Page 205 of Mayhem and Minnie

Just thinking about her and this Lucien makes my blood boil. How dare she have other fiancés? Two others, too.

I don’t like being the third.

I don’t like the fact that she’s been in this dude’s proximity, let alone that there’s another man out there who had a relationship with her in the past—whether it was arranged or not.

Worse? These thoughts have become so poisonous that I can barely close my eyes at night. And if that’s not enough, every other waking moment of the day, I’m even more consumed by jealous thoughts.

“Your mother has always worried about you,” he continues. “Ever since that incident…” He flattens his lips as he trails off.

“We don’t talk about that incident,” I growl.

Giles shakes his head.

“The incident is the only reason why she’s overlooked your crimes for this long, you know that. But this is a new type of fucked up. You need help.”

“And what do you suggest?” I ask mockingly.

He clears his throat.

“For starters, I’m going to stop enabling you. This is the last time I’m helping you with a request.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Sure. I wonder how long that’s going to last, since he always says the same thing but ends up cleaning up my messes anyway.

“Fine. You can see yourself out.” I turn my back to him as I fetch my surgical instruments to get down to work.

He stares at me for a few moments before he finally leaves. But not before he adds something else.

“Your mother’s birthday is at the end of the week. I hope you haven’t forgotten.”

“I haven’t,” I snap. I totally have.

“Good. I’ll see you there.”

Then he’s gone.

And I’m alone with fucking Lucien.

I sigh as I study him anew. Grabbing a chair, I place it next to the table and take a seat.

There’s something off about him—and I’m not talking about his mummified state.

From the moment Giles brought over the box and revealed Lucien’s corpse, I’ve been on edge. It’s as if a myriad of anxious ants made their way under my skin and pace around my body from head to toe, making me restless and even more erratic than usual.

“Good thing you died, old chap,” I tell the mummy as if he could hear me. “Now I have her all to myself. And she’ll never think about you again. Never.”

By getting rid of his remains, I’ll be getting rid of him from this world once and for all, and naturally, he’ll fade from her memory too.

Nodding to myself, I grab a chainsaw and start to work. Luckily, an arm has already fallen off his body, so I merely have to repeat the action with the other one. Next are his legs. I cut each leg in two—the tibia with the foot and the thigh.

As I cut through the dried-up flesh, a noxious smell threatens to make me ill. Still, I persevere. I’m a man on a mission, and I’ll be damned if I stop before this mummy is cut up.

But as I continue my work, a chuckle escapes me as I think about the nineteenth century practice of grinding up Egyptian mummies to dust and consuming them as medicine. Of course those were intentional mummies while Lucien over here was merely lucky to find himself in suitable environmental conditions that led to his mummifications.

Maybe I should grind him up?

Ah, decisions, decisions.

Should I turn him into fine dust, or should I throw him in the furnace?

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