Chapter Text
Their momma and daddy had the twins and three years after them they had a daughter. Their momma had died birthing her, nearly taking poor Birdie with her.
Thank the Lord for Lassie. She had kept calm when her friend went limp and unresponsive. Stack was told that Lassie had reached right in and taken the baby out, removing the fleshy noose from around the baby’s neck. Even after that, she had done what she could; going out of her way to find a new mother to give up some of her milk, giving their daddy Mary’s old baby clothes and even watching her when their daddy grew sick of looking at her.
But there was only so much Lassie could do, and their father sure as hell didn’t know what to do with her. Too loud for a tiny baby who had come into the world too early. She had so much anger in her little body that only grew as she grew.
You see, everyone knew she was a mistake. An accident. A night filled with cigar smoke and cheap hooch. A burden that had come at the wrong time.
Their daddy made sure she knew it too.
The twins didn’t see it like that though. She was good. Maybe she was too loud when all the world wanted to be was quiet. Maybe she was too angry with no good reason to be. But she was a Moore. She had their momma’s nose, her pretty eyes, and her pretty face. They could ignore that her temper came from their dad. She was only four after all. They had been no better at that age.
Besides, she grew out of it by the time she hit sixteen.
Till daddy’s beatings got worse.
And then it was gone again. Draining between the floorboards as she scrubbed away their father’s blood.
Stack still remembered waking up and seeing her face above his, a matching swollen eye inches from his own. Her pretty face had been purple and black and he knew she was in a world of pain, but despite that, she had grinned at him. He was sure their daddy must’ve finally knocked her brains loose—that she had gone crazy.
She had smiled so wide, baring blood-stained teeth.
“We’re free.” Willa hushed, her breath fanning over blood. “Ya’ hear me, Elias? We’re free.”
While Smoke was out burying the body she had bathed the blood from her brother, scolding him every time he fixed his mouth to speak about taking care of herself.
“Lemme jus’ do this, hm?” She mumbled, her top lip still fat from the hit it had taken. Stack couldn’t help but stare at it. It was the reason his daddy almost beat him to death.
“C’mon, Willa. Take a look at your face.” He whispered. “You’re all we got left. We gotta stick together. You can’t do that when you only focus on us, can ya’?”
She had stared at him like he wasn’t speaking English—like he was dumb.
“Yer an idiot.” She huffed.
And they were.
When Mound Bayou was at their backs, the words of the mayor’s rejection still ringing in their ears, Stack suggested a few other places they could go. He had tried to fill the silent car with his rowdiness. Talking about how a town like that couldn’t handle the Moores taking over. How they were intimidated by the promise they saw in them. His jokes weren’t enough to save the day this time, Smoke could see the anger creep back into Willa’s eyes.
“They must’ve heard ‘bout Birdie.” Stack chuckled, tossing his head to glance back into the backseat. “All that fighting you did when you was young finally caught up to you, huh?”
Neither brother noticed her flinch.
Stack poked at Smoke next, mentioning how he looked just like their daddy and that’s why they had been turned away. Willa sighed then and sat up straighter. Her lone bag filled with her mother’s jewelry and a spare change of clothes weighed heavily in her lap.
Willa had sung then. The only time Stack would shut up was when he heard good music. So she sang.
“Now I got the crazy blues
Since my baby went away
I ain’t got no time to lose
I must find him today
Now the doctor’s gonna do all that he can
But what you’re gonna need is an undertaker man
I ain’t had nothin’ but bad news
Now I got the crazy blues.”
The motel they had stayed at that very night was the place Willa had decided to leave them. With Stack back at full health and the wounds that were placed by their daddy’s fist were now only faint scars, healed and old, they guessed she had found it easier to leave then.
She left behind her pink piggy bank filled with quarters, a necklace from their mother, and a note.
Stack didn’t read it. Couldn’t.
Smoke read and kept it tucked by his heart with the juju bag Annie had given him like the fool he was. Stack could imagine it meant she had promised to come back one day. Deep down, behind the hurt, he hoped she did.
Two years later when she was twenty-four she came back. She had found them in Illinois. One of the people they ran with at the time had pointed out a woman looking for them. Usually, women wanted one twin or the other, none had ever called for both.
They had found her sitting in the dark corner of the bar they frequented, a cigarette nestled between her fingers.
They recognized her silhouette instantly.
The SmokeStack twins had settled on either side of her. In the two years of being abandoned, Stack had plenty to say but when he saw her in the light he couldn’t even remember what those words were.
The dim warm light of the bar illuminated a large scar on the right side of her face that started from below her eye and ended just under the curve of her jaw. And in that light, the twins could see that accompanying that scar was the anger—back like it had never left but with that anger…there was fear.
She allowed them to set her up in the town they grew up in but she refused to say what had happened when she left.
“I didn’t care much for the music.” That was all she said when asked.
Willa pretended like they were the happy family they could’ve been if she had stayed. Smoke and Stack pretended like they only knew of the scar on her cheek.
Lips pressed against sweat-damp skin, bodies moved in perfect sync. Hands roamed curved flesh, pale fingers digging into dark skin.
Willa tossed her head back, neck straining as she fought to hold back a moan. A growl vibrated from the man above her, animalistic, angry. Those hands that caressed her so lovingly wound around her neck, thumbs pulling her chin down to release her teeth from her lips.
