La Petite Mort by Olivie Blake

Author:Olivie Blake [Blake, Olivie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Witch Way Magazine
Published: 2019-10-30T21:00:00+00:00

Marisa’s head rested indolently on Jack’s chest when she whispered, tentatively, “Is it true you killed a demon before?”

Jack hated that there was only one way she could have known that. It brought him back to another moment long ago; to another bed, another time… another pillow talk confession.

Another woman, soft and pliant for a rare moment of intimacy, lying tranquilly in his arms.

How did you do it? Kill a demon. I tried and failed at least twice.

I’m surprised you lived long enough to try a second time.

Well, she was cruel, not smart. And she didn’t think of me as a threat.

Then you can see how easily I killed her, Lise. She was obviously much too stupid to live.

He blinked away the image of Elisabeth’s dark eyes, trading them for the amber of Marisa’s. She had one leg slipped between his; his hand ran mindlessly along the line of her thigh.

“Her name was Madame Blanque,” he said. “Otherwise known as Delphine LaLaurie.”

Marisa looked up, frowning. “The widow?”

She was common in New Orleans lore: a widowed socialite and serial killer, whose mansion on Royal Street had contained quarters of tortured and murdered slaves.

“Not human,” Jack supplied in explanation, “which is probably obvious, given her crimes. She took quite a bit of pleasure in toying with mortals.” A young demon, and one who was still academic about humanity, Delphine was eager to experience the richness of abject pain: the sounds it made, the look of it, the smell and taste of anguish. To a creature as young as she was, the excruciation must have been bliss. “It was Elisabeth and her sisters who eventually chased her out of the city.”

“Elisabeth did?” Marisa echoed, bitterly surprised. “I thought she’d be fine with killing mortals.”

“There’s,” Jack began, and hesitated, reluctant to admit, “There’s usually a pattern to Elisabeth’s behavior. It’s wrong, but rarely senseless.” He paused, tracing circles on Marisa’s skin, before adding, “She would have found LaLaurie repugnant.”

That, and Elisabeth’s victims were men, almost always. Usually a certain type of man. With the exception of sending Ilias after Marisa, Jack had never seen her attack someone without evidence of something she considered a moral violation.

Marisa, however, was still asking about the demon. “And after she was run out of New Orleans, Delphine went…?”

“To Paris,” he said, and Marisa blinked. “She wasn’t very discreet. I came across her very quickly following her arrival.”

“You killed her in France?”

He nodded. “Otherwise, she’d have done the same thing in Paris as she did in New Orleans.”

“No, of course, I just meant—” Marisa broke off, frowning at something in her thoughts. “Had you already known by then that Elisabeth was alive in New Orleans?”

Jack hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he said, and kissed her forehead, coaxing her more fully into his arms. “Sleep,” he advised, and though she resisted for a moment, obviously expecting more of an answer, he nudged a little persuasion into his tone. It wouldn’t take much, after the evening she’d had, to convince

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