The House of the Wicked (The snake and the raven #1)

6. August

August

How’s the weather in la-la-land ?

M y fingers grip the steering wheel until the color drains from my knuckles. Six minutes—my eyes have been glued to the ostentatious monstrosity Ricky Nash calls home for six fucking minutes. Another minute ticks away, a few more seconds wasted, contemplating every decision that’s paved the way to this exact moment. Me, sitting on my ass in my car, glaring at the front door of a house I absolutely do not want to walk into, to start a ten-hour security shift guarding a spoiled woman I absolutely cannot fuck.

My phone chimes on the seat next to me. A reminder of a meeting with Ricky, starting in exactly three minutes. Stifling the urge to smash my fist through the car window, I school my features into my favorite mask of indifference. Time to go.

A wide stone vestibule cocoons the front door, casting it in dark shadows. This has become part of my daily ritual—freezing on the threshold, wondering whether to ring the bell or simply go in. It precedes the moment I inevitably just walk inside. Today’s no different.

The front door opens silently and I step into the tomb-like entrance hall. The house is always quiet. Normal things—things I’ve grown up associating with a typical family home—are noticeably absent here. The buzz of a TV, the sound of music playing somewhere in the distance, the whistle of a kettle or the soft pitch of friendly conversation; those sounds don’t exist here. There’s only deafening silence.

Moving through the house until Ricky’s office door looms in front of me. The dark wood panels stark against the crisp white walls. Another moment wilts away as I wonder if I should knock or simply walk in. This time I knock.

“Enter.” His voice rattles from inside. Another second’s wasted as my eyes roll before I step into the office that looks more like a seedy cigar lounge.

The thick, dark, wall-to-wall carpet cushions my footsteps. Ricky’s seated behind his desk, leaning back in his chair as he regards me. It’s a struggle to move past how unexpected he is. Like most children raised in Hell’s Basin, tales of his violence, his treachery are branded in my mind. Those stories conjured up a man that was larger than life, a demon—someone terrifying. The reality is disappointing. He’s shorter than me, but at 6’4, most men are. Where I expected to see a powerfully built body is a lithe, almost wiry man.

Dark brown skin covers a frame that lacks muscle. While his round, almost potbellied stomach speaks to the many hours he probably spends sitting on his ass, planning the demise of other people. Being an unwilling victim of male pattern baldness makes his already prosaic face even more unremarkable. But then, the embarrassingly bad comb-over, large personality, and loud outfits make it clear that he’s doing his best to overcompensate for it. Today’s canary yellow silk shirt is almost blinding in its brightness.

“August, my boy.” I scoff internally. I’m nothing of his, least of all his boy. “How have the first two weeks gone?” He nods to one of the high wingback chairs in front of the desk. Taking a seat, I think about how to answer him. The truth is, they’ve passed in a dull blur. Nora’s a creature of habit. She does the same thing every day. Ricky’s meetings and cartel business keep him in the city, and Sebastian usually accompanies him. Which makes sense. From the little I’ve observed of Sebastian, it’s clear he has a pronounced appetite for violence that would appeal to someone like Ricky.

My eyes meet Ricky’s. “It’s been what you’d expect, mostly. I’ve been trying to get a handle on Nora’s schedule. She does the same thing most days, so that’s been straight forward. With managing the rest of the security, well, we’re working out our kinks.” Truth, in part.

Some of the guys are resentful about taking orders from someone they don’t know. Some have questioned my role. Others have no problem falling in line and shutting their mouths. The latter group is fast becoming my favorite. Alley did her best to help me acclimatize, but certain individuals, Sebastian and Helen specifically, are becoming problematic.

“That sounds great.” Ricky looks away from me, reaching into the drawer under his desk. “You’ll remember you were hired for two reasons: watch Nora and be my sword. I’ve had little need for a sword these last few weeks, but that’s changed.” He pushes the thick document folder across the desk. I let it sit there, an anvil resting between us. Picking it up is unnecessary when I know what it contains. “I’m not sure how much you know about the Dahlia Estate,” he continues. “But I’ ve invested a lot in making it happen. Fortunately, most of the residents of The Heights don’t own their homes, but those who do, well… Let’s just say there’s been some resistance to selling.”

