Page 18 of We Are All Sinners

Ilook down at the bitch who thought she could worm her way into my life and steal from me. I’m curious what she thought she was going to do with a piece of a crystal, but honestly not enough to ask.

The money pisses me off, but my grans crystal bothers me so much more. I knew everyone wanted the grimoire I found. It’s unlike any other I’ve come across. It’s definitely one of the oldest and most thorough I have ever seen. I know the initials on it belong to my father, but I also know that this grimoire was created by someone who came way before him.

Complex, yet simple spells, incantations, potions, and science, if you get the logic behind it. What most people don’t understand about magic is the science of it all. The problem is, it’s all darker magic than I have ever personally practiced.

I kneel down and remove the ridiculous pink fluffy ears from Brook’s mouth and take the headband off of her completely. She gags and squirms on the ground, spitting out a very large wad of lace.

I chuckle slightly when I realize it’s a black thong. I look back at Liam and Noah who can’t contain their laughter, shaking my head trying to hold in a smirk.

“You are going to pay for this, all of you! Do you have any idea who I am?!” Brook screeches, writhing in the dirt, like the little snake she is.

We all start laughing, except Liam. He just looks pissed and surprised at the same time.

“Bitch, do you have any idea who we are?” Liam raises an eyebrow, staring her down.

I quickly place my hand on her forehead, only for a moment, and see all the horrible things she has done to get ahead. She would steal from the devil himself if given the opportunity.

I feel her emotions and chuckle a bit as I move a piece of wet hair away from her eyes, “Oh, bless your little heart. You think you are going to survive the day. How sweet. Newsflash bitch, you stole from the wrong witch! Mommy dearest can’t save you now! No one can, the ancestors have spoken, and you have been sentenced to death for all those you hurt in this life!

“Are you insane? The ancestors haven’t spoken to anyone in years! The ancestors are a fucking myth that we will never get the chance to see in our lifetime! The voices in your head aren’t real you stupid freak!” She speaks frantically, clinging to some crazy notion that she can talk her way out of the situation she ultimately put herself in.

I grip her hair at the scalp, yanking her face closer to mine, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. They haven’t spoken to any of you because they finally had enough of your family’s bullshit! They have always talked to me. I’m just doing their bidding. You will see the ancestors soon. I can’t wait to hear about what they do to you once you make it to the other side! Blessed be bitch!”

I release my grip on her head as I come around with my fist, connecting with her nose, breaking it all over again. She cries out choking on her own blood as it pours out of her nose.

I go back to the car and get my bag, dropping it on the ground next to Brixon, “Can you get the douche bag from the other trunk please? I want to play a game.” I ask giddily as I look up into Brixon’s eyes and smirk.

He leans down giving me a light pec, leaving me wanting to taste his lips again as he backs away, quickly moving back to the other car.

Brixon is back within minutes dropping Jeff next to Brook. His head hits the ground, the silver tape wrapped around it making the thud a little louder than it should be.

He groans slightly as he bounces off the dirt, now sprawled out on his side. I’m glad I wrapped his face with duct tape just in case he really is a Saint, and he knows the boys, not being able to see his face gives me a leg up.

I reach down and open my great big bag of goodies. I pull out a large, curved dagger that I have had in the shop for a while. It’s just a decoration in the store, not for sale. I sharpen it after every use, making it the perfect weapon now.

I found it in my grans attic here in the bayou house a few years ago and it just called out to me. I love how the gemstones on the handle shine in the sunlight, hell it’s even more beautiful in the moonlight! When I would normally do this kind of thing. There is just less of a risk of getting caught at night.

“Look familiar?” I ask as I stalk towards Brook. She made a big deal about how it must be worth a fortune when she first started at the apothecary.

“Please! Genevieve, come on, you aren’t a bad person! You can’t kill me!” She begs as I stalk towards her.

I stop next to Jeff and put my boot up on his hip pushing him over onto his stomach. He moans slightly but is still down for the count. I take the blade, placing it just above his ankle and slice down until I feel bone.

“Can’t run if your Achilles tendon isn’t attached anymore!” I almost cackle as I cut the zip tie from his wrists, making sure to cut into his skin in the process.

Jeffs muffled screams fill the silence as Brook starts trying to slither further away. He can yell, cry, and widen his eyes all he wants, no one can understand him. Hell, we can barely hear him.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” I shout, kicking the fucking asshole in the side of his upper thigh before I turn my attention to the ultimate reason we are all here, Brook. She’s sobbing now, finally seeing who I really am, and I think maybe realizing for the first time it’s over for her.

This is always my favorite part. When the villain finally gets a taste of their own medicine and realizes that they are now the prey. It’s always interesting to see how the person reacts when they know they are about to die.

I whistle loudly as I bend down to taunt her a bit more before I unleash what will technically be her ending. She is right, I don’t technically kill anyone. I mean one guy died before Bo Jangles got to him, but it was an accident.

I kneel down, allowing my lips to brush against her ear, and whisper, “Will he smell your fear or his blood first?” I taunt the little thief as my buddy, Bo Jangles, emerges from the shadows cast by the dark, gnarled, cypress trees draped in eerie moss, where my land bleeds into the bayou.

My oldest gator steps into the sunlight, showcasing his majestic form. He’s blind—always has been. I don’t know what happened to him, but when Acadian brought him in, he was a different creature entirely, worn and battered by his past. I must have been seven, but he trusted me that day when I offered himmarshmallows, forging a bond that feels as ancient as the murky waters surrounding us.

To this day, I am still the only person Bo Jangles has ever let touch him.

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