This bitch was a kind of crazy I avoided leaning into.
I had nothing better to do, so I followed her down the stairs at a much slower pace. Whatever direction she was going was away from the dull party now behind us. I was good with being an actual ghost if I couldn’t feel like one by swallowing a benzo down.
The estate was pretty, housing all the concealed ugly. At least under the night sky, it was the eerie you would expect. The gothic structure and dim lights made the shadows in the dark seem like they were following you.
They had been doing the hunt for centuries. The amount of lost souls trapped here instead of in the depths of Hell like the Clave preached would probably create a lot of holes.
Jessica, the mysterious duchess, knew the secret path between the tall trees that created a border around the lawn before the forest kissed each side, which was strange. This was her first time invited to the ceremony. Something about Jessica made me wonder about her.
“How did you get invited exactly?” I watched her look both ways from behind her, like she had forgotten her way, even though this wasn’t common knowledge at all.
“I’m a Vasilyevich. There are no firstborn boys in my generation yet, so you’re stuck with me.”
“As in Ivan the Terrible?” I had met a lot of bad people, but that name was pretty much on the trinity list of foreign power. She wasn’t male, but that was mattering less and less to the Clave as long as you had money, influence, and power.
“That’s the one…” Her voice sing-songed her response proudly.
We were all related to monsters.
All heir to corrupt kingdoms.
Forced to uphold some delusion that we were doing God’s will by ridding the world of the bad people, when we should have been included in that kind of purge.
“It’s down to the right. There’s a bunker. That’s where they keep the sacrifices…”
I was finally tired of wandering around when I knew exactly where to go. I had found them by mistake one year when I was ten, back when inviting your whole family was more common. They expected everyone to be present, even if you weren’t wielding a musket and shooting real people down.
The four of us used to play Hide-and-Seek on the grounds, just to keep ourselves entertained. I always had the best hiding places. This was our vacation home when it wasn’t being used for some ceremony the Clave hosted.
I was ten years old when I found people in cages in the bunker we were told to stay away from. They were all drugged, out of it, like they were dreaming with their eyes open. I envied them. Dreaming with your eyes wide open seemed like the perfect antidote to life. It was too bad that kind of safety only came just before you died.
It wasn’t until my first attendance that I realized these people weren’t lucky at all. They were bait for aggression running wild. They were enemies of the Clave that we hunted for sport.
None of them were going to survive; the least we could do was let them dream with their eyes wide open.
Yanking the heavy door open and walking down the small set of stairs, I could hear the people in their cages stirring, sitting in the dark. Nightmares, dreams, whatever kept them alive.
Jessica was walking close behind with her hand on my shoulder helping guide herself as we descended into the pitch black. Using my phone, I touched the flashlight feature on to illuminate the floor, which looked like an aisle down the row of cages.
The metal bars were the only thing between the prisoners and us. Metal bars as old as the ground itself. The cages had been here since before we found the perfect way to silence our enemies: with three days of games.
“That’s them.”
Jessica didn’t leave any room for safety when her hands wrapped around the bars, and her gaze was pressed up against them. She was mesmerized by all of it. Her features all pulled into joy, glowing and anxious for more.
This bitch was really crazy. I mean, I thought I was, but hell, she was really crazy.
“How does it work?”
“We draw names from a hat. You get assigned a prisoner, and then you have until sunrise to kill them.”
Nothing was joyful about my voice. It is what it is.
“I want this one.” She was staring into the cage of conspiracy theorists that had been making waves and forcing people to look at the Clave. The woman seemed unassuming. Her chestnut hair was in space buns, with her mouth open, and her head leaning against the cement wall.
“There’s no way to rig the names. My father is the one who personally handles that.”
“All men have weaknesses, Jason.”
She said my name with an undertone that meant she knew I was Grimm, not Jason anymore. I wondered what else she knew and how much my father told her.
GRIMM
Once Russian Barbie with a thirst for killing had her fix looking at tomorrow's victims, I made my way back to the estate. With my jacket unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and bow tie undone, I stalked up the stairs, thinking I was leaving her behind to drink and dance with the rest of them.
My room was in the West Wing of the estate, reserved only for Rothschilds, while everyone else took the rest of the eighteen rooms.
Jessica’s heels on the hardwood floors had me glancing behind me, when I realized she was still following me.
“Party is downstairs, toots.” My smirk said the exact opposite, even if I didn’t mean it.
“Your dad mentioned I didn’t have a room. Said to bunk up with someone…” Her voice trailed off as the champagne flute touched her red lips seductively.
“I don’t entertain overnight guests… nice try.”
She leaned up against the wall, tugging her heels off and sipping the rest of her champagne, before setting the empty crystal down. She was playing some kind of game that I didn’t have the rules to.
Her hands landed on my half unbuttoned black shirt, and she leaned far enough into me to smell her powder. “Come on, Jas- Grimm. I can be a lot of fun. Aren’t you high just thinking of tomorrow?”
Holding her upright against me, I tried to ignore her pleading, but at this point-blank distance, it was hard.
“Sleep. That’s it.” My voice was solid and unwavering. I wasn’t bending the rules I made myself, just because I found someone just as fucking crazy as myself.
She steadied herself against me on her tiptoes. “You know neither of us plans on sleeping until we’re dead. Don’t kid yourself.”
Jessica wasn’t wrong. One of the hardest things I did at night was sleep. It never came easy, and when it did, it never lasted long. Normally it took a full bar of Xanax and some Sleepy Time tea to even get me comfortable enough to want to sleep. Having a not-so-invited guest in my bedroom was going to cause more issues than I was willing to deal with.
My room was a time capsule of when I was a teenager before I left for the private school created solely for us. Between the Estate and our home in the hills, this room saw every transition I made.
Red walls, black trim, heavy metal posters, and action figures of horror movie villains. Freddy, Jason, Michael, Pennywise, Hellraiser… enough to display how fucked up I was if I idolized these kinds of people.
I used to think I was just a villain, until I realized villains are redeemable.
I’m not.
Monsters aren't.
I’m one of those unredeemable monsters with no hints to a plot point that makes what I do somehow okay. No amount of trauma can wipe away the damage I’ve created in my life.