Page 8 of Lamb to Slaughter
Lam tilted his head, looking down at Brent.
“Oh sweetheart,” he said with faux disappointment, excited adrenaline spiking again in his chest. “And you were doing so well.”
Before Brent could respond, Lam drove the filet knife quick and deadly into his neck. His other hand covered where’d he cut so the spray didn’t douse him.
“Third strike,” Lam said as Brent began to flail. He tried to scream, but in seconds he was choking on the blood. Dying.
It poured out quickly, gloriously hot and thick.
Lam pulled the knife out and brought it to Brent’s cheek. He made the third mark there and then leaned down to lick the blood, to press his face into the mess of it.
“But you’re right,” Lam whispered, lapping at the blood, tasting the sharp, deep flavor of it. He could never get enough. “I am.”
His fingers found the cut he’d made in Brent’s neck and touched the blood. It was already starting to cool in the winter air. Lam’s cock twitched, fresh arousal singing in his veins.
He always wished this part lasted longer.
When he pulled back though, the man’s eyes were vacant.
“Well it’s been fun,” Lam said as he pushed himself up. Breeze blew past, chilling his wet skin.
Lam took a deep breath and pulled his pants up and stowed his knife. His eyes caught on the mess across thecobblestones. He wanted to reach down and touch it, but the moment was over. He couldn’t stay.
Lam strode over to where the bridge met the wall. There he began moving the rocks he’d stacked earlier to hide his things.
He made quick work of stripping and changing his clothes, then wiping the blood off himself with wet wipes. His soiled clothing went in a backpack.
Then he unrolled the body bag, took it over, and maneuvered the body in. He filled it with enough stones that nothing would bring it back up, and sealed it shut.
Their coupling had taken place just two feet from the edge of the canal, so it was easy to roll the whole thing in. The splash was loud, but there was no one around to question it.
The bag sank as quick as the others had, drifting down into the dark, impenetrable waters. Lam would miss the easy disposal option the canal provided when he moved.
He took the bucket he’d stored and dipped it down into the waters, pulling up sludgy water to splash over the bloodied stone. After a few rounds, any evidence of what had happened was washed into the canal. The man would be missed, like the others had been, but so far the city hadn’t put any force behind it, hadn’t dredged the canal.
People didn’t tend to jump to murder first, when a man went missing.
Lam cast a look around, to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
The night was silent when he finished. He was alone, just him and the night and the stars above.
As always.
Lam sighed and went home.
Chapter 2: Two
Conan was on his last beer and his last five dollars, and the guy he was chatting up was not a winner. He’d looked cute from across the bar, so Conan had bought him a drink. And then another, and then another. After he’d spent nearly all of his money, he learned the man lived with his mother, and Conan’s hints towards going home with him were being shot down for a lack of privacy.
What was his luck tonight?
If it weren’t so dire, he would’ve bailed earlier. The man–Darian or Devin or Dennis–was childish and annoying. He’d spent most of their conversation telling Conan about some petty coworker grievance. Something about not being able to vape in the office.
Insufferable.
And now there wasn’t even a warm bed at the end of his suffering. What a fucking waste.
Conan avoided rolling his eyes at whatever Derek was saying, and started scoping the bar again.
