JACKAL
The male red velvet mite releases its sperm on small twigs then lays a trail to the spot. When a female finds the trail, she will follow it to seek out the creator. If she finds it worthy, she will sit on the sperm.
My alarm wakes me up at six, her voice cutting into a very pleasant dream about Phoenix.
“Good morning, Jackal,” the voice says. “Today is going to be the best day of your life, you fucking stud.”
I roll onto my stomach, holding a pillow over my head.
“Shut up,” I yell. And then, “Fuck you!”
“You have forty-five minutes to be at your ballet lesson,” she says cheerfully. “If you don’t get up now, you’ll surely be late.”
“Eye of the Tiger” begins to play just as I programmed it to. I launch myself out of bed yelling, “Off! Off, dammit!”
Stumbling across the room, I head for the bathroom. Three hours of sleep, not even an uptight prick like Kasper could survive on that. I can’t look at myself in the mirror. Death. I feel like a corpse waking up underground. My body aches like it’s been dragged around the subway tracks for hours while the train runs over me, back and forth.
Phoenix is the last woman I want to see feeling like this, but if I don’t show, she’ll hate me more than she already does. The look on her face when she thought I was rejecting her. Like I’d ever reject her. I hadn’t wanted to treat her like them—like she didn’t matter. I man up and get ready to put on my fucking tights.
Selfish’s mouth gapes when I walk out. I adjust my dick, and she raises her mug in a mocking toast, then hands it to me.
“Drink up. It’ll help.”
I slug it back, choking at the putrid taste, but it does help. The pounding in my head becomes slightly more manageable.
Yvonne knows better than to say a word when she sees the state I’m in. She drives straight to the studio, leaving the music off as I slouch in the back seat, my sunglasses on.
I walk through the corridor and slow down near the door, expecting to hear Phoenix’s playlist blasting in the room. Silence. The door is unlocked, but the room is dark. I turn the light on and can’t get away from myself in all the mirrors.
I begin a few stretches, just killing time. Get a drink. Go to the john. Fifteen minutes pass, still no Phoenix, and I get pissed.
I’m about to take off when she rushes in, tossing her bag in the corner.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Didn’t think you’d still be here,” she says.
“So that’s how you’re playing it,” I mutter.
“I’m not the one who plays games, Jackal. That’s your modus operandi.”
“Modus operandi,” I mock. I run my hand over my face and attempt a grin. It probably comes out more scowlish with my pounding head. “I paid for this time; I want my lesson.”
Her shoulders sag and she turns away from me, adjusting her Silverbook. I feel a pang of shame.
“You’re throwing me off this morning,” I tell her. “What did you do with Phoenix?”
“Do you ever get tired of pretending?” She turns to face me then, her eyes focused on mine.
My mouth opens and closes. “I—yes.” I swallow hard and study her face. Her eyes are bloodshot and have dark circles under them. “I wish you hadn’t seen me like that last night…”
“What? Doing your job? We all have jobs to do, right?”
“Phoenix?” I say, standing in front of her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She starts the music and gets in position. “You paid for this time. Let’s get on with your lesson.”
She works me harder than ever, so much so that I regret haggling her, I regret being born, I regret whatever she’s taking out on me. She looks like fire in motion, a raging inferno that only gets brighter the harder she dances. I would be in awe if she’d give me time to be.
“You’re dragging,” she yells. “Don’t lose the tempo...5, 6, 7, 8!” She claps her hands at me and I go faster, sweat flinging everywhere.
When she finally shuts the music off an hour later, I collapse on the floor.
“You’re possessed,” I tell her. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your hatred.”
“All in a day’s work, right?” Her mouth in a tight line, she walks to the door and holds it open. “Time’s up. See you tomorrow.”
I pull myself up and grab my things. When I get close enough, I put my hand on her shoulder, and she backs out of my reach.
“Phoenix, I feel like I’ve—”
“You don’t know how to comprehend that the world doesn’t only revolve around you, do you, Jackal?” She lifts her eyes and faces me head on. “I have more important things to do than waste my time sparring with you. Got it?”