“What did I say about keeping those pretty noises from me?” Remmick huffed, his breath warming her damp lips. When she only shook her head he chuckled, his hips slowing to a maddening drag. “You know what I want.” He paused, the tip of his dick just barely within her—and it was torture. He worked it in a bit more, shallowly thrusting, giving just enough to have her panting. “C’mon, pretty girl. Lemme hear the music you make.”
Willa gasped, her poor neglected pussy clenching down on practically nothing. Maybe he didn’t know it but his accent always came out strong while he was inside her.
A hand left her face to snake down between their bodies and her eyes snapped open. As rough fingertips brushed over her clit she met dark eyes. Remmick bent his head slowly, candlelight catching on the bone of his brow and the slope of his cheek. When she moaned, his eyes flashed red, greedily watching her as she impatiently tried to work herself on his dick.
“Move.” She commanded.
He listened, rutting into her heat as he drew quick circles over her clit. It made her a mess. Turned her into a blubbering moaning whore. And the man above her loved it. Red glinted eyes obsessively stared down at her glittering dark skin, at the sweat-damp neck that taunted him. At the dark eyes that stared back at him unflinchingly—like she was trying to burn his face into her memory. Those dark eyes fell half-mast, struggling to stay open as he worked her over.
Fuck, he could tell she was close, could feel her fluttering around his cock. Hear her heart stuttering like it always did when she—
The music he craved filled the air, soft, wispy, seductive, and warm.
A snarl left him soon after, his hips no doubt bruising her own as he pushed himself as deep as he could go before stilling, his head slotting down to rest right next to her own. Hands both soft and rough ran over his hair and along his shoulders, over and over and over.
Remmick rolled himself over, a hand coming around her waist to press her into his side. Absent-mindedly he passed a hand over her wet pussy, pressing a thumb inside to keep in the cum that threatened to come out.
“I hope you know that ain’t gon’ do nothin’,” Willa murmured, squirming when he removed his digit to strum at her clit again.
“I just like knowin’ yer full of me.” He gruffed and finally left her poor overstimulated body alone. He turned his head down to watch her for a moment before sitting up and carefully maneuvering her body to the side. Willa was one of those pretty girls. The ones that didn’t fully know just how beautiful they really were. A real tragedy if you asked him. It was fine by him really, he could spend the rest of her days letting her know just how mesmerizing she was.
Remmick disappeared into the bathroom and reemerged with a damp washcloth, wiping down his girl, smirking when her breath hitched. He could feel his dick getting hard again as he cleaned her. It was unusual for him to be so insatiable, to want a singular person as badly as he did.
But he did. He was man enough to admit he was obsessed with this woman.
“Remi baby, I’m clean now, I think.” Willa giggled, a foot coming up to press against his chest. Remmick grabbed at her ankle, sliding a hand along smooth skin until he reached the bend of her knee.
“Lemme get a taste and see if it is.”
A pillow thumped against his face and he finally let up with a chuckle, tossing the wet cloth to the side carelessly and beginning to scour the bedroom floor for their clothing. Willa reached for a cigarette, lighting it carefully before taking a dainty drag.
“My brothers would kill me if they saw me now.” She muttered. Rimmick paused in his search for his pants before bending and shoving his shirt over his head.
“Don’t approve of you sleeping with strangers, huh?” He surmised, though he was hardly a stranger. Far from it. He tossed her dress onto the mattress and finally located his pants.
Willa snorted. “Them boys probably got more bodies than a Chicago whore. I don’t care about that.” She waved the cigarette, the smoke curling around her fingertips. “I used to hate the smell of smoke. Used to hate a lot of things actually.”
Remmick turned to watch her, staring as her face went from open to unreadable. He hated that. He wanted to know her soul. Wanted to do what his base instincts told him to and just take what he wanted.
The dark skinned girl sat up, heavy breasts proudly on display before she covered them with her dress. “I gotta go.”
Like always, his chest tightened when she said that. Only relaxing when he reminded himself that she would come back.
She always did.
When she finished dressing, looking as clean and presentable as she did before, she made her way over to him. The raised scar on her cheek stood out in the candlelight and he leaned down to kiss it.
“My pretty girl…” Large hands cradled her head, thumbs dragging gently along the skin under her eye. “Tomorrow, darlin’?” He murmured. Willa nodded, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. He didn’t notice the wobble in her chin when she leaned up to kiss him.
“I’ll see ya’ tomorrow.”
What a liar she was.
Clarksdale, Mississippi | October 16, 1932 |
Fingers carefully rolled thin paper together, packing the Turkish tobacco into a cylinder shape. Folding the edge inward those nimble fingers tucked the paper in, rolling until only a small edge was left. A tongue darted out to quickly lick along the adhesive before laying the edge down flat. Tapping the freshly rolled cigarette against the table, Willa added it to her pile.
Dirt crunched along the path behind her cottage and the windchimes she put up rang wildly in the wind. Standing up quietly from her kitchen chair, Willa moved to the kitchen doorway and paused, reaching a hand up until her fingers closed around metal. Making her way to the back door, she peeked through one of the curtains to see the pair of tall dark silhouettes standing still in the middle of her porch.
“Just us, Birdie. You can put the shotgun down.” Smoke called, his voice muffled by the glass. Willa’s lip curled at the childish nickname. Swiping back all four of her locks she swung the door open to swing the muzzle of her shotgun toward his balls.
“Call me ‘Birdie’ again.”
Stack raised a brow, cocking his head down at her before pushing past her to move into her home, leaving Smoke to deal with her alone.
Smoke sighed and used a pointer finger to push the barrel down. “It ain’t ever that serious,” A muscle tugged at the corner of his lips, gold flashing alongside white. “Birdie.”
