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Avenging my mother has been long overdue. Izanagi had a point about waiting to get the cops off of my back but I've grown impatient and I'm ready to find out who did this to her and put an end to this, once and for all.
"We need to start by retracing her last steps but how do we even go about that?" Izanagi asks as we gear up to come up with a plan.
That is the trillion-dollar question.
"Do we know where she last was at?"
I frown trying to locate my mother the day before her untimely death and I grab my phone. I scroll back up and reread our messages. "3 that afternoon was the last time we talked and she was headed to the homeless shelter."
Izanagi takes a piece of paper and writes the location down, with a #1 in front of it. "Then that's our first stop."
The ride from the apartment to the homeless shelter was a quick one, only because Izanagi drove so fast, I practically blinked and we were there.
As soon as I walk, heads turn to us and I put on a fake smile. One of these people could've been the last to see my mother before she died, and I keep reminding myself of that.
"Hi sweetheart," an older woman says and hugs me. I remember her. I've met her a few times that I came with my mother and she was always so respectful.
"Hi, ma," I say, the respectful greeting burning at the back of my throat.
"Hello to your ... boyfriend?" she says, her tone unsure of the relationship between Izanagi and me.
"Yes," I cut it short. Explaining the last few months would lead to her calling the cops on us and us being locked away rather than my mother's killer.
Izanagi coughs and I feel him shift behind me, a symbol that I'm not going to hear the end of this just yet.
"Well, any friend or boyfriend of Lilith is a son to us," she says a little cheery before pulling him into a hug too. "What are you doing here honey?" she turns back to me.
"I just need some help," I pull her to the side away from prying eyes or overhearing ears. "The day my mom died, she uhm-"
The lady's eyebrows scrunch, and she grabs my hands into hers. She's not guilty, I know that much. Her gesture is one of concern. I know it all too well. It's motherly.
"She told me that she was coming here and I'm just wondering if she mentioned where she was going next. That was the last message she sent me so I'm a little lost."
"Crazy how you're asking these questions but the police hasn't even shown up here," she says sadly and I clench my jaw.
Of course, they haven't. She's a successful black woman who was brutally murdered. The police were probably one of many waiting on her downfall. If she didn't die because of the masked monster, her blood would probably be on the hands of an officer in the force that they'd chalk up to "a bad apple."
