The Year's Best Dark Fantasy & Horror, Volume 4 by Paula Guran

Author:Paula Guran [Guran, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781645060802
Publisher: Pyr
Published: 2023-07-14T21:00:00+00:00

THE FEEDING

OF CLOSED MOUTHS

EDEN ROYCE

When the news said three more young men had been found dead in their homes, Grace knew her mother had come to town.

She’d left her mama bound and gagged at the bottom of the Edisto River almost six months ago. She was probably still there, counting each fiber in the coils of rope binding her, and seething over her only daughter’s betrayal.

But if she had gotten loose, she’d be on the hunt.

Grace scratched her scalp, brushed the ragged flakes of dandruff from her shoulders, then strode over to the sparse kitchen in her grubby one-bedroom apartment—the only one she could manage to get without references and with a cash bribe of an extra month’s rent. An efficiency galley affair, only the width of her outstretched arms, the kitchen fit with the life she was trying desperately to lead now that she’d fled home. Small, secluded, cheap. Barely getting by. Not drawing anyone’s attention.

Still, it wasn’t enough to hide from her mother.

After double-checking the deadbolt locks on her door, Grace yanked the cork from a bottle of gold tequila with trembling hands, her one indulgence in this new life of semi-poverty, and poured two fingers of it into a glass. No time to add a squeeze of browning reduced-for-quick-sale limes or make a syrup from her store-brand sugar. She belted half the liquid in one gulp, braced herself for the fire to come. Instead, a sweet heat drizzled down her throat to her belly, a trail of winter stew warmth that did nothing to sear away the fear building inside.

Next time, she’d buy the cheap shit.

Grace turned her attention back to the TV. The program was finishing up, but she’d heard the words “unbroken skin” and “beatific smiles” used to describe the victims. Her heart thudded in her chest, as thought it was looking for escape.

No blood or bodily fluids were found on the victims or at the scene. If anyone has any information—

Grace clicked the television off. She wouldn’t say anything to anyone. Not until there was news of the victims having unnaturally low hormone levels. Mama used to say she enjoyed drinking those bits most, testosterone’s sharp tang cutting through the fatty richness of estrogen. No need to worry until then, she thought, pouring another two fingers of liquor.

Even so, before Grace went to bed, she laid her broom inside the front door to her apartment, across the threshold. If her mother had found her, that would at least buy her some time.

I’m here for my skin, daughter.

Grace shoved the creature away, and it fell back against her closet, laughing. She cried out at the sticky wet feel of its body. Bathwater hot, slick as raw chicken meat. She rubbed her fingers against her nightshirt to wipe away that feeling. So familiar she wanted to clutch at it.

Her mother rose, leaving a reddish-blue swirl of blood on the white door.

You took from me when I would have freely given. Her teeth looked chalky in the dimness.

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