Willa huffed, turning her back on the man to wander into her home, not even bothering to invite him in. The fool owned the place anyway.
“I don’t remember teachin’ you to shoot just so you could point weapons at me.” Smoke drawled from behind her, his heavy weight making her normally silent floors creak. “Where’d you get that anyways?”
“None of yer business.” Willa sighed before pausing by her small bedroom. “Quit snoopin’, Stack, or you’ll find somethin’ you ain’t ready to see.”
Dual scoffs of disgust echoed around her and she chuckled, moving her way into the kitchen.
“What y'all want? Tea? Coffee?” She called, placing the shotgun back in its spot over the kitchen doorway. “Got this fancy tea from—“ She cut herself off, an unseen blush warming her cheeks. Exhaling quietly, she moved her kettle onto the stove. Reaching into her bralette, she brought out her stolen lighter and lit the stove, the flame reminding her of a man she wished she had allowed herself to know a little longer.
Behind her she could hear her brothers settling into her kitchen chairs, talking quietly to one another.
“Birdie.”
Willa sighed and looked over her shoulder at Stack. She was glad to see that he looked good, the wound she had sewn shut all those years ago was barely visible.
“Hm?” She hummed, turning back around to gather three cups. She was glad that they both looked good. Better than good if she were being honest. She had caught a peek at their fancy clothes. Shit, they even smelled expensive now.
She placed the cups down in front of them, ignoring the probing look Stack gave her when she pressed a kiss to his temple. Smoke tilted his head unconsciously to receive one as well and she smirked when she caught the scent of incense on his collar.
“We bought that land by the fields. The one with the old sawmill on it.” Stack said, adding a few spoons of sugar to his cup while Smoke left his alone. Willa turned back to the stove, her hand falling on the old wooden handle of the kettle. The scars on her knuckles appeared almost white from the way she gripped the thing.
“We fixed it up a bit. Turned it into a juke joint…and we’re openin’ it tonight.” Smoke added slowly, almost cautiously.
Willa froze and she could hear them lean forward.
“We want you to sing.” Stack stood, moving to her right side since she refused to turn and look at them.
“No.”
“C’mon, I haven’t heard you sing since you was twenty-one. Bet you sound just—“
“Stack, I said no.”
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Lemme hear the music you make.
“…Birdie? Willa, you're shakin’.” A hand touched the back of her own and she flinched. The warm air in the cottage became as cold as an icebox.
“The fuck was that?” Smoke moved to her other side, tilting his head down to try and catch her eye.
“Wasn’t nothin’.” Willa rebuffed, moving her shaking hands down her front.
“That wasn’t ‘nothin’.” Smoke persisted, his voice dangerously low. “Someone put their hands on you while we was gone?”
Her eyes snapped closed. “No one did a damn thing.”
“Why do I feel as though you're lyin’ to us? Huh?” Stack removed the kettle from the flame and shut off the stove, a hand at the small of her back nudging her closer to Smoke.
Her lungs felt tight. “If I sing at yer jook house will y’all leave me alone about it?”
They both paused and she opened her eyes to catch them sharing a look over her head. Rolling her eyes she pushed them away. “The answer is yes.”
A hand touched her throat, fingering the leather strap there and she sighed.
“You still talk to Annie?” Stack asked, something she couldn’t quite recognize coloring his voice.
“‘Course I do.”
Smoke knew she did. He spotted the bundle of fresh sunflowers and white hyacinths at his daughter's grave. The same ones decorated the sides of the path leading to her door and currently sat on her windowsill.
Stack grunted, “We gotta finish settin’ up, Sammie’s still in the car.” His hand lingered for a moment, the back of his knuckles running along the scar he wished he knew the story of.
Willa gaped. “Ya’ll have me warmin’ up water for no reason? While my poor baby cousin is fryin’ in that car? Go get Sammie and then we can go.”
The twins exchanged a look but ultimately listened.
At the door she gave her cousin a squeeze, rocking him back and forth and pinching his cheek as she called him adorable.
“Girl, you ain't that much older than him.” Smoke chuckled shortly, watching his baby sister with a ghost of a smile. They all knew it was there even if they couldn’t see it.
“That don’t mean shit. He’s still adorable—look at this face.” She refused to comment about the bass in his voice though.
Willa forced the boys to sit and got out her fancy chamomile tea, adding it to the three cups.
“You gon’ be singin’ later, Sammie. Lemme add honey to yer cup.” Willa even slid him a biscuit. Sammie smiled under the special attention. He was the oldest of four with high expectations from his father. But Willa had a way of making him feel cherished especially when she cared so much about him taking care of his hands and his voice.
Willa turned back to her brothers, raising a brow expectantly. “What you callin’ this place anyways?”
Stack smiled at her, gold and white flashing. “Club Juke.”
Willa stood just outside the door, swaying to the music as Cornbread yammered on about this and that. She had no idea what the man was saying. And she didn’t care. As soon as she finished her smoke she would go in and dance with the man who had been eying her like she was candy. It had been years since she allowed herself to have this much fun.
She let her eyes shut, humming along to the song her cousin was singing. Imagining red glinted eyes watching her as she moved.
“You gonna sing, Birdie?” Cornbread asked, interrupting her.
“Maybe later.” She sighed and stubbed out her cigarette. She had promised she would, so she would. She was trying not to be the liar her brothers knew her to be. “Save me a dance later, ya’ hear!”
She walked back inside, unaware of the eyes that watched her.
