Epilogue - Quinnly
Two Months Later
I had to look at the calendar on my phone to know what day it was, which is a first. That whole Paranoid Penny debacle really took the wind out of my sails. But Clone One proved to be a worthy doctor and rehabilitationist.
Clone Two, on the other hand, has been a pretty great punching bag. His workouts–after Clone One cleared me to restart my training–have been a welcome addition to the whole “recovery” thing.
“You’re being lazy,” he laughs, dancing around me in bouncy movements like a boxer. “You’ve been cleared, come on, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Striking at his gut, he steps back with a chuckle and taps my chin with his knuckles.
“Maybe this is your sign to retire, Wild One.”
His smirk makes me want to grab my scissors, but Lincoln currently has those on the opposite side of the gym.
“Maybe I just don’t want to hurt you,” I huff, “your pretty girlfriend would be lonely.”
He stops bouncing and tilts his head, pursing his lips, “You really think so?”
Laughing, I slide into his shins and over my back he tumbles. Lincoln appears beside the mat and I wave him off. I’m not going to break that easily.
Clone Two and I grapple on the floor, tossing and turning with blocks and punches. God, it’s nice to move again. To regain the muscles I’d lost since Paranoid Penny almost took me into deadlandia with her.
What a cunt.
They found Charlie in the woods where I tucked her away. Well, she found Banks after she stumbled from the place I’d stuffed her, with a clearer head than when I found her. After a quick detox, Clone One deemed her good to go, but she stuck around.
Something about feeling bad about my dying or whatever.
Emotions are honestly ridiculous, and confusing as hell.
I’m still a little peeved that I didn’t get a glimpse of the pearly gates like some other people when they die and come back. I wanted cool stories to tell.
Pinning Clone Two to the mat, he chuckles, “Not bad, Wild One.”
I’m sweaty and tired of being cooped up in the Hemlock house. In the shower I daydream about my next target. It’s been ten weeks today since my untimely demise and resurrection, and I’m ready to tackle my last state.
Lincoln and Creed have both argued with me about it, and Fern tried her mothering–crying thing she does, but I have to finish. Paps is waiting for one more place, and I promised Naomi we’d go.
She’s a little skeptical of the timing too, but I’ve made up my mind and bought the tickets. They’ll either come, or they won’t. And Lincoln hasn’t left me alone for more than two minutes at a time since I woke up, so he’ll be there.
Our flights leave around lunch tomorrow, and I’m already packed. I’ll have to buy a bathing suit somewhere, because out of everything I packed that’s the one thing I forgot.
Lincoln’s hand finds my thigh when he slides into bed. He wraps his arm around my leg, pulling me into his body, and it takes no time at all to fall asleep.
By the morning, Lincoln’s packed the rental car with our stuff and toasted a packet of Pop-Tarts for me. Fern hands me a giant bag with snacks and bottles of water.
She knows me so well. Smacking a kiss on her cheek, I hear Creed mumble something about his wife and I wink at him.
“Take care of her, Linc,” he jokes, shaking his hand.
Lincoln nods and the two of us head out.
Having Lincoln by my side while going through the airport this time almost makes me giggle.
He catches more attention than I do, and that’s no easy feat.
Once we’re seated in the lobby of our gate, I start pulling snacks from various places and he shakes his head.
“I don’t think I want to know,” he chuckles.
“I cloned your dick and balls while you were unconscious, I’m not sure why you’re surprised over snacks.”
Shaking his head, he plucks a granola bar from my hand and sits back with his eyes closed. “No running off this time, Menace.”
His warning only makes me want to run off, but we have a deal, and I’ll be damned if I lose. Replacing my boots with my taco slippers, I pull on the headphones I swiped from one of the Hemlock heirs, and close my eyes.
By the time we board the plane, Lincoln’s already warned me to behave while we’re here. His seat’s beside mine, so of course he boxes me in at the window. Sliding my headphones back on to my ears, I stick my tongue out and lean back with my arms crossed.
This flight’s going to be so boring.
I fell asleep, which was probably the best thing for everyone, really. Lincoln carries our bags off the plane and into the airport. We’re supposed to meet Naomi and Killian near the baggage claim and Lincoln steers us that way, bypassing the bathroom.
“Fun sucker.” I grumble, and his eyes slide my way as he offers me a smirk.
Coming around a corner, I hear Naomi’s squeal and prepare for her physical affections. Planting my feet, I catch her as she careens into me. “You’re alive.”
