No Justice for the Damned (Tales from the Tarot)

14. Hollow

Chapter fourteen

Hollow

I lie for a few moments of solitude, watching Kill sleep. He’s beautiful as he dreams, as his eyelids flutter and he reaches out for me in his slumber. His hands are soft, softer than they should be when they’ve done such horrific, violent things. When they’re capable of such unspeakable horrors.

But the way they touched me last night, I felt things I haven’t felt in a long time.

I wasn’t lying to him when I said he was a complication. A distraction. I didn’t anticipate falling for him or wanting to protect him and keep him close. I came to New Mason with one mission. And meeting Killian seemed a like a stroke of luck. Father’s obedient son, a tool I could use in my quest for revenge. But slowly, he revealed himself true. Pure. Beautiful. Complicated and complex.

He had no idea, none, of what Father had done to him. He’d been following blindly, performing every task like an obedient dog. I feared at first that I’d broken him. But Kill is so strong. He’s a warrior. I’ve fallen harder and faster for him than I could have ever imagined possible. And I won’t allow him to be hurt by Father anymore. Ever again.

But he may never forgive me for what happens next, for the path I need to take to keep him safe. The deception. My deception. In the process of trying to save him, I may lose him.

No. I will lose him.

Because one way or the other, this will end with me becoming a monster. Becoming unrecognizable to him.

I can feel myself changing, succumbing to the darkness. Just like he did. It’s ironic, really. That inevitably, I’ll turn out just like the one I most hate. The object of my ire. The target of my revenge.

Though the difference between the two of us is my power is fueled by the spirits of those who deserved death, who deserved the torture and anguish they received at my hand. Sure, one could speculate that keeping their souls inside my ring in perpetuity is cruel. But I’d argue that selling and raping children is also cruel so they deserved it.

But no one deserves it more than Father.

Kill, though. Kill doesn’t deserve anything but happiness. I wish I could be the one to give it to him.

So I don’t wake him, when I slip silently from the bed. The ache in my ass is a lovely reminder of Kill, my sweet Kill. He felt so good, feels good still. I’ll remember the moment we shared for the rest of my life. However short that may be.

My clothes are still strewn about the entryway of the apartment so I wander naked from the bedroom and down the hallway. I don’t care that we have an extra visitor with us. This is my apartment. I’m allowed to be naked if I want to.

I’ve never had anything that was truly mine before.

Of course, I did have to steal this one by murdering its former occupant but that’s all nuance.

After pulling my clothes back on, I head to the coffee maker. It’s early. Really early. The sun hasn’t even attempted to rise yet. The clock on the microwave blinks 5:00am. My favorite time of day. Before the rest of the world is awake and I can sit in silence. Absorbing, taking it all in.

This might be the last morning I have like this. Unencumbered. Free. Absent-mindedly, my fingers play with the ring on my finger. The source of my power. The bane of my existence.

I need it. I hate it. Soon, it will rule my life like Father’s rules his.

After taking my first sip of coffee, I head to the balcony and look out over the city. My coffee, hot and bitter, tastes the same as the first time I ever had it. The first time I was free of the shackles of my confinement. I’d wandered to a coffee shop to seek shelter after killing the man who’d bought me. Raped me. Carved me up. And the kind woman behind the counter, upon seeing me looking pale and sickly and without a coat in the middle of the winter, offered me a cup of something warm.

Like all the grown-ups I’d seen and heard, I’d ask for coffee. And I’d never tasted anything more disgusting. More adult. Since then, the taste has grown on me. But it still reminds me of that day. The first taste of freedom. Of the all the potentials life holds.

All that potential has come down to this moment. These last few hours before I get my hands on Father. And end it all. It’s not enough to punish Father, to send him to rot behind bars for what he’s done. It’s not enough to see him put away for the rest of his life. He needs to die. He needs to suffer and die. And it needs to be at my hand.

I drain the dregs of my coffee. It’s time. And I hate to think of the deception. How I’ll hurt Kill. When all I want to do is enfold him in my arms and disappear with him.

Perhaps in another life, that could be possible for us. Running away, living on some remote island, drinking and eating and indulging in one another. Never having to think about any of this. The trauma, the murder, the evil that exists in the world.

That’s not this life. So be it.

I head back inside and steel myself, sliding my mask of unfeeling back over my face, over my person. It’s time and I can’t feel any hesitation, any regret.

Gingerly, I step back into the bedroom where my sweet Kill still sleeps. He’s entangled in the sheets, dark hair splayed out over the pillow like a cloak of black silk. He’s so beautiful, so innocent in his slumber, nothing more than a dozing kitten.

I sit on the bed next to him and his eyelids flutter open, those big dark eyes flashing dangerously before realizing it’s only me.

I can’t think. Can’t contemplate. I channel my power to the forefront of my mind, funnel it into the word as I speak. “Sleep.” And then, leaning in, I take his lips and even as he reciprocates, he drifts back to sleep. It won’t be for long. But it will buy me the time I need.

To keep him safe. To betray his trust. To take the revenge that will change me completely, fundamentally. Forever.

“Forgive me,” I whisper before rising to my feet.

I can’t look at him any longer, can’t allow myself to get sucked back in, to take in the reality of what I’m about to do. So instead, I turn my back and leave him behind, shutting the door behind me. And then I head down the hallway to the second bedroom, where I know Abe dwells within.

I take a breath and force a smile upon my face. Then, I knock, waiting as I hear stumbling footsteps inside. As the door opens, that pretty face hardens, those bright blue eyes narrow. He was expecting Kill, not me. He’s still distrusting of me. He’s not wrong to be.

He cocks a brow but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t greet me, doesn’t smile.

“Good morning,” I say, giving him my most winning grin. I put an arm on the doorframe to hold it open, to force my way subtly inside.

“What do you want?” he snaps.

“So rude.” I pout in response. “Just like your brother. But this is my house, you know.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of the stubborn little boy he must have been. “I’m aware.”

“And shouldn’t I get a thank you at the very least?”

“Where’s Kill?” He peers behind me into the empty hallway.

I shrug. “He’s not here. That’s why he’s sent me.”

His lips purse together. “Is he safe?”

I nod. “He is. And he’s found your priest.”

“Alexis.” He breathes that word out.

“Indeed.” My smile deepens.

“He’s with Kill?”

“You are perceptive , aren’t you?”

His eyes darken at my words. “I want to see him.”

“I’m here to take you to them.”

He eyes me suspiciously and then nods. “Kill trusts you. He told me to trust you as well. Can I?”

“Of course.” I don’t falter though the words threaten to crawl up my throat and strangle me. “Grab your coat, it’s chilly outside.”

And then he’s following me down the hallway, heading toward the front door. The first pieces of my plan in action and I can’t help but feel apprehension mixed with determination. Guilt, extreme guilt. Shame.

I’m sorry, Kill. Please forgive me.