The Uninvited (The Julianna Rae Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

‘Star, you’re back on.’

She turned around, dragged to reality. One of her support dancers stood in the doorway.

‘I don’t wanna’ go back on.’ She felt her garter. Caden’s touch still lingered over her leg and she pulled out the five he had left behind, bringing it to her nose, smelling it, and closing her eyes as its scent travelled through her.

‘If you want more of that and not the ass, you need your booty on stage, hun. Boss man is calling for you.’

Julianna folded the note and was surprised to see EAST NOT WEST thickly written. Nothing more, nothing less; she turned it over to look at the other side. 

‘Hun, he’s calling!’

She looked up, stunned at her name yelled from the long corridor.

‘Sure thing,’ she said. ‘Be right out.’

She tucked the note between the comms. Once the night was done she’d move them into her back pocket. It was too risky in a bag in case of looters. She reluctantly pushed the warm clothes she had dressed in over her head and followed the girl out to the space behind the curtains, tying her mask into place. Boss man waited for her, not looking pleased.

She held out her arms while glitter dust sprinkled over her from a height. Her boss flicked more across her breasts and adjusted her so they sat perky.

‘Tape please!’ he yelled, and she rolled her eyes.

A young boy with no bloodlines ran to his aid, holding the tape. Hands skimmed under her top and the stretch of tape sticking to her skin pinched, as it held her in place. She asked for water and quickly received one, a few deep gulps, and she handed the half-empty bottle back to tape boy, smiling at him. If he knew she was a norm, an uninitiated barely half-caste watcher who was unwilling to become one of
them
, to become like Caden, he’d piss himself with disappointment.

‘You’re up, Star,’ one of her dancers said and the music began.

Julianna walked to the stage entrance. For the first time in a long time, her stomach knotted and her throat closed. Her feet felt slow and heavy as she pranced to the front of the curtain to latch herself in a loop on the pole, charming the audience again. The feeling from the dressing room stayed. The familiar presence lurked.

The men applauded and wolf-whistles bounced against the walls as she held herself upside down on the pole. She edged slowly toward the stage floor – and then the pit of her stomach threatened to heave as it did in the dressing room.

Taris, in his uniform, looked stunning, with his blonde hair carefully groomed to the side and his five o’clock shadow overly trimmed to an inch of its life. His cool stare greeted her from the very table where Caden had sat. The man leaning into his ear was the walker from earlier, and he leered from below his lowered head. Caden was right about one thing: Militia liked to arrest their Rebels. This Militia chased payback and payback was her super bitch tonight. Was he aware of the promotion he’d receive after this arrest? She thought so, hell yes indeed.

Men in suits raised their heads for a token glance. One watched with dark eyes, eyes of a watcher, but she sensed more. Most were casual in their approach, flying low even when they were ready to pounce, keeping their prey off-guard. This one was stuck in time, too formal. She had neglected him earlier, Caden stealing her attention. The watcher chilled her from her neck to her toes. Julianna felt his abilities reeling her in.

Her eyes darted to the center table. Taris returned with his acknowledgement and tapped his gold watch. Tonight she had two watchers, one in heat and one who was severely pissed off. Which would she choose?

Her hands trembled against the metal and slipped with her sweat. Julianna stole a look at the table where Taris sat outstretched in his seat, his legs crossed, enjoying her show far too much. His eyes met hers confidently again. His heartbeat, his senses of smell, taste, and noise all overwhelmed her as she tuned into their bond. It happened only when they were close, but their unwanted closeness was becoming more and more frequent, and she was learning their ritual bond from their engagement was becoming a large and looming problem in her life. It made her an easy target to track and this week he was working hard at his hunting game. Between the bond and CCTV, Julianna considered herself now officially screwed.

The crowds grew louder and the dog in heat moved closer. She led Taris’s gaze to the man sitting in the corner, and when he realized the situation, chaos broke loose.

