Hot for Slayer

by Ali Hazelwood

The last time Lazlo Enyedi and I made this much physical contact with each other, the Berlin Wall was falling.

There were several million decibels and the equivalent of an Olympic-size pool between us, but I could hear him as clearly as if he dwelled inside my head.

what’s a girl to do when the only constant presence during the last millennium of her life has been a guy who’s contractually mandated to murder her?

“And deprive myself of your company?” He clicked his tongue. “Never.”

When he noticed my eyes on him, he lifted the blade up to his face. And with a smile that did not feel like a smile, he began to lick it clean of my blood. It was . . . Well. It just was.

My mother didn’t raise a quitter. Well, my mother didn’t raise me at all.