Her hips swayed as she felt the music deep in her chest. The man from earlier found her immediately, his hand coming to rest on her hip, moving her until her core was hovering right over his thigh.
“Been watchin’ you dance all night.” The man murmured, low and slow.
Willa kept her hands to herself, a hand moving up to keep her hair off of her damp neck. “I know.” She drawled, her lips curling up when the man gave her hip a squeeze.
“Avoidin’ me, then?” Lips brushed along her temple and she turned her head away to watch another couple dance only to catch a glimpse of Sammie and Pearline disappearing into a room.
“Hmm.” Willa hummed distractedly, a grin taking over her coy smile. “You was sittin’ there not movin’. Seemed to me you just the type to watch.” She suppressed the urge to sigh, pushing off of him, taking a quick glance at his expression. “I promised to buy my friend a drink. You can watch me dance later.” She lied.
Without waiting for his response she slipped away, scrubbing a hand over her forehead until it felt somewhat dry. A hint of pale skin had her pausing before she pushed her way past a gyrating pair and into Mary’s face.
“Mary!” Willa shouted, gathering the older woman in her arms. She could feel her freezing before quickly returning the embrace. Willa pulled back slightly, tears causing her lashes to turn spikey. “Momma Lassie—I sent you a letter and some money for the funeral. You got it right? ‘Cause if it was lost—“
Mary smiled down at her. “I got it, Birdie. Thank you.” Her slim fingers rose to cradle each side of her face, and it was then that Willa noticed that she had been crying. “I missed you, girl.”
Willa smiled, big and wide. Toothy and white with a hint of gold. “I missed ya’ too.” She eyed the tear track before tugging her in the direction of the bar. “Lemme buy you a drink. You still like whiskey, right?”
At the bar, Grace greeted her with a smile and slipped them both their drink of choice. Whiskey for Mary and rum for Willa.
“Where’s Bo at?” Mary inquired, downing her glass and gesturing for another.
“He’s around. You’ll see him when I get him to dance with me again.” Grace sighed, moving down the bar to take care of someone else.
Willa watched Mary silently. She had just lost her momma but here she was dancing and crying. Willa took a sip of her rum, eyes squinting over the glass. “Ya’ look fancy tonight.” Fancy like she was trying to catch a certain someone’s eye.
Mary turned her brown eyes to her, a brow coming up as she looked at Willa. “Me?! You don’t know what you look like then. All dressed in white, like a bride on her weddin’ night.” Willa snickered, her cheeks warming.
“It’s the only dress I had, surprised it still fits me.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Don’t ‘This ole thing’ me. That looks brand new.”
Willa turned her eyes down to the dress, a hand coming up to smooth her neckline. “Wore it only once in New Orleans.” She had lost her virginity in this dress. Like a real bride on her wedding night. “It was the best day of my life, I think.”
Mary hummed, eyes far away as if she was reminiscing on the best day of her life.
Out of the corner of her eye, Willa could see her two brothers moving through the crowd and she stood immediately, fixing her dress as she followed a distance behind them.
“Y’all must be the owners of this fine establishment.”
Willa froze, causing Annie to shoot her a glance as she moved around her. Mary ran a hand down her waist, squeezing it when she felt Willa trembling. A concerned look took over her face when she felt the unmistakable form of Willa’s revolver.
“Names Remmick.” Willa nearly fainted right then and there, she barely managed to wave Mary away as she moved to listen out of sight from the doorway.
Willa was only half listening really. She was sure she had never told him where she was from. Never mentioned the Delta or her brothers by name. How had he managed to find her brother’s barrelhouse on its grand opening? How was he here and not in New Orleans?
Her stomach churned as she listened to him and the other white folks with him sing about robbing. Her face scrunched when she saw Stack’s stupid self bobbing his head like an idiot.
When Smoke was finally able to send them on their way she stepped out from behind Pearline.
As if the man had super hearing, he cocked his head, glancing back just enough so that she could see the grin on his face. Willa continued to stare out that door long after seeing his back disappear behind one of the cars.
It was him. He was here.
Her mind flashed to the night she had left him. The kiss on her scar. The fingers digging into her skin. The sweat that tasted so good on her tongue. The words that kept her up at night.
“My pretty girl…”
“Let me hear the music you make…”
Willa moved a step closer to the door. She could talk to him. Tell him why she had to leave. Willa took another step and another—
A hand brushed against her temple, warm and soothing. Clearing.
“You okay, girl?” Annie whispered, eyes roving over her face long after Willa gave her a nod. “Then c'mon. You can help me fry up some catfish since you just standin’ there.”
Willa gaped, “You know I’m wearin’ white silk, right?”
“Mhm. Don’t know why either. You shoulda known where you'd end up.” Annie took her by the arm, and Willa cast one last look out the door before following her.
On stage, Pearline was already beginning her song, the seductive tune a welcome distraction to the man who haunted her thoughts.
Annie led her to a seat, nudging her until she finally sat down. Willa watched as her friend prepared a plate with a fillet of catfish, a steaming square of baked mac n cheese, and a slice of cornbread.
Willa opened her mouth to say that she honestly wasn’t hungry at all but the look Annie tossed her had her keeping quiet. Finally, Annie pushed the warm plate in front of her, those watchful eyes looking from her to the door.
“Eat. Ya’ look grey.”
Smoke eyed the man in front of him, the cut from the razor was deep, slicing from the bridge of his nose, sweeping horizontally along his cheek, and ending just shy of his ear.
