Page 9 of Smoke the Enemy

I throw my arm over my eyes and groan. “If you mention the weather next, I’ll throw you out that window. Just get on with it. We both know you’ve come to play peacemaker.”

“Listen, Soren, you’re going to have to meet Dad halfway. Maybe things would be easier. You forgave me, so maybe you can find it in yourself not to forgive him per se, but find a way to co-exist,” Steffan pleads with me.

“Have I forgiven you?”

“Ihopeyou have. Just try and maybe we can get him to drop the security guards.”

That gets my attention. I drop my arm and sit up in the bed. “Or we drop them ourselves… with Allison.” It’s been a few days since our sweet little alligator has gotten a delivery. It would be a challenge transporting the bodies to Alabama, but I’d do it for my girl. I raise my eyebrows and hold out my hands, but my brother isn’t as amused with the idea. Steffan shakes his head and walks over to the bedroom window that stretches from the ceiling to floor. The snow is steadily falling. We could go skiing, lose them that way and then disappear. I don’t like feeling trapped in my own home. This whole situation is making me antsy.

Steffan turns around and crosses his arms. “Have you heard anything about Taylor?”

“She’s fine. Back home. Attends church every Sunday. So far no sign of Alex. But he’s bound to show up.”

“Are you planning to be there when he does?”

Splat. A snowball hits the glass of the window…we both glance over but wait, it’s red… Steffan rushes over to look out the window. I stand from the bed, and hurry over to my brother’s side. Down below there’s a body lying in the snow, arms spread out. To an innocent bystander, it would appear like the person was in the process of making a snow angel, but they’ve been scalped, so it mimics a bloody halo, instead. Their arms have been fileted where the skin hangs off of them representing wings. On both sides of the body there is actually the imprint of a snow angel with red splattered in the snow for their halos. Above the body there’s a wooden sign, and above each snow angel’s bloody halo are signs. They’re too far away for me to read, though, but I’m pretty damn sure they don’t say Happy Turkey Day.

A low growl rumbles through me. I take off charging toward the door. Steffan rushes to step in front of me, blocking my path. “Where are you going?”

“Down there to see what those signs say,” I grit through clenched teeth.

“Wait.” Steffan walks over to my desk and grabs my camera. When he is back at my side, he hands it to me. “Use the camera lens and try zooming in.”

We both look back down the window and I read out loud. “Steffan Carmichael,” is above the right angel. “Angel of Death,” is above the body. “Soren Carmichael,” is above the left angel.

“Is that a threat?” Steffan asks.

“It looks more like a promise.” I zoom in and see the faces of the body. “But at least they got rid of one of my bodyguards.”

“Soren! Be fucking serious. That means they were on our damn property. How’d they get him away from the other two and down there? Nobody saw? Heard? Fuck.”

“Unless… the killer lured him out. The body is on the edge of the property close to the forest.” I look back through my camera lens. “Guess it was too cold here for him to use snakes.”

“You think it’s the same killer?”

“You don’t? My guess is they had to adapt. Too much trouble to travel with snakes. See the snake drawn on the Angel of Death sign. Zoom in.”

Shit.

“Who the hell is this fucker?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to go with the process of elimination and get them both. We’ll start with Bryce…”

Mississippi

Thanksgiving Break

Taylor

His fingers are firmly wrapping around my neck forming a collar on my throat that he keeps tightening and then loosening with each movement of his hands. “Is this what you crave, Little Mouse? Is it?” His lips brush against the curve of my ear. His voice lowers and demands, “I want to hear your words.”

“Let me hear your pretty little voice beg for me,” his brother Soren appears before me now. He is only wearing dark denim jeans, no shirt or shoes. I look up higher and see one more article of clothing is left on him. A blue tie.

Steffan smirks and then tightens his grip. “Soren has come to play. Should we let him?” He releases me, and I hate how I miss the feel of his grip already. Steffan moves to stand behind me and runs his fingers from my scalp through my hair. “You should feel special. My brother is usually so dismissive of everyone. But not you. He gives you his body and all of his words.”

Soren cradles my cheeks between his palms. “Are you going to play nice this time?”

Steffan gives my hair a little tug, sending tingles through me, “No running off.”

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