Lady Killer (Dead Girls Club #2)

27. Alister

Chapter twenty-seven

Alister

T hree. Three more fucking dead girls.

As I watched Luz’s face fall, I knew she had received another message from the killer, telling her exactly what my brother had told me.

“Cops are arriving, Ali, I’ve got to go. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Nixon had the misfortune of stumbling on the killer’s latest exhibition and was stuck managing the police on campus.

He hung up and I turned to face my . . .

I wasn’t sure what exactly she was to me, but I hadn’t been lying when I said she was mine. No one would be taking her from me. Not the Virgin Sacrifice Killer. Not my older brother. No one.

“They’re dead,” she whispered. “All of them.”

Her lips trembled as she looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and I had never seen her look so broken before.

Born to an addict and raised by a family of killers, comfort was not in my nature.

And yet, wrapping my hands around her waist and pulling her close to me as I watched her sag under the weight of the killer’s latest crimes felt as natural as breathing.

Her head barely met my chest, and I pressed my lips onto the crown of her hair, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo and conditioner layered under the dirt and sweat from last night.

“They killed those girls, Alister. It’s my faul—?”

“It’s not your fault, diablesse.”

“Someone broke into my room last night, and now all the missing girls are dead, Ali! They killed them because they couldn’t get to me!” she started to yell as she struggled in my arms. “I’m the one who should be dead.”

I growled and grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes to mine. “Never say that again. ”

“I—?”

“Did you sneak out of the estate last night?”

She looked at me with confusion, tears still freely flowing down her face. “What? No. You know I didn’t.”

“Did you smother those girls? Cut their still-bleeding hearts from their chests?”

Luz gaped at me, horrified, but something sparked in her eyes. She could see where I was going with this, and she didn’t like it.

Good. Fight me, little demon.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“So, you helped to kidnap them then? Kept them locked up and hidden away, cowering in terror for months on end?”

“They’re dead because some psycho has a sick obsession with me, Alister!” She yanked her chin free and shoved me back lightly. “If I weren’t here—?”

Her hands tugged harshly on her hair as I grabbed her wrists.

“If I had never come here, they might still be alive.”

I forced her hands down to her sides and swallowed her completely with my embrace. “You know that is unlikely.”

“But if—”

“But nothing, petite diablesse. Cry and scream if you must. If you need to hit someone, I am sure Everest would volunteer . . . But you will not allow this pathetic amateur to douse an ounce of your fire.”

Her eyes widened, the normally sparklingly amber flat with tears, but I saw the shift, nonetheless.

“You’re a killer, lethal in your own right, demoness. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner we can end this monster.”

I was as indifferent about killing as the rest of my family, but even we had, if not a code, pride.

If the killer had wanted a real challenge, my family or any of our men at Hollow Oak and in Shady Harbor would have been fair game. Only a weak coward would target women barely out of their youth and work with a two-bit drug dealer to take advantage of them.

What kind of predator picked only certain victory? One that lacked the confidence to face death themselves.

“So, what now then? We don’t know any more about the killer than we did before . . .” She trailed off, moving to sit on the bed.

I cracked my neck, weighing my next words carefully.

“We may not be able to learn more about the killer at this instant, but we have another source of information we’ve been neglecting.”

“Do tell, oh great wise one. ”

I much preferred her fiery and combative. Which was good because she wasn’t going to like what came next.

“You, ma petite diablesse.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think I’m hiding, and I’ll tell you if you’re close or not?” Luz sniffed, pretending to inspect her cuticles.

The shock of the morning’s news had eased, and my demoness had returned to fighting form. While she had initially agreed to tell us more of her past, I was far from surprised that her enthusiasm was waning.

“How about you tell us whatever the fuck we need to know, so we can catch this prick and you get to live?” Nixon snapped.

He was in an especially foul mood after being stuck dealing with law enforcement all day. Seven girls, including Melody whose body still hadn’t turned up, were dead now, and the scope of the investigation was starting to creep beyond Shady Harbor.

“Why is he here, again?”

I sighed, rubbing my fingers between my eyebrows. “Human perception is limited. Nixon may hear something of relevance that I might miss. And no one else is around, unless you would rather I call Locke. But as the inquisitor of the family, you might find his methods less than . . . palatable.”

She frowned, and I could see she was fighting the urge to argue with me. “What about a truth for a truth?”

Nixon scoffed.

“I’m afraid that opportunity has passed,” I said, suppressing a smirk. “Tell us about your life before you came to Hollow Oak, petite diablesse.”

“I thought you knew all this,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Straight-A student, moved around Texas a lot with my mom—?”

“Were you close to her?”

Luz stopped. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. Were you close to your mommy?” Nixon snapped.

Fuck, we were never going to get anywhere with the two of them.

