The Whipping Girls Read online

  And not even in a flippant way.

  I sit back, hands still on the table, still white-knuckled tight.

  “Shit wasn’t easy, back then. The stuff my dad did to him…” Again, her gaze flutters away. “But he’s doing okay. He has his institution.” A broad smile touches her mouth. “And the Council of Nine.” She wriggles in her seat. “I mean, no one that young’s ever—”

  “The what of what now?” I ask, lifting my hand like I’m asking teach a question.

  “The Council of Nine.” Alexa’s smile fades before reappearing twice as bright. “Wait… Hunter didn’t tell you he was offered a seat on the council?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hunter

  I’m staring down at the drive through my office’s tinted windows when Alexa’s car pulls up. It’s stationary for a full minute, perhaps two, before the passenger door opens. Clover waves through the window and turns to watch Alexa reverse out and head back to the gates.

  Then she turns and looks straight up at me as if she can see me through the tinted glass.

  A thrill chases through me, but it brings with it a cold wave of uncertainty.

  The front door slams.

  If she’d left wearing heels, I might have heard her thumping up the stairs, but instead there’s only silence until the bedroom slams.

  I light another joint, take a seat in my chair, and start smoking it.

  At least she came back.

  I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Clover

  SEVEN WEEKS LATER

  It starts raining just after noon. A gloomy sky’s been threatening the inevitable all day, but it’s as if a fresh breath blows through Hunter’s house when that first gust of rain-laden wind slams into its glass walls.

  I look up from the magazine I’m reading. I curled up on the couch about an hour ago with a cup of cocoa and a throw after I’d discovered a stack of botany magazines in one of Hunter’s downstairs cupboards.

  Not exactly the most fascinating thing I’ve ever read, but there’s no cable up here, so it kinda has to do.

  I watch fat raindrops splat against the window as I pick at an itchy spot on the back of my hand. It was there when I woke up and it’s been bugging the living hell out of me all morning.

  It’s strange, because I remember having a similar itch a few weeks ago. Maybe Hunter has spiders in his bed.

  A memory trickles into my mind; the rain that came down that night I was in the forest with Hunter. How he’d stripped me down and then warmed me with his body.

  We never speak about that day, just like we’ve never spoken about the night Kane stayed over. After all this time, it’s impossible to know where to begin. Easier just to let the past stay in the past, right?

  Especially since the last thing I want to do is admit I enjoyed it.

  I shift in my seat and then close my eyes and put my head back.

  God, even back then he was fucked up.

  I’m not surprised that I’m still with Hunter. This is what I always dreamed of; a man wealthy enough to take care of me, but too busy to reap the rewards of his investment. Only thing missing from that version of events is the heroin, of course.

  Weed’s one thing…heroin’s something else entirely.

  And what about that first night? The first time I’d ever been in this cabin? Hunter made me smoke a joint laced with heroin.

  My eyes fly open.

  Not just me. He smoked it too.

  Him a recovering junkie, me barely out of rehab.

  Does he honest to God have that much faith in his program? Does he really believe he’s cured me?

  Then again, when last did I crave?

  The magazine slips from my fingers. I’m staring at the window, but I don’t see anything anymore.

  Carefully, I set down my cocoa cup. Just as carefully, I stand, fold up the throw, and climb the stairs.

  When I reach the top, the door opens as if Hunter was waiting for me. He’s looking at his phone though, not at me, and walks into me.

  He’s a big man. Heavy. I bounce off him and almost topple down the stairs.

  If he hadn’t caught my arm, I’d be laying at the bottom with a broken neck. But I’m pressed to the balustrade, a fury in Hunter’s eyes as if to ask how I dared to even consider falling down the stairs without his permission.

  Suddenly, I don’t want to thank him for curing me. I want to claw out his eyes.

  Having such a violent urge flash through my mind dries my mouth and pales my skin.

  “I have you,” he grumbles as if misunderstanding my white cheeks.

  I tug free. “No, you don’t,” I whisper furiously. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

  “Were you coming to see me?”

  “No,” I lie, stalking into the bedroom and slamming the door in his face.

  I guess I did get a fright — my heart’s still pounding when Hunter comes into the bedroom behind me. “Stop slamming the door.”

  “Then stop making me so angry.” I turn, expecting him to be standing in the doorway as always.

  He’s not. He’s less than a foot away from me. I step back, but that’s as far as I can go — the bed pulls me up short.

  “I make you angry?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

  “You’re shitting me, right?” I press into him, tipping my head back so I can glare up at him. “You keep moving me around like a chess piece. Who in their right mind wouldn’t get pissed off? And not just me — you do it to everyone.”

  “You’re talking about Kane?”

  “Everyone, Hunter. Me, Kane, your sister.” I narrow my eyes. “She told me about the phone call.”

  His eyes become hooded. “I don’t—”

  “The one where you told her to be nice to me. To help me plan the wedding.”

  “Didn’t seem to work,” he says, voice growing lower. “Far as I understand, you’re not even sure you still want to marry me.”

  That lying cunt. I knew I shouldn’t have told Alexa, but fuck, she promised not to say anything.

