22. Beatrix
22
BEATRIX
K nox’s friends don’t show up by the time I’ve finished in the back. Nor do they arrive when I’m through throwing away the rest of the food and trash. Thankfully, Knox has been kind enough to devour most of the leftovers.
“I hate when food goes to waste,” he explained when I came back to find the platters nearly empty when before they’d been hardly touched.
I don’t necessarily want to take Knox up to the house. He’s a complete stranger after all. But after a rough morning listening to people talk shit about me and the deceased, I wouldn’t mind someone kind around. Even Pastor Michaels’s presence had done nothing to stop wagging tongues.
“Are your friends lost?” I ask Knox as we walk out of the funeral home.
Knox snorts. “No, they know where this place is. Even if they didn’t, I have a tracker in my ass. They’d just pull that up and follow the dot here.”
I don’t know what that means. Are they sharing each other’s location and maybe his phone is in his back pocket? My mind’s so scattered as I think about everything that needs to be done, this is the least of my concerns. Still, I can’t leave him out here like a lost puppy.
“Well, while you wait, do you want to join me on a short trek to the house?” I ask.
Knox eyes the building on the hill curiously.
“You mean you want me to climb Mount Mordor? Do I look like the questing type?” he asks, quirking a blond, perfectly manicured brow upward in disbelief.
I stare at him for a minute and his brow falls.
“What?” he asks sharply, his body stiffening ever so slightly.
I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing. I just… I didn’t expect a Lord of the Rings reference from you, that’s all.”
“I know, it screams nerd.” He rolls his eyes dramatically, and I can’t help but smile at his theatrics. “I blame my friends. Thatcher loves that trilogy, and he forces me to watch it a lot. He likes to torment me that way.”
“At least you have friends.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. This time both of Knox’s brows raise, and I cringe. “That sounds like a cry for help. It’s not, I promise.”
He sighs loudly. “Well now I’m going to feel bad if I say I'd rather wait in my car, so sure . Lead the way, Frodo.”
“Does that make you Samwise?”
Knox tucks a strand of his wavy blond hair behind his ear which causes the cluster of thin gold bracelets around his wrist to clink together softly. “Given that we both love food and have blond hair, being Samwise works for me.”
The smile he flashes is so friendly that I can’t help but let go of some of the tension lingering in my chest after the brutal service. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes but that’s ok. We’re acquaintances getting to know one another.
With it settled, Knox and I make our way up to the house. It’ll take a bit to get the old retorts hot enough to throw Patrick and Lauren in, so the trip up the hill isn’t all that much of a waste. Especially when there are a few items I’d love to turn to ash with them.
“Feel free to poke around the refrigerator or watch some television. I won’t be long,” I tell Knox as we enter the house and I show him the living room and kitchen.
Knox flops down into the wingback chair that had once been my mother’s favorite and pushes back to recline.
“I’ll just make myself at home for a bit,” he says with a boyish smile.
He really is pretty. With wavy blond hair that’s just long enough to tuck behind his ears, pouty lips that shine with gloss, and manicured brows—Knox certainly stands out. Especially in a place like Chasm, a small town set in its traditional views and values. You’d never find a man in town wearing the sheer, lacy long sleeve shirt and designer pants Knox wears so casually, nor would anyone drop the amount of money on those Italian leather shoes on his feet or on the plethora of gold bracelets on each wrist. He’s a perfect balance of masculine and feminine. Knox must know he stands out. He didn’t seem all that surprised by Trevor and Sebastian’s cruelty. In fact, he’d looked more amused than worried. I can’t help but admire his courage.
As I leave him, I wonder how old Knox is. He can’t be much older than me. At least he doesn’t look like it.
With a sigh, I head to my room. In my closet, I grab a shoebox from the top shelf and pull it down. I open the lid, throw it to the ground, and grab the light pink cable knit sweater inside. I lift it, letting the rest of the box follow the top to the floor.
The sweater is old and smells a bit, but I bring it to my face and breathe in its scent.
Long ago, it smelled like my mother. Well, like her during a time when she cared about her hygiene. I can still see her wearing it, smiling down at me as she braided my hair. The memory is a bit hazy now, but it’s one of my favorites. One I’ve been clinging to the longest because during that time my mother had loved me. I used to be able to feel that same love whenever I held this sweater close. But that feeling is gone now, just like her.
With a sigh, I drop the sweater away from my face and carry it out of the room. I head up to the third floor next and grab Patrick’s wallet and favorite shirt. This stuff holds no sentimental value for me, but it did for Patrick. The rest of their belongings can be trashed. But this stuff? It can burn.
When I return to the first floor, I head for the door and throw the stuff in a pile beside it.
“Hey, Starr Girl, can I open a bottle of wine?” Knox’s voice calls out from the kitchen.
