Chapter 28
Sebastian
The Signature Weapon
“I can’t imagine her carrying knives.” Evie sat between Cujo and Precious on my couch a week later, twirling the daggers between her fingers. “But she clearly had them specially made. They look new.”
“Maybe they were,” I suggested, coming from the kitchen with a Red Bull in my hand.
I offered her a bottle of water and sat down on the other side of the couch.
I’d tried to sit with her, but my dogs seemed to prefer Evie to me.
They’d never liked a sexual partner I brought home before, but with her, it was like she’d been their original owner, not me.
I tried not to get jealous of the amount of cuddles they were giving her, but this side of the couch was quite lonely.
“Maybe they weren’t hers but made for you. They don’t say Lita on them.”
“True,” she mumbled as she studied them. They were pretty nice push daggers. “Good for her. That’s kind of iconic, don’t you think?”
“They are very Lita-coded,” I agreed.
“And that theory makes more sense. If they’d been hers, why didn’t she have them on her that night? Why give them to Bryce before she died? She knew that one day I’d have to take down this fucking town.”
Evie grew quiet, and her eyes glazed over.
Bryce knowing what we were doing, and being willing to help, had been a lot for her.
After dinner that night, I’d taken her home and left her to think.
I was surprised when she asked me to hang out after work the following Friday.
She’d been hanging out with Skye most of the week.
“Who’s next?” I asked.
“Frederick Castle,” she said without looking up from her weapons.
“I see...” I scrunched up my nose and quickly looked away. I’d been really dreading this one.
“When I first made the decision to come back, I did some research. I contacted a few true crime channels. You know, those amateur sleuth ones? They found so much information on my mom’s case that I didn’t know existed. I made the list in order from easiest to hardest. I think, anyway.”
“Right. That’s the list you showed me before.”
She nodded. “Frederick Castle is an entertainment lawyer. He hangs out in his office most of the time, and it’s a nice one with lots of security. I can’t even get a meeting with him.”
“I know Fred. That sounds right.” I rolled my eyes. Fred Castle was a royal dick.
“So, should we give it a bit of time? Dourif has barely been dead two weeks. And now that they’ve found Glenn...”
“Maybe. Are you thinking of using those going forward?” I pointed to the knives in her lap. Her brown eyes lit up, and her lips turned upward.
“Yes! The note that came with them? She wanted me to do this. Avenge her death.”
Lita Reyes was a confusing creature. She had a lot of secrets but was always two steps ahead of everyone, until that night.
The more I thought about it, Evie’s theory was probably correct.
Lita had given the engraved knives to Bryce in the event something happened to her and her daughter needed to fight back.
But why even go to dinner in the first place?
“You need to learn how to use them, then.”
Evie pushed the dogs off her lap and leaped up. Handling the knives, handles between her fingers, she hunched down, taking a fighting stance, and then punched the air. I raised an eyebrow, and when she saw the skepticism on my face, she stood straight.
“What? I’ve got this. I took a class.” She swung again, haphazardly. Her arm was not steady, and the landing was weak. There was no way she’d be able to take on someone alone.
“Your instructor was shit, then.” I snickered and stood.
Once she stopped swinging, I faced her front and reached up, snagged her wrist, and yanked her arm down. I grabbed the other and forced them to her sides, squeezing until she whimpered.
“Drop them,” I demanded.
Her eyes watered as she tried to fight against me. She pressed her lips together, and I squeezed harder. That seemed to trigger something in her. Her brow furrowed, her eyes darkened, and she sneered at me.
“Fuck you,” she spat. Her eyes glazed over—I had a feeling she wasn’t speaking to me, but one of the men on her list.
I squeezed harder, hating myself for it but needing to prove my point.
“You think they’ll hesitate to snap your bones in half?” I asked, finally letting her go.
She stumbled back, dropping the daggers to the floor so she could rub her wrists.
I bent down to retrieve her weapons. “I’m sorry, Final Girl. These men will fight for their lives. You’ve gotta be prepared for that.”
“Maybe I can’t do this.” She dropped her body onto the floor in defeat. “Sometimes dead is better,” she huffed the line from Pet Sematary, expressing her frustration.
“Not in my movie.” Replying with the quote from Scream.
I crouched down and lifted her chin to meet my gaze.
