Entombed In Sin (Graveyard Games Duet #2)

7. Sagan

7

SAGAN

I can feel a storm brewing.

Within the walls of Bright Starr, thick, chaotic energy is crackling. I can taste a hint of it in the air. Getting to my feet, I move to stand at the threshold of the viewing room I’m currently tiling the floors of. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch as the pastor and Thatcher stroll out of Bright Starr. With my eyes trained on them, I don’t miss the guilty look the pastor throws over his shoulder at Bright Starr’s door.

Guilt. Not despair or heartache like a grieving father should be feeling.

My gut tightens. Something’s wrong. My intuition is confirmed a moment later. A wail, loud and twisted with agony and rage, pierces the silence of the funeral home. I stiffen, straightening from the wall, ready to go find my pet. Before I can take a single step, Knox scurries into view, his face red and twisted with shame.

“What did you do this time?” I snarl, grabbing his arm as he tries to slip into the viewing room.

“Nothing!” Knox denies, his eyes darting to my face. “She was upset when I walked into the office, and I slipped out to give her some privacy.”

The contrition on his face has me believing him. If it wasn’t Knox that caused the reaction, then—I look out the glass doors to see the pastor’s car pulling out of the parking lot. Knox jerks his arm out of my grip. I let him go as I wonder what made my Little Viper sound like that . I’ve heard less pain coming from the screams of the victims I’ve gutted alive.

“You might want to just give her some space,” Knox mutters as he steps away from me, intending to slink off.

“Wait here,” I order.

“But I need to get started on the wallpaper or?—”

One look from me, and Knox rolls his eyes but shuts up. Thatcher strolls in a minute later. He pauses when he sees us.

“What is it?” he asks, his gaze jumping from between us.

Knox glares down at the floor. “Your sister is throwing a hissy?—”

“Someone knows we killed Trevor,” I interrupt Knox. “Beatrix said when she was taking care of the body, she noticed the boy’s eyes were cut out of his head. She thinks they’re the same eyes that were dropped off a few days ago.”

My brother’s surprise peppers me through our bond before Thatcher swears violently.

“ What ?” Knox gasps. “How? You’re usually so careful! Did someone see you when you carried him to the truck? Or when you hung him up? No fucking way does someone know!”

I wouldn’t have thought anyone would’ve known about our involvement with the kid. I’d knocked Trevor out once Beatrix was up at the house, then put him in a body bag before backing the kid’s car into the empty garage space in the cremation chamber and throwing him into his own trunk.

“No one would’ve seen him leave here,” I tell them both. “And there was no one around when I hung him off the bridge.”

Thatcher nods. “I didn’t see anyone when I came to pick you up either.”

“What do we do?” Knox demands. “Knock down every door in Chasm and demand to know if they saw anything?”

“I can go back to the bridge and do some tracking. Maybe I’ll find something that will help us figure out who left the eyes in our mailbox,” I offer.

“With the cops having stomped all over that place while they pulled Trevor’s body up, I doubt you’ll be able to decide whose friend and who’s foe,” Thatcher says grimly. “It will be a waste of time.”

He’s right. There were over a dozen people there yesterday, wandering all over the scene. Any evidence of the person who found the body first would’ve been destroyed.

“Well we have to do something,” Knox hisses. “Do we still have the eyes? No, wait, I remember you tossing them. Fuck, ok… Well, I guess we can’t check to see if Starr Girl is right.”

As we stand here, an internal warning in the back of my head goes off. A thick, pulsating energy crashes against me. It pours into my lungs. It tastes of rage and burns the back of my throat. The hair on my arms stands on end. I turn to look over my shoulder, readying myself for signs of trouble. Instead, I find Beatrix heading toward us, coming from the direction of the office. I watch as her grim expression morphs into a polite indifference.

Knox huffs angrily as he continues to talk. “I’m not going down for killing that bastard. If this bites us in the ass, we should pin this on your sister?—”

“Knox,” I snap, trying to shut him up, but it’s already too late. The damage has been done.

Beatrix comes to a halt at the start of the hallway. Her mask slips away as her mouth pops open, and her eyes widen with shock.

“Excuse me ?” she whispers, aghast.

The other two whirl around while I internally groan. My pet’s eyes flash and her body stiffens dramatically. The dark, roiling storm of murderous fury that she managed to conceal earlier this morning is back, thicker and more potent than ever.

“Little Viper,” I start, stepping toward Beatrix.

She takes a step back—her nose wrinkling in disgust and indignation. Immediately, my cock twitches and glee wiggles through my veins. I suck in a deep breath and warn her this one time, “I would advise against running from me.”

