E L E C T R A|COMPLETED|

Chapter Forty~ Nine Ghost of the Past

~Electra~

    My hands picked up the letter that Bull had slipped underneath my bedroom door. It was another letter from her, Lilith. I sat against my door, my back pressed against its firm surface, and looked down at the elegant writing that was written on the crisp page.
    My dearest Electra, I was upset to find our meeting place swarming with law enforcement and even more upset that we could not meet because of those circumstances. I hope you will accept another invitation to meet this time at a more discreet location to avoid incidents like that from occurring again. There is a cemetery called Rosen Cemetery that I hope you will give me the greatest pleasure of meeting you at. I will understand if you want to be accompanied by someone, but I hope we we will be able to speak privately.
With all my love,
Lilith
    I crumpled the paper and tossed it to the floor then lay my head back against the door. This woman was growing annoying rather quickly. I wanted to deal with this woman and hear what she wanted so she would leave me alone. I wasn't in the mood for this shit.
    I forced myself to stand from the floor then began getting dressed and slipped a handgun into my coat. I didn't know this bitch and wanted to be ready incase she was someone that I had pissed off before.

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    I pulled the Lamborghini Aventor along the curb that was outside of the cemetery then put the car in park. I brushed my ponytail off of my shoulder then turned off the car. My eyes fell to the white Maserati parked farther up along the curb. She was already here.
    I opened the door to my car then stepped out before closing it. A thin mist hung around the cemetery giving it an ominous and forbidding aura. I rolled my eyes at how cliche it was then walked up along the sidewalk that led into the cemetery.
    My boots lightly 'thudded' along the concrete walkway as I walked deeper into the cemetery, my eyes scanned over the different pathways that led deeper into the cemetery. The bitch could have been more specific. I found hundreds of headstones, however nothing that stood out. Just when I was about to say 'f.uck it' and leave the fine hairs at the back of my neck stood on-end and goosebumps crept up my spine. The feeling that someone was watching me became undeniably evident.
    "It's a cowardly thing to kill someone while their back is turned." I hummed in disapproval knowing that she could hear me.
    "I didn't think you would come." A raspy, strained, and muffled voice came from somewhere behind me. It sounded like someone who was frail, weak, and close to dying. Their voice could barely be deemed as a woman's voice.
     I slowly turned around to find a woman dressed in a skin tight leather body suit that clung to her bony body. Only the ghostly pale skin of her hands and what part of her face that wasn't covered by a mask were visible.
     The mask looked more like a muzzle than a mask with carved blades curving up from below her chin to her nose. The blades, I noted, seemed to be made of some kind of ivory or bone.
    Her stringy hair was pulled back and tied into thin braids, the black braids that ran past her shoulders resembled limp snakes. Gothic-looking, knee high boots covered her skinny calves and stopped just below her knees, the tall heels of her boots made her tower over my frame by a few inches. Her face and hands, I quickly noted, were covered in small puckered scars. What small amount of skin that wasn't hidden away by leather appeared to be stretched tight by burn scars. Most of her forehead and scalp appeared to be scarred leaving patches of thin hair that had grown long over time.
    Gruesome scars crept out from underneath her mask letting me know that what lay hidden underneath must be much more horrific. I had seen many horrible things, many horrible people, in my short life but never something to this degree. I could hear her uneven breathing from underneath the mask and spotted the hilt of a dagger at her hip that was attached to her silver belt. If not for her barely feminine, scratchy voice and small breasts that were tightly mashed by her leather suit, one wouldn't think she was even female.