Chapter 9 #2
Over the course of seven years, every day I’d sprinkle a bit of noxicorin into anything I could, like his coffee and nightly glass of bourbon.
It was a drug my father created. Something to boost your nervous system, like speed, but only if speed was on crack.
It’s meant to be taken in moderation, and never for extended periods of time.
Wanna know how I know that? Because that sick fuck had been testing it on humans for the past twenty years.
The horrors I’ve seen in his video trials are something I’ll never unsee.
It took some time, but eventually it shut down every organ in his body. The best part was when they tested him to see what could be the cause, and they couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.
Because he was already willingly taking the drug himself, the drug did come up in his blood test, but they never suspected that it could be the cause of his illness because he was taking the same medication in what he thought was moderation.
The added dosage just helped me speed up the process.
It was pure heaven to watch his body shut down. To see that prideful bastard look so pathetic when he’d shit or piss himself, not able to control those basic functions anymore.
The cherry on top was when I whispered in his ear while he was on his deathbed that I was the one who caused his life to come to an end. I was the one who took everything away from him.
Fucker died of a heart attack from shock and anger.
Watching him grasp his chest as he struggled was entertaining. I got to watch the life fade from his eyes, and it was better than any other life I’ve taken.
But ending that bitch, Starla, was the next best thing.
The cunt tried to fight me for all of my father's inheritance. She didn’t stand a chance, and it all came to me before I signed half of it to my sister.
I kicked her out of the house and tossed all her shit into the trash.
She came back a few weeks later, and I guess one of the guards let her in because I found her in my sister's room, trying to steal anything of value. All of my mother’s jewelry was shoved into her Louis Vuitton bag.
I wasn’t supposed to be there. I should have been at a Brotherhood meeting but decided to skip it to go over work documents.
Starla didn’t hear me come in, didn’t see me as I came up behind her. I took the very same pair of scissors that she used to cut my sister's hair and stabbed her in the throat.
The smile stretched across my face was pure evil as I smirked down at her through the mirror.
She bled out on my sister's floor, so I got rid of her body. Toren made that easy. Good man, by the way. Best guy to have on our side.
It wasn’t easy, but in the end I won. I got justice for my mother, kept my sister safe, and ended up one of the most powerful men in New Orleans—possibly the country, really, if you think about it.
And how do I get to spend my summer? It’s sure as fuck not celebrating the fact that I can finally have my sister home.
Nope, it’s two months of Brotherhood bullshit.
Like, I give a fuck about an ancient god that my ancestors idolized.
They believe we have to keep everything the same, to follow the rules to a T, or we lose everything we’ve been blessed with.
Bet they have no idea half of us don’t even follow their practices outside the official Brotherhood meetings and rituals.
How the hell does drinking the blood of our previous virginal sacrifice please the gods and keep us rich and powerful?
It’s fucking disgusting.
Not blood, I actually don’t mind the taste, but the fact that it’s from some random woman we couldn’t care less about.
But we let them believe we add a drop of it to the wine we drink every day. We don’t actually consume any blood unless it’s during the rituals themselves.
It’s not all bad. The sex part is always a fun time. Having people fear you is also another plus. Money is great, and having the excuse to do all the fucked up, depraved shit you want is one hell of a bonus.
While Jasper, Wesley, and I don’t exactly believe in the Brotherhood's religious history, there are times we wonder if maybe it’s all real.
We’ve seen some shit, some unexplainable shit. It could have been the acid we were tripping on before the ritual last year, or a demon with black wings and a forked tongue really could have been there devouring a whole goat before our eyes, blood and all.
Guess we will never truly know.
“Sylas, asshole, we’re here.” I jolt awake, eyes snapping open, mind hazy as I look around.
“We’re here?” I ask groggily, rubbing my eyes. “Fuck. Didn’t we just leave?”
“No. It’s been eight hours. You passed the fuck out after you popped a benzo. You mumbled how much you wanted to wrap your hands around Nola’s throat and watch the life drain from her eyes as you fucked her within an inch of her life,” Jasper says dryly.
“Real classy, man. Guess you were right about keeping away from her. If you're dreaming about killing her in your sleep, then we have other things to worry about,” Wesley chuckles, getting to his feet and stretching.
“You fucking touch her, and I’ll slit your throat,” Jasper warns, and I know he means it.
“What the hell, man?” I glare at him. “I was fucking sleeping when I said that. I don’t even remember.
I’d never hurt her. You know that.” Okay, that’s a bit of a lie.
I’d love to hurt her, to make her whimper in pain.
But only if she wanted it. I’d never, ever hurt her in a malicious way. I’m not my fucking father.
“You better not,” Jasper warns again.
“Don’t act like you’re perfect. You’re just as fucked up in the head as the rest of us,” I snap back. “You want her just as much as we do.”
Jasper storms over to me, getting in my face.
“You think I don’t know that?” he growls low, eyes wild, chest heaving.
“The whole plan was to leave her alone until the time was right. To claim her when we were in the position to keep her safe from the fucked up world we live in. We were young and naive. We had no clue how much it would change us. It turned us into the very monsters we wanted to keep her from. That’s why I let that dream die a long fucking time ago because I knew we were all too fucked up in the head to ever be the men she deserves.
You and Wesley keep pushing me, swearing she could handle us.
Are you fucking daft? The girl can’t even look at us without her face going as red as a lobster.
You really think she will be okay with being around death for the rest of her life?
You think she could handle our kinks, the things we crave, the power rush we need to keep us from going fucking insane? ”
“No,” I grit out, hating to admit it. “But we will never fucking know if we don’t give her the chance.”
“We agreed it was all or nothing. I’m against it, meaning we leave her alone.”
I see where he’s coming from. He’s not wrong. When we were young, she was our whole world. One of our best friends. And even though we knew about the life we’d be joining, never did we imagine how much it would shape our very beings.