Page 21 of A Bloody Merry Christmas
A knock on the door made me freeze, but then the sounds of Samael’s footsteps walking away kicked my lungs into action and I exhaled, long and harsh. How much had he heard?
It didn’t matter. I rose tiredly, got rid of my pajama pants, and moved to the shower. I’d need to clean the tiles on the floor before I went to the kitchen, too.
Half an hour later, I was freshly washed, the floor was clean, and I’d managed to muster the courage to walk toward thedining room where Samael was already sitting at the table. He was dressed for the day and sat hunched over his iPad, fingers stroking his chin as he stared at it with narrow eyes.
Curious, I sidled closer and took a look at the screen. It was a news article about a convicted rapist who’d been released on bail. I’d heard the stories, only because they were printed on newspaper stands. According to the reports, the rapist was a college guy who’d found an unconscious woman who’d had too much to drink and brutalized her until another woman came along and scared him away. This kid was rich and white, though, and that meant a few nice words put him in the good books with a judge, who released him because he’d never done anything wrong and he had his entire life in front of him, as though that meant something. It didn’t, not to the woman who’d been raped, at least.
The moment I’d heard the story, nausea had curled in the pit of my stomach. I’d listened to some of the worst stories while living on the streets, but this report had been as bad as any of those.
“It’s sick, right?” I sat down beside him and touched his arm. Samael’s gaze slid to meet mine and his lips pressed together. “Can’t believe he got away with it.”
He held the iPad tighter before he dropped it on the table. It clattered and the noise made me flinch. He grabbed his notepad and wrote on it before passing it to me.
You want to know who’s next? He’s next.
My eyes widened. “You mean you’re going to?—”
“Yes.” He winced and wrapped his hand around his neck, as if to stifle the pain from speaking. “He’s next.”
“Oh.” My heart thumped loudly in my ears and I swallowed around a lump that had formed in my throat. “Can I help?”
My words made his gaze whip to me, eyes large and surprised. “Help?” he mouthed.
I nodded furiously, an excited tingle taking over my body. Curling my hands into fists at my knees, I grinned and leaned in closer. “Yeah. I’d really like to. Please?”
“No.” He shut off his iPad and stood, but I followed him.
“Why not?” I grabbed his arm so he couldn’t walk away from me. He glanced down at my hold before his stare slid up my arm and to my face. I had no idea why I wanted to help, but the thought of making an asshole like this college kid pay thrilled me in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time. It should’ve terrified me that I wanted to kill another human being. It didn’t. “I can be useful. I’m smart.”
He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose, then grabbed my arms. We stood there for a few moments, him holding me while he stared into my eyes. I didn’t dare break the eye contact until he sighed and reached for that notepad again. I really needed to learn to sign language.
You don’t know what you’re asking.
“I do and I want to help. I want you to teach me.”
Why?
His gaze felt like it was melting my insides, and I shivered under its intensity. I moved a little closer until I was in his personal space, our chests nearly touching. I tilted my chin up and swiped my tongue across my bottom lip. “I don’t know why,I can’t explain it, but I’m not afraid. I’ve been on the streets for six years. I’ve seen the shit normal people do to the homeless, the worst of human nature, and maybe I’m sick and tired of assholes getting away with being cruel. The cops do nothing, and if they do, the courts don’t. How is that fair? It’s not! So, maybe I want them to get what they deserve. I want them to suffer like we do because of them.”
By the time I’d finished, my chest heaved and it felt like I’d run out of air in my lungs. I straightened my spine because I wasn’t going to back down on this.
To my surprise, Samael smiled, then mouthed, “Okay.”
“Really?” I grinned, resisting the urge to bounce on my toes. Fuck, I hadn’t done that since I was twelve and Mom agreed to let me go to the mall on my own to meet some friends.
Yes, but you always do what I say. No arguing. We can’t rush this. It takes time, precision. All right?
I held the notepad a little too tight and it nearly crumpled under my hand. When I realized what I was doing, I passed it back to him. “Yeah. When do we start?”
Not yet. You need to learn things first.
If I was the type of guy to pout, I might’ve done just that. I huffed instead and crossed my arms. “Like what?”
He held up his palm and I took that as a sign to be patient. Mom used to do the same thing when she got frustrated. He scribbled something else on the paper and flashed it at me.
Later. We need to go out to Dalton’s farm today.
A tingling fear buzzed inside my chest, the familiar tendrils of anxiety weaving through my limbs, but I pushed it aside. If I was going to die, then so be it. Survival was difficult already, maybe I was tired of fighting the streets. I merely nodded. “All right.”
