The Girl I Wanted Murdered
Traci Kenworth
I stared at my phone. Amnesty, don’t even do this. No further texts came. Shit. This couldn’t have blown up more in my face than it had.What did I do from here? Raindrops scattered over me. Time to move. I hurried to my white Malibu and slid inside. I checked my phone again. A groan issued from my throat. And I’d said what could go wrong tonight? Everything.
I drove toward the south end of town where we’d agreed to meet. Hoping. Maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe this would all work out in the end. It had before after all. Yeah, but Amnesty had never been angrier. Nor ready to end their relationship. She couldn’t. I wouldn’t let her. Everything I’d become was because of her. I wouldn’t let her drag me down that hole again. I’d matured. Grown out on my own. I’d only come back to settle things. After all, that’s what the student/mentor ratio was supposed to do.
So why wasn’t she playing her part? Drawing her last breath beneath my fingers? Oh, I’d set this right, all right. I paused at a stoplight. How much further? Maybe fifteen minutes. Was she even still at her house? She’d probably gone down to the ground. She knew what was coming.Who was coming. It wasn’t like I’d snuck back into town. No, I’d done it right. Announced my arrival to all our old friends. They’d had panicked expressions on their faces like I knew they would but that couldn’t be helped. They couldn’t interfere. Those were the rules. So who had broken them? Who had offered shelter? I’d get to the bottom of this.
I pulled into the parking lot of Greggory’s. A nice, old fashioned bar. They still served peanuts and a dish of tortilla chips and salsa on the house. Anything else cost a whole body part. Especially the food. I shrugged. I was hungry from waiting out Amnesty. Time to refuel. I ordered a burger and fries. Onion rings and fried mushrooms to boot. Like I said, hungry. The burger was a greasy mess. Just like I liked. If you were going to slum, might as well grease it up while at it. I glanced around. Plenty of regulars. I wiped my hands of my napkins and pushed the empty baskets to the side. With a swig of my Budweiser, I targeted an individual.
Strawberry-red hair, pale as a ghost. And able to shriek bloody hell. It would scare the others to see her ruffled. I smiled. I sat the beer down and approached her. “Melody. Long time no see.”
“Lacey.” Her gaze blinked, widened. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”
“Well, you know. When your prey goes to ground. You flush it out.”
She backed a step, two. “What prey?”
“Why Amnesty, of course.”
“I—I don’t know where she is.”
“Sure, you do. Or one of the runts in this place does.”
She searched the area.
Two big, brawny fellows came over.
“You bothering, Melody?” the first asked.
The other cracked his knuckles. “We don’t like that.”
I smiled sweetly. “Really? How bout I bother you two instead?”
They laughed.
“Where’s Amnesty?”
They glanced at each other.
“Amnesty, who?” the first said.
“Never heard of her,” a second said.
I braced myself. “She’s 5”6’, brunette, gangly, scatterbrained.”
The second leaned over me, his breath strong with alcohol. “Like we said, never heard of her.”
I brought my knee up, right into his groin area. He buckled and fell to his knees. The first dived over him and grabbed me around the throat. “You bitch.”
I butted my head into his. Stars swatted the air. I blinked and gave him a little space as he groaned. “I prefer to think of myself as a slicer.”
He frowned. “A what?”
“A slicer,” I repeated. “You know, it’s my professional trade. Slice and dice.”
“Slice and dice what?”
“You might not want the answer to that question.”
“I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Melody hovered in the background. “Don’t break anything, please. The boss’ll kill me.”
“Then maybe you better back off your boyfriend and talk,” I said.
She glanced between us. “Fine. Back table in five.”
I patted the guy’s head. “Next time I won’t be so friendly.”
He growled at me.
I headed for the back table. When I pulled out one of the higher chairs, I glanced back at the occupants of the bar. Who here would get word to Amnesty? The two guys picked each other up off the floor and left for the back door. Should I follow? Too late. Melody blocked my vision.
“Why you want Amnesty?” she asked.
“Let’s just say we have an appointment to keep.”
“You want her place in the hierarchy?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Just her life.”
“What for?”
“It’ll boost my powers.”
She glared at me. “So, you can take her place.”
“I said I don’t want her position. Just her death.”
“I think you lie.”
I snickered. “I don’t care what you think.”
She brushed off the table with her towel. “Can I get you something?”
“Are we back to that?”
She shook her head. “You’re insufferable.”
“Amnesty taught me to be my best.”
“Fool her.”
I glared back at her. “It’s not that I don’t love Amnesty. I do. But, unfortunately, sometimes we have to kill the ones we love.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say, it keeps life fresh.”
She clunked a glass of water down. “How many times have you done this?”
“Five.”
“Five too many.”
“Five just right. Until I need six. That’s why I’m here.”
She shivered. “I hope Amnesty messes you up bad.”
I chuckled. “She can try.”
The bar emptied. I stood and sent a scowl Melody’s way. Tomorrow then.
