by Lindsey Iler
“I’d go to battle for her. There is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to ensure she’s safe. Everything I do is for her. She’s the reason I haven’t fled this God-forsaken town.”
Her eyes water as thoughts of Sarah Beth being hurt flood her mind. The pain, the fear for her sister, they’re almost too much for me to handle. I’ve given myself a free pass in this moment to see her pain, maybe so she’s not fully alone with the reality.
“Sometimes we do things our conscience disagrees with, because at the root of all of our family trees is the same thing. No matter how different we are, we all strive for one thing, Lennox.”
“And what is that?” She tucks the beautiful loose strands of hair behind her ear.
“Love.” I shrug, believing every word I’ve said to her.
“Love, seriously?” she whispers, her spine stiffening.
“You don’t believe me?” I ask, accusingly. “We all want love, even the wretched, and it’s the one thing that drives us, Lennox. You would jump in front of any harm intended for your sister, just as I did for mine.”
“You had a little sister?” The question hiccups right in the middle, her tone riddled with remorse and a hint of apprehension.
In my experience, the normal reaction when someone hears of one’s loss is to freeze up, because we can’t imagine being in the other’s shoes. The pain is nearly unthinkable. We say things like “I’m so sorry for your loss,” and “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” None of those ease the deep sorrow which is forever engrained into our souls.
“I have a little sister.” I smile to smooth out the unease. “Just because she isn’t here anymore, doesn’t take away the time we had while she was.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
“My sister is special.” I chuckle just thinking about her. It’s been too long since I’ve found the courage to bring her memory forward. “She’s the kind of girl who would’ve grown up to test authority. Not in a bad way, but in the way you can’t help but be proud of. Even when she was dealt a poor hand, she conquered all of their obstacles, because if she didn’t, then who would stand up for the others like her?”
“What was she?”
“She was something darker than what I am. I have my own set of talents, some you’ve seen and experienced, but hers were at a completely different level than mine. In the end, they killed her.”
“Who killed her?” Lennox hikes her leg up on the booth, tucking it under her other. “Who killed your sister, Edric?”
“My brother.” I ball my hand into a fist, afraid of losing control. “He may not have meant to, but he’s the reason why, every few years, Sadie’s bones are dug up and moved.” I shake my head, remembering being forced to do it this last time. No matter how many times I wash my hands, I still feel the dirt under my fingernails. “You see, she’s gone, but her soul and what made her so special to others is still coursing through her.”
“So, you move because you have to keep it a secret?”
“We move because, if we stay still for too long, then they’ll find her and take what we’ve fought to keep secret.”
“And that’s how you ended up in Belle Meade,” she states.
“I suppose so,” I say, ducking my head to the side to avoid her eyeline.
It’s not so much a lie as an omission.
Can you lie about something you know nothing about?
The facts are as such . . .
We did leave our town to hide away.
Belle Meade wasn’t a random spot on a map.
That is all I know.
Chapter Twelve
Lennox
The floorboards creak as I walk through the empty house and up the stairs. The night sky hands over a fraction of light from the crescent moon dangling amongst the stars. I’d give anything to be able to see a foot in front of me, but using a flashlight would expose my whereabouts. I need to go unseen. There’s too much at risk to flub my first kill.
My first kill. Jesus! I’m waiting to end someone’s life. They will cease to exist at the end of my fingertips.
I’ve followed Mr. Smelks for the last week as he’s walked around town, running his errands as usual. One thing has changed. Paranoia has replaced his normal happy and carefree, based on the constant glances over his shoulder. He’s been looking for me, and tonight, he will find me. He just doesn’t know that yet.
Mr. Reynolds has made it clear our kills only happen when they are least expected. Reflecting on my plot and plans, anytime a heart stops beating is unexpected, especially when it’s at the hands of another. More so when the hands belong to the little girl who once begged for a sucker, knowing you had one tucked away in your work jacket.
