Spells (Bayou Magic 2)

I’ve waited a hundred years to have her back with me, just like this.

I cradle her cheek in my hand and settle in to enjoy her, right here, for about a decade. The way she’s pressed against me, the little murmurs and moans in her throat, all of it stirs my blood. My hand drifts down from her cheek and moves over her neck to her firm breast, still covered by her purple dress.

She shifts, straddles my lap, and continues kissing me like her life depends on it.

The lights flicker.

I hear a car alarm going off outside.

But I can’t stop indulging in her after being away from her for so long.

She hitches up her skirt until it bunches around her waist and then presses her center against me. Suddenly, my living room window breaks.

No, it doesn’t break. It shatters.

We jump, and I pull Millie to me, shielding her from the glass and the horrible wind suddenly blowing through the room.

“What’s happening?” she yells.

“Seems we’ve pissed off a dead dark witch,” I reply.Chapter Eight"The words, 'I'm sorry' will never come out, for they would be a lie.”

-- Joe “The Cannibal” MethenyHow dare she?

Rage consumes him as he punches the wall in his little house of fun. He’s been trying to teach her a lesson, and that little slut just won’t listen. She’s too stubborn. She’s too attached to that man, and all of the visceral pleasure he brings her rather than listening to the lessons he’s trying to impart.

And Horace’s anger grows by the day.

“She thinks she can ignore me?” he yells as he stomps back to his new playroom and throws open the door. Three toys are shackled to the wall. The fourth, the newest one, is in the bathtub, being saved for later. Still, he stomps into the disgusting bathroom to make sure it hasn’t already died of hypothermia.

That wouldn’t do.

“Good,” he says, his chest heaving. “This space heater is doing the trick.”

“What’s wrong with you, you sick piece of shit?” the toy demands, snot running from his nose as he cries. “I’m cold, and I want to go home.”

“Oh, Lucien.” Horace clucks his tongue and shakes his head, almost feeling pity for the toy. “Surely, you’ve learned by now that I’m in charge. I’ve been proving that for a millennium. I run this show, and you’ll go home when I say it’s time.”

He tilts his head, watches the toy as he thrashes about. Horace tied his hands above his head so he couldn’t try to drown himself. So although sitting naked, he’s partially out of the water.

Which is why Horace brought in the space heater. He couldn’t have the toy dying before his time.

“You know, maybe it’s your turn today, after all.”

The toys behind him moan, some in relief and others in despair. The poor toy missing a hand surely wishes he was dead. The burn on his arm where his hand used to be must hurt.

He’ll let that toy live for a few more days. He deserves the pain.

The one he’s had the longest is covered in cuts from where he’s been bled out, almost to the point of death. It’s so interesting to see how much blood a human body can live without before they die.

That’s a mistake Horace won’t make again.

“You’ve angered me, Lucien,” he says as he approaches the toy in the tub. “You think you can just have her? SHE’S MINE!”

The angry scream is shrill and right in the toy’s face, the flesh now covered in his spittle and coated by his horrible breath.

“I have a plan, and you’re fucking it all up. That won’t do. I think it’s time I teach you a lesson.”

He reaches for his favorite knife, the one he took from a shop in the Quarter, and lets the blade glide down the man’s torso but not cut.

No, not yet.

“Please,” the toy whispers. “Don’t do this.”

“You’re going to learn that you’re not in control, Lucien.” He tips the toy’s head back, pulls out his tongue, and cuts it from the toy’s head with one slash. Blood spatters the wall, covering the stains from the previous toy as screams fill the air. “Ah, yes. Yes, that’s better.”Chapter NineMillie“Oh, it feels so good to get some fresh air,” Mama says from the back seat. Her window is down, and the wind blows over her smiling face. Her blond hair, streaked with very little gray, blows in the breeze.

“They let you enjoy the courtyard at the hospital, don’t they?” Brielle asks from beside her.

“Oh, yes. And it’s very nice, but this is better. I know the hospital is my home for now, and I quite enjoy it, but it’s lovely to get out and about, too.”

“Have you made friends there?” Daphne asks as she drives to the bayou so we can meet up with Miss Sophia. I was finally able to reach her yesterday after trying for almost a week. Until I made contact, I was becoming more and more frustrated, feeling like we were running out of time for some reason, though nothing specific happened to give me that impression.