Undying Read Free Page A

Macy had complained as a child about being burdened by such a name, her father had promised she would, one day, grow into it in the same way that Minnie would grow into Minerva. Minnie hadn’t lived long enough to grow into it.
    Macy sat back in her chair, drawing her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest. She stared at the screen. Her hand ached to close the laptop. If she could just walk away…But she couldn’t.
    And he knew it.
    Knees still drawn to her chest, she typed with one finger.
    Why won’t you leave me alone?
    Because I can’t, he replied.
    Why don’t you just kill me, then?
    I don’t want to kill you. I want to love you.
    She drew her hand back and stared at the words. This was love? Killing her family? Stalking her for more than a decade?
    Bastard. Her index finger flew over the keys and then she pulled her hand back.
    Whore.
    She stared at the screen again. Thought for a minute and then typed. Why can’t you sleep?
    I hear her.
    Is she speaking loudly tonight?
    So loud I can hear nothing else.
    Macy’s lower lip trembled. What he was saying didn’t make sense. The full moon had come and gone. He should be feeling better now. What is she saying? she asked.
    You know. The usual. She’s upsetting me. She’s making me upset. You know what happens when she upsets me….
    Teddy, please don’t, Macy begged, a lump forming in her throat as her fingers tapped the keyboard.
    I have to.
    Macy stared at the pulsing cursor for a long moment before she found the courage to reach out and close the laptop. She switched off the light and walked out of the office, through the dark living room, into her bedroom.
    She lay down on her unmade bed. It smelled of the man she had slept with the night before. Derrick.
    Or had last night been Thomas?
    She wondered where he was. What he was doing. Not Thomas or Derrick. Teddy.
    Would a family die tonight? It seemed too soon after the last. Only seven months. But weren’t they always too soon?
    She rolled over on her side and stared through the open window, waiting for tears. They didn’t come.
    They never did.
     
    Arlan had, for some reason, expected Romano to be a bigger man. He had no idea why. He knew from experience that evil came packaged in a variety of ways, from bright, bubbly female, to dark and brooding male, and everything in between.
    Romano was short, no more than five foot five, with a slight build. His hair was sandy colored with a receding hairline. He was wearing tan pants, a polo shirt, and a navy sports jacket with a silly little handkerchief peeking from the breast pocket. On his shoulder, like most European men, he carried a small brown leather bag. He did not look like a pedophile. He looked like a father, a friend, a grocery store clerk.
    But when Arlan lifted his muzzle and sniffed the night air, he was quickly able to sort out the scents; a chewing gum wrapper on the ground, still minty fresh, the roasting lamb, the whore’s perfume, the dogs. Somewhere in the midst of the scents, he smelled Romano’s malevolence. Undetectable to him was the stench left on his hands by the things he had done. The filthy money that had changed hands. The touch of what should never be touched.
    Arlan’s stomach twitched and bile rose in his throat. Anger buzzed in his ears. His first impulse was to leap out of the darkness and take Romano by the throat. He wanted to rip his jugular and lap up the blood that would spurt from it.
    Arlan felt his entire canine body tremble with the eager thought of it. This man did not deserve to die so easily. He deserved to be tortured before he was murdered. He deserved to watch a dog eat out his entrails.
    But that was not Arlan’s mission, the human side of his brain reminded him. This execution had been entrusted to him by the High Council, by his beloved sept.
    His pulse throbbed in his throat. His heart pounded in his head.
    Arlan could not allow the beast in him to take over. The execution had to be carried out as planned,