A Poised Nuisance (Lithe Book 1)

by Iris RIvers

  “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice broken. “We can’t. You know we can’t.”

  And then she walked away, leaving Kai alone on the dance floor.

  THEY HAD DANCED TOGETHER like they were fused from the same bone, like their limbs had fused into one entity, swayed by the existence of stars and gods and planets in a faraway universe.

  Evelyn couldn’t help but stare as they’d moved across the floor, their arms holding each other in a beautifully menacing embrace, faces displaying an emotion Evelyn couldn’t describe.

  They had watched each other with a scathing desire—with a hunger too carnal to ignore. It had always been that way, Evelyn realized. They had always felt this, even when they didn’t know it. Even when they craved pain more than love.

  And when Kai had leaned her backward, hand clutching her waist in a desperate passion, chin grazing her neck, Evelyn had understood why Lara couldn’t kill him.

  She was afraid of him. He was afraid of her.

  She wanted him. He wanted her.

  She wanted to hurt him. He wanted to hurt her.

  And this—this blissful disregard of each other’s presence, tormenting their souls and denying their ache for more—had only begun to spin into something far too powerful to ignore.

  Kai and Lara had shut their eyes, painfully breathing into each other’s skin as the room blurred into single moments of love and hate and regret.

  Evelyn had shut her own eyes as their steps slowed, for she couldn’t bear to watch another second.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “There will come a time of fire and night, when enemies rise and empires fall, when the suns themselves begin to die.” ––Kevin J. Anderson

  Evelyn was distressed—overwhelmed—so instead of locking herself in her dorm room, trapped with heavy thoughts and warm breaths, she ran to what she could do best.

  Murder. Destroying men.

  The air was humid, sticking to her skin like an anchored phantom. Above her, the night was a dissertation of ghastly clouds, covering the sky like a warm blanket on a cool evening. Her boots trudged across the broken sidewalk like molten lava, weighing her down, rooting her into the core of the earth.

  At this moment, she was a single cosmos, ready to erupt against the skin of a corrupted man.

  Evelyn was far from the city, walking alongside an isolated building, the streets empty and cold. The street lamps before her flickered, the color dull and perfect for this moment of sin and blood.

  The hand on her dainty watch ticked—he was meant to be here any minute now.

  She leaned against the building, tired and lonely. The source of her exhaustion wasn’t particular to this moment though. Evelyn loved killing men; she loved hearing their screams and watching the tears roll down their cheeks like drool.

  It was rather Evelyn’s pervasive thoughts that clustered her mind, rendering her restless and itchy, aching in her bones like a child yearning for their lost mother.

  It was thoughts of Will, banging against her skull and cascading into her dreams. He was a constant melody in her mind, playing over and over and over, until one day...

  It’d stop.

  That day, however, was not today. It would not be ever, Evelyn hoped, because Will was always there. He was a part of her soul and engraved into her skin. They were starlets in a colorless sky, carved from the same rock and born from the same flame of gripe and yen.

  Will, Will, Will.

  A noise sounded from the corner, startling Evelyn from her intrusive thoughts. She stepped away from the wall, eyes squinting against the shadowed sky, and started her path toward the only person it could be.

  He noticed her immediately, for she didn’t bother to be discreet.

  “Dev Miller?” Evelyn called out.

  Dev clutched a bag hanging from his shoulder. A college student presumably, given his appearance. “Yes?” he said, confirming himself to be Evelyn’s victim.

  Evelyn grabbed his arm, using all her force to push him against the wall. He yelped in pain, stunned by the pull of her hand.

  “What the hell?” he yelled, his bag falling to the ground. Away from the shadows, his face was visible underneath the flickering streetlight. Evelyn gripped his collar, staring into his copper eyes and brown skin. Light freckles scattered his cheeks, a map of something too familiar for Evelyn to ignore. She hadn’t realized her grip had loosened until Dev pushed her away, her back stumbling into a grimy trash can. It fell to the ground with a clatter, booming against the silent air.

  “You dare touch me?” Evelyn whispered, rage building inside her clenched fists.

