“I don’t know,” I reply. “But it’s horrible.”
“That poor man,” Dahlia agrees.
We step away from the chaos as the police and ambulance arrive.
“Did you try to see?” Brielle asks me.
“Yeah, but I can’t read anything,” I reply. “I have no idea what happened to him.”
“I didn’t even see a shadow,” Brielle adds, looking around the area. “Hey, Dahlia. How are you?”
“Well, I was fine,” the other woman says and pushes a shaky hand through her blond hair. “I was meeting someone for dinner, but I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”
“Yeah, same here,” Daphne agrees. “Let’s go back to the Brew and have some coffee. What do you say?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I reply. “Dahlia, why don’t you join us?”
“Oh, thanks for the invite, but I have to at least say hi to my friend. And then I have some things to do. But you three have a good night.”
“Take care.”
We walk away, in the opposite direction as Dahlia, and head toward my café.
“I’ve seen enough of this crap to last a lifetime,” Brielle mumbles.
Chapter Two
"My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance."
-Jack the Ripper
Horace watches the three women walk away and finally, after all this time, feels satisfaction fill his chest. It’s taken months of rest, of recovery, of patience to get where he is today. And it’s all because of their selfishness, their entitlement, that he lost so much time.
How dare they think they could get rid of him so easily?
How could they be so ungrateful? They saw what he did for them. They know how hard he worked, for years, to make everything perfect. And instead of gratitude, they tried to get rid of him.
Yes, teaching them a lesson is imperative.
He smirks and turns to walk in the opposite direction, where more of his toys wait. Leaving the cup of blood in Millie’s fridge last year depleted his energy. Any time he tried to manifest himself to them after that, it drained him for weeks—sometimes months.
That just wouldn’t do. There was too much work to be done, too much punishment to dole out to those little bitches. He had to find another way.
Now, he realizes this is what he needed all along. Yes, this is much better.
He walks into the small house less than two miles from where he saw his girls. This dwelling was deserted after Katrina ripped through the area, leaving it uninhabitable. The front door still has the markings on it from the National Guardsmen who came through on boats, searching for survivors.
Of course, all four people who lived here were dead.
Their spirits are still here, but he’s taken care of them, showed them that he’s not to be messed with.
It didn’t take long for him to reinforce the windows and doors and to gather some supplies. It’s not nearly as good as his playroom in the bayou, but it’ll have to do.
The smell of mold and feces fills the air, along with the metallic stench of fresh blood and despair.
That’s what he loves the most. The despair.
He grins when he walks into the soundproofed back room and sees his two toys still tied up.
“Today was a success,” he announces gleefully. “Oh, it feels so good to be back. This is important work, you see, and I’m just so relieved that it’s going well already. Millie would be proud, too. She’ll understand, eventually. I’ll show her that all of this is for the best.
“She would want to be punished for all the ways she’s disobeyed me.”
He picks up a knife and turns toward the adjoining bathroom, approaching the tub that’s already filled with water—and a toy.
“Let’s get started, shall we, Lucien?”
Chapter Three
Lucien
She infuriates me. She tempts me. And she worries me.
I’ve known since I first laid eyes on Millicent that she’s afraid of the dreams we share, and of what she knows is her destiny. She’s stubborn because of that fear, and reaching her won’t be easy.
It never has been.
Unlike Millie, who was raised in a household of evil and terror, I grew up with a family who understood the craft, lived by it, and encouraged me to not only explore my gifts but to also prepare for the battle I was born for.
Millie didn’t have that luxury, and because of that, she’s working at a disadvantage. She’s had to learn quicker than most, and I fear that she won’t be ready in time for what we’ll have to face, despite being a powerful witch.
But there’s nothing I can do about that today. Until the stubborn woman is ready to listen to me and work with me, I have to bide my time.
Patience has become something of a work of art for me when it comes to Millicent.
It’s a good thing I’ve had a thousand years to hone that particular skill.
Knowing that Millie’s already at Witches Brew for the day, I stop by her small house to set my protection spell. I’ve been coming by every day for more than a week, ever since I felt the danger creeping back into our lives.
I know Millie is diligent about setting her own wards. I can feel them as I approach the door. But adding a layer of my own will intensify hers.
Our souls are linked, and because of that, anything we conjure together is much stronger than things we do alone.
After I drank her potion yesterday, I felt energized and protected in ways that I haven’t since our last lifetime together.
I smile when I see Sanguine sitting in the window, watching me with her wise gaze.
No need to worry, darlin’, I say to her through my mind. I’m just here to protect you both.
She blinks and watches as I prick my finger and wipe the few red drops that bead across the door at eye-level.
This shield is my Power to protect against evil.
This shield keeps out harm.
This shield does not allow evil or negative energies to pass.
No dark entities shall cross this barrier.
As I will it, so mote it be.
When I’m satisfied that the protection around Millie’s home is strong enough for my liking, I wink at the cat and turn to walk away. Suddenly, I stop cold when the sun darkens, and I’m standing in absolute blackness. A red glow begins to burn on a foreign horizon.
It’s all a mirage meant to scare me and make me distrust myself and my abilities.
But he’s chosen the wrong man to fuck with.
“You’re not welcome here, you evil son of a bitch.”
I begin to chant, using the same words we used when we cast the circle last year. Immediately, the red glow dies, and the darkness turns back to daylight.
He’s not strong enough to fight me. Not yet.
I’ve been immersed in the lab all morning, completely swept up in a mystery under my microscope when my phone rings.
I want it to be Millicent, but it’s not. It’s Cash Winslow, a member of the local police department, and husband of Millie’s sister, Brielle.
“Good morning,” I say when I answer the phone.