ground is sandy and damp, and boxes are stacked on pallets all over the place. The door shuts and we’re plunged into a dull orange glow emanating from the far end of the house.
He leads me into a clearing in the storage space. The water and sand have been cleared away, revealing a concrete slab. A circle’s been drawn on the floor in chalk with spokes emanating from the center. A stool is placed in the middle surrounded by dimply burning candles placed in every available surface. It smells like melting wax, musty cardboard, spilled alcohol, and ocean water. I remain at the edge of the chalk circle staring at the black stool.
I know it’s meant for me.
Emilio walks the circumference, careful not to break the lines. “Normally, we don’t take walk-ins. Calico Club doesn’t allow just anyone to waltz into our house and demand membership in our society, but I decided to bend the rules for you. Do you know why, Kaye?”
I shake my head, heart racing. Does he know who I am? Or is it worse—does he want something from me I’m not prepared to give him?
“Tell me,” I manage to croak and hate my stupid raspy voice. For the millionth time since the accident that injured my larynx and made me sound like an eighty-year-old chain smoker, I’m embarrassed of the way I sound and wish I could change it. But the doctors said I’d never heal, not completely. I’ll always be marked. Always scarred.
“You interest me. You caught my attention. Nathan and Dom both vouched for you, but mostly I find it fascinating that you have the gall and the balls to do what you did last night. So I’m willing to give you a chance.” He gestures at the stool. “This is your last warning. If you go through with this, I won’t take it easy. I will do whatever I please, and you might not like it. Sit down, and we’ll keep going. Turn around and walk away, and all of this will disappear. Whatever you do, don’t break the lines.”
I hesitate, staring at the chalk on the ground, heart racing. What could he possibly do to me down here? But I know the answer could be absolutely anything. This guy’s gotten away with murder once already and there’s no reason to think he couldn’t do it again.
He’s giving me the chance to run away and I want to take it. This isn’t me—I’m not the kind of person to throw myself into danger. Lucy is the brave one, the strong one, the smart one. I’m only dull and simple Kaye, while my sister was the shining, beautiful star.
But Lucy’s dead and I’m here to get revenge since she can’t.
I step into the circle. I walk gingerly until I reach the stool then slowly sink down. I feel exposed, almost naked, and the chill of the damp basement air blows over the skin on my bare arms. He continues walking the circle, staring at me, and I have to turn my head to follow his progress.
“Normally, prospective members go through what I call the gauntlet. It’s a simple exercise. They take the boat out from the caves and sail it around the island then back into the natural dock. They have a single night to get it done. The problem is, the waters around here are extremely dangerous, and if you’re not careful, it’s very easy to get wrecked or sucked out to sea. I do that to show each and every member how difficult it is to consistently pull off what I do, but also to bind us in the shared victory of mastering the sea.”
“Are you going to make me do that too?” I ask and he shakes his head slowly.
“No, Kaye. I’m not. Not yet at least. If you make it through this, you’ll come out on the ocean with me sooner or later. But I have something more interesting in mind for you tonight.” He walks to a nearby candle and picks it up. Some wax tilts over the side and rolls down its length as he stands across from me, studying my body, his eyes roaming freely from my lips down to my chest and back up.
I’ve been told that I’m pretty. Lucy used to say she got the smarts and the talent but I got the looks, and it used to make me feel special. Like, if even Lucy thinks I’m beautiful, it must be true. My sister never lied to me, not once, even when the truth was painful, and there were a lot of painful truths growing up with her.
Now, I feel empty and used, and I wish I could hide myself from this monster.
“Take off your shirt.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “What? No, I’m not doing that.”
His lips quirk. “I thought you said you’d do anything.”
“Anything reasonable.”
“That’s the whole point of this exercise, Kaye. It’s meant to be extremely unreasonable. It’s a test.”
“No, I can’t, I mean—”
He tilts the candle forward again. More wax rolls down. “Take off your shirt. Cover your breasts if you’re embarrassed. I’m not interested in them right now.” Though his eyes move to my chest, and I wonder if he’s lying, or if the emphasis is onright now.