Chapter 8 The Girl Who Remembers
Isolde's POV
The police database has terrible security.
I crack the password in under three minutes, sitting in my tiny apartment with my laptop and a cold cup of coffee. My ribs still ache from where those gang members kicked me two weeks ago. The bruises are fading, but the memory burns bright.
"Come on," I mutter, scrolling through arrest records. "Show me who you are."
The Nightfall Killer. That's what the news calls her. The vigilante who's been tearing through Veridale's criminal underworld like a storm.
But I know the truth everyone else is missing.
She started the night after my attack.
I pull up the timeline. Five gang members arrested with broken bones and their crimes carved into their skin the same five who beat me half to death while people filmed on their phones. Marcus Felding, the nonprofit supervisor, exposed for embezzlement the same week his assistant was photographed with a black eye and a split lip.
Every victim was someone who hurt innocent people and got away with it.
This isn't random violence. This is justice.
And I need to find her.
My fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up security footage, cross-referencing locations, tracking patterns. I've been teaching myself hacking since I was fourteen, ever since my foster dad got away with hitting me because nobody cared enough to investigate.
The system protects people like him. People like those gang members. People like Marcus Felding.
But the Nightfall Killer doesn't.
She protects people like me.
I find a lead a woman named Cressida Halloway, recently issued an arrest warrant. Her photo loads on my screen.
She looks ordinary. Small, blonde, the kind of person you'd walk past without noticing. But there's something in her eyes, even in this police photo. Something fierce.
I dig deeper. Cressida worked under Marcus Felding. The attacks on the gang members started in her neighborhood. Her brother has been in a coma for seven years after a bullying incident.
"There you are," I whisper.
A girl who knows what it's like to be powerless. Who watched bad people win over and over. Who finally snapped and decided to fight back.
She's not a monster. She's a survivor.
And she saved my life.
I have to help her.
Cressida's POV
I'm still staring at my arrest warrant when someone knocks on my motel room door.
I grab my knife instantly. "Who is it?"
"My name is Isolde Chen." A young voice, female, nervous. "Please don't freak out. I just want to talk."
Isolde. The girl from the alley. The one I saved.
"How did you find me?" I call through the door.
"I hacked the police database and traced your credit card to this motel. I'm really good with computers." A pause. "Please. I'm not here to turn you in. I want to help."
This could be a trap. She could have police waiting outside.
But something in her voice sounds genuine. Desperate, even.
I open the door a crack, knife ready.
A teenage girl stands there, alone. Asian, small frame, wearing a backpack. She has a fading bruise on her cheek and looks at me with eyes full of hope.
"You saved my life," she says. "Those gang members would have killed me. And then you went after all of them. You made them pay."
"They deserved it," I say quietly.
"I know." Isolde's eyes shine. "Everyone they hurt deserved justice. That's why I'm here. I can help you find more people like them. Corrupt officials, criminals who escaped punishment, predators the system protects."
I should send her away. I'm dangerous, turning into something monstrous. The black veins on my chest pulse as if agreeing.
But looking at Isolde, I see myself seven years ago. A girl who wanted to help, who wanted to matter, who was tired of watching bad people win.
"Come inside," I say. "Quickly."
Isolde sits on my motel bed with her laptop, showing me what she's compiled.
"Judge Martinez takes bribes from crime families. Officer Devon killed an unarmed teenager and got away with it. This CEO, Amanda Pierce, runs sweatshops and silences anyone who complains." She pulls up file after file. "I've been tracking them for years, but I couldn't do anything about it. I'm just a kid with a computer."
"You're more than that," I say. "You're smart. Brave."
She looks up at me with something like worship. "You're actually doing something. You're making them face consequences. You're a hero."
The word "hero" makes my stomach twist. Heroes don't have black veins spreading from their hearts. Heroes don't dream about hunting innocent people.
"I'm not a hero," I tell her. "I'm just angry."
"Good," Isolde says fiercely. "The world needs more angry people who actually fight back."
I study her. She's nineteen, same age I was when Landry got hurt protecting me. Still young enough to believe the world can be fixed. Old enough to know how broken it really is.
"If you help me," I say slowly, "you can't be there for the violence. You research, I execute. You stay safe."
"Deal." Isolde grins and sticks out her hand.
I shake it, and the moment our skin touches, something strange happens.
The darkness inside me purrs. Like it recognizes something in her. Like touching her fed it somehow.
I pull my hand back quickly.
Isolde doesn't seem to notice. She's already pulling up more files. "So who should we target first? I vote for Judge Martinez. He let three rapists walk free last month alone."
I'm about to respond when my phone buzzes.
The mysterious text from earlier: "Noon at Mercy Church. Don't forget. Time is running out."
Isolde glances at my screen. "Who's that?"
"I don't know. Someone who claims they can help me." I show her the message about the forty-eight-hour deadline.
Her face goes pale. "What are they talking about? What happens in forty-eight hours?"
I could lie. Should lie.
Instead, I pull down my shirt collar and show her the black veins spreading across my chest.
Isolde gasps. "What is that?"
"The price of the power I got. I'm changing into something else. Something not human." The words hurt to say out loud. "In two days, apparently, I'll be too far gone to stop it."
"Then we go to this church meeting," Isolde says immediately. "If there's a chance to save you, we take it."
"The message said come alone."
"Since when do you follow rules?" She closes her laptop with determination. "You saved my life. Now I'm going to help save yours. We're going together."
I want to argue. Want to protect her from whatever danger waits at that church.
But the truth is, I'm scared. And having someone on my side someone who sees me as human, not monster makes the fear a little more bearable.
"Okay," I say. "Together."
Isolde smiles. "Good. Now let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we "
The motel window explodes inward.
I throw Isolde to the floor as Thaddeus crashes through in a shower of glass. His sword of light blazes in the darkness.
"Got you," he says.
But he's not alone.
Behind him, three more people step through the broken window. They all glow with that same celestial light. Their eyes are different colors silver, blue, gold and they move like predators.
"Four hunters?" I breathe.
"The celestials are tired of waiting," Thaddeus says. His voice sounds sad. "They sent a full team to eliminate you before you reach Stage Two. I'm sorry, Cressida. I tried to convince them to give you more time, but "
"She's just a kid!" Isolde shouts, standing up. "She's helping people!"
One of the other hunters a woman with silver eyes laughs coldly. "They all help people at first. Then they start killing children. We've seen it a hundred times."
The hunters advance in perfect synchronization.
I'm trapped. Four celestial warriors, each one strong enough to kill me alone.
The darkness inside me roars to life, ready to fight.
But if I use the devil's power to escape, I feed the transformation. I become more monster, less human.
And Isolde is here. Innocent, brave Isolde who just wanted to help.
If I fight, she might die.
If I surrender, Thaddeus kills me and she lives.
"Run," I tell Isolde. "Get out of here. Now."
"I'm not leaving you!"
The hunters raise their weapons.
And my phone buzzes one last time.
A message from Sable: "Use the darkness. Embrace what you're becoming. It's the only way to survive. Or die here, powerless and forgotten. Your choice."
The black veins on my chest burn like fire.
Thaddeus's eyes meet mine. "Please don't fight," he whispers. "I don't want to hurt you more than necessary."
I look at Isolde's terrified face.
At the four hunters ready to kill me.
At the window, my only escape route.
And I make a choice that will damn me forever.
I close my eyes and let the darkness take over completely.
When I open them again, they're pure black.
And I'm not Cressida anymore.
I'm something else.
Something hungry.