I back up, stunned, and nod. I’m so confused by whatever this is that I’m feeling. It must be the hangover because my whole body just started hurting again. My chest feels...wounded.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says and shuts the door behind me.
I walk a few steps then turn around one more time, looking through the window. She’s moved away and is beginning to dance again, but before she turns, I see her face. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.
I put my hand back on the knob, ready to storm back in there.
“Jackal,” Selfish hisses behind me. “You’re going overtime with your little hobby here. Three appointments today. We’ve gotta hustle.”
It takes a little blue pill to get through the day. I tongue it before I swallow, resentful of its power. You’re not old, I tell myself. You’re just tired. It’s bitter going down, and I snarl at Selfish, who looks like she’s enjoying my discomfort.
I get the job done and still make it to Phoenix’s evening performance. The last appointment didn’t want to let me go and the fucking pill made me last way longer than I wanted to, but I’m here and semi-coherent. I doze during a piece that doesn’t have Phoenix, but then she’s out there the rest of the night and I sit on the edge of my seat.
I can’t get her face and her tears out of my head. I don’t like...caring. Caring is the opposite of not giving a fuck, which is what I do best. I wait for her, timing when she should be ready to leave for the after-party. She doesn’t take as long as I expect, and when she walks out, she’s dressed like she’s ready for practice, not a party. I duck into one of the unused rooms until she’s down the hall and then follow her out of the building.
She’s already made me aware of a couple of things I’m ashamed of, stalking her right up at the top of them. But when she walks to what I assume is her building, I think maybe she’s just exhausted and needs a night off. I lean against the side of the wall, feeling like an idiot. Ah well. I needed a good excuse to skip the party. I’m about to find a ride to the compound when a car comes barreling out of the parking garage.
“A thief and a reckless driver.” I shake my head.
I hold my wrist up and a cab finds me within seconds.
“Sir…” My security detail comes running after me.
“Not tonight, fuckers!” I hop into the cab, knowing there will be hell to pay for this later.
“Follow that car, please,” I say quietly.
Eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, but the woman doesn’t speak. I message Yvonne that I won’t need her until the next morning. It’s not uncommon for me to spend the night at a party. But my security will be irate...unless they’re already following. The longer we drive, the more this feels like a bad idea. I don’t want Phoenix on the Society’s radar more than she already is. A pregnancy with someone as high profile as Phoenix would have them coming in their proverbial pants.
I nearly tell the woman to turn around, but at this point, I’m too curious. It’s an hour before Phoenix slows her car and pulls into a driveway. I tap the glass.
“Let me out here, please.” It’s too dark to see much, but it looks like a house is tucked behind the trees.
She stops right then, not going even an inch closer. Obedient, I’ll give her that.
“Shall I wait?” she asks.
“No, thank you.” I give her a hefty tip and step out into the brisk night. I wait until she’s driven off before walking toward the house.
I’m two hundred feet from the door when I hear the distinct sound of the safety sliding off of a gun.
“Don’t move.”
I let out a stream of curses under my breath and then hear Phoenix’s voice.
“Jackal?” Her soft voice sounds so innocent, when she is really the spawn of Satan.
“Yes, it’s fucking Jackal,” I spit. “Put the fucking gun down.”
A blinding light shines in my face and I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing spots. When I open them, Phoenix is lowering a shotgun.
“Where did you get that thing?”
“Keep your voice down,” she says, right in my ear. “It belonged to my grandfather.”
“Who do we have here?” Another voice says softly. “I thought I recognized that simpering voice…”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Gwen?” I hiss.
Gwen has an identical shotgun pointed at me, but unlike Phoenix, she doesn’t lower it. I can’t believe I’m staring at the tiny figure of Gwen Allison. Before I can say a word, Phoenix grabs me by the arm and shines the light toward the house. Gwen follows behind us.
“This is fucked,” I say. “We’re all fucked.”