Bloodlust at Willow Point by T.T. Bell & Simon King

Author:T.T. Bell & Simon King [Bell, T.T. & King, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

12

CLEANING HOUSE

The fatigue weighed down on me like never before by the time the sun came up later that morning but there was no way I was going to give in to it. Not before I finished what needed to be done. The entire plan I had been working towards now rested on just one final stepping stone, the very ingredient that would make my vengeance possible. Without it, all I had were the makings of an extremely stressful vision, one I had already convinced myself of never repeating.

Please don’t judge me. Yes, you might think that I owed it to my sister to see what really happened to her but from where I stood, I think I owed it to her not to. Each time I recreated the events and relived them, it felt like Elle had to relive the horror again as well and each time suffered through the sheer agony. No, I didn’t feel bad for not seeing the entire attack through to the end. I’d seen enough and I wanted Elle to keep whatever dignity remained.

What I wanted to see were those responsible being made to suffer, to suffer more than what they had put my sister through. The death dust would make that possible and that was why I refused to give in to the fatigue until it was ready.

To prepare the dust, I had to first soak the cutting in a mixture of chicken’s blood for at least an hour, then boil it together with the hair from the head of a virgin. The blood I got from one of our own, the old hen wearing thin anyway. The hair I provided myself. I hadn’t shown much interest in the opposite sex during my high school and college years, always too busy with other things. The one time I did get a little frisky with someone, he turned out to be an extremely sensitive premature kind of guy, if you know what I mean. After it happened the second time, his embarrassment got the better of him and we never did get around for a third try.

Once the soaking had run its course, I strained the mixture, cut the vine into several more manageable pieces, and popped them in the oven to dry for exactly three-and-a-half hours at a low temperature. Too high and I’d bake the essence right out of it. Too low and it would remain stringy enough to withstand the subsequent grinding. To keep myself from falling asleep, I put on some Bon Jovi, turned the volume up to maximum, and did what any sane girl would. I cleaned out the pantry.

The grinding part turned out to be the easiest of the processes and only took me around ten minutes. I used the mortar and pestle from Nan’s bag as I figured it might also hold a certain level of magic about it. Who knew, right? And it also felt right to use it, since the regular one we kept in

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