Chapter 30 #2
At first, I don’t hear anything, just the rush of the wind. But then, underneath it—the purr of a car engine. And something else, too. A heartbeat. The scent of human blood and gasoline.
“Yeah,” I say, letting the sensations wash over me. “It’s a man.”
Charlotte sniffs, then lets out a bright, delighted laugh. “Oh damn, you’re right, it is. That’s even better. Now go hide behind the car so you can jump out when it’s time.”
I know it shouldn’t, but excitement is brimming up in my chest, the way it always does before a kill. All that anticipation, that sense of something building. The only thing better was when I was inside Abi, her body wet and clenching as she moaned and writhed beneath me.
I clutch the knife and duck beside the car, realizing with a start that the reason Charlotte veered off suddenly was to make it look like an accident. Like she was chased off the road.
The car engine grows louder, the tires crackling against the asphalt. I crouch down, clutching the knife, my body brimming with anticipation.
“Help!” Charlotte screams, her voice whipping away on the wind. “Oh my god, help me! Please!”
I can’t see her, but I can hear her—her feet pounding against the dirt, her breath quick and frantic even though her heartbeat is steady and the only emotion rippling off her is the same excitement building up in me.
“Help!” she wails, and the car shifts gears and slows down, the engine clicking as it idles. A door slam. A man’s voice.
“What’s wrong? Honey? Are you hurt?”
He’s nervous. He’s trying to sound brave, but he’s nervous. Wary.
I tighten my grip on the knife. I can’t remember the last time I used one. It was for Uncle Nash, not one of my kills. But it feels good in my hand. Not too heavy. Not too light. And powerful.
“He’s chasing me!” Charlotte screams. “Please, you have to let me in the car! He’s coming!”
Me, I realize with a start. She’s fucking talking about me.
And then I act like all of this is the most natural thing in the world—and it is, I realize. I’m not some human killer.
All of Uncle Nash’s warnings about getting caught fly out of my head. All I want is blood.
I leap to my feet and lunge forward, moving so fast I surprise myself.
The knife blade flashes in the sun and catches the man’s attention.
He looks over at me, and for a split second, time kind of slows down, and I can sense everything: the pulsating, sweet scent of his fear and surprise, the pounding of his heart as it pumps the hot, thick blood I’m about to spill.
“What the fuck?” he shrieks.
Then Charlotte leaps on him, hooking her arm around his throat.
I keep running until the knife sinks into his chest, sliding through the muscle and lodging into his ribcage.
He screams and tries to throw her off, but she’s too strong for him.
Blood splatters out of his mouth and pours out of the wound I made.
I feel hot and feverish. The few times I killed like this, it was for Uncle Nash, and always in a controlled space, the victim tied down and already worn thin from Uncle Nash’s information-gathering tactics.
This is different. It’s wild and natural.
It feels like what I’m meant to be doing.
What I should have been doing my whole life.
I stumble back, the knife slipping out of my blood-drenched fingers. The man slumps forward in Charlotte’s arms, head lolling. His chest is ridged with all the cuts I made.
“Damn,” Charlotte says. “I feel like you needed that.”
She drops the body in the grass and wipes her bloody hands on her shorts, leaving smears of crimson in their wake. And like that, the spell breaks.
“Fuck,” I say, panic surging through me. “Fuck, we left all this evidence—We aren’t even wearing gloves—”
“We did not leave evidence.” Charlotte grabs my arms and jostles me, making me look at her. She stares through the holes in my killing face, like she’s trying to see my eyes.
Abi does the same thing.
“Someone’s going to drive by,” I say in a panic.
“Probably,” Charlotte says. “Which is why we should skedaddle. As for evidence, don’t worry about it. Remember, we aren’t human.”
“What?” I feel dizzy. But good, too. Powerful. All that adrenaline pumping through me feels like desire, and I kind of wish Abi were here. Although if she had just seen what I did, I bet she would run screaming right to the police.
“We aren’t human.” Charlotte scoops up the bloody knife and wipes the blade on her shirt. “So whatever DNA evidence they find, it’ll be inconclusive because they don’t know what they’re looking for.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Charlotte ambles over to the car. “I’m not,” she calls out over her shoulder. “Trust me, you would lose your mind at the kind of evidence Jaxon and I have left behind at crime scenes.”
For half a second, I have no idea what she’s talking about. Then I get it. I flush with second-hand embarrassment.
“Come on!” Charlotte calls out. “Before someone drives by, like you said.”
I race toward the car, heart pounding, and slam into the passenger seat. Charlotte turns on the engine and peels off, and I bend over to look at the rearview mirror, to watch our victim’s car recede into the distance.
“You felt it,” Charlotte says suddenly. “Didn’t you?”
I want to tell her no. Want to say I have no idea what she’s talking about. But that would be a lie. Because I did feel it when I sank her knife into that man’s chest. I can still feel it, surging through my limbs like electricity.
Power. Strength. A sense that this is my place in the world.
“Yes,” I whisper, fixing my gaze on the road in front of me. My killing face feels stuck to my skin, like it couldn’t come off even if I wanted it to. Like the two parts of me are finally melding together.
Charlotte laughs. “Want to do it again?”
I look at the clock on the dashboard. It’s a little after noon. I have plenty of time before dark. Before I need to get back to Abi.
“Fuck, yes,” I say.