A brief moment of annoyance comes and goes. While I’m not thrilled he’s poking his nose around, I did tell him he could go in there.
In any case, a glass of wine sounds nice. I haven’t had one in so long—too afraid being tipsy would leave me vulnerable around the others that lived in this house. I guess I could enjoy a glass before heading down and taking care of erasing my mother and her husband from the face of this earth.
Rather than call back, I enter the kitchen to find Knox sitting on the counter having already opened a bottle of red. That was one of Patrick’s favorites. He’s not around, so I suppose he won’t miss it. Knox lifts the bottle as he finishes pouring his own glass.
“Want me to pour you one?” he asks cheerfully.
I stare at him for a moment. There’s something about Knox that is endearing and cute. Under the gaze of his bright blue eyes, which are striking and seem to take in all of me at once, I feel a little flustered. He’s no Chase, who was tall, dark haired, and handsome. But Knox has this energy and charm about him, and he radiates friendliness. I’m strangely drawn to him.
With a half-nod, I concede. “Sure.”
Knox reaches behind him, opens the cabinet, and pulls out another glass. “I hope you don’t mind that I've opened this. The texts I’m getting from my friends are stressing me out.”
I stroll over and take my glass once he’s filled it. Leaning my back against the island, I study him over the rim as I lift the glass to my lips. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, they just… They want to move today. Like I have the energy to do that .” His eyes widen incredulously as before he winces. “First they get me up early for a funeral they don’t show up to, and now this? They must be crazy.”
I wouldn’t say ten o’clock in the morning was early, but maybe Knox is on a different schedule than I am. I tip the glass back and the wine slides across my tongue. It’s not great stuff, but I appreciate it all the same.
“Where are you moving to?” I ask curiously.
“Here to Chasm,” Knox says before tipping his head back and downing half his glass. I blink in surprise.
I scoff. “You want to move here ? Why?”
“Eh, it's complicated.” Knox rolls his eyes dramatically. He looks at me pointedly then, his pupils narrowing. “Have you been here your whole life?”
My stomach knots uncomfortably. I don’t want to talk about my life. It’s not a great one. Instead of replying, I simply nod and take a sip of wine. Knox doesn’t take the cue. He presses.
“Why? Judging by the conversations I overheard, there’d be no love lost if you were to leave.”
At this I can’t stop my wince. Knox shoots me a look that appears a lot like pity. I wave a dismissive hand and look away.
“Well, there’s no way you stayed because of your parents,” he continues. “Judging by the lack of makeup running down your face and by your dismissal of my condolences, you’re not upset they’re dead.”
It’s not a question, but Knox is prying. I don’t like it. He's a stranger and I… I don’t want to have a pity party. I’m in a new chapter of my life, one where I don’t have to dwell on the negative people who are no longer here. Rather than continue this line of conversation, I shift the topic back to him.
“Life is what kept me here. In any case, I hope you end up liking it here.” I doubt he will though. Not only will the people of Chasm make him feel very uncomfortable, but there’s not a lot to do around here.
Knox raises a brow. “You’re not going to ask me any more questions? Like what I’ll be doing here for work, what house I’m moving into, and what I did before coming here?”
I shrug. “It's none of my business.”
At this, Knox throws his head back and laughs. I flinch at the sudden sound, so loud in the otherwise quiet house.
“Wow, you’re a fun surprise. I was sure when I opened up that line of conversation it was going to earn me a mini interrogation.” He regards me with a curious smile. “You’re not like a lot of the small-town people I know.”
His bright blue eyes are strangely speculative. I don’t like it.
“I think the people of Chasm would agree with you,” I mutter before pushing away from the island. I take a sip of my wine and then place the glass on the kitchen table before approaching the window. Just as I come to a stop, someone steps directly in front of it.
I yelp in surprise as Trevor stares through the glass, straight at me.
“Hey, Trix or Treat,” he says loud enough for me to hear.
“Shit, is that the guy from earlier?” Knox asks.
I don’t answer him as I stare back at Trevor. My heart hammers in my chest.
I can feel the blood rush from my face as he sneers down at me. This can’t be happening. Not right now. I just got rid of Patrick and my mother. I don’t need another challenge to face. I just want some peace. Is that too much to ask for? Tears blur my vision. This isn’t fair. Is he going to take Patrick’s place and be a constant terror in my life? Why? Why is this happening to me? My bottom lip trembles as we stare at one another.
Trevor’s hand comes up and his knuckles rap against the window, causing the glass to rattle. The sound stirs me out of my spiraling. I blink rapidly and my tears disappear. My spine straightens, and I force myself to take a deep breath. Then I flip him the bird.
Rather than be put out, Trevor laughs loudly.
“Call the cops,” Knox drawls, his tone bored. “I’m pretty sure this is, like, harassment, or something.”
