Page 52 of Judas

“Where the fuck are your manners? You’re not a dog.”

“Woof woof,” she gurgles into the water.

“God, I fucking hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual. Creep, she snaps, sitting on her knees and using the back of her arm to wipe the residual water from her lips.

“You know, you could do yourself a favor and bathe. Already in the water. I could help by holding your head down until you stop struggling. I hear it’s rather peaceful at that point.”

“Do all your victims tell you that, or just the ones you diddle afterwards?”

“I… what?” I ask, baffled. She… she can’t be insinuating what I think she is, right?

Without responding, she hops up like a spring daisy and marches towards the tree line, and I follow as if I’m lost. Brows pinched together tightly while mulling over what the fuck she just said. When we make it back over the downed branches, I reach out and snag her arm. Yank her back to me until she collides with my chest and instantly starts struggling. My other bounds around her to keep her from getting another one of those sharp strikes in.

“What does that mean?” I ask, partially out of breath—damn thing needs a straight jacket to keep her still.

“Take a wild guess, dumbass,” Sadie snaps.

“You think I have sex with dead bodies?”

“Not just any, which… I wouldn’t put that past you… just the ones you’ve killed.”

Her words are like acid. Shoving her back, she stumbles down to the ground and yells out when a stick jabs her somewhere I can’t see at the moment. Utterly disgusting, vile to think of anything of that sort. I’d never do something so callous.

Oh, but you’d do other things Lucien. Bleed people dry, stomp on their chests until they stop breathing, bash their heads against the edge of the bathtub, watch your sister get gang raped.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, asshole!” Sadie shouts back.

“Wait, no, I— Sadie, I wasn’t shouting at you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Samael.”

“Who is that?” Her words catch me off guard, more than responding to my outburst that should have been solely for the dark one inside of my head.

She says nothing, just gets back up on her feet and walks in the direction of the cabin. I guess our game of hide and seek is over now. Pity, I was having fun hunting her down. I can always tie her down on the island later, get a rat to crawl across her bare skin, and force her to tell me who Samael is. Yeah, that sounds like an excellent plan. Seeing her fair skin scraped and nibbled on by the rats. Bloody bites peppering along the softer corners of her young frame.

My heart is racing now; I can feel my head swimming at the notion of torturing her. Just like when I threw her into the car the first time, every atom inside of me is vibrating and is violently alive. There’s still no way to explain this. When we were on our way here, I thought about that moment over and over again; analyzing it minute by minute, second by second, never coming to a conclusion. Here it is again, and I’m reeling over what the hell is happening to me.

Focused on it, my body crashes into Sadie, not realizing she stopped. Glaring, I peer at her and she’s completely still, focused ahead of her and there’s that weird tick again. She’s going somewhere else mentally, but why? Following her gaze, it hits me then, too.

We have company.

She is useless!

I gave her a specific task to do, and the tick I thought I saw in her was just plain old fear. Where is the psychotic part of her when you fucking need her? Two men showed up at the cabin and were slipping into the rear door when we made it back. If we were just a smidge too early, they may have gotten the jump on us. Too late, and who knows what would have happened, theycould have come back later in the night and made off with the girl or worse, stayed around.

Well, not entirely worse. I still have one here.

Reaching out, I slap his face a few times to get him to wake up. I originally planned to strap Sadie to the island but when an opportunity presents itself, you take it. Only problem is, she’s squeamish, and we can’t have that—not at all. So, I’ve been letting this one stay alive while the other is strung up from the rafters and bleeding like a stuck pig into all of the pots and pans I could find.

Of course, Sadie is off boo-hooing in her room. She will be getting over that shit real fast; won’t have my own flesh and blood cowering and hiding away in some dark room when she could be out here, enjoying the spoils with me. The man on the counter is difficult to rouse, but that’s fine. He will come to quickly when we start sawing into his joints and removing his limbs. First thing’s first: I need my niece.

With an empty pot, I trade it out with a half-full one below the strung-up intruder and take it with me down the hall. Not moving fast enough where the viscous liquid sloshes around, nor making a mess. I also keep my movements quiet; the whole point of this is to take her by some sort of surprise.

Lulu, be easy with the girl.

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