Page 53 of Nightshades

Wrapping a hand around his throat to keep him still, I lean forward until our noses touch.

“I don’t care what you went through in this house. Your memories of being a disappointed and hurt boy do not hurt me. I do not feel sympathy for you. I might be a monster, but you are an untamed animal who needs to be put down. My violence”—I roar, slashing my claws across his stomach, then begin to cut away at his body again—“has rules.”

His eyes burn with malice, even in the hands of death, his father shines in his irises.

“I’d do it all over again,” he seethes. “I regret nothing. They deserved every bit of what I gave them.”

I know I’m a beast built to spill blood. I know what I do to Lula people would question, but they need to mind their fucking business because they don’t know that she fucking loves what I do to her—what I will do.

“And you deserve every moment of your skin being cut from your body.” I slice him again, peeling the biggest piece of flesh off his stomach.

He lurches, puking all over my boots.

I liked these boots.

Locking eyes with him before they roll to the back of his head in unconsciousness, I demand, “No matter the pain, you are not allowed to pass out.”

“What are you doing to me?”

A dark chuckle echoes in the chamber of his mind.

“I think the question is, what won’t I do to you?” I toss another flap of flesh by my feet, relishing in the beauty of the muscular skeletal system peeking through the vulnerable raw spots on his body.

Sinking my claws into high thigh, I snarl, “Scream for me.”

The pitches range from high to low, an orchestra of pain just for me.

So beautiful.

So terrible.

So remarkable how death can have a song of its own.

And it’s all my doing.

I’m starting to wonder if bad energy follows me everywhere I go.

It doesn’t matter where I move, what I do, or what job I take. Horrible things always happen, and I can’t escape them. They all have the same thing in common.

Monsters.

I know not all creatures are bad, just like I know all humans aren’t bad. There is a part of me that hates that I can see them for what they really are. It’s damned me in a way. I view the world so differently than others. They don’t know what truly exists, what hides in plain sight, in light, in dark; creatures beyond the imagination live among us.

It’s a well-kept secret—these creatures.

My mamita taught me everything I know about them. It’s not much, but I know that creatures can disguise themselves either with their own abilities or magic of some type from a witch.

The monsters who want to exist in peace usually hide themselves, but of course, there are the ones who keep themselves a secret for nefarious reasons. Ones who show themselves to the world without any type of protection do not want to coexist.

They want to rule.

I rub my eyes when my vision becomes blurry from staring at these case files. Leaning against the broken couch, I stare up at the ceiling as the light from the TV changes from bright to dark with every passing scene in the movie that’s on.

The brief thought of calling my mamita again to get more answers crosses my mind. She seems to know everything about everything, but the more I think about it, the more I know she would only be repeating herself from my past experiences.

Until I have more information to give her, I’m on my own trying to figure out what the hell is happening in this town.

Sighing, I stand from the floor and stare at my detective’s badge on the table next to the files, second-guessing if I made the right choice coming to this sleepy town that isn’t as asleep as I thought.