She swung the pole again, bringing herself close to the stage’s edge. Taris nodded to the man sitting, now trying to stand. His seat stuck to his legs like glue and with every struggled move, he sent his table tilting and drinks tumbling. Unable to maneuver from his seat no matter the chants he cursed, the watcher knocked the last standing drink and beer poured into his lap, staining his crotch. Laughter roared across the club, drowning the music with its echo. 

Everyone focused on the new entertainment and away from Julianna, including Taris and his company. The tables beside him shared their hysteria as they pointed their fingers at the joke in the seat caked in beer and ash, and Taris lapped it up. Lapped it up like the narcissistic animal that he was. She’d dealt with the first problem. Taris wouldn’t humor the interruptions tonight. Not this time.

She smiled.

He returned his gaze to the stage.

Julianna Rae was gone.

*    *    *    *

The moon slipped behind a low cloud and she stumbled over an old wooden crate in the center of the alleyway. Julianna hurried to reach her bike. Parking it to the back to avoid the looters seemed a good idea at the time, but now, as she jumped the awkward pile of rubbish in front of her, she regretted the simple plan. The comms in her back pocket clumsily collided with each other on her jump and their sound resonated more in the style of fragile glass screens breaking. She overstepped a puddle and the glass chinked again. She prayed that it wasn’t Caden’s as she checked over her shoulder to see if she was still alone.

Julianna’s bike was in reach under the dim flicker of a fire escape light. It winked its fluorescent beam at her. She sprinted the last thirty meters and her breath hung on the air with the curse she uttered. Last time, she found her bike racked with no wheels and it had taken three days to track another set. Sourcing anything in the New World Order was difficult, finding bike parts near impossible. Factories closing across the city, unable to compete in an economy driven with a universal dollar, made it impossible to source anything of a mechanical nature. There were simply no free factories left to produce commodities.

The alleyway widened and puddles splashed underfoot as she galloped. She needed to hurry. Her paranoia sensed him closing in. She had no ability to block his attempts, no way to cut the invisible rope tethering her to his pull, and she cursed the moment she’d given herself to him out of fear. The songs she sang worked on the younger, more inexperienced watchers in the club. The alcohol she drank would dull others. Taris always found a way around her attempts to block their connection.  

Just get to the safe house. We’re all good at the safe house. Why didn’t I say, ‘Yes, Caden, wouldn’t that be a trip’?

She reached her bike. The bass of the music pumped through the thick walls as she straddled it; she hoped the boss man wouldn’t do her out a night’s pay for leaving early. She kicked the stand and the bike bounced down as she turned the key mid-action.

It refused to turn over.

Trying again, she didn’t hear the others lurking, covered in long shadows created from the tall buildings. She lowered the kickstand quickly and crouched beside the engine, cursing what she saw. 

‘Missing something, Julianna?’

Her head flicked in the direction of the familiar voice cutting through the darkness. She moved her lips, but words fell silent when she eyed the single sparkplug he teased between his fingers. He ambled casually, his Militia boots falling heavily into the puddles left by yesterday’s rain. The gold medallion he wore around his neck caught the moonlight as it swayed beneath his open collar.

He stopped short of the bike. ‘You could greet an old acquaintance,’ he said, ‘It’s the only polite thing left to do.’

She blinked, her breathing halted. There was nowhere to go. She scanned the area.
Nowhere to freaking go. I should have said yes.

He remained solid, his feet wide apart. He waved the sparkplug again before slipping it into his pocket.

‘These little babies are hard to come by, aren’t they?’ he teased.

She glanced at her walker nemesis closing in behind Taris. ‘Your crews have access to the best parts in the States. You could help a gal out and give it back.’

His expression darkened. She’d added another offence to her growing list of charges. Article 228 or 224, 2-something: referring to the New World as the United States. That part of history was long gone; no united front these days but for the Rebellion versus Militia.

