V - part four

There was nothing but the sound of Emma’s screaming and my own heart beating loudly in my ears as I watched the scene unfold before me, my aunt’s body disintegrating right before my eyes. At some point, I think Agnese added a cry to the noise. I wasn’t entirely sure when I’d begun to sob myself.

It felt like I had stepped into a zombie horror movie, if the zombies where less human and more rotten blob with some flesh and bone still in there.

The process was excruciatingly slow and way too fast at the same time. Most of my aunt had blackened and molten – for lack of a better word –, and yet the mass on the floor was still writhing, her skin bubbling at the places where it could be called that. The screeching stopped as abruptly as it had started. Not much was left of the gaping hole that had been her mouth, and then that collapsed too.

What was left was a black gunk that looked like someone had kneaded ashes with slime and pigs blood.

Holy fuck.

“I—”

It was the only word I managed to get out before I had to turn around and run for the sink, my stomach emptying itself until there was truly nothing left. Still, every time I tried to straighten myself and turn around, I started dry heaving again. Trying to recompose myself was a completely pointless endeavor.

That was without a doubt the most gruesome, traumatic, disgusting, macabre, soul-scarring thing I had ever seen in my life.

I was never going to not see that behind my closed eyelids ever again.

“Sugar…” I hadn’t heard Ian approach, but he murmured at me softly, his hand rubbing circles on my lower back. The fact that he wasn’t puking his guts out to me told me enough to understand that he’d know this might happen. If I hadn’t been throwing up I’d have smacked him all the way to the other side of the room.

He’d known the necklace could do that, and yet he hadn’t decided to warn me. Hadn’t mentioned it once when he saw my grandmother wearing it.

What kind of sick fuck gambled with his fiancée’s grandmother's life like that?

“I’m okay”, I finally sputtered. The gagging noises I still made would have been nothing short of embarrassing had my mind not frozen on the single frame of Emma’s pained scream. The pointed step I took was all the warning he got not to lay his hands on me again. I’d chop them off and add them to the messed up blubber that was my aunt.

Every limb on my body was trembling, but I was in nowhere near as bad a shape as Agnese, I realized as I watched the still intact figure that lay on the floor next to the disintegrated one. She’d curled up into a ball, and she was rolling back and forth, her wails only occasionally turning into real words.

“Again… Can’t believe… But she… And mom… Mother… Not dead?”

One moment she’d ruled the room with her composure, and the next, she’d broken down, nothing but pieces of her armor remaining as she crumbled right before my eyes.

I wasn’t sure what it said about me that I wasn’t rolling on the floor crying right next to her. It was the shock. I could hardly move at all.

“Emma?” Agnese’s voice was nothing but a trembling whisper. When she reached out with her hand, I snapped out of it, grasping her wrist right before she could dig into the goo. The snarl I received in response absolutely terrified me.

“He’d have felt that”, Ian stated behind me, his hushed voice not quite low enough to be inaudible. “He must be on his way. We’ll have to hurry now.”

I looked over my shoulder just in time to catch Chante nodding. Many emotions were present on the man’s face, but none of them looked like sorrow, and that angered the fuck out of me. He didn’t seem to feel even the tiniest bit of shock – nothing but annoyance dragging down his lips.

Not only had he known this could happen, he’d accepted that risk without telling, and yet he had the balls to look disappointed.

“Such a shame”, the man lamented with a slow shake of his head, his gaze on the few droplets of blood that had landed on his shoes. “I’m not particularly fond of her sister, but I liked her a lot less. Mon Dieu, that voice. I’d hoped it would pick her.”

“We’ve got another spare”, Ian reminded him with a sense of urgency. It was the most cold-blooded thing I had ever heard him say, but I didn’t have it in me to respond, couldn’t move my lips to find the words. I just needed to get out of here.

“Oui, oui. Though it looks like she’s going to need some motivation. You locked the doors, correct? Use that cloth to recover the necklace from the body. Agnese, darling, I’m sorry to say you’re going to have to—"

Chante’s sentence was interrupted by a loud bang.

I jumped up in surprise, dragging a wailing Agnese with me as I stepped away from the door. The squeal that’d left my lips was nothing short of pathetic. My eyes had grown the size of saucers.

My first instinct was to look for Ian’s gaze, and what I found there was as impressive as it was chilling. If I’d thought he could come off a bit emotionless before, it was nothing compared to what I saw now, anger the sole occupant in the dark blue of his eyes. His scowl confirmed what I’d been thinking.

That had been a gun shot, and whoever he’d been talking about just seconds ago, they had arrived quicker than they’d expected.

Which was problematic not the least bit because we were in the backroom, and there was no way out other than through that warehouse.

“Give me that cloth, I’ll do the searching”, Chante broke out into rushed movements, the man finally showing an inkling of alarm on his face. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I would’ve expected it to be. “You go out and keep them at a distance. Robert and Gabriel are standing watch, take them. I’ll call for you once the necklace is ready.”

Ian rushed towards the kitchen cabinets. When he closed them again, he had a gun and two mags in hand. He faltered for a moment when he looked at me.

Every single cell in my brain drew a blank at the torn expression on his face.

I didn’t know this man. I’d known his morals were lousy at times, I’d known he’d inherited some of his father’s less favorable traits, and I’d known he could be cold, but I hadn’t known this. This wasn’t my Ian. This wasn’t the man I’d eaten, drank, kissed, fucked and played boardgames with.

It certainly wasn't the man I'd agreed to get married to and spend my life with.

“I asked you to remember”, was all he said.

He approached me to kiss my cheek, but I turned my head away, my trembling so severe that I was pretty sure I looked like I was on the verge of a seizure.

Ian turned to his father, and his tone was nothing short of pleading – true anguish shining through in his next words. It was the most weakness I’d ever watched him show towards Chante. I couldn’t help but feel like the words were at least partially meant for me, as if they weren’t absolutely horrible.

“Promise me you’ll try the other one first”.

His father didn’t soften his gaze, but he did nod, and that seemed to be enough for Ian. He moved towards the door without another word. When it slammed shut behind him, I didn’t know what to cry about the most.

“The god of death… Death to all gods… Unfair… Kill.”

For about half a minute, Agnese’s rambling was the only sound in the room, Chante bending forward to try and catch the woman’s gaze while I waited for my tears to stop. I was half tempted to snap at him when he grasped her jaw. After that first gunshot, no new sounds had followed, but the man seemed to be in a hurry all the same.

“I cannot work with that lunatic”, he finally growled as he straightened himself back up. He’d already dragged the necklace from the Emma-shaped-slob. “She’s gone too far even for me to exercise control over her. My apologies, cherie, but it looks like it’s your turn.”