“Get used to it. It’s part of her charm.” I can’t help but snort, and we all burst out laughing. The noise is a welcome juxtaposition to what occurred only moments ago.
Jameson presses his chest against my back, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His warm breath lands on my neck, and I shudder at his proximity.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Eve.” I chuckle at his name for me. I once told him I was Eve, man’s downfall from the Garden of Eden. It was one of our first conversations that night at the club when he asked my name before we parted ways, wanting to know if he could see me again. I gave him the only truth I could at that time. It wasn’t far off from my real name then, and that’s all I could do.
I didn’t think that one night would turn out to be so much more.
“I agree. I do.” That’s all I can say to Jameson now, as I know that conversation is one I need to have alone with him. Now is not the time.
I glance at my sister and see her acutely aware of what transpires between Jameson and me. I finally point out the obvious. “As much as I’d really like to sing campfire songs and do some face painting right now, I think that we should probably get out of here and get rid of these bodies.” I point to the two bodies that are laid out on the cement floor, not getting any fresher.
Eduardo speaks up first. “I can make some calls.” He reaches for his phone in his pocket, but I stop him.
“I have a plan. Can you get this place cleaned up, though, Eduardo? Mateo and I will dispose of the bodies. In fact, I have‘the perfect plan,’ creating the catalyst to bring out the demons who have been hiding in the dark, into the light.”
Chapter Two
EVIE
“Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads
They all go to Eduardo’s and Emma’s house while Mateo and I load up the bodies and head to Brownsville. We will have to wait for nightfall to see the plan through, but how splendid it will be. What fireworks to see. I become giddy with anticipation at the thought of their reaction.
But before I get ahead of myself, we first need to get some sleep before we can set this black wave in motion, return to Houston, and explain where we’ve been all this time. Emma deserves to know what happened the night of the fire when our parents died, but somehow I survived. I also need to come clean to Jameson. All the twisted tides pulling us into an oceanic graveyard of the condemned and damned.
Eduardo phones a team to have the area at the warehouse scrubbed, and Jameson is working on security along with Eduardo’s personal security team to ensure that the surveillance won’t show us being at that location. Fortunately for us, the warehouse did not have any cameras, and I suspect that’s why Julian chose that specific location to hold Emma. Now, the fucker and Cherry are corpses in the back of our van.
I smile as I file my nails into little sharp points. Mateo glances over at me, and I feel his stare. My head whips up as I hold the file in one hand. His eyebrow quirks up.
“Are you feeling a little stabby, my twisted sister?”
I laugh and continue filing my nails. Feeling like I have gotten the perfect angled points, I throw it into my bag of mass destruction.
“Always, Mateo.” I look out the window at the petroleum refineries twinkling their pretty lights out in the distance. Who would think that such environmental destruction, with toxic fumes spewing into the midnight sky, could create such a perversely beautiful scene?
The lights go by, and I watch them in the passenger side mirror until they vanish from sight.
The van’s cabin is quiet—too quiet—so I decided to put on some tunes. I always hated the silence. The void needs to be filled, even with someone I love and I can be entirely myself. It’s my mind that never shuts off that I need to block out. The intrusive thoughts that must be kept at bay make me wonder if I will ever feel peace.
I sigh. “What do you feel like listening to, Mateo? Perhaps some Taylor Swift to lighten the mood?” I say this in jest because Mateo is not a ‘Swiffy’ fan, although he thinks she is hot.
He laughs. “Let’s try something else, huh, Evie?”
I pretend to think it over but get my phone out and scroll, searching for the perfect song that popped into my head.
“What did you pick?” he asks impatiently, sparing me a glance. He then looks at my phone as if he can tell in that second before he darts his sight back to the straight Texas highway road.
“So impatient, bro.”
I hit play. Suddenly, the driving basslines of this classic tune float through the air, with the drums flowing shortly after.
Mateo laughs aloud, a full-belly laugh as he hits the steering wheel in beat with the bass riffs. “‘Psycho Killer?’ Perfect. This song is a banger, Evie.”
“Right? Everyone secretly always roots for the bad guys.” I spare a glance at the back of the van where two cold bodies are carefully concealed. “But what about us? Some killers aren’t all bad.”
We repeatedly sing the famous French phrases in the song, belting out the lyrics as we drive into the night.
We pull into a dilapidated motel that is sketchy as fuck. These rooms are definitely rented by the hour, judging by the sign that reads ‘Rooms for a night or a lifetime.’ It’s missing a few letters.