“Yea’, you gon’ need some stitches.” He turned to look over his shoulder at Sammie. “Get Stack…and Willa while you’re at it.”
Sammie nodded and moved through the crowd, his eye falling on Pearline on stage as she stomped to the beat of the music. Coiffed hair loose, pretty dark brown skin shining. A smile pulled at his lips without his permission as he watched her run her left hand down the front of her body.
Ringless without even a hint of an indent.
Maybe later he’ll convince Smoke to let him borrow the car. Let him take her on a proper date. One she deserved.
He turned away and immediately spotted his cousin.
Willa’s face was half-tipped in the dark, her singular gold tooth flashing as she took a drag from a cigarette. As she crossed her legs he caught a flash of metal before she readjusted the silken fabric to cover it. She didn’t smile at the man talking to her, her head tilted like she didn’t give a shit about what he was trying to say.
It was then that he could see how she was related to the twins. Yeah, everyone knew about Birdie, sister of the SmokeStack twins. But he could see here that this was the girl who had liked to fight when she was a teenager. The girl who couldn’t talk slick like her brother Stack or make people move with one look like Smoke, but she sure as hell could hit hard and heavy like a man.
And with that scar that cut neatly through her pretty face, he could see how this version of her could fit seamlessly next to her brother’s.
Willa met his eyes suddenly and he froze until she smiled questioningly at him. Sammie jerked his head, making a sewing motion with his hands before he turned and went to look for Stack.
Willa sighed noisily and pushed the man talking to her to the side, making her way to the back room where the sound of groans and boots on flesh could be heard. As she came upon the scene she sniffed, the scent of blood causing her nose to wrinkle. Settling up next to Smoke, she gestured down to her dress.
“Do I need to remind you that I’m wearin’ white?”
Smoke didn’t even bother to look at her, impatiently handing her a black spool and a needle. “I’ll buy you another one if you fix him up.” Sammie came to whisper in his ear and he left. Leaving her to deal with the weaving man in front of her.
Willa turned to him and sighed. “‘Ight, c’mon.” She squinted at his wound and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the countertop, tipping it over to splash it on her hands. Another man kindly handed her a cup of water and she carefully poured it over the bloody man's face.
From experience, she knew that face wounds tended to bleed almost excessively but they healed better than any other part of her body. Unfortunately for this man, he would be left with a scar.
“Okay, I gotta splash this vodka on yer face, no tellin’ what typa nastiness was on the shit that cut you—“
Shots stole the rest of the words right out of her mouth and she ducked instinctively, raising her head enough to catch sight of a bloodied Mary sprinting from the building. Giggling.
Scrambling from the floor, Willa pushed her way through the crowd to see Annie and Slim enter one of the rooms. She just managed to get to the door as it began to close, a surprised Slim mumbling about how strong she was.
Air left her lungs in a short pitiful whimper. Her knees buckled and it took Slim to keep her from falling like a dead weight. Pushing away from him she crawled on her hands and knees, adding her much smaller hands on top of Smoke’s, cradling Stack's neck.
“S-she bit me.” He stuttered, the gaping wound in his neck flapping with each thump of his heart, emptying his blood onto the floor between them. Willa yanked her hand away to rip away the sash at her waist, the pins that had kept it secured to her dress ripped jagged cuts into her skin that she couldn’t even feel. Balling the fabric against his wound she shushed him, her tears spraying from her lips as she stared at the way his blood rapidly drenched silk.
Her eyes darted from face to face. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?
When she met Annie’s eyes she almost snarled like an animal. She could see the helplessness there—could see that there wasn’t a thing she could do to keep Stack from losing his blood.
Willa turned back to Stack, lips trembling as she spoke to a God that had never listened to her before. “Lord, please.” She hissed, angry like she had never been. “Don’t you dare take him away from me.”
Smoke held the bundle of silk tighter, shuddering as he watched their brother’s blood gush past the pressure of their combined hands.
“I’m scared.” Stack gasped, words barely understandable as he quivered, continually trying to speak through chattering teeth. His eyes moved between them before they settled on Smoke. “Love you.”
For the first time in her life, Stack stopped talking.
The silence was deafening.
Willa struggled for air. The sound of her rapid breathing filled the small silent room. Her eyes stayed glued to Stack, waiting for him to say it was all a stupid joke. That she was just as gullible as she was when she was a child. Then she would make him promise to never do such a mean thing like this again. Willa removed her hands from his neck and picked up his hand.
“Okay…” Her voice broke and she pressed his limp hand to her cheek. “Alright…”
Distantly she could hear Annie talking. Couldn’t make out what the fuck she was saying even though the woman was right next to her. Her ears were only waiting for the sound of Stack. To hear him say he loved her too. To tell her he could forgive her for running away when she had everything she ever needed in them.
“Elias…” She tried again, tears blurring her vision.
Willa rocked slowly, her breath hiccuping in her chest when he didn’t respond.
“I coulda stopped it.”
Willa paused her rocking, taking far too long to realize that that was Elijah talking and not Elias. Willa tuned everyone out again. Waiting for her big brother to stop being so limp.
Memories flashed.
Two pairs of hands holding her own, lifting her and swinging her small body between them.
A red hat dropped on her head, so big that it fell over her brow.
A blued revolver with her initials carved into the handle, a gift that was currently digging into her side.
A knife on her sixteenth birthday, a reminder that some people bring knives to a fist fight.
Stack’s eyes closed as he listened to her sing, a smile on his face as he tapped his ring on the table.
