I glance back at her neatly crouching form, from her leather boots to her perfectly coiffed hair falling in red waves around her shoulders. The scene would be too perfect. Too clean to be my first kill. Father would never believe it in a month of Sundays. He’d laugh me out of the house.
Plus, after witnessing a death so up close and personal, I doubt I could ever live up to expectations and woman up to take a life.
Not on purpose, at any rate.
Finishing removing the fingertips, she takes her knife and, in a swift series of slices, removes the corpse’s cheek, wrapping it in a clean handkerchief.
‘Find the bit you spat out. It’ll have your saliva on it. You spat it out, right? Or are you dabbling with cannibalism while I’m not looking?’
‘Don’t… I’ll throw up if you remind me.’
‘It probably tastes better seared to perfection with a little side of horseradish sauce.’ Eliza grins at me as I fight another wave of nausea.
The bloody chunk lies near the back door of the club, glistening. I stare at it, unsure of how to pick it up. I absolutely have no desire to touch it.
‘Toss it over, Mags.’
‘I’m not touching it.’
Eliza rolls her eyes and walks to me, stooping to pick up the fleshy bite and stashing it in her hanky with the fresh fillet of face. Swiftly, she packs the fingertips into a small metal tin, popping it in her purse without a care, along with the bloodied handkerchief. Splashes meet my ears as she tips a clear bottle of liquid over Graham’s body, no longer gurgling and gasping.
She strikes a match and drops it onto the corpse, stepping back as orange flames quickly engulf the body.
‘Come on,’ she says as she joins me, linking our arms at the elbow and steering me toward the rear of thealley. ‘I take it you took the back alley to avoid the cameras?’
‘I’m not a complete idiot.’ Planning the killing wasn’t the issue, just the actual act of carving him like a kebab.
‘I never said you were. I like you just the way you are. Even if you attack a man like a cat with more hiss than claw.’
‘Fuck off,’ I laugh, the warmth of her arm in mine soothing my agitated nerves.
‘Let me buy you a drink,’ Eliza says. Stopping in my tracks, the stickiness of my black top comes to my attention, the wet fabric clinging to my chest.
‘I’m covered in blood.’ There’s a tremor in my voice that brings heat to my cheeks. Eliza rounds on me, scanning my front with a critical eye.
‘It’s not that bad. At least you wore black.’ Rifling through her bag, she pulls out a crinkled pack of wipes. With all the swiftness of a mother cleaning her chocolate-soiled child, she swipes at splashes of blood dotted around my chest and face.
‘I should go home. I can’t go to the pub covered in a dead man’s blood.’ The shame of Eliza’s prowess next to my abject failure replaces the tiny spike of adrenaline the escapade fuelled.
‘That’s exactly why you can’t go home. You need an alibi. So do I. Just in case. So you’re coming to the pub, and you’ll smile and look totally happy to be having a drink with your lovely little sister who just saved your sorry arse.’ She shucks off her coat, far baggier thanmine, and hands it to me. ‘That should cover up the worst of it. Now come, let me buy you a glass of wine.’
We exit the rear of the alley, spilling into the busy street, merging with the other Friday night revellers and losing ourselves amongst the press of tipsy bodies.
‘I need an entire bottle of wine. It’s probably my round, too,’ I counter. ‘Being that you saved my life and all.’
‘All right, city girl, you can buy me a massive glass of wine and tell me all about this man you’re seeing.’
Ah.
Shit.
‘There are too many people,’Eliza complains, scanning the busy bar for a seat. ‘Do you really enjoy living in London? It’s just so…gross.’
Rolling my eyes, I grab her by the hand, tugging her to two seats by the window as a couple don their coats.
‘It’s still warm.’ Eliza’s mouth turns down at the corners as she slides uncomfortably onto the shiny leatherette bench seat.
‘Yeah, because people actually live here. Don’t move. I’m going to the bar to grab the drinks.’