“You can do this. And you will. We’ve already killed two out of six, remember?
You got Dourif no problem. But we know they aren’t all going to be that easy, so we have to prepare.
I actually bought you something to help with this. ”
Her eyes, having gone shiny with tears, now showed...hope. She sat up straight, putting her hands on the floor to steady herself.
“You did?”
I stood and hurried to the kitchen, where I’d left the box. I wasn’t entirely great at giving gifts. All the people I knew had everything they’d ever wanted. Not that Evie was lacking for anything, but I wanted…
I wasn’t even sure what I’d wanted when I made the order. I was excited yet nervous to show her. Would she like it? Or was I just copying Bryce?
I handed her the box wrapped in paper that was meant to look like TV static, accented with a bow that was a sickly shade of green. “Forgive me for the wrapping job. Normally my assistant does this stuff, but considering the sensitive nature, I thought it best we keep this to ourselves.”
“These are the logo colors for my channel!” Evie laughed as she tore through the paper and lifted the box. Dipping her hand inside, she pulled out a small leather belt and paused, cocking her head and furrowing her brows in confusion.
“What is this?” she asked, pulling out a second belt and eyeing them curiously. Setting them down beside her, she dug back into the box.
“Those are straps. They go inside your—”
“Boots! Anthony C. Hopkins, these are so cute.” She pulled out the matte black leather combat boots and turned them in her hands. “I’m obsessed.”
“Check out the soles.”
A gasp came from her throat as she turned them upside down. Etched into the rubber were the words:
Good For Her.
Scrambling up, she unzipped them and slid them over her feet.
The boots went to midcalf. Grabbing the straps she’d abandoned on the floor, I had her take the boots back off to try the belts.
Pulling her pants up to secure the belts, she slid the daggers into place before putting the boots back on.
She zipped the boots up again and tightened the laces then bounced on the balls of her feet and did a few kicks and poses.
Reaching down, she drew both blades in a fluid motion.
“Fucking groovy.”
“I thought you’d like them.” I grinned as I watched her pretend to fight. Honestly, it was a little sexy, watching her brows knit in concentration. She doubted herself, but I never did for even an instant.
“Every villain needs an iconic outfit,” I told her. She paused midkick and turned.
“I’m a villain?”
I shrugged. “Some people would probably classify you as such. Definitely the men on your list.” I laughed.
She tapped her chin with her forefinger and nodded.
“True. What is it they say? Everyone is a villain to someone?”
“And every villain has a tragic backstory. I’d say yours fits the bill.”
“Yeah, but it’s not really...” She pursed her lips and relaxed from her fighting stance, sliding the knives back into her boots before sitting back on the couch. The dogs lifted their heads in interest and then dropped back down. She sighed. “It wasn’t me who was brutally raped and murdered.”
“No, but someone close to you was. They murdered your mother, Evie. Your reasons for revenge are valid.” I watched the dogs to make sure I wasn’t attacked as I moved to sit behind her and pull her into my arms. She relaxed into my chest, and my heart soared.
I wanted this every night. Every time she let me in, I reveled in it.
How long could I make this last?
“There’s a reason revenge horror is so popular,” I said, resting my head in the crook of her neck. “I Spit on Your Grave, The Crow, Midsommar,” I listed.
“Slash or Pass, American Mary, Jennifer’s Body,” Evie added, the sadness in her voice lifting with each title. “So many women hurt in so many different ways. Sometimes the screen gets a little too real.”
“Exactly. It doesn’t matter how they were hurt. It’s the revenge we like to see. We want to see the bad guys lose. And when you leave the theater, you find yourself saying—”
“Good for her,” she finished, a deep sigh leaving her body.
“Exactly.” I shifted my head to kiss her salty cheek.
For the first time since she’d come back into my life, my affection wasn’t given with lust in mind, but comfort.
When she was hurting, so was I. I wanted revenge just as much as she did, and I had every intention of helping her get it.
She settled deeper into me, and I wrapped my arms tighter.
“If it’s with my last dying breath, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you get your good for her moment, Final Girl,” I whispered into her ear, following it with another kiss.
We relaxed into the couch, and I took a deep, heavy breath.
Well, fuck.
She wanted to go for Fred Castle next. I knew this day would come, but I wasn’t entirely prepared for it. After all, he lived next door.