“Doc”—I grin as an enormous black panther materializes from the shadows, prowling to my side—“I’d like you to meet Jezebel. Jezebel, meet Dr. Sebastian Bonaparte, a board certified piece of shit that does vile, unspeakable things to his students and keeps getting away with it. Well, until now.”
I offer my bloody fingers to the big black cat. She licks them clean and I giggle, patting her pumpkin-sized head.
“Jezebel is a retired circus rescue. They were going to euthanize her when she refused to jump through flaming hoops after a bad stunt nearly burned her alive.” I shake my head, throat scorching witha sudden, simmering wrath. “Since when is trauma punishable by death?”
Undying love radiates from her azure eyes to mine. Already, I feel my fury fading, leaving behind a cold, calculating calm.
“For years, she’s been my emotional support animal. But foryou?” I jab my knife at Sebastian and wink. “This sweet girl will be your personal guide to Lucifer’s suite.”
My fingers snap and Jezebel slinks forward.
Sebastian shrieks, scraping my senses. I shove the panties back into his throat to stifle them. He kicks his legs as if flailing like a fish out of water will save him.
It won’t.
“I’d say strap in, but I think we already took care of that part,” I muse as he screams andsobsin the face of death. “So, I guess all that’s left is to just”—I grin, rubbing two sticky-red fingers together—“enjoy the ride.”
The viridian veins in his neck and cock bulge in tandem, threatening to burst like a piñata. I’m tempted to see if he’ll spontaneously combust into a confetti cloud, but it’s late and I’m still tired from the last kill. Not to mention, I have a café to open in—I check my phone—two very short hours.
Snap!
Jezebel pounces with all one-hundred-and-fifty-one pounds of feline grace. Her fangs tear into Sebastian’s favorite bits, staining her black muzzle red.
I wipe a tear from the corner of my lashes. I taught her that trick myself.
Of course, with those major arteries sliced, Sebastian will bleed out to a lifeless husk before he can watch Jezebel chew on his ballsack. What a shame.
“Have a safe trip south!” I wave with jubilance, flicking the butterfly wings shut around the blade and tasting iron on my lips. “Give the big man downstairs a kiss for me, would you? I’m ahugefan of bad boys with bat wings.”
His delightfully fear-stricken gaze rips from the panther tearing out his manhood. He has the audacity to look at me likeI’mthe villain.
The funny thing is: he’s not wrong.
Sebastian’s eyes widen as I lift my fingers andsnap!
Jezebel lunges for his jugular, wrenching his esophagus free. He dies instantly, and so does my smile.
Satisfaction should be coursing through my veins. Except, it’s not. No matter how many of these predators die, there willalwaysbe more prowling in the dark.
“Unfortunately, Doc”—I sigh as I toe his piss-ridden blood into my personal trademark on the floor—“I’m no exception.”
SAINT
Brontë
“The dead make better company than the living,mon ami,” I remark, snapping on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and grimacing down at the lifeless man gaping up at me with a missing throat. “Apologies for giving you the short end of the stick.”
Feet shuffle behind me, grating my senses.
“Did he just talk to a corpse?”
“I think so?”
“Is that normal?”
“Maybe for someone in a straightjacket.”
“Actually, itisnormal.” I drop my backpack and sling a scowl over my shoulder at the four police officers clustered in the lavish living room. Their uniforms are spotless, their badges pristine. Rookies. “It’s no different than telling yourself affirmations in the mirror every day because your life is so pitiful you need a pep talk to be a functioning human.” A young buck snickers, and a slow smile stretches my mouth a touch too wide to be friendly. “It’s when they start talking back that you should consider bathing with a toaster,mes amis.”
