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Chapter One
Kindra
Cat peers over my shoulder as I make the final incision and wrench the warm heart from its nest in the man’s chest cavity. Blood splashes into the mess of exposed organs as I tilt the heart on its side, but it isn’t like the movies. This dark chunk of meat doesn’t continue beating once removed. It’s been reduced to a smooth, lifeless muscle.
“Sorry I was late,” Cat whispers as I pour India ink through the left ventricle. “I couldn’t find my gloves.”
I don’t respond. Not during the integral part of my mission, which is the message I plan to send. The man I killed was not a man at all. He was a monster walking among us. Now his heart is as black as his soul.
“What did this one do?” Cat asks.
“Hair,” I say.
“I don’t follow.”
“Your fucking hair is hanging out of your skullcap. Those little blonde strands of incrimination will get you caught.”
She winces as her trembling fingers work to hide the offensive hair from view.
I tuck the heart into the dead man’s dominant hand. Sometimes it’s the left, but it’s usually the right. When they’re ambidextrous, I just make a judgment call. Then I stand and answer Cat’s questions as I survey my handiwork. “He was a kindergarten teacher.”
“Oh.”
There’s no need to go into more detail. The young victim has gotten the revenge the court systems can’t provide, and the world is a little brighter tonight.
Wind rushes past the eaves, creating an eerie whistle as Cat squats beside the dead guy and starts examining his body. Most of the houses on this street are abandoned. Without the constant hum of electricity, every sound can be heard. Every footstep outside, every breath from my lungs.
Bllffft.
And every gaseous emission from a corpse.
“Ew, what the fuck was that? Did you just pass gas?” Cat whispers.
“No. When you moved his leg, you might have released some trapped gas. All the muscles have relaxed, so there’s nothing to hold it in.”
She lowers the leg with a grimace. “Why don’t you cut off their dicks? That’s what I would do.”
I immediately regret encouraging the girl to ask more questions.
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “They aren’t always men. Women can be just as vile. But they all have a dark heart in common, so that’s what I remove.”
She blinks up at me, and the admiration and reverence in her blue eyes make me want to vomit.
Cat is my apprentice. A serial killer in training, if you will. She created a website that chronicled my entire murderous arc—an endearing homage to my life’s work. Unfortunately, that painstaking collection of commendation had to come down pronto. While I appreciated the gesture, it laid things out too plainly. The last thing the incompetent detectives need is a competent admirer to do their job for them.
I contacted her and asked her to take down the site, and she agreed...if I would take her under my wing and show her the ropes. This is the second kill she’s joined me on, and I’m debating my life choices at this point.
“We should go get a smoothie to celebrate,” she says. “This was a good one.”
“Yes, I’m sure the servers down at the diner will think nothing of our black catsuits, gloves, and skullcaps. If they ask about all the red stuff on my forearms and chest, I’ll just say it’s a fucking fashion statement.”
My god, she has so much to learn.
I kneel before the man and lower his shirt, covering the gaping hole below his sternum and the knife wound in his left side. Another signature. Well, when it all goes to plan.
Sometimes I have to stab what I can, but I prefer an initial slash to the lung. It’s hard to scream for help when you’re struggling for your next breath, and I want them to know what it feels like to be so incredibly helpless. Just like their victims.
Satisfied, I get to my feet and head toward the door with my shadow hot on my heels. As we exit the abandoned house, I stop in my tracks. “Cat?”