  Dev looked alarmed, as if he’d never seen a woman so angry before—as if he’d never allowed for that to happen. “Who are you?” he asked, the curls on his head bouncing with each word he spoke.

  Evelyn neared him once more, pulling his shirt aggressively to hold him against the wall. He was bigger than her, bigger than most of the men she had killed, but she wouldn’t allow that to intimidate her.

  “You do not get to ask questions,” she spat into his face. He blinked at her, astonished at her audacity.

  Those eyes, Evelyn thought, watching as they diluted from her gaze. Why are they so familiar?

  “I’m calling the police,” Dev said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for his cell. Evelyn grabbed his arm, fingers digging into skin, and twisted it at a crucial angle. Dev’s bones cracked sickly, causing him to scream. Evelyn cherished the sound.

  Distracted by his pain, Evelyn grabbed his cell from his pocket and threw it to the concrete. She stomped on it with her heavy boot, relishing the way it cracked between her feet like his bones had cracked beneath her hand. Dev watched her, his eyes turning cold.

  Good. Get angry.

  He charged at Evelyn at an alarming rate, adrenaline kicking into his veins as he pushed her to the ground. She landed on her face, the sidewalk bruising her nose. Blood began to drip down to her chin as she groaned, pain reeling into a headache.

  Dev attacked her from behind, pushing all of his weight onto Evelyn’s thin body. He pulled at her clothes, ripping the fabric violently.

  “Crazy bitch,” Dev muttered, pushing his knee into the back of her thigh. “You like it aggressive, don’t you?”

  Evelyn struggled against his hold. From this angle, with Dev on top of her, it seemed impossible to dodge the roughness of his hands.

  Nothing was impossible to Evelyn Brown.

  She feigned defeat, letting Dev run his hands along her bare arms, muttering cynical things. Evelyn raised her chin, looking for something—anything—to defend herself with, and her eyes landed on a plank of wood, sitting right beside the trash can she’d stumbled against. It was small enough for her hands to grip and close enough for her to reach.

  Just as Dev tugged at the waistline of her pants, Evelyn extended her fingers, grabbing onto the wood in a swift movement.

  She hit him from behind, the corner of the plank splintering right against his skull, and Dev fell back, grunting from the force. Blood fell from his head as he clutched his forehead, his legs dizzying and his eyes fluttering.

  Enough was enough.

  Back on her feet now, Evelyn charged, jumping onto his body and pushing him back into the ground. She pulled a dagger from the inside of her shirt and lined the blade to his throat. The initials E.W. glinted across the metal.

  “No,” Dev whispered, feeling the edge against his skin.

  Evelyn pushed the blade further, blood leaking from his flesh. “This is for Charlotte,” she whispered, her breath heavy and thick.

  Dev’s eyes widened in realization.

  Once more, Evelyn pushed the blade further. This time, tears pricked Dev’s eyes, his lips opening to a gasp. “And Chanlina, and Skyler, and all the other girls you’ve hurt and abused.”

  “They lie,” Dev said, his voice barely a whisper.

  Evelyn laughed, the sound wicked and cruel. “As you are now?”

  Dev shook his head, his
tears fast and strong. His forehead gleamed with blood and sweat as he sobbed.

  “Mercy,” Evelyn whispered, slicing his skin, “forgotten.” A final slice, and then his eyes snapped shut. Evelyn watched him until he spasmed, his nerves twitching grotesquely. She watched until his ribcage stopped expanding—until his neck was so red she was sure she’d spilled the last of his blood.

  Evelyn stood, wiping her bloody nose, and stared at his lifeless body, feeling nothing but justice and vengeance. She looked up to the sky, to the stars that remained hidden underneath the stares of this awful, cruel planet, and shut her eyes, whispering the names of each and every girl Dev had hurt. But she didn’t stop there—Evelyn whispered the name of every single girl she’d known, hurt by the hands of a man no longer alive, through the rule of Lithe. Tears pricked her eyes and she let them fall, her chest heaving as her breaths labored.

