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I whipped my head toward him. “What?” I squeaked.
Daiman pulled out a toothpick and caught it between his teeth. “We’re. Killing. Them. All.”
Fire from within Daiman lit up his eyes, promising he meant every word he said. When I looked at Lucien, he held the same deadly look.
“You can’t! They’re my family!” I cried.
Daiman scoffed. “You show more grace toward everyone else, especially for your so-called family, when they can’t even do the same for you. Don’t think for one minute they wouldn’t throw you under the bus to save their own skin. They don’t give a fuck about you. But we do.”
70
LUCIEN
Daiman and I left Grace at home after we gathered more information from her, such as their names and when they went to sleep. We didn’t want Grace to watch as we killed her family. She was upset about us justtalkingabout killing them, so she certainly couldn’t handle watching it.
After putting her into my bed and ensuring she fell asleep, we left and headed to her old home, dressed in the outfits we wore while playing at concerts. Sometimes we wore them in serious situations, like sacrificing virgins.
As much as I would have liked her family to see our faces while we killed them, I wanted to scare them even more. Our masks weren’t normal, given that we had a red upside-down cross in the middle of the forehead.
We crept through the house, silent as mice, and separated after climbing the stairs. I ended up in the master suite.
Grace’s parents slept peacefully, unaware of the imminent threat closing in on them. I stuck to the shadows as I approached their bedside and stared at them as they snored. They’d gone to bed that night thinking they would wake up in the morning, not realizing it was the last night they would close their eyes.
Grace’s mother was curled on her side, facing away from her loud husband, who sounded like a chainsaw. Who was the incubus who formed a bond with her? She was no longer attached to him because it didn’t sound like the eighteen-year separation from her demon had caused her any trouble.
It didn’t matter right now. I probably wouldn’t find the answer and had to accept that. All that mattered was Grace and keeping her safe.
I unrolled the rope in my hand and formed a noose, all while staring at the older woman. This was the person who told Grace she deserved to be assaulted? I wanted to snap her neck right then, but I reined myself in because I wanted this woman to suffer. A punishment worse than a swift death was fitting for her.
A muffled scream came from the other room, and a loud bang followed, then silence. I smirked, carefully wrapped the noose around the woman’s neck, and tightened it. She blinked open her eyes, and our gazes met. I grinned at the look of terror that flashed over her face as her lips parted, preparing to scream.
I flicked my fingers, and her mouth became sewn shut. She tried shrieking past the seam, but she only uttered muffled cries as she sat up to leap from the bed. Chuckling, I yanked the rope and watched with satisfaction as she grunted, the noose tightening around her neck. She fell to the ground with a loud thump.
Robert’s eyes snapped open, and he raised his head. His eyebrows drew together, clearly confused about what was happening. “Margaret?” he asked, sleep thickening his voice.
I waved my fingers and watched, pleased when stitches wound through his lips and sealed them shut. Robert flung his hands to his mouth, touching the wounds, and his eyes bugged out of his head.
“I love hearing my prey’s screams, but it can wait until we get somewhere more private,” I explained with a little smile.
Robert swung his gaze to me, wide eyes full of surprise and fear.
I dragged the choking woman behind me with the rope slung over my shoulder. Robert flung himself off the bed, and I cackled as I wound my shadows around him. One of the dark wisps pinched the skin at the back of his neck, clinging to him as if I had gripped him with my hand. He hunched his shoulders, seeking relief from the pain that radiated through his body. I ground my molars together, remembering what Grace had told me before we left. Dear Old Daddy had done the same thing by grabbing her neck and dragging her by his side.
“You can’t get away, old man,” I growled, jerking him back with my powers. A muffled, pathetic scream fought to escape his sewn lips. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, hmm?” I said.
With one thought, shadows wrapped around us, and we popped into a different location. Daiman was already there, preparing the rope strung from one large tree to the next. Wooden and metal spikes jutted from a pit in the forest floor. Three upside-down crosses stood far ahead of us at the tiny opening in the woods. We were behind my unholy church, where no one would hear Grace’s family’s screams.
The sister—Christy—was slumped on the ground, unconscious. She wore a black crop top and shorts that showed off the bottom of her small ass, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail.
I dragged Margaret behind me, who still choked from the tight rope around her throat. Robert stumbled a few steps, breathing hard through his nose and shaking. Any second now, he’d most likely piss his pants.
The large fire pit in the middle of the torture playground flared to life, the flames licking higher and nearly touching the trees. Snow filtered through the limbs, ensuring the trees and brush wouldn’t catch fire. If Grace’s family didn’t die from what we had planned for them, then hypothermia would do it.
I stopped walking, turned to Robert, drew back my fist, and slammed it against his temple. I watched the larger man fall to the ground with his eyes closed and blood beading on his face.
Margaret shrieked from behind her stitched-shut mouth, and I faced her with a little smile. “Let’s see if you can handle pain well.”
I dragged her across the cold, wet ground and to a tree with a low-hanging branch. I yanked her onto her feet and held her still with my shadows as I threw the rope’s end over the branch and pulled it until Margaret was on her tiptoes. Her hands shot up to her neck, fingers grappling with the rough rope to make room for her to breathe. Our eyes met, and hers were full of terror and tears.