I sit in waiting, contemplating how I got here, how the ones meant to love me most gave me life only to take life from another. This isn’t how my life was meant to turn out. I would have never left the city and abandoned Sarah Beth with no protection from our mother, but this . . .
This was never supposed to be part of the plan.
The deadbolt clicks, telling me Mr. Smelks is home. I imagine he’s just finished dinner, probably something extravagant because he knows his time is coming to an end. Maybe he chose comfort food, the one that reminds him of his childhood. That’s what I would do.
Tucked in the far corner of his bedroom, I sit in a high-back chair. Between the cushion and the arm rest, a shiny blade sparkles in the moonlight, and the hard edge pokes into my skin, nearly breaking through.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Mr. Smelks walks into the room and sits on the end of the bed, his head hung low. “I didn’t turn the light on because I don’t think I can look you in the eyes when you end my life.”
This can’t be happening.
“Lennox, I understand why you’re here, your obligations to this town, to your families, but . . .”
“Stop!” I shout, standing from the chair.
The shine from the blade draws Mr. Smelks’ attention away from me, and I take the single second I have to inhale a lungful of air, because if I don’t, I’ll pass out. Showing my fear will only make this worse.
Mr. Reynolds has promised I’ll feel this drive to complete the trial, and the trial cannot be closed until the last breath leaves Mr. Smelks’ lungs. He’s committed a crime, and now he has to pay.
“Before you run that blade over my throat –that’s your plan, after all– you have to know something.” He finally faces me. His shoulders are back, prideful almost, and not a single thing about his demeanor tells me he’s afraid. “You aren’t the only ones in this town who have abilities. We’re all different somehow, deep down in our family tree, and small pieces have trickled through the generations. Some are stronger than others. Some don’t know what they possess. I did what I did to protect Dylan and his family. She threatened them.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” I plead, looking anywhere but at him. I twist the handle of the blade, circling it around, growing more comfortable with it in my grasp as the seconds tick on.
“Because you are unlike any other. You hold the power to take down all the evil in this town. You just have to find it. Don’t trust anyone,” he whispers, turning his back on me. “It’s okay, Lennox. I forgive you.”
The scar on my forearm burns hot. I’m not particularly fond of how the Peacekeeper contacts or warns me.
“I’m a man made of sin. A sin I will spend eternity repenting for.” He draws a deep breath and sits a little straighter. “I am a man made of sin. A sin I will spend eternity repenting for. I am a man made of sin.” His words are hauntingly merciful. He kneels at my feet, his head bowed.
I’m thankful for the buffer. My heart couldn’t handle looking him in the eyes as I drag the dagger across his skin. I’d never recover. Blood floods my ears, drowning out his prayer.
“You’re a man made of sin,” I say for him. “And you will spend eternity repenting.”
I squeeze the leather-wrapped handle, digging my f
ingernails into the material until blood pools around my cuticles. The welcome pain reminds me I’m still capable of feeling something.
“The rest won’t go as easy as me,” Mr. Smelks whispers. “Be safe, Lennox.”
At his words, I swing the blade, and with surprised smoothness, the skin splits across his neck. Blood gushes around the silver in my hand. His breaths become gurgles, his lungs flooding. As he collapses, his eyes catch mine. There’s still life in them.
I could make this easier for him. My father talks about his days growing up on the farm. When animals were wounded, my grandfather would end their suffering with a single bullet.
Why don’t I feel the need to make this easier for Mr. Smelks? A strange, unfamiliar sensation hugs me close to its devilish chest, and I grin. Slitting his throat is satisfying. Watching the life leave him is liberating.
“We’re all monsters,” I say, watching him press his hands tight to his neck. A giggle bubbles up my throat, tickling my tongue. “But the difference is, I murder to keep peace, while you murdered out of disagreement. We can’t be having that in our streets.”
That he’s still holding on surprises me. I crouch down to his eyeline.
