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Gripping his bat with both hands, he waits until the person gets closer and shouts back at them, “Well, my Dark One showed me that you are a fucking cunt.” Then he smashes his bat against the person’s head.
The person falls over, laying either dead or unconscious on the ground.
Elijah positions himself over them, one leg on either side of him. He raises his bat over his head and thrusts it down, beating their head with the wooden bat in quick succession. E’s face is neutral until his last swing, when a tiny smirk forms.
At the same time, blood begins to pour out from behind the mask, pooling around their head.
E steps back over towards me and reaches his arm out.
Neither of us care as we grab each other's hands again, step over them and continue walking out.
“See, he got some action tonight.”
A giggle escapes me from utter shock, “Wait, did Elijah Sinclair just make a joke?”
He doesn’t humor me back, so I continue to bug him.
“Elijah Sinclair has a sense of humor. Alert the masses. He knows how to joke!”
He huffs, “I am going to enjoy disciplining you later, aren’t I?”
Shit.
Chapter 35
Rain
Looking in the rearview mirror, the beautiful flickers of orange, red and yellows get further away. The two cars E set on fire exploded and now a couple others are burning. Blackwood fire department is nowhere to be seen, there is no doubt they see the smoke. And knowing where it is coming from, they probably think it’s some cult shit going on.
“Should we call it in?”
“No.”
My dagger is sitting on my lap, and my white dress is now stained red. I won’t wash it, I will archive it in a garment bag, preserve it for when we have kids and show them how their mom and dad met. The thought of kids catches me off guard.
“One day, little bat.”
I want to question how he knows what I’m thinking but I don’t need to. We are just that connected.
Mind. Body. Soul.
The rest of the car ride home is quiet.
My body is exhausted, I could fall asleep but won’t. I need to see my mom first.
Pulling onto the road our house is on, isolated just outside of town, trees surround the property, giving us privacy from prying eyes and curious minds.
E reaches to click the gate opener when a thought crosses my mind.
“Does this make us serial killers?”
Resting his head against the headrest of his seat, he turns to face me, “I’ve been considered a serial killer for years already, based on the standard definition the police use of three or more over a period of time of a month or longer. You, my little bat, have just joined the club this evening with your dad. Because you helped me with the other two. Congratulations.”
Fuck.
The gates open and we pull up the long driveway to the house.
Elijah turns the car off but neither of us move.
