Chapter 24 #2
“Where have you been?” I ask, leaning back into him. He has to know his disappearance hurt me. Hurt me in a way I haven’t felt before, and it made the itch to feel blood seeping into my skin roar to life.
The same feeling I had the night Juliet came home covered in red hand marks and tears.
“You got hurt, Little Crane,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers around my wound for the second time tonight. I turn my head to look at him, and he is solely focused on my hand.
Like it’s his fault.
“It’s not—” I start to speak, but he cuts me off with a short nod. His soft hair pressing against the skin of my face. I move my gaze down to the floor, the feeling of content swallowing me whole.
“I don’t like it.”
“Well, get used to it. I can’t throw punches if I can’t take them,” I say, rolling my eyes. Men. Enough said.
He hums as if my statement was up for debate and he’s “thinking” about it, but the first lesson you learn in fighting is don’t give what you can’t take. Of course, my trainers from before I met Mrs. Jay didn’t think I’d use these skills to murder people, but the idea is the same.
I know I could die any minute; my chances of dying are so much higher since I entered this business.
“I have to do better,” he says, and even then, I have no idea what he’s talking about, and I have no time to figure it out because he’s gone in the next second. My body feels cold and hollow as he disappears into the crowd. What the hell?
“Diora, why are you hiding? Come greet your guest,” Mrs. Jay says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out of hiding. “She’s so shy sometimes; don’t mind her, boys.” She’s pulling me into the crowd. I glare at Mrs. Jay as the men begin to eye me and smile.
But then I remember this is their last night alive.
And that simple little thought brings a smile to my lips. I stand up straighter and greet each man, shaking their greedy, grubby hands and looking into their eyes, snubbing them the confidence they had only moments before.
I’m not a meek little girl. I’m here for the thrill of a kill.
“I want to thank you for coming. We wanted a night to just enjoy ourselves away from the media and press,” Mrs. Jay says with a smile so radiant it could make anyone doubt her ability to kill. “Where are the missuses?”
She’s so innocent looking, yet her aura is so deadly. I almost forget the true monster standing beside me.
“Mine got sick this morning. Isn’t that just a shame?
She would’ve loved the frills of this event,” Daniel Kallous says, and the other men in their little group pipe up about their sick or otherwise busy wives.
Elliot was all about inviting them tonight to meet the same fate as their husbands, but they didn’t do anything wrong. They weren’t there that night.
Of course, the women, without plans, got sick, purposely, thanks to the team and I, who spent all night stopping by each other’s homes and lacing their breakfasts with food poisoning. Cross contamination is a bitch, isn’t it?
I sigh and my eyes trail around the beautiful room, looking for Elliot, of course, but he’s nowhere to be found. I spot Enyo chatting up some of the female targets of tonight’s event at the fifth table, and the rest of the team is spread out, making what looks like polite conversation.
Hmm. I wonder how long the cleanup will be.
“Oh dear, are you okay?” Mrs. Jay asks, reaching for the first man to be affected by the poison in their drinks. She guides him to sit in his chair as he places a hand over his heart to catch his breath.
The other men start to look dreary and tired, and I can’t help the smile brightening my face.
“I think I need to take a seat, as well. Thank you for the invite, Mrs. Jay,” Matthew Oppin says, taking his seat, and the four other men take a seat around the table.
Mrs. Jay only winks at me before helping each man to his seat.
Each one gets weaker with each minute that passes.
I look at the watch on my wrist. It’s been an hour since their first sip, but because they’ve ingested so much of it, it must be working faster. Just like I hoped.
“I’ll see if these poor guys are okay,” I say as I pull up a chair to sit at the men’s table. They all look relieved to have a woman taking care of them, but I’m more excited to watch the lights die in their eyes. Especially as I reveal the real reason they’ve been invited to this special event.
“Would this count as six on my count for next year’s ball?” I ask, more to myself than them, but they look at me in confusion, anyway.
“What?”
“I only need six bodies a year for this new group I’m in. You wouldn’t know about it, but I wonder if this would count toward my six bodies minimum a year,” I explain, joy lacing my tone and making my voice sound unfamiliar in my ears.
“Six bodies?” Jules Hartford asks as his breathing becomes more and more labored. He must have had a lot more than the rest of the men here.
“Six. Dead. Bodies,” I clarify for them. This has got to be my favorite part. The part when they realize something is truly wrong. The fear makes my poisons seep in faster, so I have to move quicker, but hey, at least I’m one step closer to my goal.
“You’re not killing us,” Matthew Oppin attempts to laugh but can’t.
“Your drinks are, though, and I made your drinks, so by extension, that means I am killing. That means I’ve killed everyone who has taken a drink from these lovely little teapots on these seven tables.
But I don’t care for anyone else—just you guys,” I say, laying my head in my hands as my smile beams at the dying men, too tired to get up, let alone fight back.
“Why?” one chokes out.
“Does the name Juliet Moss ring any bells or jerk any cocks here?” I ask, tilting my head as if the question is real.
Shoulders drop and stuttering words come rushing by, but I’m surprised her name rang any bells at all.
They do this so often with the politician, I’m shocked any names ring familiar to them.
I watch dread fill their eyes, and some of their jaws even drop in surprise. They stare silently, as if I just revealed I knew one of their biggest secrets.
“Wow, you remembered. That’s great for you. It’s less explaining I have to do,” I say.
“Those officers, Yara Holdings…”
“Yes, Mayor Kilthmore, those officers were first. They ignored the issue and got rid of the report, but you, you fine gentlemen who committed the act, are next, and Yara, the coordinator, is after that,” I explain, tracing the lace patterns on the table as the men try to get up, try to reach for me but can’t.
The one who gets closest is Matthew, who’s roughly pulled down into his chair by none other than my white knight, Elliot.
His hand grips Matthew’s shoulder with a damning smile and wild eyes.
Matthew tries to escape Elliot’s grasp as his peers begin choking on their own breaths, but Elliot’s strength is unparalleled, even when you’re undrugged.
Elliot’s strength is hidden within his lean body, and it makes me smile, staring like a schoolgirl. Is this what I’ve been missing out on?
I love having a crush on Elliot.
Elliot chuckles when Matthew spits toward me.
Of course, not having the power or strength to make it land on me.
Elliot’s fingers inch toward the butter knife on the table mat in front of them, gripping the knife as he stabs it directly in the middle of in the man’s hand, pinning him to the table, drawing the attention of the rest of the dying souls in the room, who panic as the poison in their systems start to kick in.
Elliot’s eyes remain on the knife in the man’s hand.
My eyes dart to Mrs. Jay, who sits on a throne on the one balcony in the room, like a queen, watching all the chaos take place. She meets my eye, and the truly crazed soul that lies beneath that skin comes to the surface.
There are Strays everywhere, inside and out, to ensure no one leaves and no one comes in. It’s like a virus has suddenly taken over everyone and we are the select few who are immune. I watch as sweat, tears, and fear fill the bodies of the thirty-five people in this room.
A sharp sound draws my attention to the first kill of the night. I hear the life escape Mayor Kiltmore before I see it. As death takes him, his head hits the table, causing the room to go nearly silent. I watch with a sick sort of pleasure as his associates drop like flies.
I wonder if Juliet would be happy. If she would feel safe now that the majority of the people who hurt her that night are dying.
She’ll find out about their deaths, as I’m sure it’ll make the news, but she can’t find out it was me. She wouldn’t understand.
She wouldn’t forgive me.