Sorry if this chapter isn't so great. In my defense, someone got me sick and now I feel like my face has been run over not once, but multiple times.
Not to mention looking at my laptop screen burns my eyes like the fires of hell.
Ok, on with the story!
Ch.7: Secret Lairs and Secret Secrets
Turned out his super-secret lair was still in New York, hidden in the outskirts of the town in some little clump of woods. And compared to his huge, gleaming house, it was definitely super-secret. It took about forty minutes to get there, forty minutes of silence, because the wind was just too loud to talk, so instead I just sat there with my arms wrapped around Puck trying not to squeeze too tight or fall off because I was holding on too loosely.
Eventually we stopped, in what was pretty much the middle of nowhere, and Puck turned off the motorcycle, hopping off with a flourish and gesturing to the patch of trees.
"Welcome, stinkface, to my humble hideout."
I looked around at the trees and dirt and grass. "Humble as in non-existent?" I said as I carefully clambered off of the motorcycle.
He laughed, clapping his hands together in delight. "So much stupidity in one person. I didn't know it was even possible! Maybe when this is all done I'll donate you to science or something- maybe they can figure out why your brain doesn't quite work right."
"Yeah thanks, now can we get on with this?" I said flatly, because I was cold and windblown and my cut was stinging again and I didn't have the patience at the moment to put up with his snarky little comments.
He rolled his eyes. "Take your time Grimm- savor the moment."
"Consider the moment savored. Now come on, where's the base?"
He grinned. "You're looking at it."
I was about to tell him he had a horrible base when he walked up to a tree and pulled of a piece of bark, revealing a little number pad with the digits from 0-9 on it. He looked over at me, smirking, and I reminded myself to not look so surprised next time. It only fed his ego.
He then typed in a set of numbers too fast for me to memorize, and suddenly a large patch of earth shifted away to reveal a tube with a ladder leading underground.
"Whoa," I couldn't help but say.
"Whoa is right," he responded, putting the piece of bark back on before skipping over to the tube, grabbing onto the first rung and climbing down. I guessed I was supposed to follow, so I did, maneuvering down the tube much more slowly, because as soon as I was in, the ground closed over me and made the tunnel almost pitch black, save for a few tiny lights on the wall. I wasn't going to risk falling down the ladder because I couldn't see where I was putting my hands, so I took my time.
I heard when Puck landed, feet clapping against the floor. "You climb that ladder like a little old Granny Sasha! It's adorable!"
I gritted my teeth- so much for being called Sabrina. I should've known he wouldn't give up his most annoying pastime.
"Shut up," I snapped, and then my feet were on the ground.
He flashed a sardonic grin at me, eyes glowing in the shadows. "Follow me," he whispered. And again, I was following him through the darkness, air thick and dank, not even sure where I was, what it looked like in here.
Until, judging by the sudden openness to the air and less cramped feeling, we emerged into a larger room. Lights abruptly flickered on above us, and I could've face palmed myself for the gasp I allowed to slip out. The corridor was huge, sleek metal floors and walls and a ceiling, which was held up by equally as sleek metal columns protruding from the ground in a few key spots of the room. There were a few jets and helicopters in one corner, whole rows of gleaming sports cars besides them, a few glass cases holding outfits like Deadpool's, but slightly different. Shelves of weapons, various gadgets, a desk with some high-tec looking screens, a hot tub (because why not I guess), more motorcycles, a kitchenette, a few dummies missing various limbs, a whole wall covered in what looked like explosion marks and bullet holes (wasn't going to ask about that), and various other things littered across the floor. It was a lot to take in, but Puck just strolled in like he owned the place, which, well, he did.
"My meager palace of me. I know, it's amazing. It's like my unborn child from my metaphorical womb." He sniffed. "I'm just so proud of it!"
Unborn child from metaphorical womb was a bit much, but I was too busy gaping at everything to tell him that.
"Jesus Puck, how much spare time- how much money- do you have?"
His back was facing me, but I could picture that grin widening. "More than you'd like to think about." His voice was deep, possessive as he said it, the way it got when you mentioned money. "So, so much more."
Not liking the way his voice got almost dissolute, or the thought of how he got all that money, I changed the subject.
"So, what exactly are we here to get?" I asked. At that, his body seemed to snap up, remembering why he was here (thankfully).
"Right. Scarlet Hand. Right." He hopped over to the high-tec screens on the desk, and as he sat down a holographic keyboard and mouse flickered to life underneath his hands. Seriously? What did he not have?
