Page 49 of From Hell

Nola huffs. “It’s for self-defense.”

“Guns are illegal in this country.”

She laughs, her voice tinkling through the air. “Excuse me? Killing people is illegal.”

Having a gun in the house would make me feel safer. Not that I know how to fire one. “Fine. Just don’t tell me where you got it.”

We lapse into silence for the rest of the way home. When we get to a couple of streets from my house, Nola breaks it. “It went according to plan, right?”

“It did.”

“No one saw?”

A muscle tightens in my jaw. “No.”

“And you got rid of the evidence?’

“I did everything you told me to,” I snap. Nola’s trying to be helpful, but that makes me irritable.I should be irritable—I moved two dead bodies in the middle of the night.

Nola glances at me, concern plain as day on her features. “Are you okay?”

“Great. Loving life,” I say, my right eye twitching. When that doesn’t appease her, I let out a sigh, hand rubbing over my face. “I’m just tired,” I admit, letting exhaustion grate in my voice.

“I want you to be careful.”

“I am.” I force out a reassuring smile.

Nola exhales, nods, and pulls the car over, coaxing the car partly onto the curb. She turns off the engine and looks at me. I try not to roll my eyes and work out how far we are from my house so I can walk.

I’m being a brat. I know I am, but I’ve killed three raping murderers in the last year, and the sticky hot feeling of hatred that has been choking the life out of me hasn’t gone away, not like it was supposed to.

It’s still there…lurking beneath the surface.

Waiting to kill again.

Nola keeps the engine switched off until I look at her, knowing how easily I get myself worked up only to deflate. As soon as I turn my head, allowing her one brown eye to look steadily into mine, I find myself drawn to the black patch covering the other. Seeing into Nola’s soul is almost like looking into a mirror lately. I have no desire to see how black mine has become.

“We’re in this together. One slip up, and we all go down,” she says, voice soft.

“I know,” I mutter back. “But you don’t have to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry, I brought you into this mess.”

“No, you’re getting me out of it,” I correct her.

After a few beats, she takes a deep breath and resumes driving until we reach my cottage. I’m almost reluctant to get out of the car when we get there; the world of night is so still. Nothing stirs. No birds. No breeze.

“Stronger Together,” she says as I slide out of her vehicle, her fingers crossed so that the middle is tucked around the fore, a small smile on her lips.

The corner of my mouth tilts up despite the airless shadows that seem to have grown bigger, lingering around me wherever I look these days. “Stronger Together,” I repeat under my breath.

Nola’s smile broadens, and she zooms off, leaving me alone—to the demons in my head and the darkness of sleep when I finally crawl into bed.

19

Three months ago.

Second Kill.