again. The tickle deep inside was growing, and it was all I could do to stand there in silence, waiting. But, I heard nothing other than the sound of my own heart as it began to race faster with anticipation. Turning, I gathered my dress in front of me and started back upward, my shoes striking with a deliberate thump against the wooden planks. Before I was even halfway through my climb, I could hear their muted sobbing filling the short voids between my footfalls.
My excitement welled in a warm rush that traveled all the way into my stomach, forcing me to catch my breath in a sudden gasp.
They feared me. I could feel it. I could even taste it on the air as I began to take shallow breaths through my parted lips. This was how it should be. Their fear and their pain were my pleasure. It was how they showed their love for me. And, it belonged to me-as did they.
I stopped at the top of the stairs, standing perfectly still for a short moment. The tickle was becoming the itch that would soon be exploding through me, making my knees go weak and my passions flare; but I knew that at this moment it was only the beginning. Very soon that itch would be everything. And, all that I needed to make it happen was just on the other side of the door.
I unlocked the barrier and pushed it open. A small swath of dim light fell across the room. The door creaked on the un-oiled hinges as it swung wider. I entered slowly, savoring the promise of what was to come before turning and pressing the door closed in my wake.
They were moaning, at least those who could. Some of them were even sobbing quietly. Their misery fueled my desire. I stepped with determination across the room, the soles of my shoes clacking lightly against the floorboards.
I stood near him in the darkness. I could hear him mumbling, and it sounded as if he was praying. I smiled to myself at the very thought, imagining that his prayers were not to God, but to me as his Goddess.
I started to step away, but my foot hit something soft that made me almost lose my balance. I felt it move as I shuffled then heard it whimper as I thudded against it again. One of them was on the floor. I couldn’t tell if it was a woman or a man, but that mattered little. I gathered my dress up and stepped on it. The thing let out an animal- like wail, but I ignored its pleas, and instead I reveled in its misery. After a moment I continued across the room.
The shutters clunked as I swung them open, allowing the afternoon light to spill in. It was growing late, but the illumination seemed bright in the shadowy room. I glanced around at the others. Most had provided me with fruitful entertainment. Those that did not were no longer here. But, my sights this day were not set on them. I was here for the new arrival.
I moved deliberately back across the plank floor, returning to my station near his head. He was chained to a low table-nude and bound at the wrists and ankles. He was pristine but for a few telltale signs of the lash. Looking at him, prone and helpless, I felt the itch ignite my entire body.
It was time.
I shuffled over to a small table and wrapped one hand around the handle of a bone saw then gathered a cloth rag into the other. With excitement welling in the pit of my stomach, I stepped quickly back and stood over him. Forcing his mouth open, I stuffed the filthy cloth into it then took hold of his hand and pressed the serrated edge of the saw against his wrist just below the shackle.
“Now,” I said, my voice dripping with sweetness. “Let us see how much you love me, little man.”
I was just preparing to draw the toothed blade through the first layer of his flesh when the door opened. I looked up to see my sister standing there, a frown creasing her face.
“Miranda,” she admonished. “I should have known I would find you here.”
“I need it, Delphine,” I told her between short, panting breaths. “I need it now.”
“Our guests will be here in less than two hours.”
“I know,” I appealed. “I promise this will not take long.”
She stood staring at me, and I at her. The itch had overwhelmed me now, and I could feel myself trembling. I needed release, and I was certain she knew it. I had seen her in this very same state more than once.
“Delphine, please…” I begged.
She slowly pressed the door shut then turned and walked toward the table. The corners of her mouth twisted into a knowing smile as she knelt and took his hand from me.
“Get some rope to tie it off first,” she said softly. “We would not want him to die just yet.”
I awoke to the sound of my travel alarm chirping from its position atop the rickety nightstand.
I was sprawled out on the bed in my room at the Airline Courts. Contrary to what I had told Ben earlier, I had actually chosen to sleep on it. Although, I hadn’t bothered to turn it down, nor did I get undressed. I suppose that somewhere in my exhaustion, I had come to the conclusion that as long as I had a few layers between me and it, the creeping crud wouldn’t be able to get to me.
My mouth was dry, and my heart was thumping hard in my chest. I felt more like I had been running laps than sleeping. My head was killing me, not that such was unusual these days, but for some reason, between lances of pain I was seeing an image of a saw. I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but it was seriously disconcerting because each mental flash of the serrated blade left me with that bizarre feeling of feminine arousal deep inside.
I rolled over and stretched out, grabbing the twittering alarm clock and switching it off. I had set it for 6 P.M., and the digits were displaying 6:07. Apparently it had taken several minutes for it to get my attention, which was a testimony to how tired I really was. I placed it back on the nightstand, causing the dilapidated piece of furniture to rock and thump against the wall. Rolling back, I pushed myself up and sat on the edge of the bed.
I needed to call Felicity. Not only had I promised her I would, but I needed to hear her voice again too. Something else I needed to do was eat. The diet of aspirin and coffee was starting to take its toll, and I was actually feeling the need to fill my stomach with something solid. Unfortunately, that bizarre tickle combined with the phantom memory was causing the very thought of food to make me nauseous.
After several minutes of holding my head between my hands, I rocked forward and stood. In an almost catatonic stupor, I dug through my overnight bag and pulled out my shaving kit then trudged into the bathroom to make an attempt at washing away the last eighteen or so hours of my life.
Friday, December 2
3:07 P.M.
St. Louis Cemetery #1
New Orleans, Louisiana
CHAPTER 12:
Obeying the blinking signals on the car leading me, I turned right onto Saint Louis Street, continued along the short jog, and then made a quick left and almost immediately pulled to the curb. I shifted my vehicle into park then took a moment to rub my eyes. I was awake, but I still felt like I could use more sack time, several days worth, in fact. That was the problem with sleep. Once you had gone without it for as long as I had, you played hell trying to get caught up. And, it seemed that the more you got, the more your body wanted. Not that I had managed to get all that much, but it had apparently been enough to give my body a taste of what it was like-which wasn’t working in my favor at the moment.
Last night I had tried to crash again after speaking to Felicity and then making a quick run to a drive-thru and tossing down a less than stellar burger. Unfortunately, my slumber was really no more restful than the afternoon nap that had preceded it. I couldn’t even blame the nocturnal activities of my neighbor for that fact either. No matter how hard I tried to program myself with pleasant thoughts, the repetitious nightmare wasn’t about to leave me alone. Without fail it interrupted each cycle before it was even fully started, effectively keeping me from getting any true rest. I don’t suppose I would have minded that so much if I had learned something useful in the process. However, I never actually remembered enough of the details to know if the repeating terror was important or just my subconscious desperately trying to rescue itself by casting out the sick memories.
It wasn’t until the sun was already peeking through the small window of my room that I managed to drift off