"I don't have a pet giraffe, if you were wondering. It's a shame really, those things are literally the cat's knees. Or the bee's pajamas. Or whatever that weird saying is."
Close enough. I tried not to think about how he had just practically read my mind and instead focused on whatever he was pulling up on the computer.
He clicked on a folder labeled 'poop' and then the subfolder 'more poop,' and it opened up a screen full of a bunch of little documents in neat little rows.
"Poop is secret code for secrets. That way people trying to hack my mainframe will never look in these folders, and by the time they think about maybe looking in them, my security system would have blown their heads off their bodies."
"Oh, and that's happened before?" I asked uneasily.
He looked over his shoulder and his grin turned my stomach. "Do you really want to know that answer?"
I tried to think about the sensitive, not completely ass-like part of him, because maybe it would distract me from the fact that he was a horrible person. That despite whatever little bonding moment I thought we might've just had, he was a monster. For some reason, the realization made me a bit disappointed. I thought maybe he had changed, thought maybe I really had been wrong.
It was the first time I didn't want to be right.
He didn't notice my internal struggle, was too busy sifting through the 'more poop' files in the 'poop' folder.
"Hmm," he said a few moments later, tapping on the holographic mouse there to open up the document his cursor was hovering over. My eyes widened when I read the title- Scarlet Hand. I leaned forward, gripping the back Puck's seat.
The document opened, and I scanned the words on the screen. There were a lot less than I wanted, and the words were very vague.
Tried to hire me for a job four months ago. I declined.
It was the first line of information on the screen, and the first thing I read.
"They tried to hire you?" I asked.
"Yeah. I've worked for Mirror's guys before, Mirror himself, but never this Scarlet Hand. Must be a pretty new group, because even I hadn't heard of it when they approached me about the job. I guess that's why I didn't recognize the name when Thorner was trying to tell me about it."
"Mm," was my only response. I read the next line.
Run by Mirror. World domination and stuff. Multiple bases and hideouts. Big base somewhere in U.S.
"How'd you know that?"
Puck shrugged. "I snagged this guy who had been trailing me for a while a few months back. Hung him upside down and threatened to do some less than sanitary things if he didn't tell me who he worked for. Apparently he was with the Scarlet Hand, and apparently they didn't like that I hadn't agreed to their job offer yet, so they had sent this guy to finish me off. It was an insult really, sending such a horrible excuse for an assassin, I'm still upset, I mean the-"
"Puck. Focus."
"Right. And so he fessed up. Said he worked for the Scarlet Hand, said he was trying to kill me to tie up loose ends because whoever the Scarlet Hand messed with that was no longer necessary was cut. I asked where I could find them, and he said they had an assortment of bases, began listing off places like Ontario and Atlanta and D.C. and Sydney and London…"
Sure enough the next line of information was a list of places.
"I asked if they had a central base, a center of operation, and he just grinned and nodded. I asked where and he told me it was here, in the United States, but that I'd never find it. With that he swallowed one of those kill pills that had been stuck in his tooth and that was the end of Mr. McFess-up."
I let the information sink in. "Well, that's helpful I guess."
"You guess? Of course it's helpful! No one else in the world knows this about the Scarlet Hand but me and the people working in Scarlet Hand!"
"Because you tortured some dude."
"For the record, I just threatened him with torture."
"So you verbally tortured him."
Puck rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of irritation. "Could you please stop being a goodie-two-shoes and focus on the mission at hand? What matters- that one guy had to die to get this information or that we have the fucking information?"
"I'm sure there are other ways of getting it than killing people!"
"Sometimes killing people is the only way! And even if it isn't, it's the easiest option and my personal favorite."
"Fantastic. And it's easy for you? Just killing people?"
"YES. What part of assassin-mercenary-killer do you not understand?"
"I don't know, the heartless part! How can you possible just slaughter people without caring?"
And that was the truth. How could he? I had this stupid, false feeling of hope in me that he could be better, but every time I turned around he squashed it with his brutal ways and harsh words and violent choices and the way he managed to laugh at all of it. He was the kind of person you feared and hated, and yet for some reason I kept wanting to not fear him, to not hate him. My mom had always said I had a way of seeing the best in people, of making them see the best in themselves. But she also told me that some people didn't have a best, some people deserved to just be given up on.
Was he one of those people?
