Page 122 of He Sees You
The woman wearing it now is about to marry the monster's killer.
"You look beautiful," Juliette says through a mouthful of pins.
"I look like a sacrifice."
"Same thing, in the old stories. The beautiful virgin sacrificed to appease the gods."
"Except I'm not a virgin and we're killing the gods."
"Even better story."
I return to my manuscript, adding scenes with fresh inspiration.
The heroine preparing for her wedding while planning multiple murders. Her lover teaching her to load weapons while she practices her vows. The dress hanging like a promise of violence to come.
"Do you take this man to be your husband?" the officiant asked.
"I do," she replied, thinking of all the men they would kill together, starting with the one who gave her away.
"Do you take this woman to be your wife?"
"Forever," he answered, knowing their version of forever included bodies and blood.
"Then by the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss."
They kissed with lips that would soon taste blood, sealing a union that would begin with salvation and end with slaughter.
The reception was held in hell, and every demon was invited to die.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cain
The Lockwood ballroom hasn't seen light in twenty years.
I stand in its corpse now, setting candles on every surface that will hold them—the warped mantlepiece, the windowsills with their broken panes, the floor where moisture has buckled the once-pristine hardwood into waves.
Each flame I light reveals more decay, more beautiful ruin.
The chandelier above dangles at a thirty-degree angle, half its crystals shattered on the floor below, the rest catching candlelight like tears frozen mid-fall.
This is where Richard and Patricia held their parties.
Where they'd display Juliette and me like trophies before sending us to bed so the real festivities could begin.
Where men in thousand-dollar suits would drink champagne while bidding on children.
Now it's where I'll marry the daughter of their business partner.
Where Sheriff Sterling will give away his only child in a room his crimes helped destroy.
The poetry is too perfect to resist.
Snow drifts through the holes in the ceiling, each flake a small blessing on what's about to happen.
The December wind howls through broken windows, making the candles flicker but not die.
Even nature wants to witness this.