I swallow hard. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Trevor smirks and slinks away from the window toward the front door. Oh no… Alert bells go off in my head as I realize I didn’t lock it when we came inside. I don’t answer Knox as I turn and race for the front door.
Just as I get there, the knob turns, and the door begins to crack open. I fling my arms out, ready to shove it closed, but suddenly it pulls back, slamming shut on its own. I freeze with my arms outstretched. For a second, I stare at the door, stunned. What… what just happened? With a trembling hand, I reach up and lock the deadbolt.
“Hey, Trix or Treat!” a voice calls out from the other end of the house.
Oh no, Sebastian!
They must’ve split up—one taking the front door while the other took the back. My lungs seize as I try not to panic. Of course they would try something the minute I’m alone. Why wouldn’t they? I race down the hallway, passing the kitchen in an attempt to fight Sebastian off before he gets too far into the house. I get halfway toward the mudroom when I hear the back door slam shut. My heart jumps up in my throat. As I approach, I’m sure the mudroom door is about to fling open.
But it doesn’t.
I make it to the cracked mudroom door and throw it open the rest of the way, ready to face Sebastian head on. Except he’s not here. I frown. Did he leave? Just like that? Unease knots my stomach, and I can’t work my heart back into place. Where did these two just go? I lock the back door in case he or Trevor try to enter this way again, then head back toward the front of the house.
As I approach the entrance to the kitchen, Knox saunters out of the room. He glances at me then down the hallway as if half expecting someone to pop out of the shadows. The silence that follows isn’t comforting.
“Well, I thought I was going to have to step in to help, but I’m glad everything’s been taken care of,” he says happily. “I just painted my nails and getting them chipped the first day wasn’t in the cards for me.”
He lifts up his hands with a wide grin to show off the iridescent color on his fingernails as if we weren’t just under attack by two of the worst people alive.
“I’m sorry, Knox,” I say breathlessly. “I shouldn’t have invited you up here. I didn’t realize they’d come back… At least not so soon.”
Knox shrugs. “This was way more interesting than sitting in my car playing on my phone, so it’s whatever.”
Interesting? It’s whatever? How is he not terrified right now? I must not have hidden my confusion well because Knox laughs. His slim shoulders shake and his bright white teeth flash.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like an adrenaline rush?”
I hesitate, stopping beside him as I consider his question.
“I do,” I hedge, thinking about last night with Chase. “But I’ve done this song and dance with these two before and it…” My voice trails off as I try not to replay the horrors I’ve gone through with Trevor and Sebastian. I move forward into the kitchen and make a beeline for the drawers.
“ It… ?” Knox presses, following close behind me.
“Doesn’t end well,” I finish reluctantly as I pull open a drawer and pull out a knife. Knox raises a brow when I turn around and he sees what’s in my hand. “I’ll walk you back down the hill and keep them off you.”
Knox tilts his head to regard me curiously. “You’re trying to protect me? Again ? You don’t even know me. What if I’m as bad as they are?”
I stroll toward the front door, and he follows me.
“Then I’ll deal with you too, Knox. But they’re here for me, and until you show your true colors…” I shrug as I scoop up the things I’ve gathered of Patrick and Lauren’s and tuck them under one arm. “I’ll watch your back.”
Knox says nothing to this as he follows me out.
I keep close to my guest as we walk across the front porch and head down the hill. As my head moves as if on a swivel, I note Trevor’s red sports car in the parking lot. It sits beside a small, nondescript, dark green sedan. On the other side of the sedan is a massive black truck, lifted, with a four-door cab. In the bed of the truck is a motorcycle that’s been strapped down.
My footsteps slow as I check out the truck. It looks oddly familiar.
“Is that… yours?” I ask Knox.
“Naw, mine is the sedan. I prefer something less flashy.” I look over my shoulder at him, giving him a pointed look at his lacy shirt and gold bracelets. He follows my gaze then laughs. “Well, at least when it comes to cars. Not when it comes to the rest of me. The truck and bike belong to my friends.”
I frown. There’s no one standing around his car or sitting in the truck, nor is there anyone hanging around the front of the funeral home.
“They’re here? Where?—”
“Yup, they just texted me. Thatcher said they’re inside.”
I stop in the parking lot and Knox stops with me.
“I locked the doors behind us when we left, how are they inside?” I demand sharply.
Knox flashes me another one of those boyish grins as he cocks his head to one side. “They’re really good at picking locks.”
“Damn it! You are trouble,” I snap. “Wait out here…” I say that but then glance up at the house looking for signs of Trevor and Sebastian. I don’t see them, but they could be lurking anywhere. Maybe they’ve made it into the house already. If anyone took the time to check, most of the windows on the first floor don’t lock properly and are easy to shimmy open. I bite the inside of my cheek in frustration.
“Actually, go wait in your car. I’m going to kick your friends out,” I order before shoving the handle of the knife into his hand.