  Evelyn had remembered each name of each girl, and for as long as she lived, she would never forget them. They fell off her tongue like an apology—though she knew no words would be enough for the pain they’d suffered.

  Her phone rang into the silence. Evelyn looked to the ground, finding her cell flat against the concrete. It had fallen when Dev had pushed her, she realized. Wiping her tears, Evelyn kneeled to retrieve it.

  Will.

  Evelyn brought the phone to her ear. “Hi.”

  “Evelyn!” he gasped through the phone. “You’ll never believe what I just found out.”

  Blood still dripped from her nose, falling to the floor in smooth droplets. “What is it?” she asked against her scratchy throat.

  “Are you crying?” Will asked, his tone suddenly changing. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not crying,” Evelyn said and laughed. More tears fell from her cheeks.

  “Evelyn,” Will said. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Evelyn shut her eyes against his pained voice. He was worried, and the fact clenched around her heart like barbed wire. If only he knew someone else’s blood coated her trembling hands.

  “Will,” Evelyn said, steadying her voice, “I’m fine. I’m okay. Please tell me what you found out.”

  Silence fell from the speaker. She heard Will shuffle, his breaths slow and unbelieving. “Okay,” he sighed at last. “I found him. I found my brother.”

  Despite the body before her, a smile pulled Evelyn’s bloodied lips. “Oh my God. Will, that’s amazing!”

  “I know,” Will said. Evelyn could feel the smile in his voice. She imagined it in her head, broad and beautiful.

  “Did you find his name?”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “This doesn’t feel real.”

  “What is it?” Evelyn asked, another laugh pulling from her chest. “His name?”

  “Dev,” said Will.

  Evelyn nearly dropped the phone. She looked to the Dev she had killed. It couldn’t be.

  It just couldn’t.

  “His last name,” Evelyn breathed. “What’s his last name?” A coincidence—it had to be a coincidence.

  “Miller,” Will replied. “Dev Miller.”

  No...

  Evelyn gasped, a sob erupting from her trembling body. Her knees met the rocky asphalt, hand hovering just above Dev’s unbeating heart. His eyes. His brown skin. His curls. He looked exactly like Will. His brother. How had she not realized?

  What have I done?

  “Evelyn?”

  “Will.” Her voice was a whisper, a hidden apology for the crime she’d just committed. “I have to go.”

  “Wait—”

  Evelyn’s phone fell from her hand, shattering on the bloody concrete.

  THERE WAS NO LITHE meeting, but Lara had found herself at the bell tower anyway, only wanting to sit on the cold floor and think of the things she’d been avoiding.

  It was no more than thirty degrees out, for the clock had just struck an hour before midnight and the sun had been hidden for hours.

  Lara enjoyed this time; she enjoyed the peace, the quiet. When few people were out, walking the streets, she felt safe—she felt whole in the isolation.

  As a child, Lara had spent the midnight hours under her covers, whispering stories aloud and softly singing the song that had been on the radio. Sleep was an unknown entity—her mother had taken it away from Lara at a young age; she’d pulled it from her hands and locked it into a golden chest.

  So sleepless nights came naturally to Lara. This was the first time she’d gone to the bell tower on such a night though.

  Walking across the wooden floors didn’t feel strange—it felt comfortable; like coming home after days of being away. The bell Lara had seen many times hung in the center of the room, rusted and doomy and everything one would expect an ancient bell to be. Lara grazed her fingers across the metal, feeling its coldness.

  She suddenly remembered the time Ana had pulled The Book of Betrayal from the tower. She walked over to the walls, where the book might have been, and felt around, looking for an opening in the rotting wood.

  A shaky panel moved as she touched it, bouncing slightly as if it had been opened recently. Lara pulled it open carefully, squinting into the dark space behind its wood. She could see nothing, so she pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, pointing it toward the wall.

  The Book of Betrayal rested there, looking exactly the same as it had the night Lara had first saw it. She moved it aside, reaching her hand in deeper. A large, smooth box sat behind the book—bronze and jeweled. Lara slid it from the space and placed it on the floor as she sat down, phone still in hand.

