Page 341 of Hell Hath No Fury
“He speaks like an overweight mouse,” Rose muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
I huffed, snatching a crouton from my plate and chewing. This guy just handed over his life when they hadn’t asked for it yet.
Idiot.
“Well, now,” January spoke up, her brows poised high. “Did we ask if you had?”
Joel stayed quiet, but it was far too late. I could see him sweating from half a field’s distance away.
“So you planned to leave your wife, did you?” January asked. “And you also told this woman, of which you know will now never see another sunrise, of our… beloved community.”
“I was never going to leave her,” he half-yelled, then glanced around the room, looking for the wife who was no doubt absent for these proceedings. “Patty?” he called before he looked back at Elijah, beseeching. “Where is she?”
“Oh, she’s fine. It’s you I’d be worried about.” Elijah rubbed his chin, humming. “If you did not plan to leave her, then why on earth steal from her? Thousands of dollars’ worth of clothing and paintings and jewels don’t grow legs and just run away by themselves.”
Rose snorted a little. I nudged her ankle, and she bit her lips.
“S-she needed the money,” Joel said in a rush. “She has two children to support, and her husband is a drunk deadbeat.”
Small clusters of laughter erupted, and January grinned. “You stupid, stupid fool. Want to know where we found your precious side piece?”
Joel paled instantly.
“Climbing into her brand-new Audi fresh off the lot. We followed her home.” January plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth, the simple act more threatening than if she’d held her steak knife to his genitals. “Want to know what else we found?”
“Nothing,” Elijah finished with feigned bemusement. “Nothing at all. She has no children and no husband, only an ailing father in a nursing home. All the better.” He pulled his shoulders back and gave a short nod. “Because no one will miss her, and it’s all your fault.”
“No!” Joel shouted. “No. Tell me she’s—”
With one look from Elijah, one of the beefy dudes slugged Joel in the gut, and he doubled over with a groan.
“Very well,” Elijah said and motioned to the table. “Take his ring finger.”
Jude whispered something in Fern’s ear, and I’d guessed he’d told her to keep her head tucked behind his as her mother, January, picked up her steak knife.
The two men wrestled Joel to the table, holding him there while Elijah grabbed his wrist and planted his hand down upon January’s empty plate.
“Rose,” I whispered, knowing she wouldn’t look away but wanting her to. “Damn it,Rose.”
She waved me off, then reached for a dinner roll, ripping it in two as the man’s finger was hacked off, and he passed out mid-scream.
As horrifying as it was, and even though the little amount of dinner I’d eaten threatened to climb back up my throat, I understood why it was done here and now.
A lesson, a warning, and a reminder for every soul in this room—and even beyond it.
“Take him into the next room and remove his tongue.”
Elijah didn’t refute January’s command, nodding at the men who then dragged the unconscious lard away.
Rose was staring down the table, bread poised before her waiting, slackened lips. Not at anyone, I noted, but at January’s plate. It overflowed with blood, the severed finger drowned in the center, and the table linen stained red where it soaked up the overflow.
A scream, bloodcurdling enough to rake talons over my lungs, echoed through the walls. People shifted in their chairs. Some had returned to their food, unbothered or perhaps trying to distract themselves from the carnage.
Elijah offered everyone a grim smile and bobbed his head before retaking his seat. “Happy Thanksgiving, Nightingales.”
The chatter and laughter resumed as though nothing had even happened. Rose finished a little more of her food.
Looking over my shoulder toward the doors, I met my mother’s eyes, and she tilted her head.
