Chapter 24 Shear Torture
Chapter twenty-four
Shear Torture
Trissa
Astrange scratching sound pulls me from sleep.
I lay still on the couch for a minute, staring up at the ceiling and squinting to concentrate on the noise, but don’t hear it again.
Maybe it was just a dream? I rub my eyes to try and clear the sleep and brain fog.
Seth stayed for pizza and we ended up playing some special board game he got from a shop that caters to the paranormal called Guess, Boo!
Basically it’s Guess Who, but with famous dead people who are, apparently, ghosts now.
Seth kicked our asses, but to be fair, it was wildly unbalanced considering he’s the only one who really knows anything about the paranormal world outside of our house.
Our house. A little bolt of pleasure shoots through me at the reminder that this is my reality now.
A life with a hot ghost boyfriend who can conjure sex tentacles…
not to mention being friends with the friggen grim reaper.
Although, apparently he’s not the only one—there’s a whole guild of them.
It’s too much to wrap my mind around really.
I’m thankful for the smaller, mundane things that help keep me grounded in the midst of all this crazy.
Like Cian being able to actually eat pizza—and after not tasting food for half a century the moan that he let out had drenched my panties.
A flush heats my cheeks as I remember what happened after Seth finally left for the night.
I’ll never look at that kitchen island or chocolate sauce and whip cream the same again.
A muffled curse comes from the front porch and my eyes widen. I definitely heard something that time. I glance down and spot Cian on the floor, sleeping soundly. My eyes trace the path of the tentacle that’s currently wrapped around my ankle and I bite my lip. Should I wake him up?
The scratching noise from before gets louder and I sit up on the couch, careful not to dislodge Cian’s tentacle tether. Someone is definitely out there. I lean down to shake Cian awake, but freeze… Is that? I sniff the air.
My stomach drops and I leap to my feet in a panic, rushing toward the door in the kitchen. The tentacle stretches to follow me and I sigh in short lived relief. The smell of gasoline grows stronger as I reach the door and an overwhelming dread settles over me.
I double back around the island to search for some kind of weapon.
My eyes settle on the novelty unicorn corkscrew magnet on the fridge and I grab it before spinning around and rushing back to the door.
I pull it open, corkscrew neatly tucked between my fingers like makeshift brass knuckles and freeze.
“Kyle?” I step out onto my porch and drop my hand, “What the fuck are you doing?”
I watch as my ex-boyfriend sets down a rusty metal gasoline container and straightens. He looks at me with glassy eyes and I take in the red blotchiness of his face. “Triss! Baby… oh, good. You’re here!”
My face heats with annoyance and I grit my teeth, “Of course I’m here, this is my house. What the hell are you doing? Are you high?”
His eyes cloud and he shakes his head. “You don’t understand yet, but you will.
” He bends down to the container of gas and knocks it over, emptying the rest of it across my porch.
I watch with horror as he quickly stumbles down the steps and reaches into a bucket full of what looks like rusty tools.
“I’m calling the police, Kyle.” I reach for my phone and dial 9-1-1, but he spins around before I can press send, cradling the flame from an old flip lighter in his hands.
My blood turns to ice and I drop my phone, “Kyle… don’t.”
“I have to!” His hands are shaking. I take a step toward him, hands raised in supplication and he watches me wearily. “It’s the only way to free you and get you back.”
My brows bunch in confusion, “What are you talking about? Kyle, we broke up. I’m not a prisoner, and burning down my house isn’t going to get rid of my amaxophobia!”
Rage flashes in his deranged eyes as he shouts, “No, but it will get rid of him!”
My spine tingles with awareness and I shake my head. He can’t know about Cian… it’s just a coincidence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kyle. You sound like a crazy person.”
“Oh bullshit, Trissa! Don’t fuck with me, okay? Don’t you fucking fuck with me!” He waves the lighter, eyes sparkling with heated menace and I nod slowly.
“Okay. Okay… what can we do to fix this? I… I need my house, Kyle.”
“NO. It needs to burn along with that fucking ghost you’re whoring yourself out to!
” My eyes widen with alarm as he continues, “it’s either this or holy water…
but it was taking too long trying to steal enough holy water to spray this whole fuckin mansion with!
” He spits out the word mansion like a curse, and bile rises in my throat.
My heart races and I take a breath, switching tactics, “Kyle, please. Don’t burn my house.
That ghost wasn’t using me—I was using him.
He… he was able to talk to my parents for me in ex-exchange for…
what you saw.” I swallow against the nausea threatening to spill what’s left of last night’s pizza on the steps of my gasoline soaked porch.
“I—I’m cured now. We… we can be together. I can d-drive places.”