A kiss to her temple when she fell asleep rolling cigarettes.
She shook her head, dragging her eyes around the room slowly. Elijah.
She turned her head, Stacks’ knuckles bumping against her cheekbone before she gently laid it in her lap.
She looked up to see Smoke watching her. Shaking his head as tears dried on his cheek. “He’s gone.” His voice shook as if he had to repeat it a few times too many.
As if the weight of it was crushing him.
Lord, it was crushing her. The weight of losing their sat on her chest—making it so that her chest couldn’t pull in the proper amount of air it needed.
The grip she had on Stack’s hand tightened.
Her heart shattered when he didn’t squeeze back.
She felt as if she was permanently rooted to the ground. As if she could soak right into the floor, dripping between the dust covered floorboards like the blood pooling around her knees.
Willa’s eyes welled and she looked away from him, causing them to spill and land on Stack's hand. Using her tears, she wiped his hand clean of blood and placed it so that it rested on his motionless chest.
Numbly, she watched as Smoke carefully laid Stack's head down and stand, taking time to adjust his twins’ clothes. As he passed her he paused, reaching down to haul her out of the puddle of blood. She expected him to walk out then, to go and deal with the rest of the party and leave her to be comforted by someone else.
Until he hugged her.
Gathered her so close she couldn’t breathe. That was okay. She didn’t really want to do any of that at the moment. Weak arms hugged him back, clinging to him like she had when she was a child. He allowed her to hold onto him for a little while longer before stumbling back, turning to exit the room.
Willa stood still. Nausea bubbling in her gut when she sent a look in the direction her brother's body laid in. Willa stumbled. That almost got her. Seeing Stack laying there—still and unmoving.
“C’mon,” Slim murmured, softest she had ever heard his voice. “Sit on that chair there.” She allowed him to lead her out the room and onto a chair by the open door. A cool breeze blew in, dragging the scent of blood out of her nose.
She was getting real tired of smelling copper.
Reaching into her bralette she tugged out the lighter she had stolen years ago. Steady fingers flicking it open and closed in sharp movements.
Her eyes trailed out into the night, catching Cornbread mumbling as he stomped his way to the door. She wondered where Mary went. She had been the one to rip a chunk out of Elias like he was a fine ribeye steak.
Sliding her lighter back to where it belonged, she lifted her dress, uncaring that she had just flashed the room with her bare thighs. Her hand settled on the warm handle of her revolver, slipping it out of the holster easily. She let her dress fall back down and held its comforting weight in her lap, her mind going back in time to Stack warning her to only aim at what she wanted to shoot. What she intended to kill.
Slim shifted uneasily, watching her caress the white handle like it was a tiny pet poodle.
“Slim! Smoke!” Cornbread hollered when he was finally within hearing distance. Slim narrowed his eyes on the big man, his hand on her arm to assist her up when she moved to stand.
“Where the hell ya’ been at? Huh?” His eyes darting up and down, taking in Cornbread’s appearance.
“To go see a man about a dog—like I told you, you old drunk. Turns out I needed to take a shit too.” His eyes were almost eerily wide when they landed on Willa. A glint of recognition making them seem brighter than normal. She could feel Smoke moving to stand behind her to her left side. “Gah dawg! What happened to the two of you?”
Willa cocked her head at him, her dress damp in the front, sticking to her skin with Elias’s blood. The grip she had on her revolver began to shake.
She watched on silently as Smoke told him of their brother's death. Cornbread shook his head, the apology he gave sounding false even to her ringing ears.
“Well, let me in so I can help.” He looked at her then, and she swore she could smell the scent of wet copper on him.
“Hol’ on.” Annie stepped up to her other side, meeting Cornbread’s gaze with a narrowed one of her own. “Why you need ‘em to do that? You big and strong to push past us.”
Willa darted her eyes to Annie and then back to Cornbread.
“Well that wouldn’t be so polite now would it Miss Annie.”
The hairs on the back of Willa’s neck rose and she adjusted the grip on her gun, one finger at a time. It was when he disrespected Annie that she took a step back from the door.
Willa had seen and heard alot of shit in her life. Shit, she had even helped her brother finish burying their father. But it was extremely odd to hear Annie accuse Cornbread of being dead when he was standing there talking so animatedly. But it was also odd to hear him talk about ‘We’ when he was the only one they could see standing there, and swinging his arms wide preaching about being kind to one another.
When Smoke refused to allow him entry again he stuck his hand out, palm facing up as he demanded he be paid for the job he failed to do properly.
Willa squinted, her words came out hoarse and raspy—like she had just swallowed a strip of sandpaper. “I don’ see why it’s a good reason to pay a man who abandoned his post for twenty minutes.” Cornbread's eyes flashed to her, causing Smoke to step in front of her, his hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a few dollars.
Behind them Slim rambled about not handing Cornbread not one cent.
Annie tilted her head. “Careful.” Her eyes were knowing in a way only people who practiced rootwork were.
Slowly Smoke reached beyond the doorway, his fingers holding out the money to place it in Cornbread's hand.
It happened quickly. Her brother’s arm getting yanked and raised to sharp pointed teeth, his quick hand drawing his gun to pop Cornbread in the mouth.
And despite taking a bullet to the face, big ole Cornbread managed to push himself up and lunge for her brother again. Blood splattered across her face as her arm jerked four times. One, two, three, and four bullets finding their way into his chest, jerking his body but not stopping him from chasing after Smoke's scrambling form. It was only when Smoke was beyond the threshold did Cornbread stop dead in his tracks, white opaque eyes glinting as he watched her, even as the door closed.
