▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

Neon Moon
chapter nine

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

❛ i thought these things didn't
matter anymore. i thought all
that blood had been shed long
ago. dark night. it's a dark night. ❜
— Dark Night, The Blasters

ALL SHE WANTED WAS ANOTHER DRINK. She cringed at the humidity in the building clinging to her skin. Seth was right behind her, his eyes darting back and forth over the inhabitants. "This way," the stranger said, gesturing toward a set of stairs. Marisol glanced back toward Seth, wide eyes still red from before. "I think I'm going to check on Jacob and them. Maybe get another drink."

"Mari–" Seth stopped himself. He clenched his fist to avoid grabbing her wrist. She paused, waiting for him to speak. "Come with me," he muttered softly, eyes avoiding hers. Her heart stuttered in her chest. His voice was soft, pleading, reminding her of when they were sixteen and he didn't want her to go home. She bit down on her tongue, wincing at the dull pain settling inside the appendage.

"I should check up on the Fullers," she stated after a moment mulling over her options. She could go with Seth. At least there she'd be somewhat protected. However, she wasn't sure she could be around him at that moment. The two had finally been honest with one another. It made her feel a lot lighter, but she didn't feel ready. She had to think everything over on her own, unblinded by him.

Before he could argue, she continued down into the pit of people in search of the Fuller family. If anything, being in their presence might lessen the burden. She knew that their opinions would be biased, and would most likely keep this conundrum to herself, but at least they hadn't been apart of the drama dating back years before. They'd be more of a break from the constant fueling abandonment issues she suffered from on a daily basis.

She pushed past people huddled together, tossing money at the dancers. Her eyes trailed over one, her emerald green bra dripping with golden chains. Her eyes were painted with heavy makeup and full lashes. She was beautiful, that much is undeniable. She was the picture of a perfect body in society's eyes: an hourglass figure, full breasts, thick hair, and a pretty face.

          She had never thought of a woman in any other way than a powerful being. They're capable of so much, and yet are reduced down to small roles. The dancer knelt forward, her fingers grazing the bottom of Marisol's chin. Her mouth curved into a smile, one that send shivers down her back. Her eyes were a warm and mossy green, reflecting the dancing flames surrounding the area.

          Never before has a woman awoken any desire inside of Marisol. She had found women attractive before and can certainly appreciate beauty. And yet this feeling swam within her like a shark, menacing and deadly. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment before she returned to reality. Her hips shook, rattling the decorations of her lingerie, arms wrapping around the sleek pole.

          Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting. Her tongue suddenly felt impossibly dry. She stumbled away from the stage, turning swiftly back toward the crowd. She had one mission. What on earth was that?

Jacob and Scott remained at the table, but Kate was nowhere to be found. She stalked up to the table and plopped down in the seat beside Scott. "Woah!" the young boy exclaimed in surprise. "What happened to you?" Her eyes slid over to the father and son, sighing heavily through her nose. She brushed her hair back from her face, avoiding the cut in her forehead.

"Long story," she sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Can I have your glass?" Scott slid his glass over to Marisol while she reached for the bottle. She poured herself a drink, downing it straight after. Her tongue throbbed from the stinging, but she managed it with a sharp intake of air.

"Where's Kate?" she asked, glancing toward Jacob. As far as she knew, she was unaware of where the bathrooms could be. The fact she was on her own anyway worried her. Jacob's jaw tensed. Scott, rolling his eyes at his dad's reaction, nudged the woman's arm to grab her attention. "She went looking for Richie," he told her. "I tried to tell her not to, but she really wants to get out of here."

She hummed, pouring herself another drink. "Don't you?" she asked Scott, lifting her brows slightly. She put the bottle down with a sigh. "I'll go find her. I'm having trouble sitting in one place anyway." She downed the second glass and placed it firmly on the table. With a grimace and a shake of her head, she forced herself to her feet.

She tipped an imaginary hat toward the two before moving away from the table. Before she was too far away, Jacob grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She glanced toward the old man curiously. "Thank you," he said, voice tight. He appeared to be genuinely worried for his little girl, an emotion that Marisol could relate to. There had been tons of times she'd seen that same look in her father's eyes when she'd come home late.

