Caged View (An Urban Fantasy Collection of Short Stories) (Habitat .5 Series), Page 2

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  It took us five minutes on the tram and a fifteen minute walk to get to The Castle, a shady brothel located at the dead end of Rooster Way. It resembled more of an abandoned house than a sex business. Dusty white paint plastered the wooden shack, creating a gray, tore-down effect instead of an ivory castle. The odor of cheap perfume dangled around the gate’s entrance. Overhead, a big sign hanging on a shingled wooden frame stated the rules:

  1- The Castle is not liable for any misdirected spells or other magical injuries.

  2- Customers must provide payment before sex.

  3- Please, no fangs: this is a sex service with no blood drinking facility.

  “And the guys run the other way when they see me,” La La complained. She’d been reprimanding me about what I had done to Felix the whole journey.

  “You’re imagining things.” I tapped the sign’s jagged edge with my hand as we passed, making it swing back and forth, creaking with each movement.

  “MeShack, I’m serious. You have to stop. It’s getting old.” La La climbed the steps toward the decaying shack. It must have been at least thirty steps.

  A dwarf ambled down the stairs, passing us as he zipped up his black-and-white striped pants.

  “Felix was going to grab your ass.” I scanned the women that lounged on the gray porch, wearing nothing but faded lingerie.

  None of them had my mom’s golden eyes or smooth olive skin. Their eyes appeared unfocused and in a daze. Wrinkles covered most of their pale faces.

  A bleach scent mingled with the cheap perfume as we got closer to the front door. One of the hookers must have smoked Blue-Fi. It always left that chemical stench when my mom used it in the house.

  I interrupted La La’s rant and said, “If someone taunts you for being a Mixbreed, or grabs you inappropriately, I’m going to break their hand off. Everybody at school knows that.”

  “I can handle myself,” she argued. “Besides, you beat up Kris in the library yesterday, and he didn’t even do anything.”

  I stopped and gazed back at her. “You were wearing his scent on your neck and lips.”

  She averted her eyes to the area behind me. “I mean he didn’t do anything that I didn’t want him to.”

  My beast woke up, stretching inside of me. The pressure pushed against my lungs. I concentrated on slow breaths until he was done.

  Relax, I told him. I’m taking care of this.

  My beast tensed but said nothing.

  “You’re dating Kris now?” I placed my hands in my pockets. They formed fists underneath the jean material.

  “I doubt it, now that he has a fractured jaw. He’s not a Shifter, you know. It’ll take him forever to heal.” She targeted me with those coffee-brown eyes. “I went by his house this morning to give him his Physics book, and he wouldn’t even open the door. He just told me to leave it outside.”

  Good. I scared Kris’s punk ass away.

  But there would be others. I’d already spread the word around school to stay away from her, but still a few guys had sniffed that lavender scent of hers and gathered up the little courage they had to sneak a conversation in when I wasn’t around.

  La La and I approached a plastic red and white sign nailed to a post that requested we knock to gain entrance.

  “I swear, MeShack, you hurt somebody else, and I’m setting you on fire.” She got on the porch, headed toward the door, and then knocked.

  The lounging hookers on the porch ignored us and continued to scan the Supernaturals, or Supes as most called them, walking on the street.

  Footsteps sounded from behind the front door.

  “Well, Kris is not my fault. I thought he hurt you,” I lied, forcing myself not to grin.

  “Whatever,” she muttered. “He’s a math genius that’s half your size and wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

  “Genius, huh?” I laughed.

  He wasn’t smart enough to stay away from you.

  If I couldn’t touch La La, no one would.

  My mom and her dad had been drug buddies since we were nine. It was my mom’s idea to move in with them.

  The kids can watch each other while we make our runs, Mom had said.

  Nine years later, our parents were still addicts as we continued to raise ourselves.

  Her dad only had two house rules. One, no one but him sits in the rose-patterned recliner in the living room. Two, don’t touch his daughter in any romantic or lust-filled way.

  When puberty hit, the second rule got harder and harder to follow. My cheetah chose her as my mate immediately, without hesitation. A mating process that normally took several years was completed as soon as I looked into her eyes.

  “I’m serious,” La La said. “Don’t hurt anybody else.”