Willa shook her arm out, flipping over the cylinder of her revolver to release the empty cartridges to the wooden floor, her thumb keeping the other four from joining the others. Jerking the cylinder back into the frame she met Smoke’s eyes.
“You good?” Her voice came out embarrassingly shaky but she honestly couldn’t find it in herself to care. She had almost lost him. Just minutes after losing her other brother. As if he could see that he nodded, moving closer to her to brush the hair that had escaped her loose bun behind her ear.
“Didn’t even scratch me.” He assured her quietly. She bobbed her head once before weakly sending her fist into his side.
“Ya’ couldn’t have just tossed him the fuckin’ money?”
He shook his head, no doubt reeling from what had just happened. “If I had known he was about to take a bite—maybe. I mean, shit—how’d he even get back up?”
“Smoke!” The siblings both turned to Sammie, exchanging a glance as they made their way towards the back room.
“Smoke? Go on ahead, open up this door and let me outta here.”
Willa rushed forward just barely managing not to run poor Pearline over as she pressed an ear to the door. Smoke peered into the hole in the door and she clutched at his hand. She could feel it shaking in her grasp.
“Stack…that you?” Smoke asked hesitantly.
“Nah fool, it’s Jim Crow.” Stack answered, “Nigga, ‘course it’s me, open the door.”
Willa shook her head. She had just watched him die. She had watched him tell Stack he loved him with his last breath. She still had his damp blood drying on her skin. Ain’t nobody was getting up after losing that much blood. Not even Stack.
She turned her head to stare at Smoke, pleading with her eyes to see what she was seeing.
Smoke turned back to the door. “How you feelin’? You lost a lot of blood.” They could both hear him moving around inside. Which should’ve been impossible.
“Yeah. It was scary. I’m feelin’ much better now.” Stack paused. “I swear. On momma’s grave.”
Willa flinched. “You mean that Elias?” Her bottom lip wobbled. “Yer okay?”
She could hear him breathing on the other side as the others spoke behind her. “Yeah, Birdie. I’m feelin’ real good. No pain or nothin’.” He sighed. “How about you let your big brother out of this room, huh? You know where the key is?”
“No.” Willa shook her head. Backing up from the door when he gave it a thump.
“Smoke,” Annie started, waiting for him to turn and look at her. “That ain’t your brother.”
Willa had to cover her ears, the cold handle of her revolver pressing painfully into the cartilage. She could still hear him talking, demanding to be let out of the room as he hit against the door. Smoke moved away to go look for the key and Sammie took his spot, voice low as he called out to his cousin. Only a few seconds after calling out the door came crashing down.
Willa yelped and pressed her back into the wall, staring wide eyed as her brother was splashed with pickled garlic juice. Boils appeared on his skin like he had been doused in hot grease instead. As he ran passed her she gagged at the smell of burning flesh, her eyes glued to his form as he yanked the door open.
Willa puffed at a cigarette, listening to Remmick and his new fellow vampires sing music from his homeland. It was odd to consider her neighbor’s and friends as vampires now. That their sole instinct was to bite and feed on the living. Glancing out the window she could see them all dancing like they had never done before, singing a song she knew for a fact most of them had never heard before.
It was all Remmick’s doing. She knew it was.
Willa couldn’t help but feel guilty even if Remmick said he had come for Sammie. A part of her knew that he had stayed for her too. That meant she was responsible for her brother turning. She was responsible for Smoke losing his other half. That was on her. And it broke her heart that he didn’t even know it.
He would probably hate her when she told him she was involved with a vampire. An Irish vampire who was the reason for the massacre that had taken place.
Willa flinched when someone nudged her shoulder.
“Still avoidin’ me, huh?”
Willa tilted her head to watch the man. She didn’t even know his name. Didn’t want to know it. “I wasn’t doin’ that in the first place, sir.” She tiredly sighed, looking away from him to avoid his garlic breath. “I gotta sharpen more stakes, excuse me.” She rose from her spot, not bothering to give him another glance.
“Sorry ‘bout your brother.” He called after her.
Yeah. She was sorry too.
Remmick watched her from his spot next to Bo. She was as pretty as the day she left him, if not more so. Fuller in the hips and the stubborn innocence of childhood scrubbed clean out from her eyes. Gorgeous and his.
Even if she didn’t know it yet.
He tilted his head at Sammie but kept his eyes on her. “You come with me and I’ll let the rest of them live.”
He could hear both of their hearts thudding loudly and by God, he was one greedy son-of-a-bitch. He wanted them both. Sammie could bring back his people with his music and his Willa would witness it all from her rightful place at his side.
Where she belonged.
Behind him Stack and Mary waltzed up. Hand in hand. They were able to be together with him. Because of him. Free from the prejudices of the world.
That had happened because of him.
And he could have that with Willa. He would.
He watched her pretty brown eyes turn flintly at the sight of Mary, a snarl ripping out of her throat as she raised her revolver. Mary lifted her hands mockingly, her eyes glinting white as Stack stepped in front of her.
“You wouldn’t shoot yer brother now, would ya’?” Remmick cooed, smiling when her eyes snapped back to him. He hoggishly soaked up her attention. “I know all about ya’ now. Birdie.” Her hand began to shake and he smiled at her. Nodding even as she shook her head.
“Know that the scar on your inner thigh was from gettin’ in a fight. Nearly killed ya’.” Remmick tilted his head, “Should’ve known you was a girl who liked to fight. See, you been fightin’ the inevitable all these years.”
