Page 157 of Buried in Blood

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The one on the right begins to scream.

I don’t rush her. I don’t hush her.

Let it echo.

Let it fill the rafters.

Let the chapel weep with her.

Istep forward and press the blade against her collarbone—not hard enough to cut.

Just to feel the heat of her fear pulse beneath the skin.

“I baptize you,” I murmur. “In fire.”

The knife carves its first line.

Shallow. Deliberate.

She thrashes. Reese holds her.

The scream dies into a whimper, then into a gurgle.

Not because I’ve silenced her.

Because she’s choking on her own terror.

I pull away, and blood trickles in a clean line down her chest. I move to the other. Her mouth is open, eyes vacant. She’s somewhere else already.

I envy her.

I slice a matching line on her sternum. Both girls shake. One convulses. Reese grips her hair. The knife glints.

I begin the ritual.

“The traitor was Eve,” I chant. “The deceiver. The corrupter.”

I cut again. Not to kill. To peel. To reveal.

“The new world cannot hold her name. Cannot speak her sin.”

I drag the blade down one’s side.

She jerks, body going stiff, blood dripping in ropes onto the floor.

I hum a hymn I don’t remember learning.

I think Harmony sang it once. Back when she knelt. Back when she obeyed. Reese flinches at the sound. He recognizes it, too.

But he doesn’t stop me.

He won’t.

I step back, covered in red. The floor beneath them is soaked. The altar drinks it greedily. I close my eyes and spread my arms.

“Cleanse them,” I whisper. “Cleanse me.”

The girls slump.

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