  “I’m not, no. Not after that…that stunt you pulled with Kane.”

  Hunter’s eyes grow dark, his mouth thinning. “I apologized.”

  “And that makes it okay?” God, even thinking about this is making me want to throw up. “There are lines you don’t cross, Hunter. You went and sprinted over them.”

  This is the first time we’re really talking, and as much as the subject makes my stomach queasy as hell, I refuse to go off in a huff. He’s still standing, perhaps finally ready to voice the demons possessing him that night — and I’m sticking around until he spills.

  But instead of coming clean, he slides his palms up my shoulders and grips the back of my neck. I do my best not to let the touch get to me, but it does.

  He hasn’t touched me since Kane’s visit.

  But he also hasn’t told me to leave.

  And I haven’t taken off his ring.

  Makes me wonder about what Kane said about Zee that day. That they’re both just the right amount of fucked up. A perfect fit.

  So is that it? Am I just fucked up enough for this pseudo-relationship to be the best thing for me?

  “What’s that?” Hunter asks, snagging my wrist and lifting my hand.

  I was picking at the itchy spot. “Stop trying to change the subject.” I try to pluck away my hand, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he studies my finger before pressing his lips to the itchy spot.

  Such a simple gesture shouldn’t have been able to stop it itching…but yeah. I’m not kidding myself that this is somehow a normal universe I’ve gotten myself trapped in.

  I swallow hard. “Was it about the Council of Ten? Are you nervous or something?”

  He frowns. “The what?”

  Fuck this. Alexa already threw me under the bus. And guess what? I see a fucking train coming.

  “Alexa told me about the Council. That they offere
d you a spot, but you haven’t accepted. Yet.”

  He steps away from me, and another wave of uneasiness twists my stomach. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me — any normal person would have been gushing about a promotion like that — but I guess he had his reasons.

  I think I’ve earned to right to pry into his life after all the shit he’s put me through.

  “Hunter?”

  “It’s the Council of Nine…and I haven’t made a decision yet,” he says, voice growing as hard as his expression.

  “Why? Do you have to like give up your wealth or something?”

  There’s the briefest flicker of a sardonic smile, but it disappears instantly.

  I swallow again. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never minded confrontation — I’ve even spurred it on — but now just the thought of angering Hunter is making me want to puke?

  “I’m not sure I want to be part of something as evil as Mallhaven.”

  Bitterness floods my mouth. “What?” I manage, but the word is thick and heavy. A ringing starts up in my ears. “What do you mean, evil? Are you talking about that shit you and Kane made up about the farm?”

  I’ve had plenty of time to think it over, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it was just some strange story the two of them spun up — reasons unknown. Maybe they had something to do with some illegal activities back then, but come on…the fucking anti-christ?

  They were probably stoned as fuck when they came up with it. Maybe they swore some stupid blood oath. Seems they were thick as thieves back then.

  “It was all true,” Hunter says. His eyes narrow dangerously. “You must understand, Clover, every word is true.”

  “Yeah…well…” I swallow again, but this time bile floods my mouth in response. “Fuck.”

  I race to the en-suite bathroom. I almost make it, too. But the toilet bowl is just too far away in this massive house, so I end up spewing all over the floor.

  Bare feet slap on the tiles as Hunter comes up to me. I stick out a hand, warning him off, but he doesn’t listen — fuck, does he ever? He crouches beside me, puts a trash can in front of me, and has the gentlemanly manners to even hold my hair back as I empty my guts into his fancy trash can.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hunter

  Clover’s on the couch, a glass between her hands. Her eyes stare at something not in this world. Esli is cleaning upstairs and I don’t want to disturb her by taking the stairs back to my office. Anyway, I have a feeling Clover wants to talk, so I perch beside her.

  “I think I’m pregnant,” Clover says as soon as I sit.

  “Because you vomit—?”

  “’Cos I’m two weeks late, cranky as shit, and I don’t feel right anymore,” Clover says, counting off her reasons on shaking fingers as her words run together in their urgency to be said. She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide with fright. “You said this wouldn’t happen.”

  I drop my eyes. “I’m sorry—”

  “I said I wanted to use a fucking condom. Again, and again—” She cuts off and covers her face in her hands. “I’m not keeping it.”

  I realize I’m wringing my hands, but it’s impossible to stop. My chest grows tight, and I take a deep breath, then another, trying to fill my lungs to prevent my rib cage collapsing.

  “Let’s get clarification before we—”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. You’ve done quite enough. I’m getting a blood test. And then I’m getting rid of it.” She inhales hard and deep. “And then I’m leaving.”

  She stands, walks past me.

  I had a speech prepared, but nothing leaves my mouth. My heart’s a jackhammer, trying to annihilate my breastbone. When I close my eyes, it feels as if I’m being sucked into an abyss.

  Maybe it’s Hell; fuck knows, that’s where I belong.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clover

  Fuck, this hurts. I don’t know why — Hunter’s a piece of shit — but there’s no denying the ache in my heart. It took everything I had to tell him I’m leaving, but now that it’s out there I just want to claw it back.

