Page 75 of Daddy's Muse
Returning my focus to the task at hand, I parted the flesh of Bryan’s back with deliberate precision, pushing the blade deeper, carving downward to expose what I needed. Blood welled and ran across the floorboards, dark rivers feeding the circle I’d drawn.
My hands did not tremble.
Each cut had meaning, each motion an offering.
The lungs were next. I worked carefully, cracking ribs with methodical pressure, bending bone outward until it groaned like splintering wood. The stench of iron filled the shed, sticky and raw, but I only thought of how the dripping red threads seeped across the ground.
Bryan’s body shook violently, and I pressed a hand flat between his shoulder blades to keep him still, not out of mercy, but to keep my work clean.
The only mercy I had was for my boy.
And, well, I guess now his bunny.
I opened him wide, wings of bone and muscle splayed to either side. A grotesque parody of flight—the blood eagle. The old rite of breaking a man into divinity.
It was no simple kill. It was deliberate, ceremonial—a carving apart of flesh and bone to display the wings of death. Bryan would not just die—he wouldbecomesomething greater. For once in his life, he would be useful for something.
I leaned close, whispering words from the fragments I’d memorized—an old tongue, half-destroyed in the margins of crumbling texts. My breath brushed against Bryan’s skin as I spoke, but my mind was far away, already inside the circle, already picturing Colby beneath me, eyes glazed with trust, lips slack from the flower’s touch.
The ninth soul was nearly finished. Soon we’d be able to begin.
This ritual was a necessity. It meant his safety, his life would be bound to mine, protected by me in ways he could never understand. And even if he ran, even if he tried to leave me, he wouldn’t get far.
His soul would know where it belonged.
My hands covered in gore, I stood back to admire the ruin I’d made of the man who had dared to hurt my boy. His body sagged, breath faint, heart fighting its final war.
It wouldn’t be long now.
And when the last beat left his chest, when his soul slipped into the circle, I would carry Colby here—blindfolded, docile, wrapped in my arms. I would place him at the center and guide him into the rite that would make him mine forever.
* * *
The cabin was hushed when I slipped inside, the floorboards creaking under my weight. The bedroom door stood closed, locked from the outside. I turned the key and pushed it open.
Colby was still curled up in bed where I’d left him, pale against the sheets, chest rising and falling in a soft, fragile rhythm. Butter nestled beside him, her beady little eyes locked on me as I quietly walked closer.
I scooped him into my arms, careful not to wake him too abruptly. His head lolled against my shoulder, hair tickling my neck. I kissed the top of it before I carried him out back into the forest.
The shed was warm with blood and candle flame when I entered again, closing the door behind us. I laid him gently at the center of the circle, on the furs I’d spread earlier. His lashes fluttered, a faint stir of waking.
“Shh,” I murmured, tying the blindfold across his eyes. “Don’t be afraid, little one. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
He shifted, a faint whimper in his throat. His lips parted when I lifted the cup to them. The water was bitter with the flower’s powder, but I tilted it slowly, coaxing him to swallow. He did, instinctively, though his head shook a little as though confused at the taste.
“Pappa?” He asked shakily, his small hands rising to remove the source of his blindness. I caught them in mine before he got to it.
“Yes.” My hand cupped his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. “And you’re going to be a good boy and keep your eyes covered, ja? Pappa’s perfect, precious boy.”
He swallowed again, his breathing uneven. “What’s… happening?”
I leaned close, lips brushing his ear as I spoke. “Do you know what my name means, Colby? It has a few different meanings—a strong warrior, a messenger—but my favorite is ‘shelter’. Itwasn’t until you that I realized how fitting it is. Shelter.” My fingers threaded through his hair, cradling his head. “The gods knew what they were doing when they gave you to me. You were hidden, sleeping in the dark, and they led me to you. You needed me to shelter you from the bad of the world.”
He shifted under me, weak, trying to understand through the fog. “Gods…?”
“Yes,” I whispered, kissing his temple. “I’ve spoken with them. I’ve honored them all my life. And they’ve answered, rewarded my devotion. They gave me you, Colby. You are my gift, created just for me.”
His lips trembled, and I stroked them with my thumb, shushing him softly. “Tonight, I will bind us together. Not just in flesh, but in spirit—eternally. Through nine souls, through nine realms, through the gods who chose you for me. You’ll never have to fear, never have to be alone. You’ll be mine, always. And I’ll be yours.”
