Page 76 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
Picking up the first tank, he took a moment to flick on his choice of music and then made his way to the back of the tank. He placed the tank’s opening area against the rectangle hole he’d made to match and smirked as he pulled the screen holding the deadly little creatures inside up. It took a few minutes, but they all followed once one wandered into the much larger sanctuary. He felt like this was a miniature Jurassic Park scene as he placed the missing piece back and went for the next tank.
Whitney mumbled some nonsense, just starting to come around as the last of her pets stepped into the new glass tank with her. Placing the glass door in place, he grabbed the cocking gun and finished sealing it shut. He wouldn’t want one of these little guys to end up in a neighbor’s house because he was careless.
Dean pulled a granola bar from his bag and leaned against one of the basement pillars to wait. One of the brown recluses was in a fight with a wandering Brazilian. He watched in fascination as they wrestled and rolled around on the concrete floor. This was even more entertaining than he had hoped it would be.
“Fffaatthher,” Whitney mumbled. Shaking her head from side to side, trying to clear the fuzz that he knew she would be experiencing. She was probably going to wish she was still unconscious, but this was much more fun. Her head slowly rose, and he shivered as one of the widows dropped slowly from a thread. Its legs looked like it was swimming as it made its way toward the mass of black curls on Whiney’s head.
“Father?” Whitney lifted her head enough to look at him. Her eyes were still hooded from the cocktail he’d given her.
“Well, hello again, you’ve rejoined us.”
“Where am I?” She struggled against the restraints, finding them very secure.
“You mean you don’t recognize your own basement? And just so you know, I’ve bolted the chair to the floor.” Dean said and watched as she looked from side to side, her eyes going wide as her brain caught up to what her eyes were seeing.
“What the hell? What are you doing?”
She let out a screech and then froze as the widow that had been walking around in her hair crawled onto her forehead. Whitney’s eyes were trained on the spindly-legged black spider. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to contain her panic.
Dean made his way over to her murder board and stared at all the faces that she’d made plans to kill. Pulling the pins from the image of Yasmine and the one of himself, he stuck the pins back in their place and walked over to his makeshift tank.
“You know, Whitney, I knew you were not what you seemed, but I have to tell you I was not expecting to find out you were a serial killer. I mean, it takes a lot to impress me, so you should pat yourself on the back. Actually, I wouldn’t do that even if you could. I’ve heard they—” Dean pointed to the spiders around the tank, “—don’t like aggressive movements.”
“I’m not what you think. I’ve been set up. I’m innocent. This is all my husband’s doing. I knew he was up to something terrible. I was just afraid to come forward,” Whitney whispered.
Dean smirked and placed the image of Yasmine on the glass.
“I will hand it to you, your lies to someone else would sound believable.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Whitney, do you think I would’ve gone to this much trouble if I didn’t already know the truth? I see through you,” he said calmly.
She let out another small whimper as a wandering Brazilian crawled up her leg and started making its way toward her exposed pussy.
“Ooo, that doesn’t look like it’s going to end well.”
“Please, I’ll do whatever you want. Just get me out of here.”
Whitney closed her eyes as the widow crawled further down to sit between her eyes. Dean gave a sharp laugh. It was like the creature was purposely torturing her as it cleaned its legs. A small fuck you perhaps for how she’d been using them?
“I’m sure this is not exactly what you had planned when we were alone together. It certainly wasn’t what you were thinking about before you fell asleep.” He cocked his head, letting that piece of information sink in. “Yes, I was there.”
Dean wandered over to his bag and placed the image of Yasmine and himself inside. He didn’t want any of this being connected to them.
“Please, Father.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled as she tried to hold still.
He hefted the pack onto his shoulder.
“Oh! That’s right. This would be a good time to let you know that I’m not actually a priest.” He smiled wide. “A fitting end, I think. A Black Widow takes out the Black Widow. There is something very karmic about it. Well, I better get going. How long do you think it will take before they get hungry and decide to take a bite?”
“I hate you,” she whispered, her eyes hard as she glared at him.
Dean held his hands over his chest by his heart.
“Oh, you hurt me, Whitney, and here I thought we had something special.”
He walked to the bottom of the stairs and turned back to face the impressive tank of death. “One thing I would recommend, don’t fall asleep with your mouth open.”
He laughed as he walked up the stairs, Whitney’s begging whispers calling for him all the way.
Dean took a deep breath as he reached the top, and he reached out and flicked the light off. He waited a moment, and as soon as the first scream reached his ears, he smiled. Dean stepped back to close the door on the chapter of Whitney’s Basement of Horrors.
