Shadows (Bayou Magic 1)

On Tuesdays, he goes back to following her.

But she stood him up tonight.

She’ll pay dearly for that.

“I was going to go easy on you,” he mutters as he assembles his tools. “I was in such a good mood, Brielle. I was going to make it sweet.”

The smell of urine and blood hangs in the air, still fresh from late last night when the electricity finally took the life of that last one. She moaned in pleasure for hours, screamed his name as she came.

She loved it, just like he promised her she would.

But it was eventually too much for her.

It always is.

“Let her go, you sick fuck!”

He spins and pins the girl he took two hours ago with a look that has made others piss themselves in the past.

But not this one.

No, she’s feisty.

She shrugged off his medicine, and she’s been fighting against her restraints the whole time.

He’ll break her, just like the wild horse she is. He’ll remind her of her place, and who’s in charge.

And when the life finally leaves her filthy body, he’ll celebrate.

“Now, Brielle, that’s not polite.”

“I’m Sarah Chandler, you sick son of a bitch. And I’m going to kill you.”

This makes him smile. Oh, he loves a challenge. Secretly, he sometimes enjoys it when they fight back just a little.

He can’t let them know that, though. No, he has to maintain his standards.

She’s going to be fun.

But first, he has other plans. He turns back to the whiny little bitch on his table and snarls.

“You made me mad tonight, Brielle. Do you know what happens when I get angry?”

“Please,” she whines. “I swear, I didn’t do nothin’ to you, mister.”

“You’re not so innocent.” He hits her again with the leather belt he keeps by the table, just for fun this time. Her flesh immediately welts and turns bright red. “Now that’s a pretty sight.”

There’s crying and mewling behind him. Six women can make more noise than a barn full of pigs.

“No one can hear you.” His calm is back as he turns to look at each of them. “You can scream and cry all you want, Brielle, but no one will ever hear you. You’re never going to leave here.”

He breathes deeply, satisfied that his little toy has soiled herself.

He reaches for the hacksaw.

“Here we go, Brielle. Now, be a good girl.”

The work is messy. It’s a good thing he bought the heavy rubber aprons years ago to keep his clothes clean.

And, of course, he covers his hands, hair, mouth, and eyes so there’s no chance he can contaminate his toys with DNA.

That wouldn’t do.

The blood spatters and sprays as he cuts. Piercing screams rend the air. Thrashing ensues.

And then, her blue eyes focus on his as, little by little, the life slowly drains from her.

“Ah, that’s a good girl.”

He’s hard. Killing always leaves his cock pulsing, but he never gives himself the pleasure of release.

Not for this one.

Or any of these.

But soon.Chapter TenBrielle“It’s bad.” Cash and I are sitting in the backseat of Daphne’s car. He holds my hand tightly. “Like, whatever you consider to be bad, multiply it by about a thousand, and it’s still not bad enough.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he replies and kisses my hand.

“No, it’s not fine,” Millie says from the passenger seat. “B’s not lying. In fact, it could be worse than what she’s describing.”

“It is,” Daphne confirms, and my stomach clenches.

Maybe they were right. Perhaps bringing Cash to my mom’s house was a bad idea.

Except, that place is a house of horrors for me, and Cash seems to ground me. Maybe he can steady all three of us. I know that’s asking a lot, but when it comes to this, I’m asking.

And I’m not sorry.

Daphne turns off the freeway and points the car deep into the bayou.

“Did y’all grow up in this house?” Cash asks.

“Until Daphne was about fourteen,” Millie says. “Then Brielle was old enough to move out, and she took us with her.”

“Mama didn’t try to stop her,” Daphne adds.

“Bri saved our lives,” Millie says quietly.

“That might be a bit of an exaggeration,” I reply, but both of my sisters shake their heads emphatically.

“You know it’s true.”

“Are you saying you would have died from neglect?” Cash asks.

“Psychological and spiritual warfare,” I say calmly.

“Jesus.”

“Pretty sure Jesus and the rest of the deities out there helped keep us alive,” Daphne says. “Pastor Cliff spoke with us. Prayed for us, often. I might have gone crazy without him.”

“Witches who believe in Jesus?” Cash asks, a smile on his face.

“Don’t overthink it. We’re complicated women,” Millie replies. “I forgot how damn creepy it is out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Live oaks are beautiful and creepy,” Cash agrees, watching the bayou pass by. “And this looks like it belongs in a horror movie.”

We all go silent as Daphne navigates onto another smaller road, and then it turns to dirt.