Page 32 of Grave Devil
I lock the shop door behind me and flip the open sign around, so the closed side faces out to the street. The shopkeeper’s face pales when he sees me. He stumbles back against his shelf of trinkets.
“I don’t usually do the collecting myself, but I’m in a rather foul mood today, Otto.” I take my hand out of my pocket and slam it onto the counter.
His eyes flicker over the brass weapon. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwell. It’s been a slow week. I can get you the money in a few days. Five, max.”
I cock my head to the side and take in his gaunt appearance. “That’s not how this works, I’m afraid. I don’t care if you have to whore yourself out to get my money.”
He taps his dirty fingernails against the cash register. The drawer pops out with a zing. He snatches three hundred-dollar bills out and offers them to me with a trembling hand. “Please. I can get you the rest in a couple of days.”
A voice in my head whispers,he’s making a mockery of you.
I take out my lighter and set the bills aflame to his shock and horror. “What do you think people will do if I allow you more time? Hmm? I’ll tell you what they’ll do. Others will also decide to stop paying me on time. They’ll say to each other,Mr. Blackwell is a pushover. You can pay him whenever you feel like it. He won’t do a fucking thing.”
His teeth chatter while his gaze stays trained on the brass knuckles in my hand. “No. I won’t tell anyone that you let me pay late. I swear it.”
Without warning, I clock him in the face hard. He screams. The brass breaks his skin and some bone. It splinters out of his cheek. “Do you think I’m stupid? You will get high or drunk or both and confess all your sins to anyone who will listen.”
He shrieks when I grab his neck and drag him over the counter. I pinch his jaw between my fingers. “Maybe I should cut out your tongue to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“No.Please,” he cries out.
But I’m in no mood for mercy. With one hand firmly gripping his throat, I hit him again with my brass-clad fist. A piece of flesh on his cheek flaps open as his knees buckle. I let him fall to the floor at my feet. “I’m so sick of excuses. So fucking tired of rats like you taking advantage of my generosity. You have untiltomorrow night to pay me. Not a single minute past midnight, or I will set this entire shop on fire with you in it.”
He sobs into the linoleum as he cradles his cheek in his palm. “Yes… yes, sir. I-I will. I swear.”
His face looks like how my head feels. A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, and my cock throbs as I stand over him. “And no more poison. You’re cut off.”
He cries harder, his throat gurgling as he chokes on his own tears and saliva. “Wait. I need it. I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you. Please.”
I grab his collar and hoist him halfway up so he can look me in the eyes. “I know about your family, Otto. I know everything. Your wife left you because you couldn’t put food on the table. Am I right? Yeah, instead, you put every cent you earn straight into your veins. Don’t fucking expect me to have any sympathy for you. No. More. Poison.”
I throw his sniveling body to the floor and stomp out. A group of young boys steps widely around me on the sidewalk. “Evening.” I give them a nod.
They all mutter something incoherent before scrambling away as quickly as they can.Cowards. When I was their age, I would’ve lifted my chin and looked a man like me square in the eyes. Respect is earned but pity is given freely in seconds.
I pull my cigarettes out of my pocket, and my heart sinks when I attempt to light one. Blood stains my cuffs. Fuck. I gaze into the tinted window of my limo to see that some has splattered onto my jaw as well.
Rodrick pops out of the driver’s side and groans when he sees me. “Let’s get you home and out of that suit before it ruins. I’ll have it sent to the cleaner immediately.”
I sigh and take a long drag from the cigarette. A part of me wants to strip down naked right here. The thought of this man’sblood on me makes my skin crawl. But then the shadows win. And I can’t let them have that today.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll buy a new one. Take the long route home, Rodrick. Through the woods. I want to finish my bottle of gin on the way there.”
“Very well, sir.” He wants to say more. I can see it in his eyes. In the way he actually bites his tongue. But he remembers his place.
MIA
There are whispers in the woods. In my dreams. Everywhere.Skelker. The rattling shake, shake, shake of bone scraping against bone fills every cavity. Every hole and space. It slithers, then it crunches before it glides across the ground. It gets closer every night.
Skelker.
It is a he; his chest is chiseled beneath thick, protruding black veins. They sprawl across his flesh like spider webs. Like dark constellations.
Skelker.
His eyes are spun gold, no, that’s the glint of light reflecting back. His eyes are resin. Brown. Cold cinnamon.
Your wounds are ancient, Mia. The scars you’ve left behind… they cut deep. We want your bloodline. You are all of them. And they are you.His voice is an echo. Raw. Cavernous. Inhuman.
