Lady Killer (Dead Girls Club #2)

38. Luz

Chapter thirty-eight

Luz

A heavy fog had rolled into Shady Harbor, far enough inland that even the university was shrouded by the mist. It was barely past five, the sun still a ways off from setting, but the weather made the evening prematurely dark.

Walking the path to Jackson College House, it felt like it had been a lifetime since I’d been back to my dorm. My room there had never felt like home.

I wasn’t even sure what that was in the absence of my mother.

But it had been my . . . space. And yet, over the last couple of weeks of being firmly embedded amongst the Blackwells, or at least Alister and Everest, that had shifted too.

As I pushed open the glass doors, my stomach did somersaults.

Alister and Nixon were around. That much I knew. Even if they hadn’t made me walk through “the plan” almost a dozen times, I could still feel their presence.

After my room was broken into, Alister had arranged for it to be cleaned, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to find it looking very much like it had the day I moved in.

There was a new set of linens on the bed, better than the ones I had before. The walls had been patched and painted, the carpet cleaned.

The bathroom was in a similar state and was mostly empty save for some shampoo and extra tampons and pads I had stored away.

It was a good thing I’d packed an overnight bag and a little sad how easy it had been to move my life from here to the townhouse.

My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts, and I sat down on the empty bed.

Alister: Are you in?

I thumbed a quick yes .

Alister: Anything yet?

A snort escaped me. I had been back for all of ten minutes.

Still, I understood.

It was this part, the waiting, that was the hardest. Without the rush of a life on the line, doubt crept in, and it was far more pernicious than fear.

Autumn was going to die if this didn’t work.

I could die if it did. I could die if it didn’t.

Nasty little thing, doubt.

My stomach did another flip. I checked the time.

It was only five thirty.

I had a long night ahead of me.

The hours passed slowly.

I had been counting on the killer to be reckless, unable to resist the temptation of me alone after the rampage of Valentine’s Day.

But they hadn’t taken advantage of my date with Clayton. Was he innocent?

Or was the killer more restrained than we anticipated?

Why not both ?

There had always been the chance that it would take more time to lure them out. That they wouldn’t show tonight.

I could have survived the sleepless nights. The constant paranoia. But every day that Autumn was gone was a day she was suffering.

Plus, I could only hold off Everest for so long.

My phone vibrated next to me.

Alister: Anything?

The same message had arrived every five minutes, on the minute, since I arrived.

Me: Nope.

The five-minute check-in was a precaution Alister had insisted on. It was oddly endearing.

But aside from the occasional chatter of people coming and going, it had been a quiet night. With the miserable weather, I imagined a lot of students were choosing to stay in.

Standing up, I stretched my spine with a crack.

With my taser ready in my hand, I needed to remain alert and focused on sedating anyone who came through the door, but I also needed my body limber enough to move when the time came.

Rolling down through my spine, I planted my hands on the industrial carpet, walked my legs out, and released my back. The blood rushed to my head, and I savored the sensation.

The sound of a door closing outside my room had me rising to stand. I went over to peer out the peephole.

Alister had insisted on replacing the old filmy one when they cleaned up the room, something I was grateful for now.

The image was distorted but clear enough.

There was no one to be seen.

Still alert, I took a step back, wrapping my free hand around the syringe in my pocket.

With every passing breath, my heart beat louder, heavier in my chest. I thumbed at the needle cap, debating flicking it off.

Nixon and I had gone at it for over an hour today in their gym until even the twins had to agree that I was ready.

Well, Alister had walked away, lips pinched. Nixon just shook my hand, like I had won some sort of competition.

Leaning forward, I peeked out the hole again. Nothing.

Then why do I still feel so . . .

Something creaked outside my door, causing me to jump.

Grateful I hadn’t taken the cap off, I kept my grip firm and forced myself to take deep breaths. I couldn’t control the presence of fear, but I could—I would—control my reaction to it.

Jackson College House was a newer dorm, but it still made creaks and weird sounds occasionally, like any large building.

Standing there with my face pressed up against the door, I waited and watched for another minute.

Then another one.

BUZZ.

It was Alister, again.

No , I typed, never even looking down at my phone.

Shifting my weight back and forth on my feet, I considered sitting, but something kept me at the door.

I looked again. Nothing.

Five more minutes passed.

Alister texted.

The night went on.

Six more texts from Alister later, my feet were starting to ache and I probably had an imprint of the peephole on my face.

Being the bait was the worst part about setting a trap. But if I could wait out a semester to slowly kill Aaron Croft, then I could make it a night waiting for someone to attack. Right ?

The darkness didn’t help. Even though my eyes had long adjusted, the shadows seemed heavier as the night wore on.

My breathing eventually slowed, and the thumping in my chest eased, although my heart still felt thick and heavy with every beat. I really just wanted to get—

BUZZ.

Alister was early. I frowned, flipping it over.

BUZZ.

It wasn’t Alister.

UNKNOWN stared up at me from the screen.

My heart picked up again.

BUZZ.

Taking a deep breath, I swallowed.

Could it be a wrong number? Absolutely.

Was it? I doubted it.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a split second, I took one more deep breath, silently urging myself to keep my wits about me.

Glancing down, I hit Accept before returning my attention to the peephole.

“Hello???” I said groggily.

“Hello, Penelope.”

My throat narrowed as my heart started to race again. I kept looking out the peephole .

“I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong number,” I mumbled.

The person on the other end laughed. Their voice was distorted, giving it a synthetic quality that felt wrong to my ears.

“I’m . . . I’m going to hang up now,” I said, not entirely faking the light tremor in my voice.

The laughter ceased. “Do it and she’s dead.”

In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

The killer wanted me to be distracted. I had to stay focused.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Penelope, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not sure what you—?”

“How many times do you think she can die before her mind breaks?”

My heart stopped.

“Do you know, they’ve all broken. So quickly too.”

“I don’t know what—?”

“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME, PENELOPE!” the voice roared, forcing me to pull the phone from my ear.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

They are weakest when they think you are broken, mija .

Heavy, distorted breathing followed my silence before a throat cleared. “I thought we could make this fun, Penelope. But first, I want you to thank me for your gifts.”

My throat burned with the taste of bile.

I wanted to ask why.

I wanted to scream.

But I had to stay focused.

“Th-thank you.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard. One more thing before we get started. The Blackwells.” The voice crackled ominously. “Whoever you have waiting in the shadows, call them off.”

“One—one second.” I opened my messages. Less than a minute until Alister texted again.

Patience, mija.

I counted down from twenty in my head, and sure enough, when I hit four, the phone buzzed again.

Alister: Anything?

I quickly typed out my response and hit send.

“It’s done,” I whispered into the phone.

“If they interrupt us, she pays the price. I’ve been quite generous with your friend, but that can change.”

“What do you want?” My voice cracked.

“You know what I want, dearest Penelope. None of them have lasted as long as you did. ”

My knees buckled.

They know . . .

They know . . .

“What is it that makes you so special, Penelope?”

I pressed my weight up against the door.

“How did you keep going death, after death, after death?”

They know . . .

“By all accounts, you should be a broken husk by now, but here you are . . . thriving . . .”

They know . . .

“ . . . and what you did to those boys . . . You deserve the deaths you have coming, Penelope . . .”

They know . . .

“I can’t wait to be the one to end you.”

They know . . .

If they knew this . . . did they know everything?

They kno—

White flashed in front of the peephole.

Masked eyes stared back at me.

BEEP!