“Your father wasn’t in the picture. It was just you and your mother. Were you close to her?”

“Mami,” Luz said in a soft tone. “She was my mami, she was big on culture, on staying connected to her language, her roots.”

“And your father? ”

Luz’s spine went stiff, and I could see her mask fall into place. “What about him?”

There it was.

“I don’t know, demoness, why don’t you tell me? What about him?”

She took a deep breath in through her nose, darting a quick derisive look toward my brother. “He’s dead.”

I arched my brow.

“My mother killed him.”

That’s . . . unexpected.

“Wow! Like mother, like daughter,” Nixon said, sitting up.

Luz rolled her eyes. “You realize how stupid that sounds coming from you, Blackwell?”

“We’re professionals, you bit—?”

“Nixon.” I refused to let him speak to her that way.

He looked at me incredulously, shaking his head in disappointment.

Turning my attention back to Luz, I considered how to best coax out the information we needed from her. While our relationship had grown, trust would take longer to establish. “Your mother killed your father?” I repeated. Sometimes simplicity was the best approach.

She nodded.

“How old were you when this happened? ”

“Eight.”

Before she appeared in Texas.

“Why?”

Luz stared at me, her expression deliberately blank.

I was beginning to loathe the emptiness of the facade she used to shield herself. It was one thing to watch her wield it as a weapon against others, but somewhere along the way, I had come to resent that she felt she needed it to defend herself from me.

When she finally began to speak, it was with a calm, detached, almost aloof air. “He was killing me. Literally.”

I opened my mouth to question what she meant, but Luz held up her hand.

Nixon had slouched back down in his seat, but I knew he was hanging on to her every word.

“My father had an affair with my mother. He was a wealthy doctor in the town where I’m from, she was a nursing student. When I was born, he used his influence to force her from my life, so he could raise me with his wife, my stepmother. I don’t know why he wanted me.

“My earliest memories of the man are of him screaming at me, shaking me. The abuse escalated over the years, but I was kept tucked away in their McMansion, safe from prying eyes. I had a devoted nanny who became my tutor, but not even she suspected anything. My father and stepmother were nothing if not master manipulators . . .”

She tilted her head as if considering something.

“One day, he went too far and accidentally choked me to death. Using his medical training, he was able to restart my heart . . .”

Her story continued to spill out of her, and with every sordid detail, my nails dug deeper into my palms.

Unlike Nixon and Everest, I wasn’t reactionary. I made my decisions in a calculated fashion. But if Luz’s mother hadn’t killed the bastard already, I would happily rip the man’s heart from his chest.

“ . . . and that’s how Penelope Callister died and Luz Torres was born.”

Even my acerbic twin was at a loss for words.

We knew she’d been keeping secrets, but this was something beyond even our twisted imagination.

Luz pretended to remain disaffected, but I was starting to learn her tells.

The memory of her placid demeanor in the face of Lucian’s threats was even more impressive now that I understood how uniquely well-acquainted with death she was.

Unfortunately, Nixon and I chose the same moment to respond .

“And you’re certain the killer is related to your past somehow?”

“How many brain cells can you have left after dying that many times?”

Luz ran her tongue over her teeth and shot daggers in Nixon’s direction before turning to address me.

“The texts have been addressed to Penelope. Only one other person knew me by that name, and she’s gone.”

“Your mother?”

She nodded. “Then there’s the killer’s obsession with hearts. My father was a cardiologist, his research focused on chemical cardioversion, using drugs to treat abnormal cardiac rhythms . . .”

“And you’re certain your father is dead? Your stepmother?”

She seemed to consider the possibility, chewing on her lip. “I never saw their bodies, but if my mami said they were dead, they’re dead. She knew what she was doing.”

My mind whirred through the details she’d shared with us.

I knew she was still holding on to some secrets. Especially since Everest had alluded to Aaron not being her first kill. But I had enough information to start putting together the pieces of this puzzle .

“You said your father sometimes had a guest, someone who watched his . . . experiments.”

She tilted her head back and forth as if rolling the possibility around her mind. Despite the fire inside of her, Luz was as analytical as I was, and I had no doubt she’d arrived at the same conclusion as me.

“You think that’s the killer?”

“Or our best lead to finding them,” she said.

“Great,” Nixon interrupted. “So, it could be just about anyone who was in Oregon over a decade ago. Fantastic work narrowing it down.”

Luz's eyes narrowed at him, but he was right. It wasn’t enough to go off of.

“I’ve had an idea actually,” she said.

I tilted my head for her to continue.

“I met someone the other day, someone who was asking about Melody. Someone who has access to heart medication and who was oddly interested in me.”

“And who the fuck was it?” Nixon and I growled out at the same time.

“Clayton. Clayton Royal.”