He seemed to sense what I was thinking, what I was feeling, because his smile stretched. "Grimm, there are no such thing as heroes. And in case you didn't notice, if there were, I sure as hell wouldn't be one. So stop thinking otherwise- you're just going to be let down. Trust me, I'd know."
I wanted to protest, but I couldn't, because he had turned back to the computer and in all honesty, I didn't know what I'd say.
"Well, that's all the information I have. I'd say it's some pretty juicy stuff, I could probably sell it for a nice sum of cash…"
He trailed off, looking thoughtful, but at my glare he grinned. "Which I would never ever do if it meant upsetting my favorite side-kick."
This time I rolled my eyes. He looked pleased by that, and hopped out of the chair, the holographic keys and mouse disappearing as he left.
"Ok girly, you stay in here, try not to break anything, and I'm going to pack up on some of my favorite killing things and then go grab some clothes in case I need to go undercover and then come back and we'll leave and go talk to Areye! Look how good my planning is- I'm proud. Are you proud? You should be."
I watched him skip over to the shelves, looking at everything in careful consideration, every once in a while making a little squeal of excitement. All of his weapons shrunk down if he tapped them correctly, so he had room for a lot in his belt of pouches. I just stared as he loaded an unnecessary amount of grenades and guns and knives into his belt, and then he grabbed what looked like a rocket launcher.
"This is new!" he said, like a kid on Christmas, and ran over to the wall decorated with scorches and holes. Without warning, he swung the huge gun over at it, fired, and a huge torpedo like thing slammed into the wall, exploding in a cloud of flame and heat and light. I actually screamed, stepping back a bit, but Puck just stood there and laughed.
"Ok, we definitely have to pack that!" he said, slipping it into his pouch, shuffling away from the wall as if this was an everyday thing, just exploding stuff right in front of yourself.
My heart was still thumping as he clapped his hands together and turned to me.
"Are you insane?" was the first thing I said, and it was more of a shout than a question.
"Um, yes? Anywho, I'm going to go get my clothes. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."
And then he was gone, opening up a door in the corner I hadn't noticed before, walking into another room. For a few moments, it was silent. Then I looked down at the desk I was standing over. Then I sat down in the chair. Then I lifted my hands over the desktop, and the holograph fluttered to life under me.
I couldn't help but smile.
I moved my hands, in turn moving the cursor on the screen, and tapped twice to open up the 'poop' folder. Then the 'more poop' folder. There had tobe something interesting in here, something worthwhile. I mean, it was an entire folder full of hundreds of documents all chocked full with secrets. That wasn't something you got to see every day.
I was scrolling down the columns of documents, glancing at the names, but nothing struck me. William Charming, The Dark Warriors, Maleficent, The 001 Project, Faerie…
That was when my hand froze, because my eyes had caught something, something that was not only interesting but important, especially to me. I scrolled back up, and there it was, sitting there plain as day, a document labeled Grimms.
Not knowing what to expect, not sure why my stomach was coiling, I clicked on it. The folder opened up, and first was a brief history of my family line. I scanned over it, because I already knew this. Then was the prophecy, the one Thorner had talked about, given by Baba Yaga.
The Grimms are more than just a family line, they are an idea, a power. They stand for everything in this world that keeps balance- the bridge between the world of mortals and the world of immortals. As long as they live, one cannot dominate over the other. As long as they live, peace will reign. As long as they live, the humans cannot destroy the Everafters. Likewise, as long as they live, the Everafters will never rule over the humans.
The words sent chills up my spine. No wonder a group that wanted to take over the world wanted my family out of the way. Then I remembered something, something that had been niggling in the back of my head. Hadn't Puck said he didn't know about the prophecy, hadn't he had to worm it out of Thorner to hear it? Hadn't he been as surprised as me when Thorner had told us about this prediction, these few lines of words that made the Everafters want to kill my entire lineage?
Then why in the world was it sitting pretty here on his computer?
Suddenly I felt like I was doing something wrong, felt a strong wave of uneasiness and fear slowly wash over me, drenching me in dread that made my limbs go stiff. I was still sort of afraid of Puck, yes, but not like I had been at first. I had grown used to him in the past days, realizing his threats were just words and that he probably wouldn't kill me.
Only now I was afraid again, terrified, because he had lied, he had pretended he didn't know about the prophecy, and you only lie when you want to keep something from someone, and why would he want to keep it from me unless I couldn't know. Unless he couldn't have me knowing.
Why wouldn't he want me knowing?
My dad used to always say the same thing- lies are malicious, lies mean suspicion and secrets and mistrust. Never believe a liar. Never feel safe with a liar.
