Page 73 of Queen of Hell

“Have you ever used one of these, Philip?” I ask him, lifting the nail gun in his direction. “Probably not, right? You don’t really look like the do-it-yourself type. I’m not either, truth be told, but I do like playing with dangerous toys.”

I slide a strip of nails into place and point the nail gun in Sullivan’s direction. His eyes are wide with fear as he looks from me to the nail gun and back again.

“W-what are you going to do with that?” He asks me, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.

“What,this?” I ask, looking down at it. “Oh, you see I had this brilliant idea. I mean,allmy ideas are fucking awesome, but when I sawthisthing on the shelf over there it just came to me.A human pincushion.” I say as I run my hand over the nail gun with a flourish and a huge smile on my face, “Genius, right?”

I lift my arm once again, flicking the switch and squeeze the trigger.

“What the fuck?” I pout when nothing happens. “Why isn’t it working?”

I squeeze the trigger a few more times with the same result. I growl and slam the thing onto the trolley, grabbing up the booklet and looking for some instructions. I pout when I find what I’m looking for, seriously disappointed as I pick it back up and make my way over to him.

“It seems that I won’t be able to watch as the nails fly into your body,” I say sadly. “The fucking thing has a safety mechanism that means the nails only come out if the gun is pressed flat on a surface,” I press the nail gun to his shin, “I’ll fix that for next time but let’s give this a try, shall we?”

I pull the trigger again and to my delight, this time, it works. The loud bang echoes around the room but is drowned out by Sullivan’s scream. I bend down to take a look, grinning when the only thing I see is the head of the nail pinning the fabric of his trousers against his skin as blood starts to gather and stain the fabric.

I push the nail gun back to his leg pulling the trigger in different places, grinning as the sounds of the gun going off mixed with Sullivan’s agonised screams fill the room. I do the same thing to his other leg, every nail going deep into the bone as I work my way up to his knee.

I lean back to look at Sullivan’s face. He’s not going to last much longer, not with his eyes rolling about in his head like that, his screams now nothing but rasps in his throat as he struggles to breathe through the pain.

I walk around to where his head is lolled and slap him a few times with no reaction from him, so I grab the knife in his shoulder and twist it, getting nothing louder than a whimper from his mouth.

“I had such big plans for you, Philip, but it seems you’re just too weak to handle this life and I’m growing bored. So I can’t actually be bothered to get something that'll keep you awake for longer,” I say with a shrug.

I pull the knife out of his shoulder and drag it down his chest leaving a deep gash that has blood trailing down his pale flesh.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret before you die though,” I tell him leaning in close to ensure that he hears me. “You know that girl you were talking about grabbing for Maguire to give to his son? That was also me, arsehole,” I grab his head, pulling it back and placing the knife against his throat. “I killed the two goons you and Maguire sent after me that night, and I’m going to kill the kings of WinterHill for ever thinking about trying to come against me.”

I drag the blade across Sullivan’s throat watching him gasp for breath as blood gushes down his chest and his eyes begin to dull. After I watch him take his last breath I drop the knife back onto the trolley and step away from him, making my way over to the sink to wash the blood from my hands.

I let my thoughts wander to our upcoming plan for the guys' dads and what still needs to be done to make sure everything goes the way it needs to.

I’ll have those bastards down here soon enough and then they’ll pay for all the girls they’ve hurt over the years, including me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KENZI

Three weeks later

Iadjust the long blonde wig once more, ensuring it’s in place as I turn to stand in front of the floor length mirror, my eyes widening slightly as I take in the reflection in front of me. Ineverdress like this and it’s been a long time since I saw myself with blonde hair. I look like myself, but sounlikemyself at the same time that the image is jarring.

The long blonde hair falls in soft curls, framing a face with bright blue eyes that look even lighter with the smokey bronze shadow and winged liner, and lips that are painted the colour of blood.

I let my gaze continue down the reflection, casting my eyes over the strapless floor length gown that is the same colour as my lips and overlaid with glittering black skulls that are meant to give the impression that they are tumbling down the dress and piling up around the hem. Layers of tulle underneath the skirt making it flare out from my hips slightly.

The slit at the front goes high enough to show a significant amount of leg but still hide the holsters strapped around my thighs holding my favourite blades and four needles full of sedatives, the red shoes high enough to ensure that I don't trip over my dress but also low enough for me to do what I do best.

I grab my mask from the dresser next to me, lifting it over the wig gently and placing it against the top half of my face. The devil mask, a glittering red with a cut out design through the top and horns, sits snug across the bridge of my nose, the angled holes framing my eyes and making them look larger. The completed look is absolutely stunning.

I turn away from the mirror, leaving my room. Xave and Poppy are waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase and I give them a small smile as I reach them.

“Oh my god! You look so amazing, Kenzi,” Poppy gushes as she wraps me in her arms.

She’ll be staying here with Xave tonight. I may be dressed to party, but I’m not going there to drink and dance the night away. This is the night we’ve been waiting for, the night we’ve been planning for the last three weeks, and in just a few hours the four men that thought they could cross me in my own cityandtry to kidnap me for use as a sex slave will be hanging from the newly installed chains in my playroom.

As she pulls away I take in her outfit, smiling at what she’s wearing. She is in the cutest set of flannel pyjamas I think I have ever seen. They are a dusky blue with cartoon dinosaurs all over, splotches of green colouring them and random white prints in the spaces between. Huge slippers the shape of dinosaur feet cover her own.

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