House of V (Unraveled Series) (19 page)

As I sat on the toilet of
Bazil’s
, I prayed that Sister Josephine’s guardian would
find her. I listened, intently, for a faint whisper I was desperate to hear.
Instead, I heard two women enter the bathroom, stuttering and swooning over the
latest guy that had given them the remotest bit of attention. I closed my eyes
as the counting commenced in my head and tousled my hair before smoothing it
down. I pulled the cap over my head, flushed the toilet and washed my hands as
the stumbling women moved into their own stalls.

I stared back at my reflection; the
bloodshot eyes filled with exhaustion pulsed on my face. I needed to clear my
head and rest, at least for a few hours. The three to four hours my body craved
was knocking on my door. I needed to answer if I ever wanted to strategize the
plan for tomorrow night.

I swung the door open and moved
into the hallway, the music thumping as I weaved through a small chattering
group of women. The fifty-something group had made their way into the narrow
corridor. As I maneuvered through, I felt a hit on my shoulder that jolted my
body back.

“Excuse me,” I muttered to the man
as I readjusted and moved forward, setting my eyes on the bar where I had last
left Mark. A sharp pull on my hand spun me around, and I turned to see the
glaring eyes of Neck Tattoos.

I yanked my arm back, but he held
tighter as his hand squeezed my wrist. Adrenaline shot through my body, and the
fight I had lost over the last couple of hours restored itself as I assessed
the situation. He couldn’t take me now; there were too many people here, but I
didn’t have my knife. How long would it be before Mark would come looking for
me?

“You don’t want to do this,” I
said, shooting him an icy stare before I moved my eyes deliberately down to my
wrist where his hand gripped me even tighter. His hand was definitely leaving
an imprint. His fingers suddenly released their hold as if he had been touching
something scalding hot. I jerked my arm back and folded my arms across my
chest.

“I thought that was you,” he said
in disbelief as he shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”

“Excuse me. I don’t know who you
think I am,” I mumbled as I turned back to the bar to see the tip of Mark’s
Brewer hat still bobbing in the same place as before.

“
Evie
Parker.” He said my name in awe, with pure, unabridged excitement. I had never
heard my name spoken that way before. The sheer shock caused me to spin around
to face him once again.

“I mean, wow. It’s really you,” he
said, holding up his hands to create a large rectangle. I felt my face being
centered in his picture frame. “Your eyes, they’re brown.
Your
hair, grown out.
The glasses.
The hat.
But I wouldn’t miss that face and your perfect
little features. And your body
- ”
He scanned his eyes
down. “I knew you were small, but I never thought you were this
small
. It’s amazing that
- ”

“Listen, asshole,” I seethed as I
pushed his hands down. I shoved my finger into his chest; it was the best I
could do with my weapon-less situation. “Don’t you look at me that
way.
Your
sick, little twisted
mind isn’t going to get away with this.”

“Just as I imagined,” he whispered
like I was a mythical creature. He suddenly straightened his body and held out
his hand as if there was a formality of introductions that was needed. “I’m
sorry for my bad manners. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. Quite the
opposite, I’m a huge fan. I’m The White Knight. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The White Knight.
Who introduces themselves with a pseudo name to strangers? So this was him in
all his sick glory. He was the head of the HP fanatic chapter: the crazy
leading the group and planning the convention to celebrate my dead so-called
father. I stood there, but didn’t offer my own hand at first. Instead, I
examined the ink that swarmed his neck. An interlocking chained fence ran up
both sides of his neck and toward the front, near his
Adam’s
Apple
, was a single white horse. The horse’s head and mane lurched
through a broken opening in the fence. The horse was escaping.

“Pretty sweet, isn’t it?” he asked
as he ran his finger along the side of his neck. “It’s really a conversation
piece for most people. You know, what it means to break out from behind the
walls that society imposes on us.”

“I bet,” I said as I nodded my head
in forced agreement. I somehow doubted that it was a real conversation piece
for anyone. I wasn’t impressed, at all.