  And why? Because I’m scared of setting out into the great big world without someone like him at my side? I’ve never had an issue with being alone before; I was just always too broke or high to enjoy it.

  Men gave me money. They put a roof over my head.

  Now I’ll just have to find a job.

  Except…what if I don’t?

  Well, fuck, I guess I’ll finally find out what being homeless for more than a five-day stretch feels like.

  Maybe I’ll even start whoring. I’ve had practice now; Hunter saw to that.

  As it is, I have no contact with the outside world. Hunter’s never given me a phone or allowed me to use his. Although, until maybe a month ago, I’d never felt the urge to leave.

  I was safe. I was happy.

  Now I’m fucking pregnant.

  Pressure builds, but I shove it away. I refuse to spend more tears on this shithead than I already have. The maid is done cleaning the bathroom. I storm inside and, although the air reeks of disinfectant, I can still smell my own puke.

  I draw a bath, simply because I know the whole bathroom ends up smelling like roses when I’ve used bubble bath. And then I lie there, hands over my stomach, doing my best not to give in to the urge to start sobbing again.

  I can’t believe he got me pregnant.

  But that’s his thing, isn’t it? He’s so fucking obstinate that he can’t see the forest for the trees. He has such rock-solid faith in himself, he could be a cult leader at the drop of a fucking robe. I know pills aren’t a hundred percent. Why the fuck did he second guess me? Did he make them himself so that he can claim his are better than a goddamn pharmaceutical company’s?

  Water ripples. I glance down and watch myself picking at the itchy spot on my hand again.

  When had it all gone wrong? I won’t go as far as to say we were idyllic, but…we fit.

  When did everything change?

  From what I gather, the Council of Nine informed Hunter of their decision two months ago. There was that one day Hunter said he’d smoked too much and went and lay in bed the whole day.

  That was kind of weird but, back then, I’d only known Hunter a few short months. I thought he was coming down with the flu and simply refused to admit he was a mortal human being.

  Anyway, he was up-’n-at-’em the next day. Fired up, even, as if he wanted to make up for the day he’d spent lounging about. So I forgot about it.

  But what if he hadn’t been lounging? What if he’d been super depressed about something?

  Now that I think back, that was the first time we hadn’t fucked in more than a day. In fact, I think it was five or six days. At the time, I thought he didn’t want to infect me if he was in fact coming down with the flu…

  But then the thing with Kane happened.

  Is he in a funk he just can’t shake? Did he think getting into something kinky would jolt him out of his slump?

  It would be just like him to damn well plan out everything without involving another single person in the discussion.

  No — let’s drug our best friend and girlfriend and insist they sleep with each other. Repeatedly. That’ll bring a big ray of fucking sunshine back into my life.

  I put my hands over my face and suppress a shudder. As much as I want to, I can’t wallow here all day. The water’s near freezing, and I have to provide myself some fucking clarity, as Hunter so graciously stated.

  I dry off. Dress.

  It’s late afternoon, but I’m hoping whatever passes for a doctor in this fucked up town is still open and doesn’t mind walk-in customers.

  Actually, fuck that.

  I stomp downstairs. Hunter is right where I left him, but now he’s smoking a joint. Judging from the stoop of his shoulders, it’s not his first. I have a strong urge to rip it from his mouth and finish it, but that might mean touching him and I can’t take the risk that I might deflect from my path.


  “Get me an appointment with a doctor, this afternoon. And then call me a cab.”

  Hunter winnows down the joint’s tip in an ashtray. “Of course,” he says.

  I swallow my shock with an effort. And then I give him a decisive nod that he doesn’t see because he’s taking his phone from his pocket in slow motion. I resist the urge to tap my foot — he’s obviously stoned as fuck.

  When I’m still waiting a full minute later for him to find whatever contact he’s looking for, I spin around and flounce into the kitchen. I grab a plum from the fruit bowl, take one bite, and throw it in the trash. It’s so sour I almost want to puke again.

  I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and hurry back to the living room when I hear Hunter’s voice.

  “…available for a consultation this afternoon?” Hunter’s sitting forward now, elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on a palm.

  I press my lips together and take a breath that’s supposed to be steeling but feels more like a gasp. Fuck, I can’t stand to see him like this. He looks so…broken. So dejected.

  I cross my arms, hugging myself hard.

  He did this to himself. And me.

  “Four-thirty?” Hunter sits a little straighter, sticks out his arm and flicks his wrist. When did he get a new watch? Actually, I don’t give a fuck.

  “That’ll work. Thank you.”

  He ends the call but doesn’t look up.

  I tighten my lips even more so I don’t thank him. He’s not getting a sliver of good manners from me. Not now, maybe never again.

  “Hey, sis.”

  Ah, fuck. I squeeze closed my eyes. “I said a cab,” I mutter, but I doubt he can even hear me.

  “Yeah, gotta favor to ask.” He shrugs a little and finally looks up.

  I swallow hard. It was better when he was all fucking droopy and shit. Now his spine is straight, and his eyes fierce.