She slipped away without another word, moving from the center of the chaos to the outside. Her first stop was the bar. It would make sense for Richie to be there, therefore Kate could be there as well. She glanced around the circular area, scanning over the faces until she hit the very last one. No female faces stuck out, and none of these guys had dorky glasses.

"Woah," a voice chuckled, stopping her from leaving the bar. She spotted a man vaguely familiar. "You must be a fighter, huh?" he asked. "Did a tom cat get in your way?" She curled her lip in disgust, leaning away from the old, white man. "Sure," she replied. "Whatever you say, chulo."

She waved him off with two fingers, slipping away from the bar. He trailed after her, his eyes following the swing of her hips. "Can I buy you a drink? Lick your wounds?" She shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips. "No, thank you. I'm good." She brushed past a couple against the wall, their bodies glued to one another. He paused to watch, intrigued by the excessive PDA.

          Taking this moment of freedom, she slipped through a hanging curtain to hide from the pervert. The ground was lower and she stumbled backward, grasping the back of a couch to steady herself. "Shit," she cursed, landing on her backside despite the anchor she had thought would keep her on her feet.

          "Rizo?"

          Her head whipped around to find Richie and Kate sitting behind her very close together. Her brows furrowed and her eyes rolled over the two. Richie's hand left her hair, their faces inches apart. Realization clicked in her mind like the flick of a light switch.

          A big gasp escaped her, and she hurriedly shuffled to her feet. "Richard Gecko! That girl is sixteen!" Kate's face reddened exponentially. She pushed away from Richie with a small squeak. "What the hell is going through your head? You are a grown ass man!" Richie stared at Marisol in disbelief.

          "Are you okay, Kate? He didn't force himself onto you did he? I swear to God, Richard—"

          "She kissed me!" Richie exclaimed in defense. Marisol threw her hands up, silencing Richie. The glare she shot him could have stopped his heart when they were younger. Kate covered her mouth, thoroughly humiliated by the situation. "No, he's right," she said meekly. "I— I was the one who kissed him. He's telling the truth."

          "Regardless!" Marisol exclaimed. "You're sixteen. He shouldn't have entertained it!" Richie scoffed. He ran a hand over his face with a groan. Marisol's hands fell to her hips, brows pinched. "Do you have something to say?" she asked him, challenging him to argue with her.

          "No," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. The older woman nodded her head, satisfied with his reply. "Good. Now, I still have a lot to say to you, but you should get back to your dad, Kate. He's worried." She offered the young girl a small smile, but it wasn't reciprocated. Instead, Kate frowned.

          Marisol tore her eyes away from the young girl and focused her attention back on Richie. He sat back, staring at her like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The toe of her sneaker tapped impatiently at the carpeted floor. "Get it over with," he suddenly blurted out with a flushed face, lips turned down into a heavy frown.

          She sucked in a deep breath, deciding to follow his instruction. "That's wrong, Richie."  She gestured between he and Kate with a wild hand movement. "You're taking advantage of a scared, little girl. It doesn't matter whether or not she kissed you first. You kissed her back. And would you have stopped if I hadn't walked in?"

          "Do you mean fell?" Her fingers curled into a fist. She glared dangerously back at the boy. "Not the time," she warned him. The small grin he had gained from his small joke faded faster than it had come. Kate scratched behind her ear, avoiding their eyes. "And you!" Marisol suddenly shouted. "What do you think you're doing kissing the man that kidnapped you and your family? This is not Beauty and the Beast!"

          Kate's mouth opened to argue. She didn't think this all was a cheesy Disney movie. She didn't know what came over her. One second she's asking him for help, the next she's kissing him. What felt scary at first turned comforting, exhilarating, correct. But as her eyes met Marisol's, her mouth closed tight.

          "I should honestly kick both of your asses right now, but I don't have the energy to do so," she admitted. She exhaled heavily, choosing to take a seat on the large sofa in the room. Just as her bottom hit the cushion, the curtain was once again pulled back. In the open entryway was Seth, his bruised face showing a sign of surprise upon seeing the three sitting yards away from each other.

          "What happened here?" he asked, pointing between the three. Richie's brows furrowed upon noticing the bruises and cuts on his brother's face. He looked between Seth and Marisol silently, the gears in his head slowly turning. "What?" Seth spoke up first, prompting his brother to speak his mind.

