Page 28 of Seven Graves

The Executioner

Seven isn’t kicking Bridget out. I had a hotel set up for her close by, but what I walked into last night with the two of them getting on like old friends…

that did something to me. Something I didn’t think I had the capacity to feel anymore.

What surprised me even more was the fact that she seemed like she already had a backup plan for her if things went south.

Little Viper might be rigid on the outside, but I can see how much she cares for others hiding in that inner shell she likes to stack bodies around.

Whether she wants me to know it or not, I’m figuring out she cares for them too.

And she might dump dead people on the sly, but I’m willing to bet a small part of her even has some kind of soft spot for the people we carve up, not caring what happens to their corpses.

She’s at least curious about them. I saw her eyes go straight to Braughton’s wedding ring when she got home from liquefying a couple dudes.

I haven’t let on that I know that yet, though.

I have my own secrets. I’m not ready to come clean about that whole situation just yet.

Bridget convinced her to watch the Wizard of Oz last night, and I don’t even wanna know what the skinny is on that, but they were more entertaining to watch than Dorothy Gale.

I got ready to leave and go get comfortable in the Nova, and Seven had stopped me this time.

This is what I’ve been waiting for before making my first move.

You know…not that I haven’t been making them the entire time, but…still.

I meant more when I was making her dinner that night than seeing myself out when I told her I can take a hint.

I’ve been taking them all along. Hints about her body language, the flashes of heat in her eyes that she thinks I don’t notice…

the flush of her body when I’m doing more than just making her uncomfortable.

All of that has led up to the moment I decided I was gonna go for it today.

The moment she unwittingly let me know that she wants it as bad as I do…

she just won’t say it out loud. I thought long and hard about how I was gonna go about this today, while I talked myself out of sneaking into her bed last night about a thousand times, laying next to Bridget on that air mattress in the living room.

Seven told me that sleeping in my car wasn’t just psychotic looking , but doesn’t help to mask my psychotic behavior …

and made me bunk with the little shite that kicks like a mule.

But it also meant two things: She cares enough to want me to stay here instead, and she trusts me enough to let me do it.

So, before she got up at the crack of dawn this fine Monday, I left and drove to Castine.

I parked my car almost a quarter mile from the funeral home and realized her parents were home when I scouted a way to break into the basement.

Stalking anyone but my hits is something I’ve never done before now, but…

it’s more fun than I thought. I checked her schedule when I got here, and it looks like whoever she’s gonna be working on today is already in refrigeration.

Which means I’m in a creepy basement that actually does have a dead person already in it.

Most interesting day of my life.

I’m getting a sick thrill out of this. Part of me wants to go peek into that icebox, and the other part of me is screaming that as many people as I’ve killed in my life…

that might bother me more than seeing fresh blood run out of someone’s wide open gut.

So, I’m snooping around the darkness, looking at all the possible scenarios for what I’m planning to try with her today.

Here she comes.

I smiled like a demon while I sat on a stool I’d pulled to the back corner behind the steel sinks she mentioned the other night.

She growled out whatever metal she was listening to in her earbuds the entire way down the stairs before flipping the fluorescent lights on.

I’m grateful that she didn’t hit that other set, otherwise she would have seen me already.

Her hair is in a sexy mess of a knot on top of her head, pieces of it trailing off and hanging loosely around the piercings in her ears.

My little daydream is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—and I’ve been in love deep enough to happily drown in.

The way I feel when I look at Seven Grey is something entirely different.

Something that cuts like a blade and leaves me bleeding out.

There’s no stopping it. There’s no saving me.

She’s gonna be my end, I just fucking know it.

I watched her slide right into her routine, putting her lab coat on over a short-sleeved button-up black shirt with a Peter Pan collar, and a short plaid skirt.

It’s almost like she’s anticipated it and knows I’m here, or something.

I can see every tattoo on her pale legs, and I’m absolutely feral with curiosity as to the ones that disappear under her skirt.

