39. Ghost
39
Ghost
T he look in her eyes after I told her how I was hired to hunt her, something died in her. I know she is having a hell of a time trusting me right now. But I need her to do this; I can’t end it without trying to find Esmé first.
She stands in front of Marklov, belittling him, making him look away and huff in defeat. She might be on to something. It seems to get under his skin as he snarls at her words. That is more than anything that we have been getting out of him.
“Where is she Marklov? Just answer the damn question.” I ask my voice in a dark tone laced with anger.
He laughs. Little Killer looks over to me with an eyebrow arched. He has the fucking nerve to laugh at us? At me? I step in front of him, pull Little Killer to the side, and yank one of his chains up that is around his neck—taking any oxygen that keeps him breathing.
“What is so damn funny, Marklov? Care to tell us?” Another question.
He coughs from his lungs, being deprived of oxygen. He points a shaky finger at Little Killer, and her eyes widen. What? This doesn’t make any sense. Why is he–
“Ask my Little Sinister over there.” His voice is cracking with each word.
She steps forward, eyes bouncing from mine to his. A look of pain is etched across her face.
“No, no, no, don’t you dare fuckin’ say it, Marklov.” Her voice shakes. “You fuckin’ monster!” She shouts. Inés shoves me off of him and starts wailing into him like crazy. I don’t want to stop her. I love this side of her. The real her, but I need to know what he is talking about.
“Hey, hey, it is okay, come on.” I grab her arms to prevent her from doing any damage to those beautiful hands of hers.
“Let me go!” her scream echoes down here. Something is tearing her apart.
I drag her away from him as he coughs and spits out more blood. I take Little Killer upstairs and into an empty room away from everyone. She breaks down instantly. What the fuck is happening?
“I am so fuckin’ stupid!” She is being erratic, pacing the room and hitting the shelves. “Her fuckin’ eyes, her nose, she was right there in front of me, and I couldn’t help her.”
“Wait, you seen her, you seen Esmé ? That’s terrific, mi amor! I knew you could help with this. What is upsetting you so badly? Why did you never mention this to me before?”
She stops, and I put my hands on her shoulders, touching my forehead to hers. “What this is we can fix it, I am here and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
“No, Gabriel. We can not fix this; she is gone.” My heart shatters at those words. “Esmé is fuckin’ dead, Ghost. All thanks to that dumb mother fucker downstairs. I was next for not being what he wanted me to be.” Her hands move to my arms, picking them up as I stand here numb. She lets go, and they drop down to my side. I’m looking at her, and if what I’m thinking she’s about to say next is right, I honestly don’t know how I’ll react. It’s like this heavy weight in my chest, and the anticipation of her words feels suffocating. I can’t imagine being able to look at her again without that urge to lash. It would be like every time I see her, I would be reminded of it every moment, and it just makes everything feel so tense and complicated.
“You have to believe me when I say this Ghost; it was her or me…I survived because of her.” She shakes her head. “I had a choice, and I chose me, I fuckin’ chose me because if I didn’t do it, who knows what else they would have done to her… She was in a cage, she looked really bad, and when they sat her down in front of me, she had a black bag over her head. It was like some sort of sick ritual with all of Marklovs rich buddies watching. I killed her, Gabriel, I fucking killed her!” She begins hitting herself in the head and talking down on herself.
“No, no… that can’t be right, In–Little Killer…I saw a tape of her she was alive; I could see her breathing.” This doesn’t make any sense to me. “Are–are you sure you aren’t mistaking her for someone else?” This has to be a coincidence.
“There was a tattoo behind her left ear that I saw before…before I did it. It was an infinity symbol with a halo above it.”
“Fuck. God damn it!” I scream out, desperately trying to suppress any irrational thoughts swirling in my mind. My fists collide with the wall in a moment of frustration, leaving a hole in the drywall. Made from of my anger. Just then, Raph, Sasha, and Lana burst through the door, their eyes wide with shock and concern. They take in the scene, clearly taken aback by my outburst, and I can see the worry etched on their faces as they try to process what just happened.
“G, what’s going on, man?” Raphs voice is light and on edge as if the wrong tone would send me to crash out on him next. No, not anymore. I know what I need to do.
I need to end this where it all started. The devil himself. We have been nice enough to even let him breathe. He took the one thing in this world that held me together. He took more than enough from me, and he won’t take anymore. Ever.
I look at Little Killer she is a wreck, crying frantically and looking back at me in pain. I know she didn’t know, and I know she would have never hurt someone if she didn’t have to. But fuck man.
“We will carry on this conversation later, I will be back.” her eyes are puffed.
“Where are you going, Ghost?!” She yells in panic.
“To finish this where it all started. His time of living and breathing the same air as us is over.” My voice is filled with anger and a hint of defeat. We have been working like crazy to get Esmé back, and it ends like this.
