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Snowball tweets an inappropriately cheerful tune, breaking into my thoughts, and Lily laughs.
I didn’t think she’d laugh again after I snapped at her. The remnants of the Jameson Hill who wants to make my parents proud is relieved that it sounds fairly genuine.
“You’re, like, laying it on thick. This whole thing is wild. Where are you actually taking me? A restaurant?”
Most of me rolls my eyes.This again?The rest is begrudgingly in awe of how Lily’s trying to turn this into something it isn’t. God knows I’ve tried to turn my life into something it isn’t. Haven’t been able to pull it off. I’m not as innocent as she still is.
For a few more minutes.
Lily won’t be able to change this, but she’s going to try.
“I’m not taking you to a restaurant.”
“Okay.” She gathers her hair in one hand and pulls it over her shoulder. I want to pull over so I can touch her hair. I’d say that’s the most unhinged urge I’ve had this evening. I want to look at it in the light. I want to look at it while the sun rises. Thathasto be from the deluge of brain chemicals. I’ve been waiting to get even for a long time. “Then where are the cameras?”
“There are no cameras.”
“I mean…” Her voice is soft. Gentle. Slightly raw from the admittedly limited screaming she did as we left the parking lot. “If this is an elaborate prank, you’d think there would be cameras.”
“It’s not a prank.”
I don’t snap this time, but only because I don’t want her losing her shit while I’m on the highway. Apparently, everything tonight is going to smash me face-first into things I’d rather forget, and more screaming guarantees more memories.
Plus, she’s loud as hell. We’re in an enclosed space. Hearing damage is forever.
“Well.” Lily lets out a quick breath, then squares her shoulders. I’malsopissed that kidnapping over this distance makes it impossible to look at her. I can’t stare into the rearview mirror all the way to the cottage. “If this is happening…”
I could pull over. Anywhere. Let her out of the car and watch her walk away and turn myself in to the nearest police station.
“It’s happening.”
“Then we should get to know each other. Hello. My name is Lily, short for Lilith.” Something moves in the corner of my vision. Her hand, extended over the shoulder of my seat.
An involuntary snort comes out of my mouth. “You want to shake hands?”
“It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Sure, it is.”
I reach my left hand over my shoulder. How is the back of her hand so soft? How is it so good to touch her in this small, ridiculous way? Lily ignores the fact that I’m using the wrong handandit’s a fucked-up grasp, my palm over the back of her hand, and gives me a brisk shake. Then she sits back in her seat.
I know her name already from the Google search. It’s different to have her offer it to me while she puts on this show of civility.
“Lilith.” God, that’s good. The shape of the word in my mouth isright,like my red mug’s spot on the shelf in Mason’s kitchen, like my old bedroom in the house my parents never came home to. “Like the demon.”
“Just like that.” This comes out halfway between resigned and bright. Did kids make fun of her in school for being named after a demon or something? I won’t ask, because I don’t care, but what the hell kinds of theoretical little kids know about Lilith?
I wish I could shut off the natural curiosity that keeps lobbing irrelevant question after irrelevant question to the front of my thoughts, but that’s my cross to bear, along with my dead parents and my brothers who barely survived and my sister who’s never going to be the same again. It’s probably that part of my brain that extrapolates profit margins from one look at a property. Without it, I’d be totally worthless.
It’s funny, because I’m worse than worthless evenwithmy boundless curiosity and random talent for real estate. I’m a problem the way all crime scenes are problems. The wreckage can’t become anything new without putting in the work to haul away the ashes and wash off the blood.
Back to the matter at hand: Lily, short for Lilith.
Perfect, I shout over the whipped freak in my head that wants to kiss Lily Hayes on the lips. The demon granddaughter of the demon grandfather can suffer for his crimes.
Every synapse in my brain lights up at once.
It doesn’t matter what I want. It doesn’t matter whatshewants. All that matters is that she pays.