Smoke shook his head, refusing to move his eyes from the man in front of him. “Willa, what the hell is he talkin’ about?”
Rocks kicked up as Stack threw his arm around Remmick’s neck. “This here is our brother-in-law. I can see all of his memories.” Willa finally let her arm drop, the revolver thumping against her thigh. “Turns out we ain’t the only ones Birdie’s ran away from.”
Willa choked. “I ran for good reason.” She took a step forward, one Remmick matched readily, staring down at her with his red glinted eyes on full display.
“You don’t need to run anymore, Willa. You don’t have to be scared.” Stack whispered, a smile he reserved only for his baby sister gracing his lips. Remmick could hear her breath stall in her chest at that. “Us three…we was fooling ourselves thinking we could find freedom. Mound Bayou. Chicago. New Orleans…well we don’t gotta search for it anymore.” Stack met Smoke’s eyes. “It’s right here. This is the way. Forever. Together.” He took a step closer. “And I ain’t doin’ it without ya’. There is no me without ya’.”
Remmick could see that those words had gotten to them both. He could practically feel Willa’s resolve breaking as she struggled for air. As she struggled to even stand.
Willa took a step, her face breaching the doorway, her eyes straying to Remmick’s. He could see it there, that she wanted him to rip her from safety—to relinquish her from having to make the decision to walk out willingly.
Remmick reached up. He wanted to touch her, to feel her skin. And he would have if that woman, Annie, hadn’t dragged the siblings inside and slammed the door in his face.
Willa collapsed against the wall, ragged breaths whistling out of her. “I should go. I can. He wants me. He’ll leave y’all alone. I can make him go away.” Arms wound their way around her body as she shook.
“I ain’t letting you leave this buildin’, ya’ hear me?” Smoke gruffed. “Fuck all that shit he just said. You ran straight back home to us for a reason—for us to protect you. Stack can’t do it anymore, so I will, okay?”
He pushed his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes until she finally got it through her thick skull.
“I ain’t hear you.”
“Okay.” Willa mumbled.
Smoke finally moved away and Willa released a shaky breath. Her unbroken grip around her gun was shaken. It was shaken the moment Stack stepped in front of the muzzle. She could never shoot Stack.
Not after all the years of her sewing him back together. She couldn’t be the one to undo all of that fixing.
Sammie settled next to her, a warm presence that she found herself leaning into.
“So a vampire, huh?” He nudged her gently. “He the one that gave you the scar?”
Willa ran her fingertips over the raised skin on her cheek, shaking her head. “He saved me from the one who did.”
Sammie hummed. “When did you find out what he was?”
Willa smiled at him. A sad heartbroken smile.
“The day I met him.” She turned slightly, reaching into her blood soaked dress to show him a lighter. It wasn’t anything special really. But it was in good condition, obviously cared for and used often. “Ya’ know, all I ever wanted was to be free of this wrath inside me. I looked to the wrong types of people to make me forget it was there.”
Her eyes stared over his shoulder at the door, glossed over. He could practically see the events as she spoke about them. About being held down, her head forced to stay still as a man far bigger than her dug the tip of his blade into delicate skin. Sammie’s eyes traced over the scar on her face. It was straight, and the edges were only slightly ragged.
“To this day I can’t fully remember what I said to make him so mad.” Willa shrugged, flipping her lighter open to stare into the flame. “I think I refused to sing for his friends.”
“And Remmick? How did he save you?”
“He snapped all of their necks.” The lighter snipped closed. Willa met his gaze head on. No blushing, hiding eyes, or remorse. A chill ran down his spine. “He had said he heard me and came runnin’.” Willa fell quiet after that but Sammie knew there was more to it than that. From what he heard, she had married the demon. There had to be more there—why she ran, why she couldn’t stay.
Why didn’t he turn her?
Willa rolled her lips together, the speckled dried blood splatters on her face wrinkling with the movement. “I think I would have stayed if I wasn’t scared of being like my daddy.” Her words were barely audible.
Sammie felt as if he was intruding upon hearing that. Like he was sitting in on someone’s confession at a church. “But if I had I would have been far worse than him.”
Sammie shook his head immediately, watching the older woman with an assured air. “Willa your daddy beat on you and your brothers. You could never be like him.”
She scoffed. “When daddy was alive and the boys were in Germany, I used to fight. Used to let men bet money to see who I could lay out next. When my daddy found out…” Willa’s brow furrowed. “I remember sittin’ in the car, not even carin’ that he was gonna beat me black and blue. I just knew that I was gonna kill him if he did. I thought that when he was gone all the anger and misery would leave me. And then he actually died and it was still there.”
It wasn’t lost on Sammie that she was trying to prove to him that she was just as evil as her father. Maybe if he didn’t know her—if she wasn’t his blood. If he didn’t see that she was applying her rage the way her father did—the way she was taught. Learning to hurt others because that’s what her daddy did. Causing her to abandon the only people who could love her—anger, misery and all...
Maybe if he didn’t know all of that he would say she was his spitting image.
And still, he would be wrong.
“It’s okay to be angry.” Sammie whispered, his eyes moving to his guitar. “You just gotta learn to live with it.” He looked at her then, eyes aged beyond his twenty years. “No more runnin’, Birdie.”
Across the room, Grace decided what needed to be done, fed up with the inaction—with the risk of allowing the evil to go after her daughter.
With the taste of Smoke’s blood on her tongue, she opened her mouth and invited the evil in.