  The box looked like something that may have been found at an antique shop—old and rusted and hair-raising, much like the bell. A latch connected the top to the bottom, yet it did nothing but hang—its purpose dulled from years of usage.

  Lara snapped it open. There were many things in the box, all dusted and unique, but what caught Lara’s eye was the inscription on the inside of the lid—red words carved into the metal, spelling: One item from each victim.

  Lara looked back to the items. They were all the belongings of a dead person—a frightening realization. She assumed that Lithe no longer upheld the tradition of stealing an item from their victims, for she hadn’t taken anything from the boy she’d killed. But it was still surreal, sorting through years-old trinkets, longing for their rotting owners.

  A silver locket rested on the top of the pile. It looked similar to the locket Evelyn had given Lara, she realized, but instead seemed newer—almost free of dust and soil. She picked it up, bringing it close to her eyes.

  An initial and a last name were carved into the front, small and unobtrusive: D. Reeves.

  Reeves. Kai Reeves. Dianne Reeves.

  Lara sucked in a breath. This was Kai’s late mother’s necklace. She’d nearly forgotten that his parents had been killed by Lithe; that Lithe had murdered them as she was assigned to do to their son.

  She ran her thumb over the circular pendant, wondering what Dianne had looked like. Had she been beautiful like Kai? Had she been deadly? Had she been drawn to darkness—to another who lived there?

  Lara closed her fingers over the necklace, squeezing it tightly.

  She thought back to the recital dinner—when she and Kai had danced, tense bodies coalescing. But also when he’d whispered ardent words into her ear—raw and real and vulnerable.

  I’m yours, Lara, because you’re branded on my skin—on my heart. Every miserable part of me is yours, he had said—so desperately it had drawn the breath from Lara’s lungs.

  Lara tucked the locket into her pocket.

  I’m yours. I’m yours.

  She rubbed a cold hand across her tired face. The words had been replaying in an agonizing cycle in Lara’s mind; Kai’s voice unrelenting and painful.

  The necklace shifted in her pants as she sat up, moving the box back into its place behind the wooden panel. Lara wasn’t sure why she’d taken it, but she didn’t stop herself—she allowed herself this one thing without the questions of her
anxious mind.

  Lara’s phone rang from her hand, vibrating across her skin. She looked down.

  Violet.

  “Hello?” Lara said, answering.

  “Go to the bell tower now,” she ordered, her voice calm.

  “I’m already here,” Lara admitted.

  “What are you—” Violet stopped herself. “Never mind. That’s perfect. She’ll be there soon.”

  “She?”

  Violet ended the call.

  IT WAS NIGHT NOW, BUT Clarke had woken up that morning with a smile pasted to his face, bright and eager. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d felt so beatific—which he took as a good omen.

  Clarke sat in Starbucks, a now cold tea in hand, watching Lowri type on her laptop in the corner of the shop. He’d followed her here, slow and unsuspicious, and decidedly sat as far away from her as he could, prepared to wait as long as necessary for Lowri to leave.

  Her fingers moved slowly across the keyboard, pressing each letter carefully, without much force.

  Clarke yawned. He had been earnest, but he was slowly beginning to tire. As Clarke leaned back into his chair to stretch, however, Lowri began to pack her laptop into a vibrant yellow backpack.

  A grin tugged at his lips—it was time.

  He stood when she pulled the glass door open, tugging his baseball cap low over his face. Lowri put a pair of headphones into her ears as she walked, obliviously looking forward and unaware of Clarke’s presence.

  Oh, Clarke thought, feeling the cold breeze in the air as he walked a few feet behind her, how clueless you are.

  Lowri headed down a quiet street; Clarke could see not one person in the darkness, which worked in his favor. He pulled the rag he’d prepared in the Starbucks bathroom from his handbag and stepped closer to Lowri. He could hear her music from her headphones—an obnoxiously loud pop song that had surely been repeated on the radio seventy-six times today.

  She couldn’t hear Clarke as he leaned close into her body, but she felt him when he wrapped his muscular arm around her neck, suffocating her slightly.

  “Help,” Lowri tried to yell, but it came out as only a whisper.