My hands trembled as I replied, “Sorry, Stacy is unavailable right now. Can I take a message?”
Callen startled, his head swiveling toward the darkened corner of the room where I sat waiting. His eyes never blinked as he fumbled toward one of the drawers and pulled out a kitchen knife alongside the pistol holstered on his hip.
“I will shoot you,” he said, more calm and collected than any normal human being would have been during a home invasion.
“How about we use the knife during foreplay and save the gun for the real thing?” I called out. “I’m kind of into double penetration.”
I stood up from the chair, dragging the bat behind me as I slowly walked toward the light.
“What the hell is this?” Callen ground out. As I came into the light, though, he froze, all color draining from his face as that evil brain of his began sorting the next step.
He recognized me from tonight, but I was ready for him to recognize me from my Death Day.
“The funny thing,Cal,is that you know me.”
“Listen bitch,” said Callen. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I don’t have any goddamn time for your bullshit. So why don’t you take your little splinter and leave, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
“The name’s Dany, not bitch.”
Callen got a single shot off before my bat redesigned his kneecaps and sent him buckling to the floor.
I kicked the gun out of his hand, picked it up, and pointed the bat at his head.
Stupid, stupid boy.
“What the fuck?” He yelled as his body slumped. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Yes,“ I answered emphatically. “Anything else you’d like to know before we begin?”
“Begin what, you fucking cunt?”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Callen, but flirting won’t get you out of this one.”
This time when I swung the bat, I knocked his fucking lights out.
The dining area wasn’t a preferable kill room, but it would have to do. Luci’s one Uber driver was too booked out to get the asshole back to my house. It was okay, though. I had a new finale planned to profess my twisted love for the Devil.
Callen was both still out cold, his head slumped over and shoulders sagging forward. I’d tied him to a kitchen chair facing my grand stage.
I pulled the finishing touches out of my magical great-big-bag-of-everything, seemingly incapable of stopping the giddy smile from raising my cheeks. As I wrapped my fingers around the water gun I kept for in case of emergency, something crinkled.
There, taped to the lime green barrel, was a yellow Post It note with beautiful scroll I’d recognize anywhere.
My biggest sin has always been pride, and you, dearest Dany, are at the center of it.
His words seized the air in my lungs, capturing the inhale and then releasing it in a gust as stupid tears pricked the stupid gelatinous orbs embedded in my stupid face.
“Fuck you, Luci,” I whispered through the emotion tightening my throat. Here I was having a coming to Jesus reckoning with what felt like the whole purpose of my dead existence, and he had the audacity to strum the chords of my very real andextremelydeep seeded-daddy issues attached to the organ I was ready to give him.
A deep groan sounded from behind, sending a wave of jitters down my spine.
It was show time.
“Do you keep any holy water anywhere? I need to cleanse your spirit before I send you to hell. It’s a classy place.”
“What is this?” He looked around, eyes blinking every few seconds as if he was trying to clear a haze in his vision. Which, honestly, he probably was. I swung that bat pretty hard.
“Ope! Never mind. I brought some.” I pulled the vintage flask from my bag and drained every last drop into the water gun canister. “I’ll be honest, your son really threw me for a loop. For a moment there, I thought I was special.” I puckered my lip and flashed my best impression of puppy dog eyes.
