Page 52 of The Black Lotus (Fatal Florals Duet #2)

FORTY-FOUR

ASTER

T he sky is clear, the moon shining bright as stars twinkle and tease the darkness, the moment of peace we have been working towards finally within reach.

We all decided Cynthia would die in my kill space as my final lamb and Zephira’s first. Since she has never killed a woman before, I’m going to have her go before me, let her experience the difference.

Luckily, I had a first aid kit under the seat of my car, thanks to my smart and thoughtful vixen, so I was able to clean and patch Serena’s wounds before we left.

Cynthia lays strapped to my table still sleeping as I help Serena put up the final pieces of plastic over the walls before handing her and Zephira both a brown leather apron.

Setting up my shop and putting the apron on feels nostalgic.

It’s time I say goodbye to the man I once was, and killing him alongside my mother feels like the perfect end.

She wants me to be the Morbid Monet? I don’t bother hiding the twisted smirk darkening my features. It’s about time she met him.

With my two girls by my side, I prepare everything like I would for my lambs. Getting out my paints and my rose, I finally open the drawers for us all to select a weapon of choice, one we can pour our hatred into.

She’s still fully clothed, because I don’t want nor need to see my mother naked, so instead of painting her body, I’ll just paint her face.

Finally, I get out the red lipstick my mother hated and swipe the color against her lips. Stirring, she presses her lips together like she knows what’s happening.

When her eyes finally open and sees me holding the red tube, she sneers. “How dare you mark your mother’s lips like a whore.”

“I mark all of my lamb’s with the color you despise,” I say, capping the lid and handing it to Serena to throw in the incinerator.

She looks around, realizing all three of us stand over her. She rolls her eyes, laying perfectly still, like this doesn’t faze her, like she could still escape. But she should know there is no escaping the Monet once he catches you.

“I’m not one of your little lambs.”

I pick up the knife behind me, looking at my reflection in it as I speak to her.

“Wasn’t it you who said I lost who I was?

” My gaze meets her own. “Didn’t you say I haven’t had a lamb since meeting Serena?

” I slam the knife down next to her head, making her flinch.

“It’s time to meet the monster you created.

” I step to the side, grabbing Serena’s hand to help her fill the space between us.

“But first, his other half will have some fun with you.”

She scoffs. “I’m not scared of your failed kill.”

Serena tilts her head and smirks, my cock hardening at the sight. “You’re not scared of me, Cynthia?”

Later I will show her how my body reacts to her bloodlust, but now my girl is about to make my worthless mother bleed. I refuse to be distracted by my carnal needs.

“You may have everyone else fooled, but I know how weak you truly are.”

“You were the only one I was fooling.” Serena lifts her choice of weapon, the flame on the kerosene torch blazing to life. “Do you know what burning flesh on a living corpse smells like?”

Cynthia’s eyes widen as she tries to move away from the heat from the flame, the brave face she has been holding on to this entire time slipping when the roles reverse.

I stifle the laugh so as to not interrupt Serena’s moments as I watch Cynthia try to cower away from the flame.

Serena loves to play with fire, and when my vixen is in the zone, there is no stopping her.

She knows she can’t go too far though, she knows we all get a turn ripping screams from Cynthia’s throat.

The first of many screams comes, as if on cue, when the flame licks the flesh on her thigh.

Serena holds it there until her skin bubbles and melts, her eyes captivated by the scene, the smell not bothering her one bit as she holds herself up with her other hand braced on the table.

Zephira and I have to cover our noses with our shirts to escape some of it.

“Are you scared of me yet?” Serena asks, slowly moving around the table.

No words leave Cynthia’s lips, her shrill shrieking making my heart race, and when the flame dies down, so do the screams.

“That was fun, but it was over too quickly. I do wish I had more time to make you regret ever doubting my power, but my time is up.” Serena slowly turns, placing the canister down with a pout. “Who's next?”

Zephira steps up, looking down with a snarl. “Me.”

We knew the order of who would torture her before we started, but watching my mom fear for what’s to come, who is next to make her bleed is what we wanted. We wanted to see fear for who is next.

Zephira’s weapon is a twelve inch carving knife; she didn’t say what she planned to do with it, but knowing how the Man Eater operates, I have my ideas.

To see her eyes so full of hatred at the burnt pile of trash on the table brings me a sense of pride as a small smile lifts my cheeks.

She is shining as brightly as Serena did, and the fire in her gaze doesn’t show an ounce of regret.

I’m grateful to have them both by my side, laying waste to the woman who made all our lives a living hell.

“Mother, it didn’t have to be like this. We could have been the family Daddy desperately wanted, but you ruined it.” Zephira grips Cynthia’s face with a bruising force. “Do you know why they call me Salem's Man Eater?”

“Zephira, baby girl, don’t do this; I'm your mother. I love you.” Cynthia sobs real tears, not the fake shit we’ve been greeted with before. She’s finally broken. She knows the end is coming. Her tears make my fingers twitch, desperate for it to be my turn.

“I make my victims eat the man I killed before them, but I don’t have anyone for you to eat,” she pouts, tapping the flat of her blade against her cheek, “So, I’ll have to settle for you eating yourself.”