          He pointed at the two with frowned brows. "Did you two get into a fight?" he asked. "Seth, did you put that gash on her head?" Marisol's eyes widened suddenly. She was quick to deny his claims, shaking her head and waving her hands in front of her. "No, no!" she began to explain. "That creep at the door earlier cornered us with a few of his big, buff friends."

          "What? When?" Marisol waved off his question. It wasn't like it mattered. They were okay now, for the most part. No broken bones. There might be a concussion, but nothing either of them can't handle. "Oh, now you wanna know," Seth replied, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "You know, it probably wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't ditched me."

          Marisol rolled her eyes at the inevitable argument just moments away from starting. "Let's not do this," she sighed. "We survived, didn't we? Don't dwell on the past." Seth's eyebrows jumped at her statement. A sly grin crawled over his handsome face. "Funny," he joked, "you know, coming from you."

          "That's different!" she snapped. "Cabrón."

          "I should go," Kate said, standing abruptly. The whole ordeal was eating away at her, stripping her of her sanity. She couldn't wrap her head around what had happened. All eyes were suddenly on her as she slipped from the room. Richie gritted his teeth. "Kate," he called out after her.

          "What's wrong with her?" Seth asked as she pushed past him. Richie stood quickly, following after her. "Kate?" Marisol stood up, too, running a hand through her tangled hair. "The two were playing tongue hockey," she explained, earning a harsh glare from the youngest Gecko. "What? If you didn't want people to know, you shouldn't have done it in the first place."

          "So, this is what your doing? Playing you-show-me-yours, I'll-show-you-mine?" Marisol grabbed Seth's arm and pushed him out of the way, following after Richie. Richie continued to call out to the girl, but she ignored him. "Rich, let her go," Marisol sighed. "Give her a little space. You owe her that much."

          "Listen to me, goddamn it," Seth grumbled, catching up to the three. Richie didn't spare the two a glance. He moved through the crowd expertly. "Don't even start," he warned his brother. "I'm not leaving." Seth bit back an annoyed groan at his brother's response. "Look, I'm sure there's another titty bar somewhere else in this goddamn country, alright? I'll get you a V.I.P card and a couple of girls just shy of their quinceañera."

          "Hey!" Marisol snapped. Just as Seth turned to assure her he was only joking, Richie grabbed him by the collar. Marisol gasped as Richie slammed Seth's back into the table behind him and snatched a knife sitting there, brandishing it against his throat. "Richie!" she rushed out.

          "I'm your goddamn brother and you treat me like I'm the ugly step kid in the attic. If I say we stay, we stay and that's it." Seth stared up at his brother, seemingly unfazed by his outburst. His eyes flickered from the blade to Richie's, to Marisol's wide eyes watching them in surprise. "Why don't we throw for it, then?" he suggested. Richie's eyes glanced back to the target. Taking that moment where his guard was down, Seth shoved his brother away far enough for the knife to leave his skin.

          "Let the knives decide, like old times," he continued. "Yeah?" Richie shrugged his shoulders. He could entertain Seth, or he could stand his ground. Either way, he was sure they would remain where they are. "I win, we walk. You win, we stay," Seth concluded.

          "Fine," Richie replied. He stepped away from his brother and toward the target, ignoring the watchful eyes of Marisol behind him. She glanced toward Seth, who only straightened his jacket. He offered her a small smile before following after his brother. It had been a while since he's thrown a knife. He only hoped he hadn't lost his talent in the end.

═══════ ❃ ═══════

          Marisol sat back, thumbnail bitten between her teeth, watching the two choose a knife to begin their contest. Seth twirled a thin blade between his fingers, watching as the lights glinted off of the steel. "Nervous?" he asked the girl, glancing over his shoulder to find her eyes already on him. She withdrew her finger from her mouth and wound her arm across her torso, shrugging her shoulders in response. It was up to Seth whether or not she could leave now. How ironic.

          "When was the last time you threw a knife?" she asked him, leaning her head against the concrete pillar. He turned his body toward her, a small grin plastering itself across his face. "What? You don't have any faith in me?" he teased. She frowned.

          Upon noticing her distress, Seth finally dropped his act. He set the knife back onto the table and approached her calmly. "It'll be okay," he assured her. "It's been a while, but I've got this. It's all about aim, right?" She snorted, her hand hesitantly moving over the makeshift bandage on her arm.

