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At first, he blustered. He spat out curses and slashed at me with his blade even as his grip on his prey faltered and let her slip away. But when his silly little weapon didn’t work on me, he retreated instead, puffing himself up with arrogance like he could scare me, right before he tried to run.
They always try to run.
“Please…” he whispers from where he lies on the ground.
“Beg me, beg me, says the judge’s man. Beg me, beg me while you can.”
His bloodshot eyes widen like he’s latched onto something hopeful. “Please. Please, I’ll give you anything you want. Please just don’t?—”
I bend closer. My lips pull back as I smile. His horror rises again, flickering past his hope as he stares at me. I see my face reflected in his terrified bloodshot gaze.
Teeth stained black. Large orange-ringed eyes. Skin green and mottled like the pretty lichen that grows on a tree. My dark hair hangs like a curtain around my face, long and stringy just how I like it. The other one wears hers pink and bright like she’s trying to balance us out, and she never lets her green eyes bulge like mine.
She’s worried by me, the other is. She lets darkness take her when I come, and she hides in her life of light when I leave.
I scare her.
That can’t be my focus, though. Not right now. Not when there’s work to be done.
“But did they scream?” I whisper to him. “Did they beg? And did you listen, or did you just make them dead?”
My knife takes his throat in a single slice.
Blood sprays the concrete floor. I flicker away just long enough to avoid a single drop. The other would be upset if we became coated in blood spatter.
She’s so picky about such things.
The dead cry out, descending upon him as his soul escapes his body. They won’t hold him for long. Just enough to return their pain. Just enough to give it to the one who dealt it, and who will bear it from now on.
Light spreads above them, emanating stronger and stronger from the single bulb hanging in the room. The glow is bright like the sun and soft like the moon. It washes away the pretty moldy walls and the sweet mildew of decay. There is only the glow and the sense of voices just beyond hearing, calling come see, come see.
The peaceful dead melt into it. Below them, his soul writhes, seeing the light, unable to reach it. Held down by what he did and wailing as all his victims float into a glow that slowly fades.
Darkness rises from the shadows in the corners of the room now. His soul thrashes harder. He screams as the deepest darkness has its way.
And then all the dead are gone.
Mold and mildew return and the only light is the glow of the single bulb above me, dim as a candle and flickering from its old wiring. Laughter and song carry from the street.
I look down at the body and smile.
“Waste not, want not, so they say. It’s time for Creepy Mabel to sit down and play. So from the tip of your toes to the top of your head, you’ll serve a new purpose, now that you’re dead.”
Chapter 2
Mabel
Iopen my eyes and groan. My mouth tastes nasty. I’m still in my clothes from last night. And the clock on the wall says it’s half past two in the afternoon.
Dammit.
For a moment, I lie in bed, as if my pillows and blankets can delay the inevitable. Sunlight streams past the gauzy curtains and tall windows of my bedroom. Faint sounds come from the street outside, but they’re fairly calm despite the fact Mardi Gras is going on. My family chose this quiet street generations ago, and thankfully it hasn’t gotten so gentrified in the years since that tourists find it particularly interesting.
Nope, nothing here to draw attention, and just enough privacy that we never have to worry about nosy neighbors spotting… well, anything.
Doesn’t mean I don’t have to be careful though.
I sit up and scrub a hand over my face—checking first that it’s not covered in anything gross. “Okay, Creepy, what’d you do?”