And I didn't. Not anymore. And part of me wanted to exit the document and leave the desk and act like nothing had happened and tell myself it was nothing and live in a state of ignorance because ignorance is bliss. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.
I kept reading.
My eyes widened.
Thomas Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1875.
Miranda Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1882.
Louise Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1901.
Harold Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1924.
Charlotte Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1941.
William Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1954.
My stomach was sinking lower and lower, a dizzying sense of panic grabbing me and squeezing me and not letting go, just getting tighter as the list got longer. Puck had killed them. Puck had killed members of my own family. Puck had been killing Grimms since the 1800's. It was the last name that made my heart crawl into my throat, that made it hard to breath, that made my heart beat loud enough to actually hear it.
Basil Grimm- deceased. Killed by me. 1991.
My grandfather. The grandfather Granny Relda always said got in a tragic accident one day. Only it wasn't a tragic accident. It was Puck. Puck killed my grandfather. Puck had killed seven members of my family over the course of 116 years.
What would stop him from killing me?
That thought was what made me scroll further, despite the way that my hands were shaking and my head seemed fuzzy and I really couldn't believe it because I was working with I was in the same room as I had slept next to someone who killed them all.
That's when I saw my name.
Sabrina Elizabeth Grimm.
My blood turned cold. I kept reading.
Sabrina Elizabeth Grimm- 16 years old. Resident of Ferryport Landing, lives with father, mother, sister, brother, grandmother. Attends Attended Ferryport High School. Currently searching for parents. Target of Scarlet Hand. Mission- kill on sight, do not take hostage.
Mission- kill on sight.
Kill on sight.
Kill.
Mission- kill.
Puck had been lying. He did know more about the Scarlet Hand. The mission he had supposedly 'declined' a few months earlier hadn't actually been 'declined.' The mission was to kill me. Puck was sent to kill me.
Puck was going to kill me.
"Hooooney, I'm hoooome!"
His voice made me jump, and suddenly I was in full panic mode, and I exited out of the documents as quickly as possible, heart beating impossibly fast as I jumped out of the seat, standing up as I watched the keyboard and mouse flicker away.
He was standing there, in his costume, mask not on, probably in one of his pouches. Pouches that were stocked to the brim with knives and guns and grenades and rocket launchers and swords and things that kill and he was going to kill me, his mission was to kill me.
It was only a matter of time. I knew it was coming. And the thought made me more scared than I'd ever been in my life. The sensitive Puck, the joking one I hadn't really minded, was all fake, was all a lie. He was an assassin before he was anything else. A heartless assassin.
Grimm, there are no such thing as heroes. And in case you didn't notice, if there were, I sure as hell wouldn't be one. So stop thinking otherwise- you're just going to be let down. Trust me, I'd know.
He'd know. He was right. He was no hero. He was a monster.
He arched an eyebrow at me, looking confused. "Hey fart face? You ok? You look pale. If you're gonna throw up, please do it somewhere else. These floors are freshly polished."
I might throw up, maybe, but I swallowed down the nausea. I couldn't let him know, not yet, or he'd just kill me right then and there. No, I'd have to let him think he'd tricked me, and then when we were sleeping, when he wasn't paying attention, I'd have to kill him.
I didn't think I could. My hands were shaking even as I thought about it. But for my sake, for my family's sake, I had to suck it up and do it.
I imagined blood on my hands, his blood, blood everywhere, and it made the nausea increase, so I just took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, pinching the pad of my thumb to my pointer finger, a trick that had always helped me to calm down.
"I'm not gonna throw up. I just don't like being underground," I lied.
If he was suspicious, he did a good job of hiding it. What else did he do a good job of hiding?
"So, what'd you do while I was gone? Cry over my absence?"
I rolled my eyes, like I always did, but it wasn't like before, it was pushed, forced, painful. "N-no. Definitely not. Rejoiced, more like."
That's right, act natural. Keep up the bickering. He won't suspect a thing.
"Weren't trying to browse the secrets of the world on this baby?" he asked, patting the computer screen. He said it jokingly, but I wondered if that was a cover-up too, if he really suspected it, if he knew.
"Yeah, because searching through the 'more poop' folder in the 'poop' folder is really how I want to spend my time," I said.
He grinned, and his face looked so young, so boyish, dimples and all, and it hurt my stomach, because that face was a mask. For the first time I wondered if his face was more of the mask than his real mask. If the face was just a cover for the crazy assassin that was Deadnight, with the red head and white oval eyes that seemed to be watching, always watching. If he was more his costume than he was a boy.
