Cherry was always tough, never one to really break down. She’d put many a bloke in their place. Had an awesome right hook on her.
That didn’t mean anything. No one was that strong, and her job wasn’t the easiest in the world. I couldn’t see any bruises on her, but then she still had her coat on.
“Talk to me,” I said, preparing tea.
She sniffed, her hands shaking. “I was working all night, right up until this morning.”
I brought the tea over. “You were? Blimey.”
“December’s one of the busiest times of the year. Loneliness seems to be at its worst, these men needing something to get them through it. I kind of like that part, you know? That I can give them some joy.”
I nodded, listening. I didn’t fully understand her profession and had no judgment of it. Sure, I worried about her and the negative side of her work, but that was all I could do—be a friend.
“Everything was going fine. No arsehole clients. My last guy left at about seven o’clock this morning. He’d just wanted to talk. I was getting ready to leave when there was banging on my window. The curtains were drawn, so I ignored it. But it wouldn’t stop, so I pulled them open to see who it was. I thought it would be some drunkard who was still off his head, wandering the streets before he’d eventually collapse somewhere. I see it all the time. But it was a woman.”
My flesh broke out in goosebumps. Was it her?
Cherry continued. “Sometimes there are women who like to watch their man fuck me, or me fuck them. I don’t mind having an audience, but I don’t accept women clients one-on-one. Just not for me.” She took a sip of her steaming tea. “Anyway, she looked friendly, despite her persistent knocking, so I opened the door and said good morning. I told her I was closed, and she said she just wanted to talk to me. I asked her what about?” Cherry closed her eyes for a moment.
“Take your time,” I said.
She drank some more tea and released a shaky breath. “She wanted to talk about my sin, how I was going to Hell. Now, I’ve heard that before, but this was different. Her friendly face changed from kind to a fucking beast. She went off on one at me about how I was filth, how I deserved to be raped and thrown into the canal, that I was an abomination like the supes polluting our world. She said people like me would be eradicated, along with the ‘two faggots’ who ran the business upstairs.”
“Meaning me and Dean.” Yeah, this had gone in the direction I’d been expecting. “Black hair? Looked Italian? Accent a bit off?”
“Yes. You met her?”
“Her name’s Tessa. She belongs to the Conclave. Real nasty bitch. She came to our house last night.”
“What? Why?”
“She didn’t really go into detail. Backed off fairly quick when I told her to fuck off. Hid behind a tree at one point.”
“She tried to get into my window,” Tessa added. “I shoved her back and locked it up. She kept banging on the glass, thought she would break through. But she gave up eventually.” She sighed. “If she came here, then … then what if she’s planning on hurting us all?”
“I won’t let her.”
She pulled her coat around her, shuddering. “I’ve never seen so much hate in a person’s eyes. If she’s part of the Conclave, then there will be more of them coming for us.”
“One thing I don’t get,” I added, “is her wandering around by herself like this. It makes no sense. I’ve read about her and watched her videos. She likes the attention. But she’s got no audience when she’s running solo. What’s the point when you’re not actually making a point to an audience? It just seems a bit weird.”
“I’m scared, Jake.”
“So am I.” As much as I hated to admit it, I was. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“I wish we could all have wands. I don’t feel safe.”
“Don’t wish that. It’s a slippery slope.”
“I’d feel safer.”
“I get that, but wands are deadly. You don’t wanna be involved with that mess. Never turns out well.”
“I could’ve blown a hole in her head. That would have shut her up.”
“It would, and it would’ve been sweet to see. But then she kind of wins because you get charged with her murder, then the Conclave gets to smear you and add fuel to their campaign.”
Cherry rubbed at her face. She was exhausted. “Why don’t you have a shower and sleep here? Don’t go home. Stay. We’re having a party. There’s plenty of food.”
“I should go home.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. Take my bed, rest up, then enjoy some good food—made by my fair hand, I must say.”
That got a smile out of her. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll ask Sophie next door if she has anything you can borrow.”
“I don’t want to—”
“The next word out of your mouth better not be ‘impose’ or any of that bollocks because I ain’t listening. Consider yourself kidnapped.”
“You’re very kind.”
“It’s St. Nicholas Day Eve.” I thought about that for a moment. “Not that I’m only kind on that day. That’s not what I mean. It’s just, you know, you shouldn’t be at home alone anyway.”
She nodded. “I’ll stay. Thank you.”
Fucking Tessa. Fucking Conclave. How dare they make people feel this way?
“I’ll give Sophie a ring.”
Eleven
Dean
The Visser residence was over on Marnixstraat—a street over in the west of Amsterdam-Centrum. I arrived on my motorbike to see three green pods along the tramlines, which ran parallel to the long stretch of houses—all brick and three stories high, most of them converted into apartments. The tram company had closed off the infected section of the line with their official orange barriers until the pods disappeared. They were boils on the asphalt, glistening in the sunlight of