The sun brushed the cot where I slept. Something slipped from my hipbone as I stretched. I glanced down. A note. “Meet me at Oysters. A.”
So, the wolf had been flushed at last.
Or should I say, rabbit?
I scouted the length of the shack called Oysters. I hadn’t been there since I was seventeen. And in love. Karadoman came into memory and I halted. Why had I let the past cause me to hurt again? Karadoman had known the price. He’d gave it willingly. Maybe Amnesty had come to do the same. I shook my head. No. She wouldn’t go so quietly into the night. She’d proved a fighter, all the way. No sign of brute force. Maybe inside then. I kept my back to the door as I entered, ready to flee if necessary. After all, it wasn’t my death I sought.
I took a table and ordered a scotch on the rocks. A moment later, a cheeseburger and fries. Now, all that was to do was wait. Would she show herself? Or send another? I didn’t wait for long. She wore a gold dress down to her bare ankles. Wide hoops swung with her curly, bronze hair. She paused in the middle of the room, surveyed it, and spotted me. She gave me a curt nod and joined me.
“Lacey,” she kissed my cheeks. “How are you?”
“Not as well as you apparently.”
“Sorry to here that.” She gestured for the waitress and ordered a Sunrise.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked.
“How about some gravy and toast?”
I smiled. “Still like your comfort food.”
She gazed me and eyed my meal. “As do you.”
I shrugged. “You know me. I’m hungry before a mission.”
“Same old you.”
Two hulks entered the bar. They looked cousins to the ones from last night.
“Yours?” I raised an eyebrow.
She shook her head. “Melody thinks I need back-up.”
“Do you?”
Her smile half-lit her gaze. “I’m always ready.”
“Good. It’ll make this easier.”
“You sure?”
“I like a challenge the best.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
I sat back. “I remember how deadly you were with just your hands and legs.”
“Still am.” She grinned. “Didn’t think age slowed me, did you?”
“So, to the best reaper.”
“The best reaper.”
I glanced at her. “When do we begin?”
“How about nine p.m.?”
“Fine by me. Where?”
“Outlier’s Bridge.”
I paid the check. “Hoping I’ll be scared of ghosts?”
“If that gives me an advantage.” Her lids half-closed.
“Don’t count on it.”
I slipped out of the bar. The two hulks followed. Halfway down the road, I elevated their spines.
The bridge was long and dark. I picked a spot about midway. Peering over the side, I remembered the tales of how many folks had taken their lives on these bridges. I shook the shiver from my flesh.
“I never pictured us doing this,” Amnesty said from behind me.
I turned. “Nor did I.”
“So, why are you here?”
“I need an upgrade in power. A demon told me the only way was through sacrificing those I cared about.”
She paced the bridge. “Surely, you don’t care about me? We haven’t been in each other’s lives for ages.”
“That doesn’t make the heart miss someone less.”
She paused. “What if I could give you the power you sought without taking my life?”
“I’d just have to come back another time.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
She shook her head.
“It’s simple: your death equals my advancement. No power you can give me will equal that.”
“Who told you this?”
“Braxius.”
She scowled at the name. “You’re trusting an old crossroads demon? Washed-up since the angel’s fell?”
“He’s gotten sober.”
“Doesn’t change his past.”
“No, but he’s done his twelve steps. Can you say the same?”
“What do I need to do twelve steps for? I’m not a drunk.”
“You sure do pack it away. Along with the pills.”
“Don’t you worry that defiles my person?”
“If a demon’s not too picky, why should I be?”
She thinned her lips. “And what does Braxius want in return?”
“A jewel called the Cannalist.”
She whistled. “Impossible to find.”
“Not with your help.”
“I’ll never reveal the location.”
“Not while alive.”
Her gaze lit. “Ah, that’s the play then?”
I nodded.
She waved me on.
I circled her. Something stung me on the neck from behind. My body convulsed. “What?” I collapsed to find a needle hovering over me in the hands of two new goons.
“Did we do right, boss?” they asked Amnesty.
She grinned. “You did just right.” She glanced down at me. “See, Lacey, in the game of life, there are winners and losers. I’m looking at the latter right now. That juice you were shot up with will keep you paralyzed for 72 hours. Enough time for my enforcers to see you delivered to my estate where I have my own plans for you.” She nodded. “You weren’t the only one who made a deal with Braxius. He’s taken quite a liking to you and will pay nicely for use of you. Of course, he must also buy my Prex juice.”
The End.
Author Bio
Traci Kenworth Bio: I write all genres of YA. I live in Ohio with my son and daughter and four cats, chasing snippets of whatever story I’m working on at the time. I have been writing since I was old enough to hold a pencil. Writing saved me from a dark period in my life. I will be forever grateful to God for this. It gave me a way to bring in the light and conquer the darkness. That's the type of hero/heroine I write about. A survivor and those they love. I want to give others hope, and a way back when they think everything is lost. Some other things I enjoy: genealogy, riding horseback, and, of course, reading. I hope you will all follow me on my adventure of getting published.