Knox blinks down at the weapon then up at me.
“For protection if you see the others,” I grumble before stomping over to the front door of Bright Starr and grabbing the handle. The door opens. Furious that someone would do this today of all days, I storm in, ready to give whoever’s inside a piece of my mind.
I make it about four full steps into the funeral home when arms come around my body to pin mine to my side. My blood flash freezes, and my heart skips a beat. Just as I’m about to scream, a voice murmurs into my ear,
“Hello, Little Viper. It feels good to hold you again.”
My scream dies instantly, but my body remains stiff. I didn’t notice the last time he visited me, but now in his embrace his scent envelopes me. It’s like taking a deep breath of fresh autumn air. He smells of cool crisp air with a hint of evergreen and soil, like he’s been outside for long stretches and nature’s perfume has permanently sunken into the fibers of his being.
“It’s you,” I whisper, my voice twisted with fear and maybe a little excitement.
“Hm, it’s me ,” my devil agrees with a pleased hum. “Happy to be back in my embrace?”
Am I? I don’t know. Last time he embraced me, it was to hold me down while he made me cum so much I was left in tears, shaky, and breathless. I’d been so confused, so scared… but god, I’d never felt so alive. His touch is what sent me into Chase’s arms last night, looking to recreate the rush he’d given me.
But I don’t know this man. He’s killed people. It doesn’t matter if he killed them for me , the fact that he can do that… That makes him evil, right? He’s someone to be cautious around. Then again, am I evil for asking for his help?
Rather than answer him, I ask him a question in return, “What are you doing here?”
“I thought it was time we met, face-to-face.”
My mind goes blank from shock. He’s going to show me his face? What does that mean? That our game is done? That he’s through watching me and he’s going to kill me like he killed Patrick and Lauren?
My devil’s arms loosen around me, both dropping away a moment later, but a hand snakes out and calloused fingers wrap around my wrist. He tugs, and for a second, I resist. If I see his face, will all of this become too real? The devil behind me chuckles, the sound deep and coarse, as if he doesn’t do it often.
“Scared, Little Viper?”
Words are beyond me as my throat squeezes shut, but I nod. What harm could admitting the truth bring?
“Good, now turn around.” The command in his voice is sharp. There’s no choice but to obey.
The way my heart is beating so quickly, I’m sure it’s going to give out at any moment. Bright Starr’s foyer starts to spin as panic makes me lightheaded. Or maybe it's because I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
My eyes drop to the floor where I watch my feet shift, turning me around to face the intruder, my devil. I see his black boots first and then his dark jeans. Incrementally, my gaze lifts, taking in the black shirt and brown leather jacket. I pause, staring in the middle of his chest, unable to go further. Is this it? Will he kill me once I see his face?
“Look at me, Little Viper. I want to gaze into your eyes.”
Lifting my chin, I force myself to face my devil head on. When our eyes meet, I flinch violently in surprise. My gasp is followed by an unconscious step backward.
“ C-Chase ?”
My devil looks like the stranger I met last night… except not. I search his face, trying to sort out what’s different about him. Just as I could tell last night, there’s some Asian heritage in his features, as subtle as they may be. His face has all the sharp lines, the light brown freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheekbones, and he appears just as tall as I remember.
Yet… There’s an edge to this man that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Shadows huddle the dips and planes of his face where none had been the night before. His hair isn’t slicked back either. Rather, the raven black hair falls into his face, covering his one sage green and one light brown eye. I frown. Last night, I could’ve sworn his left eye was the brown one and the right was green. But staring at him now? They’ve switched. Are they… contacts?
It’s slow in coming, and tight, but a smile appears as my devil shakes his head once. “Nope.”
My brows furrow as confusion and fear war with one another. What does he mean by that?
“That’s my brother, Sagan, actually,” a voice behind me announces.
I nearly levitate off the ground in surprise as I realize we’re not alone. With a great deal of difficulty, I drag my eyes away from the man before me to turn halfway around. I blink rapidly as the newcomer strolls up the hallway and joins us in the foyer.
My mouth pops open and dries. Coming to stand before me is another Chase. This one looks like the man I met last night, with a friendly smile and slicked back hair. And as he draws near, I realize his eyes are how I remember too. Words are lost to me as I stare between the two nearly identical men. Am I hallucinating?
“Since we’re discussing names, mine isn’t Chase either,” the second man continues as he stops before me and his smile widens further. “I’m Thatcher Hunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you without any type of guise between us, Little Sister.”
The floor drops away and my stomach falls with it. Holy shit. No, this is impossible. Hunt? As in… No, they can’t be related to Patrick. There’s no way life would be this cruel. But I see the truth in Thatcher’s eyes as he watches my expression closely.
I had their father killed only to make room for two more of him in my life.
What type of karma is this?