“If I don’t run, then I’m getting pinned with murder charges, though, right?” she snaps back, taking another step away.

Knox takes two steps past me, toward Beatrix, and says hastily, “I was just joking, Starr Girl. That’s not how we do things. We won’t?—”

“ I don’t believe you !”

She screeches in a pitch so high I’m surprised the glass in the front doors don’t shatter. Knox flinches. Beatrix continues after glaring at the three of us. “I won’t go to jail because of?—”

“ No one is getting arrested or being pinned with this,” Thatcher says sharply. “Beatrix, Knox was just joking. It’s how he handles stress. No one is going down for a well-deserved murder. Knox.” My brother glares at him. “Tell our sister what our fallback plan is in case we do end up under the scrutiny of law enforcement so that she understands where we stand on this matter.”

Knox nods frantically. “Yeah, it's super simple—we off ourselves. We’ll drink the Kool-Aid together, and then we’re golden. No one gets dragged to prison or forced in front of a judge that way.”

Horror replaces Beatrix’s anger, at least for the moment. Her eyes bounce between the three of us. She sucks in a sharp breath, then slowly shakes her head.

“I need to get back to work,” she mutters, her expression shuttering off to hide whatever she doesn’t want us to see. She turns and scurries back down the hallway.

“Beatrix!” Thatcher calls after her.

He’s ignored and our stepsister disappears, deep into the heart of the funeral home.

“Fuck, why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?” Knox whines and throws his hands up in the air.

“I’m wondering the same thing right now,” I tell him, shooting him a dark look.

“Now she’s never going to forgive me, and my cock is going to be caged forever !” Knox complains as he moves to go after her, but I grab his arm.

“You’re the last person she wants to see,” I tell him. “Leave her alone right now.”

Thatcher reaches up and rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’ll go talk to her in a bit.”

“What about our other problem? Someone knows we killed Trevor. We need to do something,” I demand.

There’s no way in hell someone followed me to the bridge. I would’ve noticed. Yet that’s the only plausible answer. How else would someone know to bring the eyes back here? I slipped up somewhere along the way. I need to make it right.

“We do nothing ,” Thatcher objects vehemently. “If someone wanted to hold this over our head, they would’ve left a note. The eyes were either a warning or a taunt. We’ll be smarter moving forward. First things first. Sagan, you're going to install cameras around the house and funeral home.”

I look at my brother, wondering when his final screw fell loose. Cameras? On the house? I might as well just murder a fucker in front of a police station.

“I can set them up on a special server. That way no one can hack into them,” Knox grumbles, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “But for the record, having cameras on the place where we plan to bring back the bodies we want to dispose of sounds idiotic.”

Thatcher nods, but he holds my gaze, “Duly noted, Knox.”

“I don’t like this,” I tell him grimly.

Thatcher shrugs. “It’s the only way we’ll know if we’re being watched.”

“Fine,” I concede. If Knox can tamper with the cameras enough that they can’t get hacked and I hide them well enough no one notices, we might be alright. Maybe that’s what my brother is banking on. Thatcher has always been the one we defer to when things get tricky. I can’t start doubting him now. “I’ll get the cameras today.”

“Make sure they’re discreet,” Thatcher orders stiffly.

Knox takes a step towards the viewing room. “Good talk guys. I’ll go get the wallpaper damp. Let me know when you get the cameras set up. I’ll make sure they’re secure after that,” Knox says, then bolts before either me or my brother can move.

As Thatcher takes a step toward the hallway, Beatrix has disappeared down, I grab his forearm.

“Wait, we have another problem,” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

Thatcher’s jaw ticks as he turns around to face me again. Through our bond, I can feel the slight shift of apprehension turning to suspicion.

“What is it?” he asks. His eyes flicker toward the room Knox dove into. He’s probably wondering why I didn’t keep Knox around for this.

“It’s Beatrix,” I tell him.

“Yes, brother, I know . I’m going to go talk to her?—”

“That’s only going to make things worse,” I interrupt darkly. “She’s going to strike, Thatcher, and soon. I saw it in her eyes. Right now, she’s dangerous to all of us.”

“You and this snake analogy,” Thatcher sighs before crossing his arms over his chest. “Why do you think this? Because she’s mad at Knox?”

I’m glad my brother doesn’t question my concern. He trusts my instincts just as much as I trust his. It’s why we work so well with one another.

“Knox’s stunt yesterday definitely lit the fuse, I’m sure of it. But something transpired between her and the pastor, adding fuel to the flames. You should’ve heard her after he left. I think whatever was said was her last straw,” I explain. In a lower voice I add, “We need to be more than careful here, Thatcher. We need to be proactive—get ahead of the trouble.”