          His eyes followed her movement curiously. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean... you grazed me and I was right in front of you." His eyebrows rose in surprise at her remark. A hint of a smile curled at the edges of his mouth. "Oh, really? You're gonna pull that card?" Her heart fluttered in her chest as a smile crawled across her face.

          "Seth.." Her hand moved over her chest where the bruise of the second bullet resided. He hummed in response, leaning into her space. His palm rested against the pillar behind her, blocking her sight of the target. Her face flushed at his close proximity.

          He scanned her face for any sign of discomfort. He'd back away if she asked him to. Or she could knee him in the gut, slap him across the face, push him off. He'd be okay with any of them, surprisingly. "The second bullet.. Was it you?"

          Everything had happened so fast. All she could remember was the echoing in her ear and the pain that came with it. The sun blinded her in the moments right before the second shot. She hadn't known where it came from, or even in which direction she was facing.

          Seth's brows furrowed together. "No," he answered. "When I got you in the arm, you twisted away from me, and then that damn ranger showed up--" She swallowed. She didn't know if she could trust him. Part of her was still weary, but another part of her trusted him. Why would he lie to her now?

          She nodded slowly, absorbing his words. The ranger had shown up. When Richie had dragged her into that hotel room, there was someone a few doors away. The ranger was following them as she and Seth fled, scaling roofs and falling onto the top of RVs. She shuddered at the memory. "It really was an accident," Seth sighed. "I was aiming at him, but you were in the way."

          That always seemed to be the case, she thought. Me being in the way.

          "Ready?" Richie asked, tearing his brother and Marisol away from their moment. The eldest brother nodded confidently, stepping up to the line. "Ladies first," he jested, nudging his brother in the chest. However, Richie continued to look unamused. He glared at his brother before turning to the table and weighing a knife in his grasp.

          Her finger returned to her mouth, nail bitten between her teeth. An uncomfortable feeling filled her stomach like a heavy piece of lead. Something wasn't right... She could just feel it.

          Richie threw first, the blade slicing the hand of the girl holding up the target. She cursed to herself, clutching the appendage to her chest. Marisol cringed. "Hm. Nice throw," Seth hummed, taking his own blade in his hand. He tossed it up into the air, caught it, and aimed the point at the eye on the wall.

          He shook his shoulders, twisted his neck, before cocking his arm back and throwing. The knife embedded into the eye hole on the wall, and cheers erupted around them. The abrupt noise was enough to startle Marisol. She jumped in fright, head whipping around to notice the cheering. She clapped along for Seth. It seemed he was in the lead now.

          "Your move, brother." He flashed a smile toward Marisol. It was cocky, a cocky smile that she had grown used to over the years. It was a smile he used when he was showing off, vying for her attention and approval. She rolled her eyes, leaning her head against the cool concrete. Her fingers formed the "okay," sign before she wrapped them back around her chest.

          "Why don't we make it interesting?"

          Richie, Seth, and Marisol turned to find Kate approaching. She walked past the brothers and toward their new target. Confusion crept along their features as she stood before the decoration. "What are you doing?" Seth asked. Kate grabbed the target that the previous girl had dropped and lifted it over her head.

          "Richie wins, you give me the keys and let us go," she announced. Seth scoffed. "And if he loses?" Marisol pushed off of the wall. She slipped past the small crowd surrounding the contest and stopped at the table. "Well, then I guess I'm stuck here. Literally."

          Her fingers wrapped around Seth's sleeve, giving it a gentle tug. His head whipped around to face her. "Seth," she whispered. "Don't." His brows furrowed in perplexity. His eyes scanned her face. "Why? You wanted out, didn't you? This is your chance." She shook her head, bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

          "I'm not doing this," Richie stated. Kate glared at the man. "You don't really have a choice," she fired back. Seth glanced back at the determined young girl to Marisol. Her fingers slipped from his sleeve as he turned back to the competition. "It's her eyeball."

          This can't be happening, she thought. She had at least expected Richie to stand his ground. He seemed to have a soft spot for Kate. There was no way he was willing to put her in harm's way. And yet, when he turned to take another knife, Marisol knew that it was no use. She released a heavy exhale, slinking against the table.

