Page 33 of Veil of Dust

He attempts to get up, but falls again, breathing fast.

“I won’t touch her again! I’ll leave the city!”

“You think this is about you?”

He looks at the water like it might save him. It won’t.

I raise the machete. It catches what little light there is.

“Please!” he yells.

I bring it down.

The blade cuts into his shoulder. The sound is wet. His scream is louder.

He twists, tries to crawl, but his leg snags on a root.

I hit him again, lower this time. His thigh. He howls, hands digging into the mud, pulling up chunks of swamp.

“Stop! Please, stop!”

I kneel next to him. The water seeps into my knees. Cold. Doesn’t matter.

“Say her name.”

He blinks, blood on his lips. “What?”

“Say her name.”

He stares at me like he doesn’t understand.

“Vespera,” he gasps. “Her name’s Vespera.”

I press the blade to his throat. His skin is warm, slick. His pulse skips under the edge.

“If you say her name again, it’ll be the last thing you say.”

He nods, barely.

I finish it in one clean motion. Fast. Direct.

His body jerks once. Then, it goes still.

Blood soaks my arm and chest.

I watch his body fall into the water. It rolls, then starts to sink.

The swamp doesn’t argue. It takes him fast, pulls him down into the dark.

I stay there a moment.

The surface smooths out again. The ripples fade.

Off in the mist, I see a gator sliding through the water. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t need to.

This place has all the time in the world.

So did I.

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