Thatcher says nothing right away as he mulls over my words. We always knew there was going to be a little trial and error when we added Beatrix to our family unit. We had a few issues when adding Knox into the mix. If we get ahead of the situation, though, things might not get bloody.

Well, no bloodier than it needs to be.

“Proactive, huh?” Thatcher murmurs. “You want to take her to hunt.”

I nod. “I do.”

“Even though we just found out someone might know we’re behind Trevor’s death?” he asks without judgment or scorn. “This could be a bad idea, Sagan.”

“Things will get worse if we just let her anger fester,” I counter. “We need to rebuild trust with her. Taking her out might mend some of the damage done.”

“Or it might teach our sister how to kill us in our sleep,” Thatcher counters immediately. I don’t see any resentment or true concern in his expression or feel it through our bond. He’s simply stating an undeniable fact.

I shrug. “I think it’s worth the risk.”

Thatcher, again, doesn’t answer immediately. He’s always one to think things through and this time, it’s no different. Drifting from the viewing room comes Knox’s out of tune whistling. It’s the only noise in the otherwise silent building. After a beat, Thatcher sighs—I can feel the resolve settling through our bond.

“Fine, but keep your eyes peeled,” he agrees. He sucks in a deep breath before his brows pinch together. “In the meantime, let’s go see what the pastor said. I left my phone out to record the conversation.”

He takes off before I can respond, his steps quick. I follow after him, glaring at his back.

“Didn’t we just teach Beatrix that we respect each other’s privacy—that we don’t spy on one another?” My question is pointed and chilly.

Thatcher scoffs loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls around us as we head down the hallway. “First of all, you reminding me about our rule is laughable, given how long you hid in the shadows of that house watching her.”

“That was different. She wasn’t one of us yet,” I counter.

My brother laughs without much mirth. “You knew she would be though. In any case, I’m not spying on Beatrix. I’ve been recording all my conversations with clients who’ve come in. I like for Beatrix to listen to them later, if she wasn’t around, to make sure I’ve covered everything with each encounter. It’s called being thorough.”

Thatcher pushes open the office door and we enter. We head for the desk and when we get there, Thatcher brushes some papers away. Beneath them is his phone, still recording. He pauses it and lets the file save. When it’s done, we both sit there and listen.

When the recording ends with Beatrix’s scream, I know my brother and I are on the same page. I can feel his rage mix with mine. Our eyes meet.

“I’m going to kill him,” I promise darkly through clenched teeth.

Thatcher’s entire body trembles as his expression darkens. His hands curl into fists before he lets out a snarl and kicks over the office chair.

“We can’t kill him, Sagan,” he says bitterly. “There’s only so many deaths and disappearances we can cover up before people get suspicious.”

I want to object. It’s there, sitting on the tip of my tongue to do just that. This treachery toward what’s ours should be punished. But as much as I hate to admit it, Thatcher is right. We can’t draw attention to ourselves. Somehow, though, we’ll have to find a way to get Beatrix her revenge against him.

Thatcher glances down at his phone, his face pinching tight with irritation that I can feel through our bond.

“I warned her this morning that, if she’s upset, she needs to tell us,” he says after a moment. “Do you think she’ll mention this confrontation?”

My brother nods, sensing my skepticism as if I’ve spoken out loud.

“She doesn’t trust us, why would she,” I point out.

“It doesn’t matter if she trusts us or not,” Thatcher snarls, his eyes snapping up to my face. “There are rules in place for a reason, Sagan.”

I shrug. “And I’m not questioning them now. I’m pointing out that we erected this wall between us and her. It would be our fault that she doesn’t feel safe enough to open up.”

Thatcher’s nostrils flare in annoyance. He knows this as well as I do. Due to our negligence and Knox’s exuberance, we’ve shoved Beatrix between a rock and a hard place. She can’t trust us. Expecting her to do so is foolish.

“Taking her out to hunt might rebuild that trust we’re looking for,” I tell him after a few minutes of silence. “Then she might confide in us.”

He nods. Slowly, the tension in the room dissipates.

“Alright, but we can’t have her kill someone in town,” he mutters. With a steady breath and a quick roll of his shoulders, he moves to pick up the fallen chair. “Chicago might be a bit too intimidating for her first time…”

“I know where we can take her,” I tell my brother, shifting my murderous thoughts away from the pastor. “It's close by.”

“No, not we. You take her this time.” Thatcher shakes his head slowly. “She doesn’t need all of us in her ear.”

A giddiness falls over me and I can’t help but smile. With a slow, measured bob of my head, I agree. “Alright, I’ll take Beatrix on her first kill tonight.”