“We stained your rug. That’s going to be a bitch to get out.” I grin. “It’s time.”
My steady hand wraps around his wrist and yanks it from his throat. Blood squirts, hitting the toe of my favorite boots. I don’t wipe it off. There’s no point. Mr. Smelks will not be the last blood lost from my hands.
As I stroll out of the bedroom, pain creeps up my back. I have gained mental strength, but my body doesn’t line up. Mr. Smelks didn’t fight me, and yet, it feels as if I’ve wrestled a two-ton elephant. My lower spine hits the handle as I shut the door, closing off the metallic, copper smell permeating the bedroom.
What did I just do?
My skin tingles with an excitement I’ve never quite experienced before. Exhilaration and pain mixed together is a lethal combination. I pull my hand up in front of my face and see the tremble. Adrenaline grasps every fiber of me and pushes me forward. The blade drips a trail across the carpet in the hall and living room.
When I walk outside, traffic is light. Leaves flutter across the asphalt, and trees sing with the wind. An older couple smiles kindly as they pass and offer me a good evening.
A wild grin plasters itself onto my lips. Everything appears as normal as it should.
No one knows.
They’re clueless, unaware of the trouble I’m capable of.
Mr. Reynolds is right. It’s natural, like I was born with a knife in my hand.
I don’t have time to analyze the way it made me feel. There’s too much energy coursing through my veins, a desperate need for another release, and I know just where I’ll go to get it.
*****
Edric is sprawled on the pile of pillows crowding the headboard of his bed. Small gold details on his headphones sparkle in the glow from his bedside lamp. His eyes are closed, hiding everything I want to see.
My body still surges with energy and uncertainty of the newfound sensation coursing through me. Is it blood thirst? Or has the power found a way to weasel past everything I think I know about myself?
A smile forms on my face when Edric’s head begins to sway to whatever is playing in his ears. I lean against his wall, much like he did mine. I won’t be able to make him feel the way he made me feel, though.
He can say what he wants. He can deny it. That day, I felt his hands on my body, tracing the curves and dips. The nerve to ask him for the truth never developed. I don’t need to, though.
“Are you going to stand over there all night, or come out of the shadows and tell me how you snuck past my guards?” Edric sits up, dropping his headphones beside him. His arms cross over his broad chest, and he grins. “Scared to come close?”
“I’m not scared of anything,” I say, pushing off the wall, bathing myself in the light.
“That’s my girl.”
Barely able to contain myself, I smirk when he pats the spot beside him.
I crawl onto his massive bed and cozy into the spot next to him. Clueless of what to say, I choose silence. He and I both know I’m here for a reason. I can’t begin to explain why. So, here I sit, stuck inside my own head.
Edric stills. His hands grip the back of his head, his nostrils flaring. Heat radiates off him in waves, and the air around us grows unbearably thick.
He’s angry, but why?
“Lennox, I’m going to”—he covers his mouth with his hand—“ask you something, and I need you to be fully honest with me. Do you think you could do that?”
“Yes.” I nod as I speak, even though he isn’t looking at me.
“Okay.” He leans forward, his hands tightly gripped around his dark comforter. “Is there blood on you?”
“What?” The tremble in my voice echoes against the velvet walls. My nervousness won’t go unnoticed. “Why do you ask that?”
Being careful is my highest priority, to protect the Angels, to make sure our presence doesn’t become compromised. Is it possible he caught me going into Mr. Smelks’ house? Did he witness the heinous thing I did?
“Lennox!” His voice rises. “Answer the damn question.” The tip of his tongue peeks out the side of his mouth. His teeth assault the sensitive skin.
“Did you follow me?” I clench my eyes shut, harshly chastising myself for a misstep I’m not even sure I made.
“Follow you where?” He inhales a lungful of air, like you do when you are trying not to smell something rancid. His scrunched eyebrows tell me he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. He didn’t see me at Mr. Smelks’. “I’m only going to ask one more time, Lennox. Is there blood on you?”
