Page 145 of A Curse On Black Lake
Killian stoops down to meet my eyes. “Is it them?” he asks.
I nod and take another deep breath. He kisses my forehead, and they ease up a bit.
“I’m ready,” I mumble.
Killian’s serious expression tells me I’m probably not ready for what we’re about to see, but he squeezes my hand and gently tugs me forward, even though I want to run the other way.
“Shit,” Killian mumbles as we come around the corner.
My bones, my blood, my entire being shrieks at the scene. I’m too frozen to run, and I’m too appalled at the blatant display of evil to say a word.
There is a dead woman on my property, laying amongst my shredded garden surrounded by a wreath of precisely cut lavender.
The volume of the Spirits deafens me, and all I can do is stand there and take it, and hope I don’t pass out from the noise only I can hear.
My gag reflex triggers again, and I cover my mouth in an attempt not to cry, but the tears come anyway.
The darkness is coming.
The darkness is here.
The darkness is coming.
The darkness is here.The Spirits chant.
Killian squeezes my hand again, drawing my attention from the poor woman in the dirt. I look up to find Wyatt staring at me with his little notebook in his hand, small enough to fit in the breast pocket of his shirt. There’s an odd expression on his face, and I don’t know what to make of it. His jaw moves with the peppermint rolling around in his mouth as he drags his scrutiny to Killian.
“If I tell you not to talk anymore, don’t, okay? It might be time we get a lawyer,” Killian says quickly in my ear.
“There’s one lawyer in town, and I’m pretty sure I pretended to curse him,” I mumble out of the side of my mouth.
“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles.
“Ms. Greer, Killian,” Wyatt says walking up to us. And I pick up on the fact that he’s not telling us to move away. He wanted us to see this … depravity.
“Do you know who this is?” Wyatt asks.
I peek around the half-dead rose bush to see the poor women and then it clicks. HazelUsher. But I’m not sure I should saythat. She’s hard to look at. Maybe it’s the hair and the fake tan. I look up at Killian, attempting to swallow down the panic as a bone chilling shiver runs through me. She was with Jane Reed, who was yelling at me.
“Better question is how did you find her?” Killian asks.
Wyatt looks between us. “I came to ask Ms. Greer some questions earlier this morning, and figured she was out back since she didn’t answer the door. Instead, I found this, and Ms. Greer clearly not home,” he says, and gives me a quizzical look.
Hazel is wearing one of my dresses. The only reason I know it’s mine is because I made it myself. Her hair is dyed white, like mine, all the way down to the roots. Her skin is a caramel brown like mine, as if she used too much self-tanner, and her throat is slit. The gash is so big I don’t think she lasted long. My heart twists with loss for Hazel. She didn’t deserve this fate, even if she wasn’t very nice. None of us do.
Evil is ever present in a fallen world child. It is not justification but a reality of the depths of which humanity is cursed to endure.
I don’t answer them because I know they’re right.
Wyatt glances between me and the body. “Killian, do you know who this woman is?” he asks.
Killian remains stoic, unreadable as he looks at the body. “I’m pretty sure it’s Hazel Usher,” he says, and pulls me to his side.
“It is, but I’d say it’s fairly obvious who sheappearsto be. It’s not quite a perfect match, but it was carefully done, wasn’t it?” Wyatt asks, looking between me and Hazel.
Killian doesn’t answer, and I cling to him because he’s the only thing holding me up as an icicle of fear slides between my vertebrae.
“And ya’ know … I find it odd that he picked a local girl this time around. What do you think about that?” Wyatt asks us.
