Heartless dolls,

Heartless mothers,

Fated mates and lost lovers.

All your lies will come to light.

All your sins will be uncovered.

I read over the newest threat. This one is accompanied by a baby doll head lamp. One that I would have used for room décor, if it hadn’t been sent as a direct threat to me. 

“We need to up security measures.” Axel paces around Patricio’s office while Adan stands quietly in the corner. The room is tense. Every emotion from fear to sadness washes over me. I reread the line that sticks out the most.

All your lies will come to light.

Normally, all the threats end in the same question: “Where’s the baby, Thalia?” This one is different. It’s cryptic. I pull out the note and scan over it again. 

“The light,” I whisper. Patricio looks at me, his brows bunched together. They are getting closer. Adan nods, understanding my newest fear. My greatest fear. They’ve found her.

***

The weeks leading up to Halloween go by quickly. The new security measures Axel put in place after the last threat seem to be working. Some of the men from Los Peregrinos are now working as security guards during the day. Nero is usually the guard outside of Olivia and I’s penthouse, while Jasper guards the office. 

So far, I haven’t received another threat or another message from my stalker. I’m not sure if the two are related or not. I’ve thought about going on another date to draw the stalker out, but I don’t have time to date. Not with the Halloween party preparations and events with the twin’s school. 

“You look smoking hot!” I look up to see Ariella walking into my room in a pink sweatsuit with her hair up and makeup removed. 

“It’s the end of the world. Have a drink with me!” I laugh maniacally, embracing the Harley Quinn costume. I went for a more classic red and black version of Harley Quinn. The tight leather red and black dress pairs well with a pair of Louboutin’s. My hair is up in pigtails, and I am finishing the final touches of my makeup. Ariella was supposed to be my Joker, but Axel showed up unexpectedly and shot that down. Ariella is avoiding him like the plague, so she offered to watch the twins instead. 

“Ari! Ari! Look what I made!” Lucia runs into the room to show Ariella another one of her drawings.

“Wow, mamas! Is that me?” She hugs Lucia, and I roll my eyes. Lucia had drawn countless pictures of Ariella. No, I’m not jealous that she favors Ariella over me. I’m not even sad that she wants to be the Little Mermaid instead of Ursula this year. It is just a phase.

“Is it okay if Gen comes over?” Ariella asks. 

“Conejo’s letting her out of the house?”

“He’s going to the party, so she asked if she could bring the kids over with me and the twins.” Ariella is good with kids. She is patient with Luca and makes Lucia feel important. She has all the motherly components I lack. I am tempted to rip off my costume and stay in with them tonight. Lately, it’s felt like things that used to make me happy just don't feel the same anymore. I want to be in jammies with her and the kids, eating junk food and watching Disney movies. I feel stuck in a constant loop of trying to find something, or anything, to bring me joy. Then, when I can’t find it, I find other ways to help me cope. 

I walk into the living room, where Luca is humming loudly.

“Halloween stresses him out,” I say to Ariella as I bend down and put his hand in mine. He looks at me as he rocks back and forth.

“Brain, calm down,” I say to Luca, who repeats the mantra back. While Luca struggles to converse, he has no problem conversing through echolalia.

“Eight. Twenty-three,” Luca says, and Ariella gives me a confused look.

“Eight twenty-three is the time the sun goes down in Houston.” Luca is obsessed with time. His knowledge of how the world works seems superior to what our brains can comprehend. Lucia walks up and grabs his hand. The humming stops, and Luca calms.

“Take care of him,” I tell Lucia, and she nods. I stand up to face Ariella.

“I’ll have Nero stay outside the door. If you need anything, just let him know. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“And risk Axel embarrassing me in front of everyone? No, thanks.” She lets out a dramatic sigh and flops onto my bed. Fucking Geminis. She and Lucia both are so overly emotional.

“One of these days, you’re going to have to learn to stick up for yourself.” I soften my gaze on her before grabbing Selena and loading her. I grab my purse and place the gun inside before I head to the elevator. I can do this. I can push through this night, and I will be happy with my friends. I will not think about the threats, or anything else weighing me down. I roll my shoulders back and stand tall. I make my way from the penthouse to the elevator.

When the doors open to the main lobby, I’m taken aback by the figure waiting outside the elevator doors. The red suit leaves little to the imagination, as it fits tight to the large ripple of muscles beneath. My very own Joker. We pass each other, exchanging places. He is a replica of the 2019 Joker with Joaquin Phoenix. My favorite Joker. I take another glance back at him before the elevator doors close. He flashes me a sinister smile that makes my lips part and my head fuzzy. Coincidence? No, I don’t believe in those. 

When I walk into the club, I am blown away by Enrique’s masterpiece. He went with elegant orange and black décor. The black roses and marigolds are bundled together with strings of skull-shaped pearls. The club is packed with people in a variety of costumes. I stop and greet the returning guests who I can recognize. I look up to the balcony seating and find my friends waiting for me. 

“Cholo Frankenstein?” I scream to Mireya over the loud music as I approach them. Ricky and Adrian are below us at the bar, picking up a bucket of beer, while Alma, Mireya, and I sit at the reserved VIP table. 

“You know Adrian. I’m just happy he committed part way.” Mireya laughs as she stares down at her fiancée. She is dressed as Frankenstein’s bride, and Adrian is in his regular attire, but with green face paint and bolt attachments. 

