Page 49
“I should do to you what I did to the others, the ones who tried to stop and restrain me. Take me back to that monster, the real monster!” Lazarus growls.
“You don’t have to! I’m... I’m trying to run, too. To get away. I believed you were bad, were evil—until I met you. I would only have killed you if I thought you were another evil person, a killer, a murderer. They showed me what you did to Lazenby. And Joe Pazcuso.” My voice drops.
Lazarus’ body goes rigid, then crumples. Shoulder sag. Spine curves. He steps back. “You... You what?”
“They forced me to watch. To show me what you were. They gave me a reason to believe you were a menace, ripping humans apart.”
“I did rip those humans apart, the ones that wanted to ‘test me out’ on people who messed up Pazcuso’s latest shipment, or use me to send a message to the casino and bar owners who weren’t meeting their payments!”
“I know. I know, baby, I believe you.” I reach for him.
This time, his hand swats me away.
And I snatch it back. “You don’t have to believe me, but you will fucking listen to me!” I grapple with him, knowing that only a smidgen of surprise is all that keeps him from crushing me. “A soul to risk? I feel like it died with my baby, Lazarus! And killing the men who helped lock me into that lifestyle, who gave Frank Bocella the power to punch me and end her little life and walk away without a consequence, was all that made me keep living. When you kill enough men in one organization, men come after you—and I was able to kill or wound, and get away. When Pazcuso heard about me and offered me a job ending more lives—bad lives, the lives of men who kill and traffic human beings, men who sell drugs and guns... I took it. And I spent the money. I paid off all the hospital bills, and I was able to get some girls out of worse situations than I was in.” My voice drops as I think back over the last few years. Money enough to run and hide, but I kept going back for more. Like ending their lives would bring Emily back.
Stupid.
“You knew my story. I did the same thing. Worse—you saw it. You saw...You saw what they made me.”
His tone is so horrified and soft.
Ashamed.
I think back to what I saw, but for the first time, I don’t really think about the victims, but about the destroyer. The naked, roaring, dangerous thing. No. Man. Surrounded by other men with weapons and raised voices.
Baiting the animal.
Enraging it. Trying to subdue it on the back end.
“You aren’t what they said. You are not... You are not what they made you.”
He sneers, shame gone, sickened scorn replacing it. “You didn’t know that. You tried to kill me. That’s why you were near my crypt. All that stuff about your poor little dead baby is just another—”
My arm, my good one, flies before I can stop it. Across his face.
Hard.
The slap rings in the air.
I don’t apologize. He looks more shocked than angry.
“You don’t know how it feels,” I hiss.
Shock melts, and anger wins. “That’s right, because I don’t have the shiny, pretty soul, or any humanity, right? That was a lie, too, all the free-choice shit—”
Another slap is on the wing, but Lazarus catches my hand and pushes, sending me back.
I reel and bounce. Adrenaline masks all the pain temporarily, but experience has taught me that I’ll feel all of this much worse tomorrow—if I’m alive.
“How can I trust you? You had every opportunity to tell me what the original plan was, what changed. You didn’t!”
“I was trying to figure it out!” I hiss as he jerks me to the side, stopping my weaker hand as it swats feebly at his side. “You never were in this situation, either! You look like a monster, but I’m one, too! A pretty, frail one! I wanted to be good—once I met you. If you can do it—”
“Don’t you dare turn this around to make me some motivational figure. You’re just better camouflaged, and all that beauty does is make men weaker, unsuspecting targets.”
“Oh, shut up,” I snap, which is probably not a good idea, but who cares at this point. “Beauty made me a different kind of target long before I ever pulled a trigger or sliced an artery, and just because you don’t see it, you’re gorgeous. Gorgeous and frightening in equal measure on looks alone, and so much more beautiful once a person knows you.”
His eyes sparkle with something—malice or unshed tears?
