Page 53 of Lucy Undying

“This accomplishes something. He dies, I learn, lives are saved.”

“My goal is saving lives, too! We’re doing the same thing here.”

“We are not.” But she kept glancing over at me, and I could tell I wasn’t being dismissed. “You look exhausted,” she said, at last finishing her work. “I’ll give you a place to sleep, and in return, you bring me any bodies you need to get rid of.”

It was a good deal, and I took it.

46

London, October 7, 2024

Iris

When we get on the train in the morning, something’s shifted in Elle. Maybe it was the shock of the storm, or the aftereffects of whatever drugs she took at the rave. But she seems relaxed and happy. She points out various features of the landscape, telling me historical anecdotes. I love how much she loves history, how engaged she is in the world around us and everything that happened to make it what it is right now, today, this moment.

That’s the strangest thing about her, I think. Because as much as she loves history, Elle is absolutely in the moment. Every moment. I wish I could be the same way, but I’m dreading what I have to do.

Before we part at the train station, just as I’m about to tell her not to bother coming over again because I’ve changed my mind about selling things in the house, she leans close. Voice heartbreakingly sultry, says, “Don’t forget to look right.”

My heart flutters. I reach into my pocket where—like a lovesick teenager—I’ve been carrying the backpack strap she ripped off when we met. “I swear I’ll remember.”

And instead of doing what I meant to and cutting her loose, I wave goodbye. I catch a cab back toward Hillingham. This driver is gruff and silent, radiating annoyance. I lucked out with Rahul my first day here. I get out at the nearby shops for more food and toiletries. Plus coffee. Always coffee.

My feet drag. When Elle comes over later today like we agreed, I’ll fire her. Remove myself from her life before she gets hurt. Or, worse, before she willingly removes herself. Preemptive heartbreak.

I laugh darkly to myself as I carry my bags down the sidewalk. “Go on, girl,” I say, thinking of every movie ever where a child has to drive away a beloved pet for their own good. “Get out of here! I don’t want you anymore.” I pantomime throwing a rock.

But Elle isn’t a half wolf who belongs in the wild. She’s the most beautiful, funny, intriguing person I’ve ever met. I’ve still got to set her free for her own good.

A huge hand grabs my arm. I’m yanked into a narrow alley and shoved up against a brick wall. My backpack digs into my back, my shopping bags drop.

It’s both a shock and no surprise at all to find myself face-to-face—or at least face-to-chest, since she’s easily a foot taller than I am—with Ford, my mother’s favorite bodyguard. I stare up at her, instantly switching into the lazy smirk I know enrages her. If I could reach into my purse, I could take care of her. But she has me pinned. “Ford. What brings you to London?”

Her lips peel back from glimmering white teeth. I swear they’re bigger than they should be, and that she has more than the average person. All her features are like that: Something is off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. And by the time you figure out whether she’s beautiful or terrifying, it will already be too late.

“We’re watching you,” she growls.

“Boring. I’d tell you to get a life, but we both know that’s not an option.”

I’m sure she’s about to hit me or break my neck. She’d probably be justified. It must take tremendous restraint to have a regular conversation with someone who ran over you with your own car. Twice.

But also to be fair, “Run over me once, shame on you. Run over me twice, shame on me,” right? She should blame herself.

She gets her rage under control and takes a step back, shaking her head as though disappointed in me. “We’re watching you for your own protection. It’s not safe here.”

“Yeah, craziest thing. Today as I was minding my own business, a woman attacked me from out of nowhere and dragged me into an alley,” I say, dead-eyed and deadpan.

“You’re a child.” Another sneer distorts her features, making her look downright demonic before she smooths it away. Her face is once more vast empty planes broken by sharp lines. “You should come home, where you’re protected. Where you belong.”

I unclench my jaw and give what I hope is a convincingly sullen eye roll. “I’m going to, god. I just need a breather. Taking care of the properties here before I get buried with the avalanche of stuff waiting for me at home. Did you ever think maybe I’m dealing with, I don’t know, the pain and trauma of losing my mother?”

Even Ford isn’t stupid enough to buy that. She steps closer again, barely a breath between us. I have to crane my head all the way back to look at her. I can’t hide the panic coursing through me. I know on an animal level that I should never, ever be this close to her.

A smile seeps across her face like pooling blood. “The lawyer said I have to give you to the end of the week, and then I can drag you home. I’ll enjoy that.”

“Yuck, Ford, keep it in your pants.”

She lets out a low, disgusted grunt. But before she steps back, something snags her attention. “What is that? That scent.” She leans even closer, putting her head down so her face is right against my neck. I twitch with revulsion, but I don’t move. I don’t show fear.

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