“Why not build somewhere else, then?” I know about the estate. The long-term plan will see Dahlia Heights wiped off the map completely, which will give Ricky total control of Hell’s Basin. Something a lot of people are terrified of.

“Why isn’t important,” he says, one of his swollen hairy fingers tapping the folder. “There are four people in here. All of them are active members of the Devil’s Knights. All of them have no wills. All of them have refused to sell their properties. When they die, their land will fall into the possession of the state, which will make it much easier for me to acquire it.”

Finally, giving into my curiosity, I reach for the folder and open it. The weathered face of a man around sixty years old stares back at me. The knife tattoo members of the Knights have is clearly stamped across his neck. It’s a mugshot.

Elias Umberto—a name not easily forgotten, paired with an entirely forgettable face.

“I need you to make three look like natural causes, or as close as you can manage. The fourth, well, I’ll leave it up to you. Get creative. Send a message.”

There’s nothing more to say as I shut the folder and look at Ricky. A light that looks suspiciously like humor dances in his eyes. Murder excites him, probably more so when he’s not the one carrying it out.

Nodding once before tucking the folder under my arm. “I’ll let you know when it’s done. Anything else?” Pushing out of the chair, I stand, waiting for his reply.

“O ne more thing.” He smiles at me, the hairs on my neck rise. It’s a smile loaded with more than I have time to process. “Go find Nora. She wanted to go into town for something or other. I told her you’d take her when we were done with our meeting.” Fuck.

“Yeah, okay.” Two seconds pass, curiosity once again clawing at my insides. “How involved is Nora in your business?” I ask, finally.

“ Our business.” He glances up as he corrects me. “And she isn’t involved in the work we do at all. Beyond helping me with admin once in a while. She’s better with computers than I am.” He grins. I wait. Giving him a fraction of a moment to tack on another ridiculous instruction or statement. When nothing comes, I offer him a knowingly cold smile before turning and walking out of the office.

Nora finds me in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, staring at the document folder, and thinking about the four lives I literally hold in my hands.

“Who pissed in your porridge?” The husky flutter of her voice settles over me, the same way it does every time she speaks. Glancing up, I catch her watching me. The swell of her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as her eyes move from my face to the folder in my hand.

“What’s that?” she asks, nodding toward it.

“Nothing. Ricky said you have errands to run this morning?”

“Just one errand. Are you ready to leave?”

“You assume I’d be the one to take you?”

“You’re not?” She looks nervous. “I can postpone if you’re not free. I don’t really want to bother any of the others…” Her words trail off. The way her voice shifts from playful to borderline scared is so jarring; I immediately pay closer attention .

“I’m free. Come, let’s go,” I smile, this time not cold at all.

Maybe it’s a reach, but something in her reaction tells me she’s afraid of one of the guards. There’s no evidence to support this other than my instincts, but they’ve never led me astray before. Adding it to my growing to-do list, I tuck the folder under my arm before gesturing for her to lead the way.

A fter unlocking my car and opening the door for her, I walk over to the driver's side, taking several deep breaths before climbing in.

Her perfume… God, it’s heaven, woodsy and sweet, with a hint of something darker just beneath the surface. It’s perfect for her. Like taking a late evening walk in the early spring, the air cool and fresh, still clinging to whispers of winter when you catch something on the breeze—a sweet reminder that summer’s on the way, that things once dead will bloom again. Drawing in another deep breath, my eyes close.

“How’s the weather in la-la-land?” She whispers. My eyes snap to hers, not missing the laughter she’s trying to stifle.

“Your perfume smells nice.” It’s all I can manage before turning around to drop the folder in the footwell behind the front passenger seat. “Key the destination in my phone,” I say, pointing to the navigator app open on the screen between us.

“No need, I can direct you.” She smiles back at me.

“I like knowing where I’m going in advance.”

