I look down at my outfit and scoff. I dressed like my sister, thinking that Tyler is such an idiot that he won’t be able to tell the difference. Even so, I can’t just waltz in there, stab him, and leave with no witnesses.
So I wait. It appears that I’ve gotten really patient lately, and I’m proud of myself for developing this new trait. Then there’s the whole new-taste-for-murder, but right now, we’re just thinking about the positives.
It’s then that Tyler leaves the building with another frat member, I don’t know his name, but they bump fists, and Tyler walks down this way. The street lights are on, but it’s still dark enough that I’m not easily noticeable. He lights up a cigarette and smokes as he walks down the street. The rosy ember of the cigarette lights his face as he puffs out a cloud of smoke into the air. I straighten my skirt and follow him down the street.
“Tyler,” I say, keeping my voice peppy like Diana’s.
He looks to his left, a menacing smile taking over his face, and I have to hold back a gag. Most people would find Tyler attractive; he’s tall, has curly brown hair, and sharp cheekbones. But the way the butt of his cigarette lights up his face, shows me the demon that he truly is.
“Diana, I knew you’d be back.”
“You were right. I thought maybe we could go somewhere private.”
He wraps his hand in my ponytail, and I do my best not to stab him right away. His breath is ashy and harsh as he speaks to me.
“Frat house is back that way.”
“Or maybe somewhere that’s private but not really?” I say sweetly.
“Never thought you’d be an exhibitionist. But yeah.” He drags me down the first alleyway we pass, between the two frat houses, and it’s dark and ominous. Tyler’s grip is firm on my hip as he trails kisses up and down my throat. I feel repulsed by his touch, and all I can think about is how Diana must have felt. I heard a fraction of their conversation, but it’s clear Diana didn’t want him to do what he did. He needs to pay.
“Knew you’d be back for more,” he mutters cockily. My dagger is nearly blazing on the other side of my hip as he kisses me again. It’s become clear that this weapon and I are connected in a way I still haven’t wrapped my mind around.
“Maybe we can slow down,” I suggest as his teeth drag along my throat.
“Oh, come on, Diana. You can’t come to me dressed like this.” He tugs on the hem of the pink skirt. “And tell me you aren’t asking for it. You said you wanted to go somewhere private.”
“Did I say no last time?” I ask, just wanting confirmation.
“These lips,” he pauses to drag a thumb across my bottom lip, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to bite his finger off. “Might have said no, but...” He trails off, his hand grabbing my pussy and cupping it before he taunts me with, “These ones were begging for it.”
Faster than either of us could blink, my hand grips the handle, and I pull the dagger from my waistband, testing a theory. I slash his forearm, causing him to wince.
“Diana, what the fuck?!”
I watch as crimson pools down his arm, flowing wildly as it drips against the dirty, dark pavement.
“Huh.”Not dead, interesting.
He shoves me with his non-sliced hand. “Bitch, what are you doing?”
I grin at him, and that must be when recognition hits. Of course, he knows Diana has a twin sister.
I slash his skin again, fascinated with the blood speckling his skin. I’m riveted by how cleanly the blade slices him. He growls and pushes me so hard that my head bounces against the brick of the house. I wince, and my fury rises as his hands grip around my throat in a not-fun way. I wanted to toy with him more, slash his skin up and make him bleed, but it seems like I don’t have a choice.
“Are you fucking crazy? Why are you doing this?” he shouts in my face.
Tyler focuses too much on trying to choke me. If he weren’t closing my air supply completely, I would roll my eyes and call him an idiot. I spent a lot of time at my dad’s self-defense studio growing up, I know how to protect myself. His body is close enough to mine that when I lift my right hand, I stab him right in the kidney.
This time I get to watch his face. His expression falls flat as his skin grays, and he crumples to the ground. He nearly takes me with him since his hands were still on my throat, but they lose their grip, shriveling as he falls.
I scoff as I look at how pathetic he looks now. “Dead men don’t rape,” I say, responding to his question, though he can’t hear me. I fix my skirt and make sure to stick to the shadows as I walk home, knowing that there are specks of Tyler’s blood on my skin. I grin the whole way home, a sense of pride flowing through me.
Another man meets his maker at the hands of a vengeful woman. It’s so poetic and perfect that I can’t stop grinning, knowing that Tyler won’t be the last.
Chapter three
I’msittinginyetanother meeting featuring yet another incompetent demon. It seems this cycle never ends. I’m selective of whom I turn into a full-fledged demon, ones who are allowed to leave our realm and have the benefits of corporeal bodies. It seems that no matter how I try, finding loyal, competent demons is nearly impossible.