“I’m sorry to catch you off-guard.
I really don’t want to scare you off. It’s just that I was so excited to see
you. I still can’t believe it. What are the odds?” he said, still staring at me
with his hand out. He reached out further toward me, and I finally gave in just
so he would put his hand down.

“It’s really you, in the flesh. No
one is going to believe this. No one is actually going to believe that I ran
into you.
Of all nights.
It’s as if it’s an omen,
don’t you think?” he said as his hand reached up, as if he was about to touch
my face. He suddenly pulled it down to his side. I guessed it was the horrific
look on my face that changed his mind.

“An omen?
I doubt it.” Despite my attempts to deflate his high, his face was still
plastered with enthusiasm. What the hell was with this guy?

“Where were you? Are the police
after you?” He leaned in as he rapid fired the questions.

“No police. If you’ve been
following my story as closely as you say you have been, then you’d know that I
don’t have a strong liking for the police and have a way of skirting around
them,” I replied without missing a beat.

“Of course you wouldn’t have the
police following you. They’d have you arrested by now anyway,” he said, nodding
his head. He was clearly trying to sort through the possibility, but then he
quickly added, “Not that you would ever get caught.”

“Right,” I replied, trying to
pacify him. I usually was an ace at reading people. Hell, I usually could
profile people before I talked to them, but the White Knight was throwing me
off my game.

“What’s this little club that you
run?” I asked.

“Oh, you’ve heard about us?” He
leaned up against the wall and ran his hand through the gelled spikes; his hair
sprung back to the same exact place it started in. “Man, that’s awesome.”

“I’ve heard about you, a little,” I
said, stroking his ego. He was a man, after all.

“I’m
fangirling
over here, if you haven’t noticed. It’s a little embarrassing,” he confided
with a grin before his face fell more serious. He leaned in closer to me.
“So the club.
You’re asking about the club. The Vigilante
League is just a bunch of guys, mostly guys anyway - there are maybe two
chics
- who are followers of vigilantes, both real and
fictional.”

His eyes lit up as he talked about
the club and all I could think about was the twisted minds of the individuals
who belonged to the club. How sick were these members that found excitement in
idolizing people who made violence their repertoire?

“Mostly fictional,” he added, his
hands moving wildly now as he leaned closer and closer to me. I could smell the
alcohol on his breath.
“With the exception of a handful,
including your dad.
Well, Holston wasn’t exactly your dad, but you get
the point.”

“You’re right, not my dad,” I
confirmed. “So I read that you head up the HP Chapter.
If you
are in fact, The White Knight.”

“You follow our league?” he asked,
shoving his hands into his pockets like a nervous teenager. The White Knight
was nothing I had expected and this conversation, well, not even close.

“Not exactly follow, but a friend
stumbled across your posting and it piqued my interest.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I never
thought you would see it. I just had a fascination with the story from the
get-go. I’ve lived here in Appleton my whole life, which I’m guessing has
something to do with it. It’s a sleeper town with barely any violence that was
voted one of the best small towns to raise your kids. Can you believe that? And
there’s a vigilante lurking in its streets. You better believe that Holston
Parker helped get that best small town rating. He was knocking off the villains
single-handedly. The story was just too sensational. Add you in the mix, his daughter
who ends up killing him,” he said. His words rushed together so fast that I
could barely keep up with him.

“Not his daughter,” I reminded him.

“Right, right.
The story is unbelievably
classic
. He groomed his own
‘daughter’,” he raised his hands in air quotes just to suffice me, “into his
liking, except that she wants to end the cycle of killing and all. And he never
saw it coming.”

He let out a low whistle.

“Better than a movie, isn’t it?” I
asked. I glanced into the bar to check for the tip of Mark’s Brewer hat. I
couldn’t risk him coming down here to disturb my chances with The White Knight.

“They couldn’t write this stuff,”
he said with a laugh before his face got suddenly serious.

“I know I’m going out on a limb
here, but it just seems too good to be true. Me running into you like this. No
one is going to believe it. But they would if they saw you.”

