Page 42 of Splitting Secrets
“Are you watching, red?”
Those words will be the last they hear right before I kill them. It was impossible not to tell her that I’d already seen the whole thing take place when she was telling me about it in the cabin. The fear and fury in my little nightmare’s face staring back at them will be ingrained inside my brain for eternity.
I’m glad she scared the shit out of them. They need to see that there are bigger forces at play. They need to know how small and insignificant they truly are.
Especially up against a Landry legacy. The most powerful bloodline of them all.
Stepping across the hall and into Matilda’s cell, I take my phone out of my pocket and shoot off a text for my mother to meet me in the woods behind the school. She answers almost immediately, letting me know she’s on the way.
“It’s just you and me now,” I mutter to the dead woman before me.
Of all the gifts my bloodline grants me, speaking to spirits is not one of them. I’ve been grateful for that small mercy up until the point. The dead terrify me, and I know how easily they can get attached if you let them. Then it’s a real problem. But just this once, I wish I could talk to the old woman’s spirit and assure her that her death wasn’t in vain.
That this entire town will pay for their part in all of this corruption.
Rigor mortis has settled in, permanently stiffening her body into its awkward position. It makes carrying her through the halls and up the stairs a bitch.
Nothing is worse than the smell. It takes a concentrated effort to limit my breaths and inhale through my nose. Even then, my stomach is still twisting at the rotten scent.
Thisis why we dispose of the bodies as soon as possible. It’s Serial Killer 101.
Thankfully, no one is here to interrupt me this time around because carrying her extra weight has made shielding myself with shadows next to impossible.
I sprint across the final stretch of grass before hitting the cover of the trees, then stop to take a break.
“Oh no!” my mother cries out, startling me. She brings her hands up to cover her mouth in disbelief. “They didn’t...”
“When I told you to meet me in the woods,” I grind out through labored breaths, pushing myself to get a little further into the woods to avoid being seen. “I didn’t mean for you to be directly in the tree line. Anyone could have found you standing out here.”
“When did this happen?” she interrogates, ignoring my chastising. A few steps close the distance between us for her to examine the state of her best friend slung around my shoulder.
“Earlier today.”
The angry look she shoots me is one that would have me pissing my pants when I was a kid. It’s the one that said I better get as far away from her as possible. I’m too tired for it to bother me tonight, though.
“I don’t want to hear it. I’ve spent my entire day cleaning up one hell of a mess,” I chastise, gently laying Matilda’s body in a bed of leaves and snow.
My mother climbs to her knees beside her friend and runs her fingers through her hair. In the moonlight, the gash across her neck appears even more angry and bloody. I almost feel bad for allowing her to see her in this state, but I know the fallout of not allowing it would be far worse.
“I’m so sorry, Matilda. We were trying to get you out,” she whispers.
I take a step back and double over, resting my hands on my knees as I try to recover my breath. “I don’t think there’s much time for us to gather everyone for a proper burial before her condition worsens.”
When I go to stand straight again, I realize the entire back half of my jacket and all of my right shoulder are soaked in...something. Shrugging it off my body, I throw it on top of Matilda to obscure her neck from view.
Unfortunately, my shirt is soaked in the dark fluid as well.
My mother sniffles, and when she turns back toward me, I see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“We’re going to make it right, Mom. That’s what all of this is for,” I soothe, reaching out to wrap my arm around her shoulders until I notice the gore covering my palms and decide against it.
Too many times, I’ve stood at her side and watched her mourn the loss of a loved one that was taken by the Midnight Syndicate too many fucking times.
She closes her eyes and gently runs her palm against Matilda’s cheek in a final goodbye. Once she opens them again, her expression has morphed. Gone is the anguish that twisted her features before, and in its place is hard determination.
“We’ll have to burn those clothes,” she tells me. Her tone is detached, all business. “Call August out here to help move the earth. We’ll tell the others in the morning and hold a memorial later with the rest of the town, so it’s not as obvious. We can’t be gathering alone at this point.”
I’m already typing the message to August before she finishes speaking, pissed that I hadn’t considered calling him before. As a Primaris with Terrakinetics, he’s our fastest bet for getting a grave dug quickly and efficiently, especially with the ground being frozen.
