60. FALLEN MONSTERS

60

FALLEN MONSTERS

THE STRANGLER

E nzo motioned me inside, welcoming me into his funeral home with a smile.

Poor bastard has no idea. He was supposed to keep Irene safe; protect her from the big, scary monster—me, and yet here he was… willingly inviting me into his place.

“Who is that?” Irene said as she walked out, wearing a pastel green dress. She had grown up since the last time I had seen her, right after I killed her sister.

“She’s the one… the paintings.” Enzo flushed, awkwardly waving his hand around. Irene’s face turned beet red before she shook her head with a scoff.

“Shut up, Enzo. So… what’s she doing here now?” Irene studied me, her green eyes curious.

“Her car broke down. I asked her to come in, but she’s worried that I might be harboring a few ghosts inside. I promised her I wasn’t.”

“You’re…” Irene scoffed before she turned toward me, a comforting smile on her face. “His only fault is that he thinks he’s funny, and he tells killer jokes.” Irene rolled her eyes. “They are in fact… you know, killer jokes. Bad enough to kill you, but he’s a good guy otherwise. Come in.”

I followed them inside until we reached a wide hall filled with wooden chairs. The air hung heavy with traces of death. I could feel it on my skin. It was almost comforting.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Enzo asked as he motioned me toward a chair. I looked around and smiled when I saw the crow.

It’s going to be so fucking easy. Like taking candy from a baby.

“No-nothing. You…” I pointed to the painting, and he gave me a big smile.

“Of course. Also, you promised me another one.”

I nodded with a smile. “I’ll start it as soon as everything settles down. I was just busy…” I stopped with a frown. “So much has happened.”

“I’m sorry about Daphne. You must have been… close?”

“Not that close. I was rather new, but she gave me a chance when no one else did. She was like an angel. I was new here, almost broke. And she chose me, paid me, gave my life back.”

Daphne was amazing, and that was why she was worthy of dying.

“Here. Have some lemonade, Trish.” Irene came out with a glass. “Enzo, stop pestering her and call that tow truck now.”

“You’re here for two days, and you already act like you own my house,” Enzo complained before he walked away, leaving me alone with my prey. Oh, how everything in me wanted to squeeze the life force out of her, right here, right now, and watch that light fade from her eyes.

She took the chair opposite to me with a smile.

“Are you from Detroit?”

“Yes,” I said, and she smiled.

My fingers itched to break the glass and use the broken shard to slice her open, but I didn’t like blood or mess. My way was efficient.

It wasn’t time for Irene to die. Not now, not yet. She’d be the finale. The ending.

“You look so beautiful. Those green eyes,” I mumbled under my breath. “I’d love to paint you. Can I… I mean, if you…” I bit my lips, trying hard to sound bashful.

“Oh, I’m not cut out for that, but thank you,” Irene said with a shrug, her smile a little less bright. I’d paint her, anyway, before I killed her.

“If you ever want to… let me know. It’ll be an honor.”

After a few more minutes of waiting, the tow truck came. I turned to Enzo with a smile.

“Thank you. Bye, Enzo.”

“Bye. Wait… can I-I mean, call you?”

“Yes.” He handed me his phone to enter my number. He was doing half my job for me. “Call me,” I said with a shy smile, rubbing against my neck, just to bring it all home. I already knew he was going to be so easy to manipulate.

“I will. Bye, Trish.”

I spent the rest of the day researching Ryden Sinclair. I finally knew his secret. He accepted Yara as she was because he, too, was a killer, much like her. That explained Yara’s attraction to him. Maybe his darkness resonated with hers, just as hers called out to me.

It was a curveball I hadn’t expected, but… everything would be alright. My plans were still good enough. I was ahead of this game, and they both didn’t know.

Later that night, I cleaned Yara’s car, getting it ready. Each swipe of the cloth was a ritual until Yara’s car gleamed. Good as new.

Once I was done, I poured over the photographs Logan took. Each picture was a piece of the puzzle that would lead me closer to her vulnerabilities, her secrets, and ultimately, her.

“You don’t have many friends, but still more than you should have,” I whispered, staring at Yara. She looked so beautiful in those pictures, frozen in time.

For someone with so many secrets, Yara did have people in her life. I didn’t want her to have them.

I should be enough for her. She was always enough for me.

“I’ll take them all away, Yara. Until you and I are the only one left in your life.”