“I’ve been alive. This whole time. God, my heart only stopped for like eight minutes.”
Leaning back, she rolls her glossy eyes and Killian walks over with their stuff. Looping her arm through mine, she walks us out and into the bright Hawaiian sun. It’s hot but pleasant, and within a few short minutes, we’re in a rented Jeep headed to the private bungalow Lincoln agreed on.
It’s hidden behind trees and a tall painted white wall. There’s a gate with a code and it rolls open upon our arrival. Unloading the Jeep, we make our way into the house and claim our spaces before meeting back in the kitchen where Naomi’s already making margaritas.
Pouring four glasses, we all toast to the end of my journey, and a successful final hunt.
We’ve spent four days here sunning, eating, and pretending nothing outside of this house exists… Other than the couple Naomi and I plan to take care of tonight.
Call it, sisterly bonding.
Killian had a private chef come in and prepare dinner, something fancy and not at all edible. Lincoln made me tacos instead and plated them on the fancy plates the chef used.
Naomi smiled at him, approval clear in her eyes. Not that he needs it, Naomi knows I’m going to do whatever I want anyway, but I guess it’s nice knowing she won’t actively try killing him.
Handing me a margarita out by the pool, Naomi sits down and sighs, “So tonight, I know you want to play–”
I listen, even though I’m wholly certain that her plans won’t matter once we get into the place.
“Q, are you listening?”
Sliding my eyes her way, I smile and she laughs. “You know me, I’m a woman of action.”
“I should have known you weren’t listening,” she scoffs, and after another beat of silence she says, “Lincoln loves you.”
“Mhmm.” Taking the last sip of my margarita I push off the lounger and head into the pool. “What’s not to love? I’m a twelve!”
Hawaii is fun, there’s so much to look at and the sky always seems happy. Floating on my back, I bask in the sun. Not too hot because of the refreshing water, but enough to be blanketed in warmth and not be scorching.
After my float, I head inside, take a quick shower and braid my hair. It needs a trim, and a refresh of color, especially since my roots have grown out, blonde meeting the emerald and maroon. I never let it grow out this far, but since my death and all… I’ve let a few things slide.
Touching a scar on my side, I look at it in the mirror and laugh.
I’m a total badass and now I have a scar to prove it.
Well, a few scars. There’s the one on my shoulder where one of the guards dug their knife in, and the one beside the bullet wound where the other knife went. Then there’s the two bullet holes…
I really fucked that kill up.
Oh, well.
Pulling on the sundress Naomi insisted I buy when we first got here, I shove my feet into my boots and head out. Lincoln and Killian are on the couch, watching some sports thing, and drinking beer.
Naomi is at the counter, tapping her nails against the marble. She does that when she’s excited and nervous. When her eyes find mine she squeals and jumps a little, her dress flares a bit by her thighs and she shouts, “We’re leaving!”
“Behave, Menace,” Lincoln says, turning around with his arm across the back of the couch.
Naomi huffs and rolls her eyes, “We’ve been doing this together longer than you have.”
Lincoln smirks and holds up his hands in surrender. Killian walks over to us, places a kiss on Naomi’s cheek and whispers something in her ear. She giggles and grabs my hand before pulling us out the door and to the Jeep.
Driving us close enough to the couple’s house, she kills the lights and parks off the road.
“Wooooohooooo!” I holler, punching the air as we walk across the street.
“Quinnly!” Naomi whisper-shouts. “Do you want the whole neighborhood to know we’re coming?”
“The neighborhood doesn’t care,” skipping across the bright green grass, I turn my head and laugh. “These two are a problem and they’re going to be dead soon, why do we care about volume control?”
Running her hand over her face, she shakes her head and laughs, catching up with me.
Walking up to the wall closest to the waters edge, we slip over the hedges without trouble. They don’t have cameras. Well, they do, but tonight they won’t record a thing.
For rich people, they’re rather lax on security.
Naomi and I walk right up to the sliding glass door and into the house. Music floats over invisible speakers, and noise from the kitchen catches our attention. There’s a giggle, and a moan.
“This won’t take long,” Naomi laughs. “Maybe we can even play with them for a while.”
“I wanna be nosey first,” I smirk. Rich people are interesting, buying things that are supposed to be art but look strange. Or fancy things they don’t need, collecting dust in some forgotten corner.
Plus I like sneaking around in places I shouldn’t be, it gives me a bright yellow glow like a glowstick that’s just been cracked.