Kyle’s eyes widen comically and he closes the lighter while he thinks. I almost faint with relief as he nods, “That makes so much more sense, babe. I knew you really loved me.”
I nod frantically and walk toward him, keeping a visual on the lighter out of the corner of my eye. Kyle opens his arms and I step woodenly into his embrace. He smells like stale beer and unwashed ass and I have to fight to keep from gagging.
Kyle squeezes me too tightly, and I try to make a noise of protest before I hear the scrape of a flint wheel. My whole body tenses in his burly arms and I scream, “Kyle, no!”
“It’s better safe than sorry, babe.” I struggle in his grasp, pulling back until I can get the hand with the corkscrew free.
A soft thud fills my ears, followed by the whoosh of fire and I scream again.
Tears blur my vision and I fight against the fear threatening to choke me.
CIAN! I pull back my hand as far as I can from inside his firm bear hug and jam it fast right into his crotch.
Kyle lets out a shout and pushes me back. I fall onto the steps and grunt at the impact. His howls of pain and string of curses sound far away as I roll over, trying to crawl up the stairs away from the side of the porch that’s currently on fire.
“CIAN!” My scream rings out into the night and I push myself up once I reach the top of the stairs.
“Trissa!” Cian’s tortured voice calls out. I shake with relief before locking eyes with him. He’s still in the kitchen, pounding furiously on an invisible barrier. I can hear the slamming of doors and cabinets and see things swirling in the air behind him. Is he doing that?
“Trissa, run! I can’t help you out there.”
I frown, looking down at my ankle to see that the tentacle that connects us is missing.
My mouth drops open as my stomach plummets.
No. What happens to him if the house burns down?
We haven’t finished the ritual yet! Why can I still see him?
Oh, gods... is it the fire? Panic races through my veins, but before I can even think of a plan, a meaty hand clamps down on my shoulder.
I can hear Cian screaming as Kyle spins me around and unceremoniously punches me in the face.
Stars swim in my vision and I crumple to the ground.
Kyle laughs humorously and I listen as he walks back down the stairs.
Dread pools in my gut as I realize that the Kyle I thought I knew is not who he actually is.
Which means I have no idea what he’s capable of.
I look up at Cian, now red faced with tears streaming down his cheeks.
Fists thrashing against an invisible barrier as he screams. I need to put this fire out.
Need to save Cian. My eyes lock onto his and I whisper, “Seth.”
The desperation in Cian’s eyes flickers with determination as he starts screaming a new name. I pray that it will be enough. I can hear Kyle walking back toward me and I force myself up on my knees, my head swimming as I try to stand.
“Oh look, on your knees for me already.” Kyle smirks. “You know, it’s really fucked up that you never sucked my dick the way you did his. You never put in that much effort for me.” He pouts and I fight the urge to barf on his shoes as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“Well you never made me come like h-him… so I guess we’re even.
” I spit out blood and try to think of how to distract him long enough for help to come.
Thankfully, like everything else in his life, he must have done a shit job of pouring the gas because the fire was almost comically slow moving.
Judging by the state of his rusty old gas can, it’s a good bet that it’s watered down as well. Thank the gods for small miracles.
I watch as his nostrils flare and take in the small stain of blood blooming over the crotch of his pants.
A wave of disgust and hatred washes through me, fueling me forward.
I dive between his legs as he reaches down for me.
He stumbles forward and I jump up grabbing him around the neck from behind.
I don’t really have a plan, but trying to do one of those sleeper holds I’ve seen in action movies seems like as good an idea as any.
Except it seemed way less complicated in action movies.
Kyle grunts and grabs at my face over his back and I dig my heels into his already injured groin, attacking him like some kind of crazy monkey person.
I sink a finger into one of his eyes and he lets out a yowl, bucking and spinning.
He backs up until I feel the hard wood of a banister behind me.
He thrusts me back against it—once, twice… I cry out as I feel my ribs strain.
Cian’s voice cracks and my heart breaks. No. I’m not dying like this. I double down, reaching up and pushing my finger deeper into his eye, shuddering when it squelches. Kyle screams and stumbles forward before pulling his arms up under mine and breaking my grip, throwing me off his back.
My eyes are wild as I try to take in what’s happening, but before I can do anything to stop it, I’m falling down the few stairs of my porch.
I land with a loud thump, leaves crunching in the grass beneath me.
Pain lances through my side and I wheeze.
A sensation like freezing and burning all at once fills my mind and I look down, trying to get my bearings and figure out what’s happening.
A laugh bubbles into the chaotic cacophony of sounds. My laugh. Sickeningly hot blood is seeping from the rusty garden shears currently impaled in my stomach. I gingerly touch the tip of the protruding metal in shock. Fuck. I guess this is how I die.