The obsidian hilt of my dagger glows, and I stare back down at Professor Montague’s body. It’s not fear that fills me or regret, it’s satisfaction. While I didn’t mean to kill him, and I have no fucking clue how I made this happen, I don’t regret my actions. As I look down at him and think about his wife, I realize the world is a better place without people like him in it.
I glance at his severed finger one last time, a sick part of me wanting to grab it and put it in my pocket, but I’m not that fucking stupid. Instead, I turn on my heel and leisurely take my time walking back to my piece-of-shit Camry. I drive off quietly, wondering if you get an automatic A in a class if a professor dies.
Chapter two
Iwashthebloodoff of the dagger, and I guess I should be feeling… shocked, guilt, remorse? I just killed my boyfriend—the man I was sleeping with—my professor. His wife will probably open the front door to see his shriveled-up body lying on their front step.
I should feel bad, right?
But I feel calm, the most content I think I’ve ever felt. It felt good to use the dagger, to let that anger out, to give him what he deserves. I didn’t mean to kill him; it’s clear that this dagger is more than I thought it was. I swear the blade winks at me as soon as it’s shiny and clean again. Its appetite sated—for now.
But am I?
I replay every moment of tonight in my mind. The way he looked at me with disgust, like I was beneath him, that he could use and speak to women any way he wanted to. And then he was nothing; he’s a wrinkled gray prune on a welcome mat. I laugh at my own joke and shake my head. Maybe this was themorethat I always thought I was capable of. This is my purpose, ridding the world of evil men who think they are above others.
I’ve had thoughts like that before. Thoughts of what it would be like to take someone’s life, to have that power, to be the one who chooses. Of course, a moral code needs to be in place—mostly to keep the bloodlust in check. And maybe death wasn’t an appropriate punishment for Professor Montague. But it doesn’t matter when I think about how good it felt.
When I look down at the dagger, I realize that all this time, we were meant for each other. It’s clearly somethingother, far more than a standard dagger. I’ve heard rumors of supernatural beings and objects. It’s not a surprise that I found this dagger in Hallowsdeep, the place where things go bump in the night.
I know I’m crazy when I start speaking to the blade. “We’re meant for each other, aren’t we?”
The handle warms, which is clearly a yes. I smile at the gift in front of me; maybe the dagger only does what it did to Professor Montague if the person truly deserves it. But to test that theory would be fucked up and involves possibly killing someone who doesn’t deserve it.
I hear a retching noise and put the blade back in the nightstand drawer. When I get to our shared bathroom, I find my sister throwing up into the toilet. She’s on her knees, crying, so I gather her hair in my hand and rub her back.
“Diana, are you sick? What do you need?”
She just cries harder, throwing up again. She’s inconsolable as I continue to rub her back. This is so unlike her that my concern skyrockets when she looks at me. Her expression lacks the usual warmth that it normally holds. My afterglow from the evening fades as worry for Diana takes over.
“What do you need?”
“I just need to go back to sleep,” she says softly.
“Okay.” I gently hoist her by the waist and take her back to her room, tucking her in before pulling her pink pastel blanket up to her chin. “You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?”
She nods, her eyes collecting with tears.
“I’m okay, Lilith, really.” She turns on her side, but I don’t let her get away with it as I crawl behind her and throw my arm around her waist.
“Somethings bothering you, Diana. You know I’ll always be on your side. I’ll always help you with whatever you need.” She sighs heavily and shakes her head.
“I just want to forget about it.”
“Forget about what?” I ask, pushing some hair off her sweaty face.
“It’s nothing, Lilith. I promise.”
“Since when did we start keeping secrets from one another?” I ask.
She scoffs and shakes her head. “Good question,” she retorts, and I sigh. “Just go to bed, Lilith.” Tonight's events seem irrelevant as I wonder why Diana is pushing me away. I do as she requests and leave her room, even if I just want to stay and push more, to figure out what’s bothering her and how I can help her fix it. Diana is the most important person to me. We might not have freaky telepathic twin abilities, but our bond is strong. At least, I thought it was.
When I get to my bed, I struggle to fall asleep. A combination of the dagger in my drawer making demands and a lingering fear of Diana no longer needing me keeps me awake.
The entire campus is talking about Professor Montague. The news isn’t giving much information, but it’s obvious that detectives are baffled. Rightfully so, the man looks like he’s been dead for months, and he has no fatal wounds, just a missing finger. I read the news article further, where they interview his wife. Her name is Debra, and her quote is what makes me feel a small morsel of guilt.“My husband didn’t deserve this. He’s a good man, I have no idea who would ever want to harm him.”
I sigh and fold the paper as I look around at the other students reading the same article, speculating about what happened to our dear professor. When I look to my left, I’m greeted by a woman who is observing me in a way that leans towards uncomfortable.
She’s just as tall as me, black hair pinned back into a ponytail. She’s impeccably dressed and has eyeliner sharply drawn over her eyes. Her brown gaze looks me up and down before she smiles.
