chapter seven

Music blared from my speakers as I put away the boatload of clothes Lucy talked me into buying. They filled up three rods in the giant walk-in closet, while the plaid skirts, white blouses, and navy sweaters of my school uniform filled the last. Tomorrow I’d start at St. Mary’s Academy, and according to Knowles, that’s when I’d start my training. Whatever that meant.

My mind flashed to Akaros. I wondered what he’d be doing without me to torture day in and day out. I was pretty sure I was the only creature in Hell capable of giving him a good workout—I didn’t think anyone else could survive his particularly violent form of exercise.

When the first screams filtered through my open windows, I sighed, releasing all the tension from living in a world I didn’t understand. Screams I understood. I’d never gotten used to them, but at least they were familiar.

Screams have a life of their own, a brand, a flavor. You can tell a lot from them. Male, female. Angry, surprised. Fear. Pain.

And this scream spoke volumes. Female. Angry and in pain.

And fear drove it all.

When she screamed again, I dropped the shirt I’d just pulled from a bag onto the floor. I knew the voice behind that scream. Lucy.

I don’t remember the stairs, the kitchen or the back patio. I ran into the dark, the party having long since moved into the house. I ran until I came to the soft grass beyond the pool, and silence greeted me like a heavy blanket. I wasn’t out of breath, but I struggled to still the beating of my heart so I could hear.

Not a scream this time, but a desperate, whimpering moan.

Running toward the shadowy gazebo I wished I’d thought to grab my staff, or even my nun chucks. Right now, I’d give anything for shoes on my feet that I could use to beat whatever bad guy I found. Because there would be a bad guy—I just didn’t know of what variety. Here at Daniel’s hell-on-earth there was no guarantee I’d find a man—any number of demons were welcome here. Though, by the time I could see the gazebo, clearly looming white against the stand of trees behind it, the soft grunting and quiet whimpers told me all I needed to know.

This was the oldest kind of evil. And I could totally handle it.

I approached the gazebo in silence, trying to see where the couple was and how I could best gain the advantage over the scumbag. The guy’s bottle-bleached hair gave him away—I so should have put him in the hospital when I had the chance.

Custom-Made stood in the corner of the structure, his right hand braced against one of the corner beams high above Lucy’s head.

And the reason I couldn’t hear Lucy screaming anymore? The animal had one end of his belt wrapped around his fist, while the other end encircled her neck like a noose. Blood trickled from where the buckle pressed against the skin beneath her left ear.

Every cell in my body urged me to fly at him with a sidekick that would break his back, but I couldn’t risk hurting Lucy. I needed to get him away from her—now.

“Hey! Custom-Made!” Man, I wanted to bash the guy’s face in. My shadow-self lurched in anticipation. And for once, I welcomed it.

He swiveled as if in slow motion, his fist still holding the belt tight around Lucy’s throat. The whites of his eyes flashed as they turned to me, and his teeth shone in a slow, creeping smile. “Come to join the party, little pony?”

Lucy squirmed. Her feet scrabbled to gain purchase and her fingers clawed feebly at her neck. A low gurgling sound escaped her lips.

My fingernails dug into my palms. Focus. Breathe. But the sight of Lucy’s eyes rolling up into her head and Custom-Made’s sick grin made rage roar through my veins. Power consumed me as I lost myself to the Shadow.

My anger and hatred for this waste-of-skin roiled through my blood like a cancer. I could feel myself expanding, the evil taint of my shadow-self stealing my thought, my self-control, my humanity.

And then I saw the reaction I was looking for. The fear that breathed life into my Shadow.

Custom-Made faced me, the belt slipping from his grasp, his smile dropping from his face, as Lucy slumped to the floor. I barely registered the fear that overtook him or the way he backed away from me, stumbling over Lucy’s still form.

I didn’t think about ‘movement with intention’ as Akaros had taught me. I didn’t stop to wonder why the coward before me trembled, or why a wet stain spread across the front of his pants. I didn’t question why the shadow darkening his stretched face loomed like the blackened soul-self of a demon.

My clawed hands tore into him without thought, without care. When my teeth cut into his flesh and hot blood spilled into my mouth, I didn’t think at all.

Not once did I think I should stop.

Eventually my brain began to take inventory of my surroundings. I stumbled back on shaky legs. My hands gleamed dark and sticky in the moonlight and the sick realization of what I’d done took hold of me.

Blood spattered the white beams of the gazebo, but little remained of the man. You couldn’t have guessed it was him. Except I knew.

“Tsk, tsk,” Daniel clucked as he stepped up beside me. “You’ve made quite a mess.”

The tremors shaking my body made my teeth chatter so hard I could barely hear him. I stuck my hands under my armpits, afraid to look at them, terrified to remember. I focused on the trees—anything to avoid looking at the tangle of bodies that hid in the shadow of the gazebo’s floor.

A loud rushing sound shushed around in my head. I couldn’t hear. Couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think.

Desolation, I heard my father say. I am so proud you have chosen to Become. Your birthright is yours, at last.

I didn’t want it. I don’t want it! But I said nothing. Did nothing. Where I had resisted the choice for centuries in Hell, I had Become not twenty-four hours into my first day back on Earth.

Daniel gave instructions to his cronies, including the call they should make to 911 about two fatalities.

Two.

My gaze slipped from the safety of the trees to the gazebo, to the very thing I didn’t want to see—to a man, torn to the bone as if he’d been folded inside-out and to . . .

to . . .

Lucy.

I hadn’t touched her. I hadn’t hurt her. I swear I didn’t do it!

But her skin gleamed with oily-slick blood. And her eyes, open, seemed to look directly into my soul.

Oh. Oh. What have I done? What did she see?

Sorrow and shame overwhelmed the implications of the evil I had Become. I thought of Lucy and tried to grasp onto the fact that I’d never see her again. Never hear her laugh. Never feel the safety of her embrace.

Never forgive myself.

Daniel sighed. “Such a shame. She was so reliable. So useful. But him? Ever heard of overkill?” He laughed, a soft rolling sound full of genuine humor. “What did you call him? Custom-Made?” His laughter climbed over my skin, and I doubled over with nausea.

He kept talking and chuckling but I couldn’t follow, couldn’t even stand. I dug my fingers into the grass, into the moist soil and curled myself around them, tried to forget what my hands had done. Tried to send my consciousness away, to be anywhere but there. To be anyone but me.