“Zephi-” Cynthia's pleas are replaced by screams as Zephira carves into her. The skin on her arm curls up like a piece of dried mango, blood pooling off the table and splashing onto the ground, hitting all of our feet. I stand watching with my arms crossed, impatiently waiting for my turn and hoping the blood loss doesn’t kill her before I get the chance to.

“Open wide, Mommy.” She takes the piece of cut flesh and tries to shove it into her mouth, but Cynthia clamps her mouth shut and turns her head away.

Serena steps in, holding her head still as Zephira plugs Cynthia’s nose, the two of them working together perfectly without saying a word.

As soon as she opens her mouth to greedily suck in oxygen, she shoves her bloody snack down her throat.

“You better eat it all, or I’ll cut more while Serena burns you again.”

Cynthia slowly starts chewing, blanching at the taste, her cheeks puffing out like she wants to throw up.

“Swallow,” Zephira demands, her knife poised and ready to fillet the pathetic excuse for life on my table.

Cynthia listens and swallows, ire in her gaze as she glares at her daughter.

“Now you’re a cannibal like me. Granted, I don’t partake in it often and I never eat it uncooked; that’s just gross.

” Cynthia goes to say something but Zephira holds up her knife.

“Uh, uh, uh, you’re not allowed to speak anymore.

” She looks at me as Cynthia stays quiet, pulling weakly against her restraints. “It’s your turn, Big Brother.”

Finally. The moment I’ve been waiting for is finally here. The moment has come to make Cynthia my final lamb. I lick my lips as I grab my choice of weapon, standing up straight as I stride towards the table to have Cynthia meet her maker.

Zephira and Serena step away as I take my place, the knife my father gifted me in my hand.

“Do you remember this?” I ask, more rhetorically than not, as Cynthia’s eyes flutter, her consciousness starting to fail her.

“This is the knife Dad gave me on my tenth birthday. Did he really mean what he said, or did you make him say those words to me?”

“Your father meant every word he said,” she stutters, drool pooling in the corner of her mouth as she gives into the darkness threatening to take her.

“Don’t lie to me!” I yell, losing my patience.

Her eyes snap open, her breath catching as she gives me a bloody smile. “I made him.”

“That’s what I thought. And for finally telling me the truth, I’ll make this hurt.”

This is the last time I will use this knife on anyone.

A part of me forever being locked away with it.

I don’t feel sad or regret, I feel hopeful for what is to come, for the new chapter of our life together.

I am one half of the Fatal Floral Killers, and I refuse to be used anymore.

I won’t be making her proud by killing innocent women.

She will be my last little lamb.

She will be the death of the Morbid Monet.

“Goodbye, Mother.” I slam the knife into her heart, her body lifting as her eyes roll to the back of her head and her body becomes lifeless. I dip my brush in the red paint and begin painting her into the monster she has always been.

Finally, it’s over. All the stress she has caused, not only me, but Serena is lifted off our shoulders.

I feel like we can breathe. We can live our lives without having to watch our backs.

We can be comfortable in our home, without the worry of anyone coming on our property uninvited.

I can let go of everything. All the questions that ate away at me have released their hold and they will burn right alongside her.

She’s gone and she can’t hurt us anymore.

“Can I drain her?” Zephira steps forwards holding her hand in the air. “I don’t want her blood to go to waste.”

Me and Serena look at one another, but she shakes her head, mouthing ‘you don’t want to know’, and she is right. I don't want to know how she will use Cynthia’s blood.

I step to the side after dropping my brush back in its bucket and hold my arms out. “She’s all yours.”

Her eyes light up as she runs and grabs three buckets, placing one under each arm and the third under her head. Slicing Cynthia’s wrists and her throat, Zephira watches as the blood collects in the buckets below.

I motion with my head for Serena to follow me, wanting to give Zephira her privacy, and we’re greeted by the fresh breeze of the oncoming summer air.

“It’s finally over.” Serena breathes a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms around her waist. We really do think the same.

She stands in front of me, and I wrap my arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as we enjoy the serene night. “It is.”

“What will we do now? With no one coming after us, who will we kill?” She looks up at me, her head resting against my shoulder.

I look down at her and say in a playful tone, “Little vixen, do you enjoy killing?”

“I mean, I enjoy killing the bad guys.” She blushes as she smiles, looking away.

I slowly spin her around, mindful of her injuries as I lift her chin, desperate to have her look in my eyes. “Then the bad guys we will kill. After all, we are the Fatal Floral Killers.”

Her eyes light up, matching the night sky.

“Do you mean it?” she braces herself on my chest, “How will we do it? Will we hunt down the true monsters of the world. The ones who hurt children and innocent people. The ones who cause the bad to fester and grow. The ones who deserve to be put down for their crimes. I think we should do that.”

She rambles on, talking about all the ways we can catch them and how Zephira can help us track them down. Getting justice for the ones who deserve it.

Capturing her lips in mine, I silence all the ideas I will grant her. I pull away, both of us breathless. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“Right now, I just want my fox.” She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me under the stars.