I sigh with relief, but it’s short lived. How does he know about the blood if he didn’t follow me?
“I don’t understand why it matters.” I face him. His nostrils flare. It isn’t possible the smell of blood is coming from me. “Are you okay?”
“Answer the damn question.” The growl that escapes his chest has my blood pumping wildly.
“There’s a spot on my boot,” I answer honestly. Fear takes over. If he knows I have blood on me, even the smallest amount, then he must be . . . No, that’s not possible. Of course, I never thought anything quite like myself existed either. “Edric, how different are you?”
“Different enough to know you have blood on you, which means my family knows you’re here.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
“Will you look at me?” I rest my hand on his arm, tightening my grip.
Edric stands like I’ve bit him and gazes out his bedroom window. The velvet curtains slide apart, showing off the skyline on the horizon. His head bobs back and forth, outward proof of his internal debates. As he twirls on his bare feet, his godly eyes bore into me.
“We need to get those shoes out of here.” He rushes to me, determination marring his perfect face. As he falls to my feet, he seems to hold his breath, tugging at my laces until they’re loose enough to yank the boots from my body. With them tucked under his arm, he goes to the door that leads to his lookout. The wood knocks the drywall as he scurries out of sight.
I follow behind him. “Give me my boots back.”
“There isn’t any time!” Edric yells. He opens one of the windows and chucks them with all his strength.
I push past him and watch them land in Dylan’s side yard.
“What the hell, Edric? Those are my favorite boots.”
“I’ll buy you new ones.”
“Why buy me new ones when I have a perfectly good pair? You just threw them out the window.” I glare at him over my shoulder and then check on my babies.
“Edric.” His mother’s stern voice reverberates through his bedroom. “Are you up there?”
He covers his lips with a finger, telling me to keep quiet, and presses me against the wall, pinning my stomach to the front of his body.
“Yeah, Mom, I thought I heard somethi
ng, so I came up here to check the perimeter.”
Her shadow bounces up the staircase, and her silhouette flashes onto the wall. “Have you seen that Callahan girl lately?”
At the mention of my name, I lean back, trying to see Edric’s face.
He grins.
“No, Mom. I haven’t.”
My gut tells me his lies aren’t to protect himself, but to protect me.
“Okay, Edric.” Her feet tap against the wood floor on her descent. Her footsteps come to a halt. The silence in the stairwell is deafening. “Now, get that girl out of my house.”
At Mrs. Blackstone’s demand, his forehead falls against mine. Heavy breaths hit my lips, and the pain staring back at me burns a hole in the center of my chest.
“Why’d you have to come here?” he whispers.
“I did something tonight.” I’m not quite sure he wanted an answer, but the pressure is building inside me. “I did something tonight, and the electricity coursing through me, brought me to you. I needed . . .”
“I know what you need, Lennox, because I’m a starved man every time I’m around you.”
“It felt good,” I confess for the first time to someone other than myself. “The power at my fingertips was . . .”
“Exhilarating,” he finishes, cupping my cheeks, his fingers splayed out over my skin and in my hair. “Power is a tricky thing. The moment you think you have it, it’s stripped from you.”
My breaths are heavy, stuck under the weight of him against the wall. This is a certain power I’m willing to give over, on a silver platter, if he’ll keep staring at me like he is right now. Raw. Animalistic. Uncontrolled.
“Just for tonight, do you think we can forget about how different we are, and maybe be a little reckless?” I whisper, grasping his wrist.
“I’d follow you into a storm, Lennox. Our families, be damned. You can tear me apart if it means I get to be hurt by you.”
His hands release my face and snake down to the back of my thighs, hoisting me up onto the small ledge that runs the length of the domed room. My legs spread enough to give him space to sneak close, then wrap around his middle as his grip tightens on my hips, pinching in a sign of desperation.