Taris ignored her. ‘I forgot your talent as a dancer, but a strip club? A new one on me.’ He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lit it and pocketed the lighter. ‘When I heard you were here,’ he exhaled. ‘I had to see for myself.’

‘How long have—’

‘Have I known?’ he raised an interrogative eyebrow. ‘I came as soon as I heard. My men rave about you.’ He nodded his head. ‘When I saw your stage photo…’ He pointed the cigarette at her. ‘Knew straight away it was you. Then old faithful over there told me about his run-in with a blonde. You change your hair from red to blonde like you do your knickers. Convinced me I had the right girl.’

She shook her head. ‘For the grace of God, can this day get any worse?’

He was casual. The shifting of his weight and raising his gaze to the stars above and then to the alleyway itself was part of a bigger objective. There were others supporting him. She squinted at the darker shadows, one of them moved before slipping out of her sight.

He smiled, putting a hand in the pocket holding the sparkplug. ‘God has nothing to do with it, Julianna. Remember, us watchers were cast out with the hand of God and thrown into the lap of the Devil himself, or something like that. Yadda, yadda, yadda.’ He pulled a hand to scratch his eyebrow. ‘Anyways, your family are looking for you.’ He stepped around the bike and leaned over her. ‘
I’ve
been looking for you, and I made a promise to bring you in, so…’ He held out his hands with a
here I am
gesture and a Cheshire cat smile before taking the cigarette between his lips again.

The shadows moved over. Taris sauntered into her field of vision, blocking her view with his body.

‘So here we are.’ He faced her. The cigarette between his fingers moved with his embellished gestures. ‘You’ve become this very difficult creature to find and I’ve been looking since the day you left my hospitality.’

‘Keeping you on your toes,’ she said.

‘True that.’ He nodded his head casually in agreement. ‘Jillie, it’s high time you came home. Initiation is overdue. You have family obligations to fulfill.
Militia
obligations. I’m happy to overlook everything else if you come along quietly.’

She raised her eyes. ‘Why would I do that?’

He took a last drag, exhaling as he spoke and flicked the spent cigarette into a puddle. She watched its embers die. The shadows behind him reflected in the water, stretching in patterns along the small ripples until they died out along the edges.

‘You really going down that path, sweetheart? Let’s keep it civil tonight.’

Taris closed the space between them, leaning his palms flat against the bluestone walls to lock her between his arms while they scrutinized each other. She could smell the alcohol and smoke on his breath.

‘Taz, come on, man, it was a joke. You know I hate being cooped up in small areas.’

He lowered his lips into her ear. ‘You almost cost me a promotion. You cost me two officers and you cost me Caden Madison.’

She shrugged. ‘So you got me. Wanna’ go for a drink or something?’

He made a biting motion at her face and she pulled back. ‘Or something.’

He glanced at the hand she had bitten at the camp. Two white rectangles where her front teeth had dug deepest dented the skin. He lifted it to stroke her soft cheek, and even when she pulled away, she didn’t lose his touch. His hand worked down her neck to her shoulder and she cringed with the pain it sent as he dug his fingers into the freshly healed skin. He enjoyed her discomfort, clawing deeper and then continuing his journey over her breast and down to her hip, giving it a firm squeeze as he travelled.

His expression changed. The feeling of the comms beneath his hand stopped him. ‘What’s this then?’ he teased, slipping them from their pocket.

He teased her with them above his head. She stood on her toes to reach them, and when she couldn’t she pushed his chest away. Julianna didn’t expect his hand to pale down into her face like it did, sending her teeth through her tongue and her body against the wall.

‘So you’re in the thick of it if you’re carrying these around.’ He checked over his shoulder to the Militia stepping into the light. Three of them including her rival, and Taris made four. ‘Well, well, my dear. You’re royally fucked now, aren’t you? No getting away from the fact that you’re a Rebel traitor. This carries the death penalty, you know?’