          Richie's search paused upon noticing a new presence. He turned to find the bartender standing there. "You need to try this one," he said, extending his hand. Within his palm was a wooden knife with the eye plastered everywhere in that club buried into the wooden handle. Seth visibly tensed as his brother took the knife. He turned it over in his hand, bewilderment washed away by relief across his features. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

          Seth grabbed Richie's jacket, turning him forcefully to face him. "Where did you get that?" he asked. Marisol leaned closer to hear better. "He just gave it to me," Richie replied, bored.

          "No, the first time. Where did you get it the first time?"

          "I told you. I won it in a contest."

          "From who?"

          "Don't worry about it, bro, 'cause you're about to go down."

          That uneasy feeling returned full blast. Marisol felt her body go cold as Richie took a step forward with a newfound confidence. Her fingers plucked the necklace from under her shirt and wrapped her hand around the tiny, golden cross.

          Kate's chest rose and fell nervously. She stared back at Richie in silence, face void of emotion. He squeezed the handle, and the blade popped out. It was like no other knife she had ever seen. "Seth," she whispered, reaching for his sleeve once more.

          Richie drew in a calming breath. Marisol's heart began to pound. Anxiety fogged her vision. "Seth," she called slightly louder, grabbing his wrist. Kate was steady despite her nerves.

          Seth turned to face Marisol, only to see Richie cock his arm back and throw. The blade flew through the air before breaking through the target, dead center. She didn't know whether or not she should be happy or scared. The Fullers wouldn't leave her there, but what about Seth? What about Richie?

          "Keys," Richie deadpanned. Seth's eyes finally met Marisol's. There was a sadness within them, as if he already knew. He knew that she was going to leave him behind. He rummaged through his pockets, fingers hooking the ring of the keys. "I guess this is it, huh?" She attempted to swallow around the lump forming in her throat. "Yeah," she replied. "I guess so."

          He pulled out the keys and just before the metal hit her palm, the bartender approached their group again. "You need to sit down," he warned them. "Now."

Seth and Marisol shared a look before Richie turned toward them. Puzzlement filled their eyes, worry filled her bones. Something was coming. Something was being stirred up, and she didn't like the darkness that hung around them. Marisol approached Kate, grabbing her hand tight. "Stay close, okay?"

Marisol lead the way to Jacob and Scott, though they had since moved from where they were before. Kate took the seat between them, Marisol choosing to sit at the table behind them. Her eyes flickered between the stage and the brothers, her heart pounding irregularly in her chest.

Spotlights moved across the room, dosing people at random with their multicolor glow. "Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come." Finally, a single spotlight shone over the head of a man. He wore a nice suit, and was actually quite attractive. "Please take your seats," he instructed everyone kindly.

"Welcome... to the Titty Twister."

Seth came to sit beside Marisol, his hand resting on the back of her seat. Richie sat on the other side of Seth, brows furrowed.

"We have a special performance, for tonight... is a very, very special night."

That dark feeling doubled within her. Marisol reached back and took Seth's hand. Her breathing felt labored as panic settled into her chest. "That's him," Richie suddenly said, startling the girl by him. Her head whipped around to look at him.

"Please welcome the Mistress of the Macabre."

"What are you talking about?" she asked. Seth, who had been a bit dumbfounded by her grabbing and holding his hand, turned to his brother. Richie pointed once more, seemingly annoyed by having to repeat himself. "That's him! That's the guy who gave me the knife!"

"The Queen of the Night. Santanico Pandemonium!"

The crowd began to cheer loudly, applauding the act coming onto stage. Marisol looked to Seth, a sour taste filling her mouth. His eyes seemed to reflect her worries. "I don't like this," she whispered. "Something's wrong."

The cheering died down as the performer stepped onto stage, decked out in tribal wear. Richie's face transformed from one of confusion to adoration. He breathed out a sigh, a sigh so deep it could easily fill the cavern of his lungs twice. "She's real," he whispered, shakily. "She's real."

rumi says . . .
it has NEVER sat right with me how the
writers shipped richie x kate / seth x
kate bc i'm almost certain she's still
underage??? like there's nothing that
confirms it but i could have swore that
i saw somewhere that she was sixteen.

we're getting really close to the end of
season one, which will be act one. and
i'm pretty excited. i'm totally digging
this book tbh and loving mari's inclusion
to the plot.

what are your thoughts?
how are you feeling about the
story thus far?

i hope you guys enjoyed it!
feedback is seriously appreciated!