“Well, you kind of do? We’re going to the city. To a clothes store. I’ll direct you. It’s in Old Town.” She glances at me. “Your car is nice.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as she runs her hands over the leather handle of the door. “You don’t like me, do you?” This question comes after a long pause. A pause that filled me with hope that our drive would be mostly silent.

Looking at her before turning my eyes back to the road. “What makes you think that?”

I could’ve answered her truthfully. I could’ve told her that the problem isn’t that I don’t like her, it’s that I like her too much. But the truth is power, and I’m not sure how much power I want Nora to have.

“Well, for starters, the whole snake and the raven story you told me, and then I guess the way you kind of just avoid me… When you kissed me outside the gallery, did you know who I was?”

“You kissed me too.” I take a breath. We’re at a traffic light just outside of the city center. “And no, I didn’t know who you were. If I had, I never would’ve kissed you.”

“Because…” She seems to hold her breath as she waits for my explanation.

“Because it would be unprofessional,” I deadpan.

“Turn left here,” she says as we approach the main intersection leading into Old Town.

The cobbled streets are worn and chipped in places. The car bumps along the narrow path until Nora issues another direction that has us turning right, deeper into the rabbit warren of forgotten streets. It’s curious… That she’s so familiar with the only part of the inner city the Knights have a stronghold in. She seems so unaware of how dangerous this part of Port Manaus could be for her.

Years before I was born, a brutal gang war between The Court Cartel and Knights washed the streets of Old Town in blood and gore. The Cartel doesn’t come here now, but it seems they forgot to mention this to Nora.

The buildings around us shift from trendy gentrified coffee shops and clothing stores to nondescript, frankly derelict store fronts. Raising my brows in silent question, I wait for her next set of directions.

“Turn left in two roads time.” She stares back at me blankly.

“You know,” I say, slowing down at the stop street before turning left as instructed. “If we get killed in Old Town, Ricky will probably find a way to revive my dead body so he can kill me again.”

“You won't let me get killed.” She adjusts her body, so she’s facing me fully. “You’d save me, wouldn’t you, August?” And once again, that reactive wave of desire surges through my body, almost overwhelming me.

“It’s my job.” The gravel in my voice is fucking embarrassing, but I swallow down both my shame and my desire.

“Stop here,” she says. “And that isn’t why you’d save me.”

My eyes dart around the quiet street in an attempt to avoid the weight of her words.

“Where the fuck are we, Nora?”

The building’s run down, but clearly in use. A small chalkboard is propped against the entrance to an alleyway. Second Time Around , the words are scrawled on the board so haphazardly it looks like whoever did it couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone actually finds the place.

“It’s a vintage clothing store. Stay here. I won’t be long.” She moves to unclip her seat belt. My hand settles over hers, completely dwarfing her small, narrow fingers.

“T hat’s not how this works. I go where you go, Nora.” I watch the subtle bob in her throat as she swallows.

“Fine.” A whisper, but in the close confines of my car, it’s as intimate as a kiss.

Lifting my hand, immediately missing the soft press of her fingers against my palm, I climb out of the car. After opening the door for her, she leads me down an alley that absolutely reeks of piss and weed.

We stop in front of an open door and she hisses, “Don’t be weird in there.” Before plastering a fake smile over her beautiful face and strolling into the store.

“Fawn?” she calls out.

“Fawn? Really? Is this an episode of Tinkebell and Friends?” I mutter.

“The fact that you just admitted to watching Tinkebell is alarming.” Nora smirks over her shoulder at me as a woman around my age walks out of the store’s back office.

“Nora!” she practically screams. Nora opens her arms just as the woman, Fawn, lands in the waiting hug. “I was wondering when you’d be in. I have those dresses ready for you. Who’s this?” The words rush out of her in a manic storm as her eyes run over me.

“Oh, this is my good friend, August.” Nora steps back and turns to face me, that smile now a little less fake and a lot more dangerous.

“Nice to meet you, August. We don’t get hunks of meat like you in here often, so just excuse my gawking.” Fawn’s eyes trail over me once again before Nora elbows her playfully in the ribs.

