Lethal Blow: (Succubus Hitwoman Book 2) by Eliza Hendrix (best motivational books to read TXT) 📗

my eyes at my self-talk. How is it that my mind is now trying to give me some speech about being a good person? Did this lady brainwash me or something?

“Why do you want to find Devania?” comes the woman’s mousy voice again.

With my fist still extended in front of me, I turn my head. Didn’t I already answer this? Veerka asked me—

“Who would benefit from you finding the Black Widow?” she asks.

“A lot of people,” I say. “Sons of bitches like Lucius get away with ruining lives every single day.”

The words surprise me more than they appear to surprise her. Why did I even say that? I don’t give a shit about other people. This world isn’t my problem, and it sure as hell isn’t my job to fix it. Besides, even if I wanted to, it’s out of my control. The only thing I have control over is myself.

“This is your chance to fight for the greater good,” she says.

I can’t help it—finally, my eyes roll, and as they do, the woman reaches into the side of her cloak. From her oversized pocket, she extracts what appears to be a small doll made of straw and hemp, while its hands and feet are made of carved wood. Its left hand, however, is cut in half. From anyone else’s perspective, this thing might look like some creepy ass voodoo doll from the Middle Ages.

But to me, it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“Where did you get this?” I say, my words coming out as more of a bark.

She smiles at me for the first time, and I feel comforted. There’s something about her eyes… I know this woman. Why won’t she tell me who she is? Something catches my attention—a glimmer coming from her chest.

The fire’s glow shines off of it, making it look like an icicle on a sunny winter day.

I know that necklace. It’s a clear quartz pendant held together by a hemp rope. While it might sound generic, it isn’t. The hemp rope is encrusted with pieces of black tourmaline—something only a witch would wear. And I’ve seen a necklace like this just once before.

Now, it all makes sense.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Alexis.”

* * *

“Give it back!” I shouted.

My little brother William giggled and pulled my doll away. He had his own toys. Why was he touching mine? Alice was all I had left to remind me of my real parents. As far as I know, Alice was wrapped up with me in a cotton sheet when Papa found me at the edge of the forest.

With a thudding heart, I bared my teeth. “Give it back, now!”

A grin stretched over his face, but before another laugh could come blasting out, something happened. I wasn’t quite sure what it was at first. All I knew was that William looked petrified.

Quickly, Papa cleared his throat and scooped my young brother into his arms. As my father rushed him out of the room, William dropped my doll, his wide-open eyes never leaving mine.

“What’s going on?” came my mother’s voice.

The moment she stepped into the room, she sucked in a sharp breath and slapped both hands over her mouth.

Papa came rushing back in without William.

“Never you mind, love,” he said, wrapping his arms around my mother.

With parted lips, she tried to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, she stared at me as if I were some ghost haunting their home.

“We spoke about this,” he reassured her. “Do you remember?”

With hands still flat over her mouth, she nodded quickly.

Papa kissed her cheek, rubbed her shoulder, and turned to me. Kneeling on one knee, he picked up Alice and held her flat in his palm.

“Do you remember what we spoke of, my sweeting?” he asked me, his voice calm and soothing.

I shook my head.

“This has to be our little secret,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until his eyes rolled up toward the ceiling and around my body. I followed his gaze to find large bat-like wings extended on either side of me.

I flinched, causing the wings to move along with me, which made me panic more.

“Do not be afraid, child,” he said, his warm grasp around my shoulders. “Nothing is wrong with you.”

My lower lip trembled. Nothing wrong with me? Something was terribly wrong with me. Why did I have these ugly black wings?

Smiling sweetly, he reached toward the top of my head and touched something. I couldn’t tell what it was until I followed his hand and felt a sharp poke.

“You are a special creature,” he said. “You have beautiful wings and beautiful horns.”

He thought they were beautiful?

How? Every day, people in the village talked about how disgusting horned creatures were, along with fanged creatures, whatever that meant.

“The people of this village do not understand you, my dear Emily. You mustn’t reveal yourself to anyone. Do you understand?”

I nodded quickly, though I wasn’t sure how I was going to hide something like this from everyone in the village. What if this happened again? What if I accidentally let my wings come out?

“This doll,” Papa said, reaching into his pocket, “was given to you to protect you.” He pulled out his favorite carving knife and held its blade on Alice’s left hand.

“What are you doing, Papa?” I shouted.

Without saying a word, he raised a solid hand, which was enough to silence me. Then, digging his blade into Alice’s hand, he sliced off a small piece of wood.

I wanted to cry. How could he hurt her like that? But before I burst into tears, he reached for his boot and pulled out its suede lace.

What was he doing?

“This wood, my sweeting, was taken from the Enchanted