Page 15 of Líadan's Code

“Everyone should experience Suzy’s donuts at least once,” I say unrepentantly. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, brat,” he grunts, polishing off his donut. “Thank you for turning my life upside down on this otherwise innocent Saturday afternoon. I’m off to feed the heathens.”

“I’m sure they’ll accept your offering,” I tease him as we leave the park together. “If not, tossing them the donuts and running typically works.”

“That works for animals, not… Wait, you’re right,” he mutters. “Lenny is fucking scary when she’s pregnant.”

“Is she the one on tour?” I ask before I can remind myself it’s none of my business. Curiosity killed the cat… I should know.

“She is,” he says with a grin. “Lenny insists singing on tour keeps her mind off how uncomfortable she gets. The band’s name is The Darkest Nights if you ever want to look them up. Bye, Líadan.”

Biting my lip, I nod as I force myself to release it and say goodbye as I turn right to walk home. That conversation is probably one of the longest ones that I’ve ever had when I’m not torturing someone.

Even then, it’s through a voice changer that makes grown men shit themselves, and they’re mostly screaming.

It would be nice to be more normal, but that’s not in the cards for me.

Later, when Daddy calls me in to do a job for him, I find myself turning my music streaming app to The Darkest Nights to clean up my mess. The songs are soulful, distracting me from the blood on the tile as I rinse it with bleach and water.

It makes me wonder what kind of pain she’s experienced, because the suffering I can hear in every note makes it clear she’s been through some shit.

Somehow, it helps as I lock up the room for the night to know there’s someone else who’s had their world ripped away from them the way I did. Except, she’s found a way to move on and my way is filled with death.

As always, I’m wearing my creepy white and black demonic mask I custom ordered from a store as I always do as I walk through the warehouse. The eye portion is blacked out, though I can see through it, and there are adorable little horns at the top of it.

My black hair is braided against my head underneath the mask so no one can tell what color it is, or if I’m a man or woman, and I always wear a long-sleeved shirt and pants with combat boots when I come in.

The voice box is taped against my throat to change my voice as well, making my naturally husky voice more like an inhuman scream.

I come by my name honestly, after all. As the bringer of death, I scare the shit out of the men who watch me leave the building. My boots are almost silent as I walk, my leather work gloves keeping my fingerprints off everything.

There’s nothing that will give me away as Líadan O’Brien. Even my SUV’s plates are regularly changed, and the vehicle was bought under Daddy’s name.

My home was bought under a fake umbrella corporation, and I don’t have a single thumbprint on file anywhere. I’m hiding in plain sight essentially. The family hasn’t seen me since the night certain members destroyed me on my seventeenth birthday.

Even then, none of them can speak about that night without the fear of having the Banshee pull them from their beds.

It’s ironic, really. They created the monster that goes bump in the night. I became the bigger villain than they are to survive.

Chapter Four

Jordan

Two years later

Closing my eyes, I rub at the pulsing blood vessel in my forehead. I’m trying to keep a level head, but sometimes these musicians make me insane.

“Lyrica, you promised you would work at getting clean,” I remind her for the third time during this conversation. She’s crying on the phone in an alley in Manchester, telling me she doesn’t know how she got locked out of her room and kicked out by security.

Killing me smalls.

If she was simply in the States, I could pull some strings and get her back in easily. The United Kingdom is a bit more difficult and not as susceptible to my brand of charm.

“Mr. Miles, it was just a really good night of blow,” Lyrica whines. “I didn’t even overdo it.”

“Lyrica, you don’t have the best reputation, darling,” I sigh. “I’m worried you might not wake up one day. Where are the boys?”

“Atlas and Mav are ignoring me,” she pouts. “Draven is just plain mean!”

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