“Stop giving him bedroom eyes and show me my dresses.” Nora giggles before pointing to a mu sty-looking couch, instructing, “Auggie, wait there while I try the dresses on.”

My eyes jump to the couch and then back to Nora’s face. Glaring at her, I reluctantly stalk to the couch.

The store’s filled with rails and rails of dresses. Most of them look like evening wear, one entire wall is wrapped in an array of sequins, colors blinking under the bright lights. There’s a small section of fur coats behind me, the floor littered with shoes, cowboy boots, heels, clogs. Vintage chaos.

Glancing at my watch, an annoyed sigh rumbles out of me; we’ve been here ten minutes. How long does it take to try on a dress? Nora’s in the back, chatting and laughing with Fawn. Frustration has me pushing off the couch and weaving my way through the cramped space.

Pausing in front of a row of black dresses, my fingers trail over each one. They’re all entirely different save for the deep midnight-colored fabric that defines them as a collection. Mindlessly flipping through them—some are short, one’s covered in tassels, another in sequins. Halfway through the rail, I stop. Gently lifting the black dress, my eyes drift over it. Something about it captivates me. Aside from the sheer long sleeves, the fabric is covered in small jewels that look like crushed black diamonds. They’re spaced far enough apart that they give a very subtle hint of sparkle to the dress. The neckline’s high, scooped in a way that makes me think it might come up to the collarbone, but the back… It’s cut in a deep curve that would leave the entire back exposed. The skirt’s long, made of the same gauzy, jewel encrusted fabric; the side slit so high, on someone Nora’s height, it’d expose everything from her ankle to the start of her hips.

“Not to be mean, but I don’t think you have the tits to pull that off.” She beams at me as her eyes jump between me and the dress.

“Not the ass either, I fear.” I smile in return, ignoring that niggle in my mind, whispering how easy it is to be around her. “Where are your dresses?” I ask, only now noticing her empty hands.

“Well,” she hooks her arm into mine. “The thing about tits and ass is that sometimes you have too much, and those dresses, well, let’s just say I was packing a little too much for all of them.” She sighs, frustrated and a little sad.

“Get this one.” I offer the black dress to her.

“Black’s so boring. This is supposed to be for the mayor’s ball. I wanted something… special.”

“Just go try it on?”

“Ugh, fine, but I already know it’s going to make me look like every other plain Jane with black hair and a black dress.” She turns and marches to the back of the store. This time I follow. Waiting outside the changing room as she shrugs out of her clothes. The fabric rustles behind the closed door as shadows dance across the floor. She’s walking or turning around in the small cubicle. No doubt trying to see the back.

I don’t expect her to show me, but when the obvious sounds of her taking the dress off and pulling her clothes back on rush at me, a part of me feels disappointed.

The lock to the door clicks open and she breezes out, the black dress draped over her arm.

“Fawn?” she calls out, and the woman appears. “I’ll take this one.” A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. Nora’s eyes snap to mine. She points at me. “Not a word.” Then follows Fawn to the register. Lingering in the small changing room space, she leaves me grinning like an idiot. “August? A re you coming?” Nora shouts from the doorway of the store and my feet move before I even register it.

A fter opening the car door for her, I take the boxed-up dress and place it in the trunk. Then, settling into the driver’s seat, my body turns to face Nora. She has the folder from Ricky resting on her lap, the cover open, the somber face of Elias Umberto staring back at her.

“It was on the floor,” she says, gesturing to the space at her feet. Fuck, it must’ve slid to the front while driving. “What is this for?” She carefully closes the folder and hands it back to me.

“Just some people Ricky asked me to look into,” I lie effortlessly. She watches me for a few more seconds before facing the windscreen.

We’re close to the house when she finally speaks again. “So… was Fawn your favorite Tinkebell character?”

My eyes are fixed on the road as I grin. “Nah. Vidia was. She had those incredible tits and a fat ass.”

“Pervert,” she gasps and I can’t stop the laugh rolling out of me as she snaps the accusation at me.