If she has a tattooed cunt, I might have a heart attack.

Only one way to find out…

I waited until she had her back turned at the body saver, and snuck across the room to the stairwell, creeping up and locking the door to the basement. I could hear her pulling out the drawer to the fridge and was dying to peek around the corner.

“Morning, Mrs. Porter. Let’s get you fancied up, yeah? You gotta hot date with the hubby and he’s been waitin’ a loooong time.”

That might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my fucking life.

They say it takes a special person with a special calling to do things like end-of-life care, or mortuary science.

I don’t think I ever really understood what they meant until right this second.

She doesn’t just put her heart into making sure these people are laid to rest with their dignity intact.

It’s so much more than that. She’s formed a whole relationship with them like they’re sitting right next to her, chatting over a cup of tea.

I’ve never seen anything like it. I stepped to the edge of the corner and peeked around it when I heard some kind of electrical noise and wondered if I was about to get the chance to see somebody use a bone saw.

Does she have one of those? I might come before she does today.

It’s not a bone saw. It’s some kind of contraption that helps her move bodies to the table by herself.

I’m glad I didn’t open that fridge. It’s an old lady.

One of her stiff, mottled hands fell over the side of the contraption, and I watched Seven gently take it, rubbing a thumb over the back of her hand before easing it back up onto the canvas mat.

I tightened my mouth a little, feeling a little too much emotion while I watched her work.

She adjusted Mrs. Porter and placed a couple things to secure her head and elbows, then she went over to the long counter next to the table and started messing with another appliance that kind of looked like a giant air fryer. Time to make myself known.

I snuck over to stand behind her while she poured liquid into a basin at the top of the machine.

I’m close enough now to hear the shred of a guitar through her earbuds.

She can’t hear me at all. I grinned while I reached a finger out to tap her on the shoulder.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, screaming.

I ducked when she jerked herself around, fist flying in my direction, and nearly hit the floor laughing at the thought that she probably thought it was Mrs. Porter, asking for another cup of Earl Grey.

She jerked her earbuds out, tossing them onto the counter and looking at me like I just convinced her to make her first kill.

“ You …son of a bitch! You scared me to death! Idiot! What are you doing in here!”

I cackled, blocking every slap that was meant for my face and peeking up at her from where I was crouched on the floor. “Well, right now I’m getting the best view in the house. Aside from that, I’m trying to decide how disappointed I am that it was this easy to pull this off.”

She stomped past me, grabbing a white sheet at the foot of the table and quickly covering Mrs. Porter’s lady bits.

Thank God. Not the lady bits I was hoping for today.

“Well, you can decide all that from the cafe across the street. And it’s a long wait. She doesn’t open for another two hours. Get out. You can’t be in here.”

I stood and looked at the half-filled machine. “What is this thing?”

“It’s an embalming machine. Get out.”

I dropped my mouth open and reached for the little hose with a wicked looking nozzle at the end. Before I could get my hand on it, she slapped it and shoved me away. “What? I just wanna look!”

“You need gloves on, stupid. Don’t touch anything. I can have Greg or my Dad down here in two seconds if my screaming isn’t already leading them halfway here.” I ignored her and went back over to the sinks.

“Is this the sink you made stew at the other night?”

“Yes. Out .”

I peered down the spotless drain, whistling. “That’s dark, Little Viper.”

“Not as dark as it’s about to be for you, if you don’t get out of this basement.”

Ignoring her again, I looked up to the wall above the sink, spotting some monstrous things with long handles and short, curved blades that looked like they could cut you just by looking at them. I felt my cock twitch. “What are those? ”

“Rib shears. It’s what I’m about to hack your chest open with in the next five seconds.”

When I turned around, she was sitting on the end of the empty metal table a few feet from the body she’d fully covered up.

Fucking perfect. Exactly where I need you.

I put my hands in my pockets and strolled past the body, making my way to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed, and she looks thoroughly pissed, but there’s a hint of something else. Something she’s getting less good at hiding from me.