  The brothel door opened. A Mixbreed peered out. Sunlight shined on the X brand embedded in her tan forehead. “You’re both too young. Come back when you’re eighteen.”

  I put my foot in the doorway before she closed it. “I’m looking for a Were-cheetah named Fiona. She works here.”

  “Who are you to her?” The Mixbreed scratched her head, making the platinum blond wig she was wearing slant off balance and reveal a scarred scalp.

  “She’s my mom.”

  The Mixbreed’s mouth dropped open. She glanced behind her shoulder and then gestured with her hand for me to come in closer.

  I leaned her way.

  “I don’t know where she is, Sugar. But when you find her, tell her to hide,” the Mixie whispered. “Joe knows she stole from him. He’s been tearing up the habitat all week looking for her.”

  “So he hasn’t found her?” La La asked.

  The Mixie shrugged. “It’s not like he would tell me.”

  She closed the door.

  I covered my face with both hands and rubbed my skin. An aching pain crept along the areas above my ears and met at my forehead.

  Joe wasn’t a big-time pimp, but Vampires always had connections.

  Damn, Mom. Now what did you do?

  “You think she really took the money?” La La asked and started walking down the steps.

  I trailed behind her. “Of course she did, and probably smoked it all away with drugs.”

  La La slowly nodded in agreement. “Now she’s most likely freaking out, trying to figure out a way to get the Vamp his money back.”

  “Exactly.”

  We paused at the bottom of the steps.

  A breeze traveled by, lifting some of La La’s dreadlocks and guiding them back over her shoulders until they fell near her waist.

  I yearned to reach for the locks and surround my fingers with their softness, forgetting about this current problem and drowning in her.

  Yes, the cheetah replied. The Demon will not hurt us. We can kill him.

  I tensed. I already told you. The Demon is her dad. The ladies tend to frown on murdering their loved ones.

  My beast settled down as if satisfied with my answer and began attacking his tail.

  I returned to gazing at the woman who would one day recognize me as her mate, relishing in the view of the smooth skin that I brushed with my fingers whenever she wasn’t paying attention.

  La La caught me gazing at her. Those brown eyes brightened to orange before she looked away. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Something that has nothing to do with my mom.”

  “Well, I’m still worried.” She continued to avoid meeting my eyes. “If your mom is desperate for money, wouldn’t she have at least picked up the disability checks?”

  My mom tended to work at a place and pocket things whenever possible. It didn’t matter what it was. Whether the item was money, drugs, jewelry, or even magic potions, she grabbed, spent, used, or hocked it on the street for something else. The probability of her taking Joe’s money soared high off the charts.

  “Yeah, she would’ve chased down the mailman for the checks before he even reached the house,” I said.

  That sludge in my stomach twisted into kn
ots.

  “Where do you think we should check next?” La La asked as her heartbeat increased.

  I knew what she was thinking. There were only a few possible outcomes when you stole from a pimp like Joe. The fact that it had been two weeks that she’d been missing and hadn’t gotten her checks told me that things hadn’t turned out good for Mom.

  My heartbeat raced with La La’s. It became hard to breathe. I gulped a large breath and exhaled.

  I cleared my throat and said, “We should check Linderman’s Blood Factory first, before we go anywhere else. If Joe caught and killed her, then he probably dumped her body behind there.”

  She snapped her head toward me. “Would you stop the hardcore I-don’t-care-about-my-mom act.”

  “I’m not acting.” I turned around and headed to the factory.

  The sun still gleamed through the bars, but to me it felt like dark clouds hovered over us. The barred ceiling that had once soared so high above my head now came down on me, as if trapping a wild animal.

  Could she actually be dead?

  My eyes watered. Tears threatened to spill out of them. I directed my attention on each step I took instead of the anxiety that overflowed inside of me.

  “Do you want to talk about this?” La La jogged on my right, trying to keep up with my pace.

  “No.”

  “Maybe I can go check for you, so you don’t have to.”

  “No. In fact, I’d rather have you go home and not come with me.” I caught one tear with the back of my hand as it leaked out the corner of my eye, hoping she hadn’t seen that.

  “I’m staying,” she whispered through rushed breaths as she trotted along.

  She saw the tears.

  “Fine,” I muttered.

  “Fine.”