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So, I'm a lie and a cheat. I'm back in the Cat's Den before Friday, therefore making me a liar to Kay and Diego. I'm also cheating by getting into this club underage—again. I'm a liar again for telling Roy my name is Kay.

I'm just bad.

But I'm in the Den again.

I'm kind of being shown off by Roy. He doesn't always work the door, apparently. Sometimes he works promoting, and I'm apparently a tool for that. I'm not doing too bad of a job. I can hear people talking about me—"that creepy but oddly cute ferret guy"—and I flaunt my way around the club. I dance with a couple people, take down a few shots (with precision, it's a difficult task), and later find Roy. He's lounging on a flamboyant pink couch with a bunch of girls (bit shocking, I'm sure he's gay).

"Hey," I say, grinning my ferret grin. Two girls lean back like I've just flashed them something actually obscene. I know the ferret's a Halloween costume, but it's still . . . a ferret. Gimme a break already. "This suit's getting a bit hot. Is there somewhere I can take it off for a second?" I whisper this to him since it's supposed to be a magic veil thing—I'm truly a ferret. We must look really silly, this oversized ferret leaning down to whisper in the bouncer's ear.

"Oh, sure," Roy says, detaching himself from the couch. I note he leaves a rather unattractive sweat outline behind, so that's peachy.

He takes me through the crowd and I feel someone grab my ferret tush. He takes me down a set of stairs, and I'm a little on edge now, because the downstairs dungeon like areas of clubs aren't the most, y'know, safest places. I expect I'll be led to a hallway with doors on either side, and behind those doors are—I don't know, strippers or sex shows or shooting ranges or something.

But he takes me to an empty room. There's a couple couches and a pool table.

"Usually Chesco comes in here to shoot some pool with the guys, get away from the loud music, whatever, but . . . I'm sure he won't come in soon," Roy tells me. "Just be quick. I'll be by the stairs."

I stare.


As in Fade Chesco?

Well, he doesn't seem to be taboo when I don't mention him first.

Before Roy can close the door, I quickly ask, "Who's Chesco?"

Roy pauses, and then gives me an apprehensive look. "Er, not someone you want to meet."

He leaves.

There's probably cameras. Although I don't see any, they could be hidden. So, I pretend to need to stretch. Yes, everyone who is watching, the strange guy dressed as a ferret needed a private room to . . . stretch.

I hope they're all perplexed as ass. I hope they're wondering who brought a fucking ferret into the pool room.

I go against a wall and stretch elaborately here. I reach and writhe. It actually feels really good, but I'm sweating profusely and if I don't get out of this thing for real in twenty minutes, I'm likely to pass out.

The door creaks open and I'm caught in the middle of having my leg up the wall and my head down to the green cut pile carpet. I am very flexible even as a ferret, and I'm more proud than alarmed by the guy's expression.

He's maybe in his early thirties. He has a goatee. He has a polka dot die. He should not be Fade Chesco, because if he is, I will immediately spear him through the eye with one of the pool sticks to my right.

"Hi," I say.

"I've gone mad," the man whispers. Two more come in after him. One is a twenty-ish year old blond kid with numerous earrings that adorn the rims of his ears. He has blue eyes so pale I'm wondering if he's blind. He wears tight jeans and a vest over a white shirt. Quite a looker, here.

The guy behind him is dark haired. He has blue eyes as well, bright like a wolf's, and I find it a little funny that he's wearing a black jacket that has fur lining the hood. He's a sexy damned sight too.

So, one of these three, eh?

I upright myself and stand idle like I wasn't just spreading myself like ooze along the walls.

The two younger boys look at me. The dark haired one looks disinterested, but the blond is regarding me with a raised eyebrow.

"Did, er, one of you order him?" the older man asks.

Yeah, this costume is really awkward.

"Sorry, guys," I say, very friendly and trust me like. "Roy showed me in here so I could get some air. I'm acting as a trial mascot for the club."

They exchange looks. Wolf boy picks up a cue and starts to polish the top with chalk. Pretty blond walks to the pool table and absently knocks some balls together.

"Roy, huh?" the wolf guy mutters. "Well, if you're finished, would you kindly fuck off?"

I nod obediently. "Yes, sirs." I trek to the door, my steps slow. "Sorry guys, bit difficult to walk in." Truth is I'm actually close to passing out, but details.

"Hurry up," the wolf guy snaps.

"Lay off the poor wanker, Fade," the blond guy says, swinging an arm around the wolf boy's shoulders.

I stop and turn and stare at the wolf boy, who has finally, finally been identified as Fade Chesco.

My gaze travels from his bright, almost illuminated eyes to his appealing, angular features. My gaze travels down his slender neck, down the curves of his collar bone. His chest becomes covered by that onslaught of fur and then the jacket, the dark jacket that hugs his lithe frame. I go south to his hips, taking in the dark pants that cover his legs, and the finishing boots that ravel up his calves.

This is Fade Chesco, this miserable sack of shit.

This is Fade Chesco, the boy I must extract my revenge out on.

This is Fade Chesco, the boy who murdered my best friend.

My hands fist at my sides.

I turn and stalk out.

Now I know what you look like, you stupid fuck.

As it was, I passed out in some alleyway from a combination of alcohol intake and dehydration. I woke up with the sun blaring on me, my ass half out of the ferret costume, covered in garbage and bugs. It's the worst morning I can recall, aside from the morning I woke up with the news of River's death. So, that's why I'm at home (skipping school, I said I wouldn't do this), curled in my bed.

I stare out the window now. My curtains are blowing majestically, and I watch the sun float through the sky like some silly balloon. There it is, shining away with all it's power. My heart sinks in my chest, and I don't know why.

I know what Fade Chesco looks like. I've found him. He looks like a wolf and he has killer eyes. I don't know what that means or how I mean it, but he has killer eyes.

My heart seems to sink further.

My hands fist at my sheets. I fucking hate him.

"Are you feeling better?" my mom asks me as I trudge my ass into the kitchen.

"Mm, yeah," I say. "Can I have some chicken noodle soup?" I don't particularly care for the stuff, but sick people want chicken noodle soup, don't they? Isn't that how it goes?

"Ohh," my mom says, in this eerie drawn-out way. "Absolutely," she finally concludes. "Chicken noodle soup is good for the soul, I hear."

Er, as have I.

I drag myself to the living room and drop down on the couch. I stare at the blank TV with my mouth set in a straight line. I feel weird. Hung over. Tired. Anxious.

I'm itching to hit something.

I can't stop thinking about Fade and that blond guy, swinging his arm around them like they were normal blokes chilling out. Why do they seem so normal? Why doesn't Fade have an eyepatch or a giant scar across his face?

All that searching . . . and that's the result. The wolf like boy is what I get.

How anticlimactic. I roll onto my back and drape an arm over my face. That's Fade Chesco. Slender figure, fur hood, leg hugging boots.

I have to plan his stupid demise now. We both know what the other looks like, but he doesn't know where I live—presumably. He only knows what school I go to—presumably. Likewise, I don't know where he lives, but I do know he goes to the Cat's Den a lot. I'm not sure if he works there or if he's VIP or what, but . . .

I have to track more of him. I have to peel away every layer of his life, dig deep, deep enough to destroy.

I'm going to ruin him, and once he's broken and bloody at the bottom of some woeful place like a—I don't know, oubliette—I'm going to kill him.

He will regret the day he ever killed my best friend.