Alma sits beside me in the fairy costume she has been planning for months. When she told me she was going to be a fairy, I had expected her to show up as Tinkerbell, but this is much more provocative. I love it. It is dark and edgy. She says she is some ‘queen of the night court’, and goes into a tangent about her fairy smut series. Her eyes always light up when she talks about books. I listen to her every word, even if I don’t have the heart to tell her I will never read them.

“What the hell are you supposed to be?” My eyes narrow at Ricky, who walks toward us dressed in his regular street clothes. 

“I’m a narco,” he says. Adrian laughs, and I scoff.

“You guys are lame.” People who don’t appreciate the joys of dressing up once a year piss me off. This is a costume party. My patience is wearing thin, and I am tempted to run back to the penthouse. Or back to the elevator.

I look around to see if I can find my Joker in the large crowd. I scan the entire room until I find him. One arm rests on the bar, and his legs are crossed. He is staring directly at me. Warmth finds its way to my cheeks. I suck in a breath, taking in the form of his muscular body and the tattoos peeking out beneath the suit. His long hair is tied at the nape of his neck. 

He holds the glass of liquor up to me before bringing it to his lips. From up here, I can’t tell if he was wearing a custom mask or if it’s makeup. Whatever it is, the shape of his eyes are hidden, but the depths of them hold on to me like a vise. 

I grab my glass of Mezcal and return the gesture. Harley Quinn once said Batman was for childhood, and adulthood was when the Joker made more sense. Yet nothing about this man made sense to me. Why am I desperate to get lost in his eyes? Am I into coulrophilia? Jesus Christ, Thalia, pull it together. I have a high sex drive, but my personal kinks are never explored outside what my vibrator can do. I have enough problems in my sex life. Adding in a clown fetish would only complicate it more. 

Mystery Joker leans over the bar to talk to the bartender. He points up at me, and moments later, another glass of Mezcal is delivered to my table. 

“Who is that from?” Alma asks, and I nod my head toward the masked man below us at the bar. Her eyes widen, and I smile before taking a drink.

“I know that look,” Mireya says, encouraging me to act on whatever feelings are building up inside me. If I want something, I go for it. Something neither Alma or Mireya can grasp. I don’t get humiliated because I don’t place value in what anyone thinks about me. I remove myself from the table and walk down the stairs. I stare at him as I slowly descend the stairs. Step by step, until I’m face to face with him. 

“Thalia.” I hold out my left hand, and he stares at it. He doesn’t take it. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares until I find it uncomfortable. I drop my hand and turn to walk away. Asshole.

A tight grip latches on to my arm. Tiny electrodes make their way through my body, and when I turn to meet his stare, I’m lost again in the depth of it. Dark and beautiful. He drags me toward the dance floor and presses his body to mine. His smell is strong and masculine. I inhale it deeply when he presses me against him. His hand moves to the small of my back, and I wrap one arm around his shoulder, the other hand meeting his ascended one. I hold on tight to him as our bodies move to the music.

When our bodies begin to move, it feels comforting and, somehow, safe? I’m too caught up trying to understand all the emotions forming in me that I don’t realize the way I cling to him. The time passes slowly, and I’m lost in the feel of this man. At some point, my hand drops from the outside of us as both my hands wrap around his shoulders. The small distance we had between us is now completely filled. I can feel his hardness held at my core, and I clench my thighs with every turn as he presses into me. He doesn’t step away from me when the music stops. He doesn’t say anything. There’s just us, in this comfortable silence, holding on to each other.

We’re embraced, waiting for the next song, when I recognize the melody. Before he can move us, I drop my arms from around his shoulders.

“I-I think I need to sit down.” I step back, avoiding his eyes. He doesn’t stop me as I make my way back to the table to find my purse and pull out my cell phone. It’s already one in the morning. The table is empty, and the crowd has thinned. I stand there staring at my phone when I feel the rigid muscles behind me. I turn and the mystery masked man holds out a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” I whisper. His body is only inches from mine, so I step back. I open the lid and let the water comfort the dry ache in my throat. I try to drown out the song, but it doesn’t stop. I shut my eyes and take deep breaths. Find something to focus on. Open your eyes, and focus on anything but this song.

When I get my mind back under control, I open my eyes again. Midnight black eyes stare back at me through the holes of his mask. He doesn’t understand. Nobody does. There is a piece of my heart reserved somewhere that I’m not even sure I even believe exists. In some celestial realm. With him. With Silas.

The song playing is the one he sang to me the night of our wedding. This song belongs to us. No one else. I have been trapped so long in his memory that I am beginning to shut everything out. In my grief, I set up systems and rules that block anyone’s way into my heart. It’s how I honor him. It’s why I should have sat down after a few songs, but I had spent the night entertaining the man in front of me. He has no idea that I am damaged. Broken. Beyond repair. 

I can fuck men; even him, if I wanted to. Men are easy to read, since they only want one thing. The only thing I can offer, and the only thing I want in return. But there is more intimacy in this man’s silence than I have ever felt anywhere else. Intimacy is too deep. Something I cannot do. Not here. Not ever. Intimacy is the gateway drug to love. It breaks the confines of sexual pleasure. It would destroy me. I take the heat in his midnight eyes as a warning. Run.