Chapter 65: The Voice 2

Chapter 65: The Voice 2She didn’t sleep that night.

Didn’t even sit.

She paced the hotel room like an animal—barefoot, twitchy, whispering to herself.

The voice stayed with her. Always behind her. Always smiling.

"You need seven," it reminded, calm and slow. "Seven warm, breathing souls. They don’t have to know. They just have to die."

Remu licked her lips. They were dry and cracked.

Seven people.

She could do that.

She’d done worse.

She pulled her red jacket off the bed, slipped it on, zipped it halfway. No bra. Just a black tank top, short skirt, dark eyeliner. The same look she always wore when she wanted something.

Only this time, she wasn’t out for fun.



She was out for blood.

—

1.

The first was easy.

A guy from campus. She barely remembered his name—Toby? Tony? Didn’t matter.

He had always stared too long. Texted her even when she never replied. Tonight, she replied.

"Hey. You up?"

She met him behind the gym. Concrete walls. Fluorescent lights buzzing above.

He smiled like a moron, pulling her into his arms, all eager and sweaty.

"You look—"

His words stopped when she kissed him.

A hard, deep kiss.

Her fingers danced up his spine.

Then slid something sharp into his neck.

He twitched once. Then dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

Blood sprayed her cheek.

She didn’t flinch.

The voice laughed softly. "One."

She dragged his body to the circle she’d drawn behind the dumpster. Chalk, salt, and symbols smeared with fresh blood. A candle flickered as his heart stopped.

—

2 and 3.

The next night, she hit a club downtown.

Music thumping. Lights flashing. Her skirt barely covering anything. She didn’t care.

She danced. Smiled. Bit her lip. Picked her targets.

Two friends. Bros. Frat types.

She let them buy her drinks.

Pretended to be drunk.

"Wanna come back to mine?" she purred, letting her hand rest on one guy’s chest.

They grinned like idiots.

Back in her room, they barely had time to take off their shirts before she snapped her fingers.

The wards flared up—dark red glyphs glowing around the walls.

The door slammed shut.

One tried to run. He didn’t get far.

She slit the second one’s throat on the bed while the other screamed.

"Stop!" he cried.

She didn’t.

"Three," the voice whispered.

She dumped the bodies in the bathtub. Ritual candles on the floor. Blood pooling near the drain. She carved new marks into the tiles.

Her eyes were darker now. Something in them... off.

—

4.

A girl, this time.

Pretty. Drunk. Alone outside the club, waiting for her Uber.

Remu offered her a ride. Said she was going the same way. "Girl code," she smiled.

The girl smiled back. Trusted her.

They drove. The girl passed out in the passenger seat.

Remu pulled over near an abandoned gas station.

She turned. Looked at her.

Then leaned close and whispered, "I’m sorry."

But she wasn’t.

The blade slid between ribs.

Blood soaked the seat.

"Four."

—

5.

This one was hard.

A homeless man. Elderly. Sitting near the bridge. Feeding pigeons from a paper bag.

He looked at her and smiled.



"You lost, sweetie?"

She stood in front of him. Silent.

Then she said, "Yeah."

He offered her a peanut. She took it. Pocketed it.

Then stabbed him in the chest.

His hands grabbed at her arms—shaky, desperate—but she pushed until he stopped.

When he fell, the pigeons scattered.

Her breath came out shaky.

"Five," the voice whispered, but quieter now.

—

6.

She went to a party.

A house packed with students, laughter, music, weed smoke.

She danced.

Drank.

Kissed a stranger.

He pulled her upstairs.

They had sex in someone else’s bedroom.

Afterwards, he slept.

She sat on the edge of the bed, legs shaking.

Then turned, picked up the bottle of champagne, and smashed it against the wall.

A jagged piece in hand, she stared at his chest.

Still. Bare. Vulnerable.

She didn’t blink when she brought it down.

Blood soaked the sheets.

She stood up.

"Six."

—

Her hands trembled as she walked outside.

The world looked wrong. Neon lights too bright. The moon too pale. The air felt thick, like it didn’t want her anymore.

One more.

Just one.

Then he would come.

The thing behind the voice.

The one who’d kill Lucifer for her.

Her feet carried her forward, down an alley, past dumpsters, into silence.

Then—

A voice behind her.

"Remu?"

She froze.

Turned.

"Lucifer."

Lucifer stood at the edge of the alley, half-shadowed by the broken streetlamp above him. His hands were in his pockets.That smirk—always that smirk—tilted on his lips like he knew something she didn’t.

"What are you doing out this late, Remu?" he said, voice smooth. "Don’t you fear the creatures of the night... especially one you’ve offended. Repeatedly."

Her fingers twitched. Eyes narrowed.

"Save the creepy cryptic act, Lucifer. I’m not in the mood."

He raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. "Oh? And what mood are you in? Because from where I’m standing... you look like you’ve been dipped in sin and dragged through hell."

She tilted her head, face unreadable. "Maybe I have."

Lucifer chuckled. "Cute. But be careful, Remu. There’s a thin line between acting tough and being suicidal."

"You think I’m scared of you?" she snapped, stepping toward him.

"No," he said, smile fading for a moment. "I think you’re stupid enough to think you’re not."

Silence stretched.

They stared at each other. Steam from a nearby vent hissed into the cold night air. Her jaw clenched.

"Get out of my way."

"I wasn’t in it," Lucifer said casually, turning his back to her. "Just giving friendly advice."

He walked off, his voice echoing faintly as he vanished down the alley.

"Don’t cross me again, Remu. You won’t like how it ends."

And then he was gone.



Just like that.

Her fists balled. Her breathing hitched. Something deep inside her snapped.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t cry.

She just burned.

Her nails dug into her palm. Blood dripped onto the concrete.

"You smug, arrogant... bastard," she muttered.

The voice behind her chuckled.

"That’s six," it said. "You need one more."

Remu turned her head slowly. A cruel smile twisted her lips.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Let’s make it count."

She pulled her jacket tighter, walked out of the alley, and disappeared into the city lights.

The final hunt had begun.