Page 115 of Entombed In Sin

I shove the metal tip attached to the tubing of the embalmer beneath the skin where I made the incision, sinking it deep into the artery I’ve opened. The blood that’s been leaking from his arm is dripping into the divots of the table and slowly trickling down toward his feet… or rather, ankles. Ronald doesn’t flinch.

“So, what’s going to happen?” Knox asks curiously, the hand in my back pocket squeezing my butt again.

I give him a one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. Theoretically, as the embalming fluid enter his body, the blood vessels should begin to explode, which should be slow and pretty painful. Then, as he suffers, his body will grow stiffer and he’ll harden from the inside out.”

“Sounds like it’s going to suck to be Ronald,” Knox declares happily.

I nod in agreement. “Will you flip the switch, please?”

Knox turns to the embalming machine beside him and turns it on. Immediately, it starts up. We watch as the creamy, pinkish fluid is pushed through the rubber tubing, down toward the opening in Ronald’s body.

“I’m supposed to be draining the blood while the embalming fluid enters your veins,” I tell Ronald absentmindedly. “But where would the fun in that be? You’d be dead too swiftly that way.”

His mouth parts, but nothing comes out. Not until the embalming fluid creeps into his system. At first, it starts as pained groans. A twitch here and there turns into a full-body flinch. His arm turns red, then purple as the blood cells rupture and react to the chemicals. The same reaction happens all over his body. The deep coloring blossoms across his chest, down his abdomen, up his neck, into his other arm. It’s a bloody firework display happening just beneath his skin.

His yells are raspy and twinged with much pain. The heavy flinches rushing through his body turn into hard, dramatic vibrations as he weakly fights the agony he must be in. The screaming doesn’t last long. His body seizes, and the chemical works its way into his brain and heart, halting their functions. Ronald dies with his mouth open in a silent, permanent scream.

“Wow, that was fun!” Knox exclaimed. “Now, I’m starving. We have, what? An hour before Bright Starr opens? I’ll run and get us some breakfast if you guys are game.”

I look down at Ronald, watching as his body grows stiff while the embalming fluid continues to make its way through every inch of him. A smile pulls at my lips. These three entered my life and ripped away the people who hurt me. Now, I’m capable of doing it by myself.

Pride warms me from the inside out as I mentally pat myself on the back.

“I could go for a raspberry croissant,” I say.

“A bagel sounds good,” Thatcher announces. “Get a dozen of them, I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the jalapeño cream cheese,” Sagan adds.

“Alright, got it!” Knox’s hand slips out of my back pocket, and he saunters over to the door. “Be back soon! Man… if we start doing more kills in the morning, it’s going to make getting up early a lot easier.”

39

THATCHER

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

It’s dark out.

The stars overhead twinkle, but most of their beauty gets lost in the light pollution. The bright city lights have managed to reach all the way over here, in this derelict part of town. As I stroll between abandoned warehouses, I listen for signs of trouble. It wouldn’t come from the homeless that scurry about from shadow to shadow. They seem to know to leave me alone. Trouble won’t come from the few gang members clustered together, talking about whatever they were up to only hours before.

I listen for sirens.

The police have been out in numbers for months now. I’d like to pretend it’s not because of the four of us ravaging neighborhoods left and right, but I’d be fooling myself. Of course they’re out because of us. We may take bodies with us when we go, leaving no trace of our victims, but there’s no doubt when they know it’s us that’s struck. The blood, the destruction… It's our calling card. After tonight, I’m afraid we’re going to have tocut back a bit. Knox will be annoyed, but it’s Beatrix that might give us the most trouble.

The way she’s flourished in our world has been magnificent to watch. She has her own way of killing. It’s less bloody and brutal, but it’s a wonder to watch all the same. She’s really come into her own since we’ve bulldozed our way into her lives. I thank my lucky stars every day that she’s ours.

As I round a corner, my eyes catch on a back door that’s been cracked open just a bit. The subtle invitation to come in gives me pause. I’m pretty sure this was left open for me. But just in case… I check my phone. The message Beatrix sent a half hour ago pops up first.

Beatrix: Come play with me & my doll, big brothers

Beneath it, in another text, comes a location pin. According to my GPS tracker, I’m practically on top of her location now. I frown. How did she find this place? It must’ve been when the last time she and Knox went out together. While the rest of us can hunt alone, none of us allow her to slip away. Call it being overly protective, but there’s just something about letting Beatrix out of our sight that makes us all uncomfortable. The thing is, when it’s Knox’s turn to slip away with Beatrix, the two of them tend to get into the most unusual situations. I have no doubt this is one of those times. My smile pulls wide as I head toward the door. Just before I can slip my phone back into my pocket, it vibrates:

Sagan: Beat you.

I swear under my breath, halting in my tracks to look around for any sign of my brother. There’s just a hint of a sound. The slight scuff of a foot as it shifts. I duck just in time as an arm shoots out. It flies over me. Before my assailant can get the upperhand, I spin and come up, bringing my fist up with me. I land a solid punch right in the middle of his gut, causing him to grunt before doubling over.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, Sagan.”

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