Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Boris didn’t turn away from Lunita. “I understand.”
Maxwell continued, “Also, there’s a black bag in my closet with yellow smiley faces drawn on it. Get that shit. It has all types of products and stuff.”
Jean-Pierre gestured to his case. “Lunita, would you like to see my bow?”
She bobbed her head.
Tension gathered in my shoulders. “Is that necessary?”
He responded, “I think this could be a fun exercise.”
Psycho.
Jean-Pierre snapped open the case. “I will let you hold the bow, Lunita, if you will answer some questions.”
Boris left, but looked to be dragging himself away.
Maxwell walked over to the couch with the dead couple and stood over there as if he found more comfort with the couple than us.
Lunita gave the Butcher a sad smile. “I don’t talk.”
Jean-Pierre lifted the case. His legendary bow gleamed back us. “And I do not let people touch my bow.”
A sense of wonder filled her eyes. Lunita unfolded her legs and placed her feet on the carpet.
“However, tonight we can both do things that are out of the ordinary.” Jean-Pierre took the bow out of the case.
She reached out for the bow.
He pulled it back. “First, I have a question.”
“Yeah.” Over by the dead couple, Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest. “First question should be a simple one.”
She bit her lips and looked his way.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Max asked. “All this time you could talk? That’s bullshit.”
Lunita blinked several times and then looked away. “I used to talk to you.”
“No. You didn’t.”
She bobbed her head up and down over and over. “I did. I swear I did.”
“When?”
“Always.”
“What kind of answer is always?” Maxwell shifted his weight to the other foot. “I need to know when you talked to me.”
“In the sewer.”
Maxwell twisted his face in confusion. “What time in the sewer?”
“After I killed Mr. Roberts.” She slashed the air with an invisible knife.
Maxwell inched back. “The foster parent?”
Lunita bobbed her head again.
“Naw. That was Em.”
Lunita sneered.
“But. . .” Maxwell scratched his head. “When was another time?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Suddenly, Lunita began touching her cheeks with her fingers and sliding them to her chin. Each time they came to her chin, she would start over and bring them back to the top of her cheek.
Jean-Pierre watched her. “Then perhaps, the question should be different. When did you stop talking to Maxwell?”
Instead of sliding her fingers down her face, she began scratching her cheeks
“No.” I grabbed both of her hands and placed them in her lap. “Do not hurt yourself.”
“It is my body.”
“It isn’t.”
She hissed at me. “Stupid.”
Jean-Pierre nodded. “Why is he stupid?”
“He knows nothing.” She tried to take her hands away.
I held them in place. “Then, tell me what I should know. Answer Jean-Pierre. Why did you stop talking to Maxwell?”
An angry expression spread over her face. “Because Max started running away and crying like a little bitty girl.”
“Eh, don’t be rude.” Maxwell lowered onto the couch’s arm farther away from the dead couple. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about—”
“In the alley. You ran screaming like a girl.” Then, she bared her teeth at him like she was a wild animal getting ready to charge. A loud hiss left her.
Maxwell leaned away. “You better chill the fuck out.”
“Little. Girl.” She frowned at him. “Baby.”
“Thank you.” Jean-Pierre held out the bow. “You can hold it, but you must not hurt yourself, Maxwell, or me.”
I scowled. “Or me.”
Jean-Pierre grinned. “Somehow, I forgot to add your name, Kazimir.”
“I bet you did.” I released Lunita’s hands.
“And.” Jean-Pierre twisted the blade. “We also must talk about your ritual.”
Lunita tilted her head to the side and had it all the way slanted and leaning against her shoulder.
“Yo.” Maxwell stood. “Stop doing that.”
Fast, she straightened her head.
Jean-Pierre spoke, “The ritual, Lunita.”
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head.
“The chant about Jesus.” Jean-Pierre traced a holy cross in the air. “The cross that you put in the chest. Slicing the throat. Cutting off the penis.”
She giggled. “Penis.”
Jean-Pierre grimaced. “Is this a religion for you?”
“No, silly. It’s so the angels can find them.”
“You want the men to go to heaven?”
“No.” Her eyes went wild. “I want them to go to hell.”
“Are you sending them to hell for God? Helping him out?”
She held her hand out. “Give me the bow.”
“So. . .” Maxwell pulled his gun out the shoulder holster. “She can take it. But, don’t be cute.”
I growled at him. “Put that gun down, Maxwell.”
“Fuck that.” Maxwell checked for bullets and then closed it.
Lunita showed Maxwell the middle finger.
Maxwell put the gun to his side. “You can stick that up your ass.”
Lunita pointed at him. “You can stick that up your ass.”
I glared at Maxwell. “Put the damned gun away.”
“The fuck I will.” Maxwell came closer. “In fact, I might just shoot her in the leg if she talks slick again.”