Page 28 of The Devote

"Please come back."

The phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out with hands that were shaking—or maybe steady, I couldn't tell anymore. The screen glowed. A message. A number I didn't recognize. An address on the other side of the city.

Another lead.

Another hunt.

Another body.

I stared at the words until they blurred, until the letters dissolved into shapes, until I couldn't read them anymore.

"Daddy."

"I'm still your good girl."

"I'm still hunting for you."

"I'm still killing for you."

"Please."

"Please tell me it's worth it."

I put the phone back in my pocket and started walking toward the address, toward the next name, toward the next body I wouldn't remember making.

The shadow.

I felt it behind me.

Watching.

Waiting.

Following.

I didn't turn around.

I didn't want to know if it was real.

"Daddy."

The word was a whisper, a prayer, a promise.

"Daddy, I'm coming."

"I don't know where you are."

"I don't know why you left."

"But I'm coming."

"And I won't stop until I find you."

The sun rose higher. The city stretched ahead, indifferent and eternal. And I walked toward the next hunt, the next kill, the next morning I'd wake up with blood on my hands and no memory of how it got there.

The lullaby.