Page 59 of Liars and Liaisons

I don’t have the knife Elena gave me, so this will have to do.

Their voices drop, too low for me to hear, and a few minutes later, the shadows split in two. One moves south, heading away from the lake and around the front of the estate, while the other cuts through the trees, slowly closing in on me.

I hunker as low as I can go, gritting my teeth as I try to calm my breathing. Sunlight teases a corner of the pink and purple sky, just beyond the mountains. It’s enough for me to see out, but the air darkens quickly, and I’m afraid I might soon lose visibility completely.

The figure stops a few feet away, casting their head to one side, overlooking the vast waters. As if listening for signs of life.

A bird bursts through the shrub at my side, scattering leaves and squawking so loud that it drowns out my startled gasp. The figure’s head whips in my direction, and sweat pours down my spine, dripping down the backs of my legs.

A masculine chuckle emits into the air.

I clutch the rock so tight that my fingers go numb.

The shadow edges closer, taunting in their gait. He isn’t expecting an assailant.

He stops just in front of me, the half-dead bush hiding my body, and peers around the tree. Somehow missing me entirely.

Copper springs to my tongue, tangy and bitter. I release my lip from between my teeth, unaware that I was biting into it.

Blowing out a breath, the figure turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. Up close, I see broad shoulders and long black hair and a white mask that covers the top half of his face. The plain black clothing gives nothing else away, and I can’t make out any markings that might help identify him later.

The second he shoves his hands into his pockets, I push up slowly from my crouched position. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, like a spring loaded and ready to unleash. I rear my arm back, heart pounding, head throbbing, and drive the rock into the back of his skull.

He swears and starts to turn, but I do it again. Throwing myself into the motion, I push all of my weight into the hit and strike over and over. And over. And over.

The man doesn’t get the chance to turn around fully.

Liquid sprays across my face, blood gushing from the wound the rock has created, and he slumps first to his knees. I drive the rock in once more for good measure, my heavy breaths suddenly the only sound all around.

Not even the crickets chirp anymore.

When he falls face-first onto the ground, I stagger backward, staring down at the lifeless body without an ounce of pity in my veins. There’s no remorse, only the odd sense of satisfaction swirling around my ribs like an enigmatic smoke.

I wipe the blood from my face with the back of my forearm and drop the rock.

Relief flushes through me, but it’s short-lived when I realize I’m not alone.

A pair of eyes glows silver in the rising moonlight. They take me in slowly, then swivel down to the corpse at my feet. The man’s lips press together, as if he’s trying not to laugh, and then he reaches up and rubs at his jaw with tattooed fingers, adorned with silver rings.

“Well, this is definitely a first.”

19

As soon asthe man speaks, a small pink-haired girl steps out from behind him. Her arm is hooked in his, and she’s wearing an oversize hoodie with a green-and-purple double-headed serpent design on it.

She looks at the corpse, then slowly at me, finally landing on the man she clings to. “I don’t think I can smoke near a dead body.”

“I think we have more pressing matters right now than draining your brother’s weed supply, pretty girl.” The man slides his arm around her shoulders, gripping the top of her head with one palm.

“Should we tell your uncle?”

When she says that, recognition dawns on me. Grayson and Nate’s nephew, Aiden James, the prolific rock star from New York. The headlining act from Alistair’s fundraiser all those weeks ago, though this is the first I’m getting to really see him in person. Even if he’s half-hidden in shadows.

“About which part?” he asks her, as if I weren’t even standing here. “The murder or the woman who just made his house a crime scene?”

“Both seem kinda important.” She tilts her head, then slips out from under his grasp. Her approach is slow, calculated, the way one might try to capture a wild, dangerous animal. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. At least, I think I do. My eyes remain on the man, half-focused and completely horrified.

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