“Oh yeah?”
I asked with a raise of my eyebrows.

“The rest of the guys left for the
night, but we’re having a small get-together tomorrow night. It’s a
convention,
I guess you could call it, with more members
from the Vigilante League. They’re coming from across the US. Fifteen of us,
total. I would love it if you would be our guest.”

“A guest?”
I asked, eyeing him up. I thought he would never ask.

“Yeah, a guest of
honor.
Everyone would be thrilled to meet you. I promise you. We’re
really a good set of guys just looking to make the world a better place through
awareness. We simply like to call attention to the different ways evil can be
eliminated in the world. You would fit right in.”

Somehow, I doubted all of that.

“As long as you said you’re not
involved with the police or don’t think they know you’re in town,” he said,
lowering his voice and raising his hand to his chest. “Your secret is safe with
me, by the way.
Scout’s honor.”

Scout’s honor.
Who the hell was this guy?

“Scout’s honor,” I repeated and put
my hand to my own chest. I couldn’t keep track of how many times I’d lied in my
life, but I knew that one more wasn’t going to kill me, even if it was Scout’s
Honor. Somehow, I think Sister Josephine would have let this lie slide.

“The convention is at nine tomorrow
night in
Amberg
. Where you ended it all,” he said
with a smile.

How clever.

“I’ll be there.” I forced myself to
return the smile. “I would be honored.”

“Thank you so much. I couldn’t be
happier. They are going to love you,” he said.

“Most people don’t,” I replied as I
turned to go. Mark would be coming down any second.

“Do you happen to have the clothes
that you wore that day?” he asked behind me.

That’s when I finally felt it; the
rage I had been bottling up through the entire conversation came rushing
through me. He had finally tipped the scales with his last request. I stopped,
my back still to him, as my eyes hardened with a condemnation that I couldn’t
hide. I couldn’t turn toward him. I knew my fist would be in his face.

“I’ll take that as a no. Sorry I
asked,” he said.

But I was already moving down the
hall away from him, just about to enter the opening of the bar. I saw Mark
coming toward me with his Brewers hat bobbing through the groups of people.

“My name’s Jeremy George, by the
way,” he called. “It was nice to meet you."

14

June 19, 10:15 p.m
.
Appleton, Wisconsin

“You all right?”
Mark slammed his truck door shut. The black sedan on the other side of the
street flashed its lights on and turned to follow us onto the street.

I tossed Mark his phone; I had
already made the call to Sanchez. He agreed we would regroup in the morning at
Mark’s house. In the meantime, his team would investigate the league and its
website.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, pulling
the hat off my head and running my fingers through the strands. “Turns out my
disguise didn’t work out so well.”

“Who was that?”

“The one and only
White Knight.
He’s the head of the Holston Parker Chapter of the
Vigilante League. Apparently the group is harmless. He claimed that they’re a
good group of guys looking to make the world a better place through
awareness
. His real name is Jeremy
George. Can you believe he used the word awareness?”

“Awareness of
what?”
Mark asked.

“He said they want to call
attention to the different ways evil can be eliminated in the world. He told me
I would fit right in.” The more I thought about it, the more I realized how
insane all these people really were.

“That is wrong on so many levels,”
Mark replied.
“And by the way.
What’s with the name
Jeremy George? Something about people having two first names bugs me. I might
go by The White Knight, too, if I had a name like that,” Mark joked with a
lopsided grin as he pulled onto the main drag of Appleton. His attempt at
cutting through the tension fell flat.

I was too preoccupied with the
buildings we passed downtown; the bars and shops hadn’t changed since I had
last been here. We drove by the Apothecary Shop and a sudden rush of warmth
overtook my body. I tried to ignore the memory of
Theron
lying in the bed with a chest wound from two winters ago. I had kept him in
that space above the shop before Holston had found him. It wasn’t like me to
have these feelings. Could I call them guilt? Whatever these feelings were,
they were starting to get to me. All that mattered was that
Theron
made it out alive, I reminded myself. I turned my attention back to Mark, his
hands holding the wheel loosely.