"Come on smellbop, we've got places to be."
I didn't respond, just followed him as out of the room, and the lights turned off behind us, and we were in the dark, cramped hallway again, and the only thing I could feel was my heartbeat, the only thing I could think was that he could do it now, while I couldn't see, he could take a knife and slit my throat and there would be nothing I could do about it.
Only he didn't. We made it to the ladder, and I climbed out first as he followed behind me.
"Could you be any slower?" he groaned.
"Much," I shot back, proud that it sounded normal. When I made it to the top of the ladder, the layer of earth above me automatically shifted away, letting in a burst of sunlight. I crawled out onto the grass, squinting in the brightness, stepping away from the hole.
I could do this. I could do this. It was probably around eleven o'clock, which probably meant around twelve more hours and he'd be asleep. That would be my time. That would be when I saved myself from him.
A second later and he was out too, and the earth covered the hole back up, and he sauntered over to the motorcycle, hopping on easily.
"You coming, or are you just going to stand there?"
"Coming," I growled, climbing on next to him, trying not to feel sick as I wrapped my hands around the boy who had murdered my family.
He started up the motorcycle, only this time when he put in the keys, he turned them the opposite direction, to the left instead of the right.
"What?" I asked, as I felt the machine jolt underneath us. He reached into his pouch and pulled out his mask, putting it on his face.
"It's gonna get cold up there- lucky I have a mask so my nostrils don't freeze. You on the other hand…"
Up where was my first question, but before I could ask it the motorcycle jolted again, and I looked down to see wings sprouting out of the sides.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Nope. It can only fly for six hours straight though. Lucky for us it's super mega fast, so that should be all the time it takes to get to Michigan. Oh, and back to your nostrils freezing."
He pulled something out of his pouch, another mask of some type, though this one looked thicker and warmer than his.
"Put that on, unless you want to become a Grimmsicle. Ha, Grimmsicle. See what I did there?"
I ignored him, and quite frankly didn't want to put anything of his even close to my face, but I pulled on the mask anyway, because come on, common sense- if we were going to be flying and it would be colder up there then on the ground and we'd be going fast enough to get to Michigan in four hours then the wind would be horrible and quite frankly, I would prefer my face being protected too.
The mask was fuzzy and warm and there was some sort of transparent material where the eyes were. So this is what Puck felt like underneath his mask then.
The motorcycle revved up again underneath me, but instead of going forward this time, it began rising off of the ground. I felt my heart speed up, and even though I hated and feared every particle of him at that moment, I latched tighter onto Puck.
"Aw, is poor little Sharon scared?"
I was going to snap that no, I wasn't, but quite suddenly the rising got faster, and then we weren't just rising we were accelerating. And then the accelerating became shooting and just like that we were soaring at what must be over 100 mph through the sky to Michigan. I was either going to be sick or start laughing because it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. The wind was cold and biting and the air sharp as it whipped against my face, but it was breathtaking.
We were travelling too fast to talk, which was probably good, because I didn't know what to say. I was too busy plotting my escape, trying not to think about the fact that I was planning on killing someone, or at least hurting him, so that he wouldn't kill me, wouldn't kill anyone from my family again. Because he had killed seven Grimms before me and no way was I letting him take me out too.
I just had to be ready to do it. There could be no holding back. Holding back meant I would die and he would live to possibly kill more- maybe Granny Relda, or Daphne, or Basil. The thought made me sick, but gave me enough motivation to know that I could do it. That I had to do it. I didn't have a choice.
So for six long hours I held onto Puck and watched the world fly by beneath me and steeled myself for that night. I watched the sun rise farther in the sky and then slowly begin to dip down. And then the six hours ended, and I felt the motorcycle slowing down, felt it beginning to descend. The wind stopped hitting me so hard and the ground looked much closer and my stomach wasn't lurching the speed anymore.
The wheels touched down in the parking lot of a Hilton hotel. "We'll stay there tonight," Puck said as he turned off the motorcycle. "Mostly because it's close to-" he threw his arm out wildly at the bar across the street, "the Red Cantina!"
He jumped off the motorcycle, as if his legs weren't made of jello from the flight (which mine very much were), and then gestured to another building, what looked like a bar of sorts. "And also, for those of you who don't know, because that is where Areye hangs out a lot."
