Slaughter Daughter by Eve Langlais
30
The asshole hadn’t comeafter me.
What kind of a dumb bitch was I that I was pissed he hadn’t?
I made it all the way to the bus station on foot, only to find that all seats were sold out. I bought a ticket for the next day and then rented a motel room.
I didn’t plan to leave that space until it was time for my departure. I couldn’t help but have questions. So many. I didn’t believe Braedon’s story about my friends being demons, but I couldn’t help but wonder the others’ end game. What purpose did befriending me serve?
Unless… Were they dabbling in murder and planning to use me as a scapegoat? Only, why kill Peter? Wasn’t he part of their group?
Around eight p.m., I went for ice and to hit a vending machine—safer than any store. I’d been followed around before while shopping. The running commentary on my choice of junk food ruined my love of snack cakes. Vending machines tended not to shame me for my choices.
A scan of the parking lot showed few cars and fewer rooms with lights on. As my gaze tracked back, I glanced across the street and saw a vehicle I recognized. I marched over and knocked on the window.
A figure slouched in the front rose as the glass descended. Mary grinned sheepishly at me. “Hey, Abby.”
“Why are you spying on me?”
“Just making sure you’re safe.”
“From what?”
“Bad things.” A weak reply, along with her half-hearted shrug.
“Unfucking believable,” I snapped. “Would it kill someone to give me a straight answer?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Tell you what; you can be complicated without me. I’m leaving town.”
“You can’t.”
“Can’t?” I arched a brow. “Give me a single good reason to stay.”
“Because we can fix this. Fix it so it never happens again.”
“You’re too late to fix anything. I’m Slaughter Daughter, and that will never change.” And times like these, I wondered if I should live up to the title. I wondered what my next shrink would say when I claimed judgmental people turned me into a homicidal maniac. After all, tell someone something enough times, and they start to believe it.
“We can help you,” Mary insisted. “Have been helping you for longer than you realize.”
“I call bullshit on that. I’ve never seen any of you before in my life.”
She shifted. “Yet we’ve been around.”
“If that’s true, then why contact me now? Huh?” I slammed my hands on the car door. “I’m not playing your game.”
“I told him we should have led with the truth,” she murmured.
“Him who? What truth?”
“Nuthin’.”
I had my suspicions, though. “Where’s Jag?” Curse the irritation that blossomed because Mary watched over me and not him. Apparently, I wasn’t important enough for him to watch me himself.
“Jag’s busy.”
“I’ll bet he is. Go home, Mary. Go back to the gang and tell them to leave me alone.” I slammed into my motel room, more agitated than ever. Pissed because they’d lied. Angry because I’d thought they were my friends. Hurt because it turned out that Jag had used me and wasn’t really my lover. Only one person had ever tried to give me answers. The question being did I believe him?
Using the motel phone, I dialed. When Braedon answered, I said in a rush, “The demon thing. I want to see proof.”
