“I’m going to do you a favor,” I told Callen. “You don’t get to be the monster under my bed anymore.”
He laughed, raw and broken. “You think killing me fixes you?”
“No, but it stops you from owning my afterlife the way you owned my death.” I let that sink in, not so much for him, but as a proclamation to both myself and Lucifer. Then, I was ready to play. “Truth, or dare?”
Again, he regarded me before answering, like he was weighing every option in waiting for my poker face to slip.
“Dare.”
The challenge felt like liquid nitrogen in my blood and roused the real predator lying in wait.
“Alright. Let’s skip the foreplay.”
I walked with predatorial focus toward the black sheet covering the main event on the table, aware of the heavy lidded green eyes watching my every move with intent.
The sheet ruffled the air as I let it fly, and the sound of Callen’s choked cry was better than any aphrodisiac.
Pride warmed my chest as I stared at my creation, and again when I saw thepride in Lucifer’s smirk.
There, set among an array of memorabilia, was the severed heads of Andrew and Damien spiked on candle sticks
“I never needed foreplay to get wet anyway.”
The holy water made a pitiful splash as it hit the floor, and I was kind of disappointed it didn’t hiss and steam.
“I’d like to put in a formal request to upper management to up the dramatics with the holy water, okay Luci?” I threw a cutsie smile his way.
“I’ll see what can be done,” he replied.
I plucked the flask of bleach from the table, emptying it into the water gun before turning back to face Callen. The trigger squeaked as I let off a few squirts to make sure the bleach was front and center.
Then, for funsies, I shot a few streams at Callen’s Hunter Green T-shirt.
“Jesus!” Callen sneered.
“Yeah he’s around here somewhere,” I mused. “He’ll probably come out when you start losing fingers.”
“What did you do to them?” Callen gritted out. I watched him stare at his brother, dulled emotions trying to work their way into the wrinkles over his forehead. I knew better. Callen was incapable of feeling what he should be right now.
In another life, I imagined that Damien tried to protect Joe from his father. The night I’d died, Damien was the only one who felt any sort of sorrow for what was happening. It didn’t stop him, though. Didn’t stop the brutalization or the creativity with which it was executed. For that, he deserved to pay. To die.
“It’ll all make sense soon. Now, back to the task at hand.” I reentered thestaring contest with Callen and Mother Mary how I wished I could hear his thoughts.
“You don’t seem too upset about your besties. Do you want to hear my theory about why?’
“Fuck off.” Callen’s voice was, well… calloused. His mother must have known what sort of demon she bore when they handed his squirming, bloody body over to her.
“I think you always knew this day was coming,” I quipped. “After all, your paranoia must have been activated after Damien disappeared all of those years ago; no body or trail to be found. Then, you probably forgot all about it until Andrew was next.” My hips moved like liquid grace as I stepped up to Callen and planted myself on his lap. “Did you get my little love letters?”
“Who are you?” Callen asked, low and furious.
“I thought you might need some reminders. Never fear! I brought them.”
The fury in his green eyes translated into mind-altering adrenaline fueling the proverbial ants in my nonexistent pants.
Because of that, I couldnothelp myself.
I leaned in until I could see the small flecks of ocean blue hiding in the sea of green in Callen’s eyes, licked the pout of his lower lip and then bit into it with an excited groan before moving to whisper in his ear. “You taste just like I remember.”