I studied the bar suspiciously. "The Red Cantina? Why do all of the places you visit have weird names?"
"Hey, you've visited them too now!"
"And why is this the second bar? I shouldn't even be allowed in bars!"
"Oh please, stop being such a worry wart and come on. We have a date with destiny."
"Or a girl."
"Or destiny."
I followed him to the road, scurrying after him as he just sauntered through traffic like a moron.
"So, I'm guessing this isn't an Everafter city?"
Puck snorted. "It's Detroit! Of course it's not."
"But there's still Everafter stuff here?"
"There's Everafter stuff everywhere. The Red Cantina's just a normal bar though. Everafter bars exist though. They have charms to keep pathetic mortals out."
"Gee, thanks."
By that time we were at the Red Cantina's door. It was a new looking building, sleek and stylish, and when we stepped in we were greeted with loud music and flashing lights. The people inside were either talking or sitting at the bar or dancing or laughing wildly in big clumps. It was very loud and I felt very out of place. This wasn't like Boogly's Bar, which was basically a restaurant. This was a bar, a bar bar, and it was crazy and deafening and I wasn't sure I liked it.
Puck, on the other hand, seemed to be very much enjoying it all. "I LOVE IT HERE! NO WONDER AREYE HANGS OUT AT THIS PLACE!" he shouted over the obnoxiously overpowering music.
"I HATE THIS PLACE SO MUCH!" I shouted back.
"WHAT?"
"I ATE YOUR FACE OFF PUCK!" I shouted instead. They sounded enough alike, and Puck obviously didn't hear either one, because he just nodded and laughed, clueless.
"LET'S GO FIND HER!" I said louder.
"HEY, LET'S GO FIND HERE!" he repeated obliviously.
I rolled my eyes and followed him to the corner of the room, where a bartender was cleaning our beer mugs. If he was deterred by the strange suit and mask, he didn't show it. He worked in a bar- probably got stuff like this all the time.
"NEED ANYTHING SIR?"
"YES! I WOULD LIKE TO GET MY FORTUNE READ! IS THE FORTUNE TELLER HERE?"
"YEAH, SHE'S RIGHT THROUGH THE DOORS NEXT TO THE BATHROOM!"
"COOL! THANKS MAN!"
"NO PROBLEM BRO!"
We began walking away and I smiled at the man. "HAVE A NICE DAY!"
"WHAT?"
I bit my lip in irritation. "YOU SMELL LIKE OLD HAY!"
He was just as oblivious as Puck, nodding and smiling. "YEAH, YOU TOO!"
Morons.
I followed Puck to the other corner of the room, to a set of double doors besides the bathroom.
"YOU READY?" he asked.
"YEAH!"
He opened the doors and walked in, and when they closed behind me, the music was much quieter. Almost completely blocked. The first thing I noticed was the strong smell of incense. Then the table in the center of the room, two chairs set up on either side. Then the girl who was sitting in one of the chairs. She was wearing a dark dress, one that looked like it came right out of the Renaissance era (which, if she was an Everafter, it probably did). An ocean of black hair tumbled down her back, and through the translucent veil covering her face I could see full red lips and golden eyes staring at the burning candle in front of her.
She looked up, no doubt ready to greet her next customer, but then her breath caught and her eyes narrowed to slits and a split second later she had knives pressed against both of our necks.
"Nice to see you again, Deadnight. And friend. Are you lovebirds ready to die?"
Dun-dun-dun.
Ok, my chapters are getting longer and longer without my permission…. Oops?
I don't believe in too-long chapters though, so you guys will probably have to deal with their length. If it's really an issue though, feel free to tell me.
Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I just wanted to let you guys know how much reviews mean to me… pretty sure I'm addicted to them.
Yup. That sounds unhealthy.
Until next chapter!
-anniepear
Preview for Chapter 8
I thought it would slip out of my hands, the sweat covering them making it hard to hold, as I padded slowly over to him. It probably wasn't smart to stand on the other side of the bed, the side where I could see his face, Puck's face, face devoid of sarcasm and teasing and anger, a face that was soft and peaceful and content.
I raised the gun up, and for a moment felt like I was shooting a flower, something delicate and innocent. But I wasn't, I knew I wasn't, I told myself I wasn't. My brain shouted at me to pull the trigger, to finish it now, my heart was screaming something else, and I could feel tears slanting my vision, feel my ribcage squeezing in on my heart, my lungs, making it hard to breathe, to think straight.
'Do it. Kill him.'