“I want to do it.” Little Killer is out for blood. I can’t blame her; he took a lot from her, and I will learn more later. I feel like it would only be right if we both do it.
“Let’s go.” I nod to the door, side-stepping out, and she follows.
Our steps are in sync as we go down the stairs. I look back, and Little Killer wipes her face from the fallen tears she shed. You can’t hide that kind of pain no matter what you do. A part of me wants Marklov all to myself. I want to see him suffer, but I can’t. It needs to be done.
I stand on one side of him and Little Killer on the other. Raph, Sasha, and Lana are standing on the stairs watching us. Confusion etched on their faces. Little Killer looks at me and her face has completely done a one eighty. She went from being in pain and losing her shit to a stone cold face of a killer. Her eyes are laced with shades of ember and blood shot. She turns around focusing on a table with a tool box and she opens it, the box is covered in dirt and grime from sitting there for so long. She reaches inside and pulls out a flat head screw driver, rusted beyond its recognition almost.
She looks over her shoulder to me and her eyebrows narrow. I don’t think I have ever had the chance to see her like this. When one devil dies another one is born. Could this be it? A rebirth? He has poisoned her with a disease that can’t be cured or in this case tamed. Trying to tame her would cause more harm than none.
Her steps are slow and deliberate. The tool in her hand hanging at her side.
“Tsk. tsk. Tsk. Marklov.” Is she taunting him? “I told you if I got out of there alive I would end you and that is simply what I am going to do. End. You. But, it is my turn to have some fun with you. I have Ghost here to accompany me. Because you see not only did you take my mother away from me, attempt to rape me as a child, and try to finish it very many years later, but you took someone away from him. His light, his heart, and most importantly his little sister.” She is right in so many ways but I have fallen in love with her. “We want you to remember this when you go to whatever hell hole Satan himself sends you.”
She yanks his chin up, face so swollen its unrecognizable. She lets his head fall back down and she stabs the screwdriver in his leg. He screams in agony and I can’t help but to feel a little bit of satisfaction in it all.
“I was not yours to begin with, and I definitely will not be yours in the end. Do you understand what I am saying, Marklov?” I move ever so slightly, adjusting my position, her eyes yank up to mine. “Care for a turn, babe?” a grin slaps on my face, and I wipe my lower lip with my thumb.
“Of course, I would, but I am really enjoying this. I will take the next one, mi reina.” She goes back to the toolbox and pulls out another busted tool. This one more rusted than the last. A ratchet. What is she going to do with that? She walks back over to Marklov, poor damn soul. A waste of a human meat sack. The sound of steel against his knee cracks, and I don’t dare look away. Another scream escapes him. Sasha gasps. The show must go on.
I look in the toolbox and see a rusted blade that was probably in a box cutter at one point. I choose it as my poison of choice for the next round. Little Killer steps away, letting me have some room. I walk up to him; he whimpers.
“Please, stop let me go, or kill me already.” Oh, if only you were that lucky, Marklov. I let out a deep chuckle.
The blade touches his rugged skin, covered in wounds, old and new. He tries pulling away, but the chain is too short. I trace the blade up his arm and over to his neck, teasing him deliberately. The rusted blade knicks him, and blood instantly hits the air. Its thickness drips down in a beautiful pattern. In a swift motion, I cut Marklovs wrist open. Time is in play now before he bleeds out.
I motion for Little Killer to go ahead. She already has a pair of pliers in her hand, no rubber grip and a piece chipped off the teeth. She yanks his head back by forcefully grabbing his hair.
“Open your mouth.” She demands, and if I were him I would do what she says.
Marklov purses his lips tight, trying to stop her from going in. With one hand wrapped in his oily hair and the other holding onto the pliers, she uses her knee to put pressure on his busted kneecaps, causing him to scream in agony. She wastes no time. The pliers latch onto one of his teeth; she yanks it forcefully, causing blood to squirt out.
A splatter of blood lines the left side of Little Killer’s face. She bends down, lowering herself to his level.
“Do you see my face?” She rotates her head around. “You did this. You made me ugly not only on the inside but on the outside as well. So I will show you just how ugly I can be.” She goes for another tooth and another. A scream of pure agony followed by each one.
I love to see it. I love her. And she is so wrong about being ugly she is anything but. Her scars show how much of a fighter she is. How much she has overcome. The surgeries have done her well. She just has a scar that stretches from her temple down to the corner of her left lip. Kind of like half of her face is always smiling. But damn, she pulls it off. after torturing this sick son of a bitch for what seems like hours, I draw my pistol holding it out to Inés. She shakes her no, “That’s all you babe.” I grin. God she’s so damn perfect. with a pull of the trigger the devil is sent back to the hell hole he climbed out of.