Page 24 of Signed in Blood

Chapter Eleven

Lilith

* * *

It takes a moment for me to open my eyes. Like waking up from a deep sleep. But the moment I feel the tree at my back and the harsh winter air biting at the tip of my nose. I know right where I am.

Take fucking two.

Before I can even move, I hear Jake’s voice. They’re arguing over running out of cocaine. I suppose that’s what one should do when a strange woman tries to kill you: get fucking high.

I take careful steps toward the back of the RV. The curtains are closed, but there's enough of a gap in the back window that I can see through to a dining area, a small table with a booth that wraps around the back end of the van. Warren’s seated with his feet up, and Jake and Murphy stand in a narrow hall, likely a kitchen of sorts.

“Fuck you, man! Just go buy more,” Warren bellows out, laughing him off.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re supposed to be hiding out and nailing this shit down for the next album?” Jake says. My teeth grit at the sound of his fucking voice. I hate it.

“Then stop snorting all the inspiration up your nose.” Murphy comments and I open my eyes, staring at the RV and remembering what Lucifer said. What I imagine is what is real.

“You’re going through as much of it as I am,” Warren comments.

“That’s because I’m stressed, you dick. We should have taken both girls and now we have a liability that’s loose out there, trying to find the killer to her best friend's murder,” Murphy says.

“Fuck you! Like you’re so perfect! You’re the one who was enjoying her the most,” Warren responds.

Murphy shrugs off his comment with nonchalance. “What can I say, Lilith’s pussy was addicting.”

The sound of my name off his lips makes me recoil and want to throw up. The way they’re discussing me as if I were nothing more than yesterday's news is infuriating. It only added to the bright-red rage glaring through my eyes. I want to stab them all in the heart and watch them take their last breaths like they did mine. Rage rises within me, but also something else. Something that makes me falter. The memories flash before my eyes and I wish I could control my thoughts, but I stumble with the pain of what was.

Jake shoves Warren. “You listen to me, you shit. I’m the one in charge, not you!” he snarls through a clenched jaw.

I love that they are turning on each other, it must be the drugs. Or the fear that someone knows what they did and they’re going to all be murdered for it.

I think for a moment of lighting a fire on the back tire. But stop myself. It would be too easy, too fast. They wouldn’t get to see my face if I set the vehicle on fire.

No. No. Something else. Think!

Warren pushes Jake away, standing up to confront him. “I’m not scared of you.”

Jake screams out in response. “Let me remind you why we did this in the first place… Look how much our songs are getting played, asshole!”

They both stare one another down for what feels like forever and I watch from the window outside of the RV. It’s still freezing outside. It’s then I check out my reflection in the shiny side of the vehicle. It’s not quite a mirror, but I see myself and it throws me off. This time Lucifer has given me blonde hair and blue eyes, with milky white skin and a beauty mark on my upper lip.

This person looks the complete opposite of the last woman I was, and I wonder if he did that for my benefit. The hair and eyes remind me of Sabrina, and I quickly wonder if Lucifer did that for me as well. He knows it’d fuel the fire of my anger, remembering my best friend and what they did to us.

Staring down at my hands I light a fire in my palms. All I have to do is imagine it, and it is done.

I want to scream; I want to shout and throw fire at them, but I don’t.

I wait. I clench my fist and put the fire out.

I wait until Jake leaves them in search of more drugs, slamming the door with a “fuck you!” and I follow him.

The trees…I could make them fall, snapping in half and crushing him.

No.

I stop myself, envisioning different ways for him to die as I stalk him. He walks about a mile down the road to a convenience store. In skinny black jeans and a black leather jacket, he must be cold.