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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 178 из 205I'd had a leopard look at me like that once, through the cage bars, no emotion I understood, thoughts so alien it might as well have inhabited a different planet. Something that could kill me, skillfully, efficiently, because that was what it was meant to do, if it was hungry, or if I annoyed it.
I didn't faint from fear or run screaming from the room, but it was something of an effort. “You've proved your point, Edward. Can the perfect-killer routine, and let's go.”
His eyes didn't revert to normal instantly but had to warm up, like dawn easing through the sky.
I hoped Edward never turned that look on me for real. If he did, one of us would die. Odds are it would be me.
43
The night was almost perfectly black. Thick clouds hid the sky. A wind rushed along the ground and smelled of rain.
Iris Jensen's grave marker was smooth, white marble. It was a nearly life-size angel, wings outspread, arms open, welcoming. You could still read the lettering by flashlight: “Beloved daughter. Sadly missed.” The same man who had had the angel carved, who sadly missed her, had been molesting her. She had killed herself to escape him, and he had brought her back. That was why I was out here in the dark, waiting for the Jensens, not him, but her. Even though I knew her mind was gone by now, I wanted Iris Jensen in the ground and at peace.
I couldn't explain that to Edward, so I hadn't tried. A huge oak stood sentinel over the empty grave. The wind rushed through the leaves and sent them skittering and whispering overhead. It sounded too dry, like autumn leaves instead of summer. The air felt cool and damp, rain almost upon us. It wasn't unbearably hot for once.
I had picked up a pair of chickens. They clucked softly from inside their crate where they sat near the grave. Edward leaned against my car, ankles crossed, arms loose at his sides. The gym bag was open by me on the ground. The machete I used gleamed from inside.
“Where is he?” Edward asked.
I shook my head. “I don't know.” It had been almost an hour since full dark. The cemetery grounds were mostly bare; only a few trees dotted the soft roll of hills. We should have been seeing car lights on the gravel road. Where was Jensen? Had he chickened out?
Edward stepped away from the car and walked to stand beside me. “I don't like it, Anita.”
I wasn't too thrilled either, but … “We'll give it another fifteen minutes. If he's not here by then, we'll leave.”
Edward glanced around the open ground. “Not much cover around here.”
“I don't think we have to worry about snipers.”
“You said someone shot at you, right?”
I nodded. He had a point.
I didn't faint from fear or run screaming from the room, but it was something of an effort. “You've proved your point, Edward. Can the perfect-killer routine, and let's go.”
His eyes didn't revert to normal instantly but had to warm up, like dawn easing through the sky.
I hoped Edward never turned that look on me for real. If he did, one of us would die. Odds are it would be me.
43
The night was almost perfectly black. Thick clouds hid the sky. A wind rushed along the ground and smelled of rain.
Iris Jensen's grave marker was smooth, white marble. It was a nearly life-size angel, wings outspread, arms open, welcoming. You could still read the lettering by flashlight: “Beloved daughter. Sadly missed.” The same man who had had the angel carved, who sadly missed her, had been molesting her. She had killed herself to escape him, and he had brought her back. That was why I was out here in the dark, waiting for the Jensens, not him, but her. Even though I knew her mind was gone by now, I wanted Iris Jensen in the ground and at peace.
I couldn't explain that to Edward, so I hadn't tried. A huge oak stood sentinel over the empty grave. The wind rushed through the leaves and sent them skittering and whispering overhead. It sounded too dry, like autumn leaves instead of summer. The air felt cool and damp, rain almost upon us. It wasn't unbearably hot for once.
I had picked up a pair of chickens. They clucked softly from inside their crate where they sat near the grave. Edward leaned against my car, ankles crossed, arms loose at his sides. The gym bag was open by me on the ground. The machete I used gleamed from inside.
“Where is he?” Edward asked.
I shook my head. “I don't know.” It had been almost an hour since full dark. The cemetery grounds were mostly bare; only a few trees dotted the soft roll of hills. We should have been seeing car lights on the gravel road. Where was Jensen? Had he chickened out?
Edward stepped away from the car and walked to stand beside me. “I don't like it, Anita.”
I wasn't too thrilled either, but … “We'll give it another fifteen minutes. If he's not here by then, we'll leave.”
Edward glanced around the open ground. “Not much cover around here.”
“I don't think we have to worry about snipers.”
“You said someone shot at you, right?”
I nodded. He had a point.