Page 40 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

She takes a deep breath, I hold her steady, then apply pressure.

With a long drag, the knife splits his skin wide—his eyes open in a panic and he starts to thrash.

Fighting his restraints, the instinctive need to reach for and stem the bleeding.

His lifeforce spills everywhere but we don’t stop.

I push her hand down harder; she tries to escape the unnatural feeling of taking a life but I keep her in place.

Pushing my body into the back of hers until she’s pinned between me and the counter top.

The blade sinks further down into his neck before she’s pulled it back far enough for us both to let it go and drop to the floor.

“L… Lucie…n,” she stammers. The hot tears that were once pooled in her eyes are now dripping down her cheeks and out of the corners—soaking into some of my own dark strands while I hold her.

The way she is breathing against me, erratic and consumed with horror and anxiety.

Almost to the point she’s hyperventilating.

She needs to relax before she passes out in my arms and I have to wait around for her to come back to me.

She isn’t done—she still has to dismember the body.

Unraveling my hand from her chin, I choose to wrap both arms around her and rest mine on the crook of her neck.

Second hug.

“Shhhh, you did so well. I’m proud of you, sweet girl.

Try to breathe for me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.

I promise it will get easier with time.” Sadie leans slightly and the tears from before morph into sobs.

Her body shakes as she fights to breathe and fucking hell it’s pathetic.

Lulu—

Yes, Mother?

Be gentle, she’s a little girl.

With Sadie wrapped up in her hysterics, she doesn’t see me roll my eyes.

If Mother would stop coddling her, we would have gotten this over and done with already.

Because I would have forced her to do it in one of the hotels we stayed in on our drive to Canada.

The only reason I’m not forcing her to stop is because I remember my first kill, and what little sympathy I have for her comes from there.

Oh… oh fudge, I did it! I actually did it. What do I do now?!

Dear boy, look at you. Such a good disciple. You’ll need to take the body apart now, unless you want to be found.

Hi, I’m Lucien Bardot. I’m fourteen years old and I just took someone’s life.

That was my Lord and Savior speaking; he sent me here to kill this man.

God told me he liked to touch little girls, and it’s one of the greatest sins known to man, as it is a sin directly against God and his Creation.

Obviously I’ve never done this before and it wasn’t what I thought it would be at all. In fact, it’s worse.

The dead man, Cecil Windsor, had a strict schedule that was very routine.

It allowed me to track and follow him for a week or two before finally deciding how I was going to kill him.

God made a suggestion, but I wanted something a little different—to show other men like him that there is always someone watching.

Someone who will end them if they continue their sins.

Once I made the decision to cut him up, everything was set in stone.

There was a plan, I would follow it to the T, and the world would be blessed with one less cretin.

But gosh, how bloody and messy this all is.

It’s everywhere and getting on everything.

On my face, my hands and arms, soaking into my clothes.

There’s a massive pool under his still body that I almost fell in when my sneaker caught on some of it.

I slipped as if I stepped on a sheet of black ice.

Between you, me, and God, I like it. How it clings to me and even when I wipe it away, leaving a red film.

Or just when you think it’s gone, it shows up under a black light.

Then there’s the way it feels. Once it’s existed outside of the body for too long, it takes on the same consistency of jelly like when I bite into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Don’t forget the coppery scent it gives off. It makes my mouth water.

Now the Lord wants me to take the body apart.

I don’t know if that is something I can do.

For one, the man is bigger than me and I guess dismembering him would allow me to move him around better.

But what if I don’t want to move him? What if I want him to be found beaten, bled dry, and diced into sections just small enough to hand over to the local meat market?

Tossing the knife in the air, I catch it by the handle a few times then look into the metal blade itself, seeing my reflection staring back at me.

Shouldn’t I feel some sort of remorse for this?

Doesn’t this also fall under a direct sin against God for harming one of his creations?

Guess if he is the one issuing the order, then it’s already forgiven before the deed is done.

With a shrug, I tiptoe through the blood and begin cutting his clothing away, and aim for the joints.

“Sadie, we don’t have time for a meltdown. The joints will get stiff and it will be harder for you to cut through them. Take my word for it.”

“Fu… fuck… you,” she chokes out, leaning over her knees now in full blown hyperventilation.

I was able to calm her down initially, but when I gave her the serrated knife and began to dig it into the guy's arm, she lost it. Thank heavens she didn’t eat or her damn DNA would be all over the floor right now. She’s been dry heaving ever since— how dramatic .

“I don’t partake in sins of the flesh,” I answer.

“Then what do you call this?!” Sadie shouts, waving her hand and arm toward the dead guy. I’m actually surprised one of her other entities didn’t show up. Maybe they’re just as amused, or bored, as I am.

“A job well done-ish. Now, if you’d stop being theatrical, we can get it cleaned up and you can go back to crying.”

“You said you would accept me, and not judge me.”

“I did, but I meant the voices, not your hysterics. Besides, I’m not judging you. I’m politely waiting for you to get it together. I want to use the island for its intended purpose and I can’t do that with a dead guy laying on it!”

Calm yourself, moron.

“Oh fuck off,” I snap.

“I ought to cut your throat next, since this is what you consider a bonding moment. Telling me to fuck off.”

She’s funny. Kinda . Still waiting for her to grab the knife again, I finally lose my cool.

Closing the distance, my hand seizes the back of her neck and I shove her forward until she’s face down in all of the gore.

Her nose and mouth buried against the guy's fileted throat. Loving when she struggles, I’ve come to notice that the adrenaline hits me when I overpower her or we fight.

Which I like about as much as killing. With a heavier hand, I push her deeper into the guy until she’s choking on the blood—or spluttering, I can’t tell.

Oh well.

When I feel that she’s had enough, I yank her back and press my mouth against her ear.

“You’re about two seconds away from putting me in a very, very bad mood, sweet girl. I suggest you grab that fucking knife and get to sawing or you’ll be here until the body starts bloating. We don’t want that again, do we?”

“I ha… hate… you,” she gasps.

“No you don’t. Either way, how the hell are you going to be like me if you can’t do the things I do?”

“I don’t want to be like you!”

“Too late.”