Page 2 of Rattle the Cage

Pushing open the metal stage door, I let the cool October breeze wash over me. The nights had gotten cold, an extra blanket a perfect addition.

Or Blade’s warm body.

Shaking myself from the fantasy, I put my head down and walked across the parking lot to the bus stop.

At the very edge of the lot, under the orange glow of the streetlights, a black Cadillac sat in shadow.

It was there every night.

Every night since I walked out of Feverpoint.

I knew it was them. At least one of them. But I never knew which one.

Given how my last conversation with Cyrus went, I could assume it wasn’t her.

Fucking dick.

But every night, they followed me home. Tinted windows obscured their faces but I knew they were watching me, making sure I made it back to Lola’s safely.

Or maybe they’re waiting for a chance to kidnap me and take me out for good.

As the bus pulled into the station, I lifted my hand to the Cadillac and flipped it off.

Fuck them.

I didn’t want anything to do with them, not when they would believe such a monstrous lie.

But from the lot, the driver — whichever one of the Freaks it was — revved the engine. The car roared their reply. It was a threat. Like one of them was saying, “Don’t make me come over there.”

I flinched at it, fear sending a shiver down my spine.

Hardening myself, I crossed my arms over my chest. I dared them to come over.

They were cowards, none of them had even tried talking to me in the weeks since.

My heart ached, knowing that they let me go.

Before me, the bus doors swung open. And I climbed inside.

Taking a window seat, I turned to look back at the black SUV. Even the plates were hard to see in the dark of night. It had lurked for weeks.

Was it really them?

Or was someone else watching me?

2

TESS

The bus ride to Lola’s was quick, especially this time of night. Valemont was dead after midnight on a weekday.

As I stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk, I looked for my stalkers. There, across the street from Lola’s building, was the Cadillac — parked with its headlights on.

Ignoring the goosebumps rising on my skin, I marched toward the glass front door of the old, pre-war apartment building. With a dozen units inside, it housed some of Valemont’s most disadvantaged.

The hairs on the back of my neck tingled, as if someone was just behind me.

Forcing myself to look back, I took one last glance at the SUV before disappearing into the building.