"Death is death, Willa," Red says, and I grin when I realize she's twisting the knife back and forth like she's trying to dig a hole straight through the bitch. The blonde one coughs, spraying blood on Red's chest and shirt, and then she drops to one knee and the knife slides free. Red looks at me as she grabs a handful of the blonde's hair, moving behind her to place the knife at her throat, but I hold up a hand and she freezes.
Chuckling, I crouch down in front of the blonde, listening to the jagged breaths that tell me the fun is almost over since her lungs are quickly filling with blood.Pity. She could have been fun in my playroom. Still, crazy Red definitely makes me think of the more fun parts of Trixie, and that brings back a fond memory. "Hey!" I snap my fingers in front of the blonde's face, waiting until she seems vaguely aware of me before I flash a smile. "Say you love Lakyn."
Red shakes her, but the gurgling sound coming from the blonde is a disappointing attempt—if she even fucking tried. Such a waste of space, she didn't even put up a decent enough fight to make the entertainment last a little while. I roll my eyes and stand up, taking another drag on my cigarette as I step back from them, but Red's intense gaze catches my attention. I grin when I realize she’s waiting for me like a good little acolyte, and I blow out the smoke before I nod at her.
"I love Lakyn," Red says, her voice all sweet and calm just before she drags the knife across the blonde bitch's throat without her gaze ever leaving mine. Red’s got pale gray-brown eyes that hold the same glint of worship I've seen in photos of Manson's followers, and I have to admit it's not bad being worshiped. She's young, pretty, and batshit crazy, which means at a minimum I'll let her come along to meet Trixie. After all, she's obviously got more of a spine than the kid.
"What the FUCK, Daphne!" Aftyn shouts, shoving at Ichabod as he finally breaks free and climbs over the coffee table to drop next to the blonde, but I tilt my head and look at him.
"What did you just call her?" I ask, even though Aftyn is too busy having some kind ofmomentwith the corpse of the blonde. Letting out a loud, rolling laugh, I look up at the redhead and slap my leg with my free hand. "Jinkies! Looks like you won, Daphne!"
Her smile stretches, and I lean to look past her, catching Ichabod's worried gaze. "Why the fuck haven't you ever been able to do that?"
Shaking his head, Ichabod clenches his jaw and gets up from the couch, moving to comfort the kid again. If he thinks I'm going to let him test out the younger model, he's forgetting that I don't like to share my toys. Plus, the kid would probably be too sweet with him, and then I'd have to put up with Ichabod doing a half-hearted job the next time I need to get off, which just isn't acceptable.
"So… I get to come with you?" Daphne asks, and I suck my teeth as I look Ichabod over one more time before facing her again.
"Looks like it," I reply, stretching before I drop back into the chair and tap my cigarette on the ash tray. "Unfortunately, I don't have a dog, and my car isn't called the Mystery Machine."
"Zoinks," Daphne deadpans, and I wag my finger at her, chuckling.
"So, were you named after Scooby and the gang?" I ask, and she shrugs, her eyes still glued to mine like I'm the second coming. And who the fuck knows? Maybe I am.
Glancing over at the corpse on the floor, I take a second to admire her lack of hesitation. When I said jump, Red didn’t even bother asking how high—she just went to work, and she already had a knife at the ready. It's been a while since I got to appreciate someone else's work, and it's pretty obvious that this isn't the first time Red has gutted somebody. She's got blood splattered on her cheek and her chest, and the hand still holding the knife is covered in it, but I have a feeling that putting her and Trixie in the same space will be more than a little fun. Just to see if they go for each other's throats or not.
I jerk my chin toward the back of the house. "Go clean yourself up. Bathroom is down the hall. We might as well get on the road."
"I'm coming with you," Ichabod says, standing up to face me, and I grin as he tightens his fists at his sides.
"You really wanna drop your balls today?" I tilt my head, looking down at the bloody mess on the floor. "I thought you wanted to see Beatrix again."
The tension melts off him and I can tell he's thinking about crying. Ichabod has always been too emotional when it comes to that Satan-loving psycho, and I've never understood it, but I figure he might actually go to the mat over this one if I let him think too much.
"Listen, you stay here, clean up this mess." I wave my hand at the dead chick on the floor. "And I'll take the kid to meet his Aunt Trixie. We'll do the family reunion thing, and I'll see if she wants to let you sleep over for a few days."
"You…" Ichabod licks his lips. "You'd let me stay with Bea?" I can tell he doesn't believe me—which would be the smart thing to do. But hope is a bitch. "You'd let me go?"
"Don't get your dick hard for nothing. I saidfor a few days, and that's only if you don't act like a kicked puppy right now. Got it?" Jabbing out the cigarette, I stretch my back and walk over to the couch to drag the hatchet out from under it. If the blonde bitch had been crafty enough, she might have had a chance to defend herself and make the show a little more entertaining, but it’s fine. I have a feeling Daphne is going to be plenty of entertainment.
Ichabod nods, helping the kid off the floor, and I ignore their whispers again as Daphne comes back into the living room lookingalmostgood as new. Her shirt is a mess, and I point at it.
"Change your shirt, Red." I swing the hatchet up onto my shoulder as she slides the knife back into her backpack and pulls out a clean shirt. When she takes her bloody shirt off in the middle of the living room, I grin and wave a hand at her, glancing over at Ichabod and the kid. "She's not shy, is she?"
Neither of them is paying attention to the half-naked girl, which I expected from Ichabod, but the fact that the kid is still staring at the dead girl instead of the living one just has me rubbing my forehead.
"You sure I stuck my dick in your mom?" I ask and he rounds on me, glaring as I chuckle again. "Just asking, kid."
"Ready," Daphne says cheerfully, pulling the backpack on her shoulders, and I wonder if I picked up a schoolgirl outfit if she'd put it on for the drive. Toss that red hair in pig tails, get some fresh blood spatter on the white button down—it could be fun.
Plenty of ways to avoid boredom on the drive to find Trixie.
Heading past them into the kitchen, I grab a carton of cigarettes from the freezer and a spare lighter from a drawer, tucking the carton under my arm as I move back into the living room and tilt my head toward the front door. "Come on, kid. Let's go."
He's staring at Ichabod, and I snap the fingers on the handnotholding the hatchet—which usually keeps people's attention focused squarely on me, as it should be, but doesn’t seem to be working as well today.
"Did you know that—" the kid starts to talk, and I groan.
"If you're going to be all chatty the entire drive, this is going to be miserable. Shut up and get outside." Nodding at Red, I go and hold the front door open, snagging my keys and jingling them like I'm trying to get the attention of a pack of rabid toddlers. "Time is ticking."