Daughter of the Devil - r. peters // 2

𝟷. 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕

Callie stands there, biting hard onto her lip after her performance. She had tripped, falling on the stage, embarrassing herself during the show. Luckily she got up quickly.

But it doesn't matter how fast she got up, she still went down.

Whack. One.

Whack. Two.

Whack. Whack. Whack... All the way to twelve.

Twelve lashes for twelve infractions.

Still not the best influence.

Except this time, there isn't any healing, or any sort of gentle touch. A hand grips hard onto her jaw, along with the familiar glaring blue eyes meeting her matching ones.

"What did we talk about, puppet?" Caleb growls at her.

She clenches her jaw weakly. "Precision is key."

"Grand. Very good. You might be learning. That's fantastic." But his voice sounds anything but pleased.

She nods, looking down at her wrist, seeing the purple stamp there.

The one that only a few months ago, she had freed her friends from. Which no one had done before.

And it made Caleb angry. So angry, in fact, that she doesn't have her own room anymore. From now on, everything's in his office. Everything. She must change there, store her clothes there, her performance outfits... Everything. If he walks in? Tough luck. She had learned to be quick about changing when he poofs into the office.

Even now.

"Now... Change. No more performances tonight. It's late." He says, his voice a low sneer.

Callie simply nods, hearing him poof out of the room, before moving her aching limbs closer to the smaller wardrobe that she acquired from moving into Caleb's office.

She quickly grabs onto her normal clothes, pulling the tiny green outfit off her chest. As if the speed of lightning, she pulls her shirt over her head, the fabric hanging low on her hips, so that when she took off the bottoms, she could easily pull on the long pants that hid the marks all down her legs.

She hated him.

The words shocked her, surprisingly. He hurt her. Humiliated her. Abused her. For over seven decades.

But he was still her father.

She shakes her head to herself, as she pulls her long black hair into a ponytail. No. He stopped being her father the day he took that deal.

She swallows the lump rising in her throat, lifting her chin, before poofing out of the door.

And nearly knocking over her friend.

"Willie! Jesus." She mutters, taking a hand over her face. "You scared me."

"Sorry, Cal." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his head.

Callie shakes her head, sighing. "It's fine. Any more news?"

Willie did checks. Because Callie wasn't allowed out of the club anymore, Willie was the one to report things from outside.

Like how the guys were doing.

"They're good. Julie has another gig later tomorrow. They've been practicing for it. Think they're gonna play Stand Tall again after it did so well at the Orpheum."

"Good. They're not... Getting any after flickers, are they?" She says quickly.

"Callie. For the seventeenth time. No. They aren't. It's been a month now." He says, placing his hands on her shoulders. "They've been good. I promise."