Chapter 69 Cecilia
Cecilia
She’s beautiful.
But she has some soul-sucking piece of shit with her, and I don’t even have a soul for him to fuck with anymore. But that sweet woman does, and I can see the ice-draining energy he’s giving off. At this rate, she’d be as soulless as myself if he continues leeching off of her.
Banjo.
What a stupid fucking name.
To some, I might be an old-timing hag that died in this house many moons ago, but even back in the day, Banjo would’ve stayed an instrument and never turned into a name. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
Eliza.
The beautifully compelling witch she is. I could smell her the moment she walked into my room, and it sends joy through me knowing she wants to conjure up some things this weekend while she’s here. She wants to conjure up, me.
Banjo will never admit it to her, but he’s scared of her powers.
He feels her worth and the power that vibrates through her, right below her skin, begging to be unveiled.
Instead of tending to her, worshipping the divine creature she is as well as the ground she walks on, as she deserves, he tries to lessen any success she has.
He’s petrified of what she can do on her own, and now that they’re in this house with otherworldly presences, he’s simply no match for the power she’ll wield.
And that knowledge alone puts a smile on my face.
He’s going to fix the very prominent problem I have, though. The next one to be killed and fed to the ever ravenous machine in the basement.
We go through stages of taking turns to keep the machine fed.
Most of the time, the more unhinged of us gals will go on a killing spree or two and make up for the more squeamish spirits.
I fall right in the middle of the group.
I don’t love killing per se, but when it’s a man, and he happens to be a worthless, or even borderline abusive piece of flesh—why wouldn’t I?
He finally leaves my room, and I’m right beside the door when Eliza spins around to look out the window. I’m immediately relishing the sharp intake of her breath.
These poor souls are drawn to this place, I’m sure, from all the stories and missing person reports that make an appearance after traveling to the Venom Estate. They want to be the ones to finally figure out the mystery and what happens when people come here.
I’ll be the first to tell them, it’s nothing righteous…
But they keep coming, always giving us more feed for Mr. Venom’s machine, and I’m thankful because it keeps that disgusting old man off our backs.
He has sick obsessions with each one of us, our stories, and even the human form we once were.
The old man knew far beyond what could be considered normal about me when I arrived at the estate, and I can only imagine it was the same with all the others who are now forced to reside here.
That’s how he keeps our souls and our stories locked away; he knew what our weaknesses were and struck when he could.
Now we all have our separate rooms, and the only entertainment in this too-big house are these sorry humans who stumble into this place, either looking for answers or, sadly enough, unaware of the history and have no clue what kind of hell on earth they’re walking into.
Eliza peers through the window, and I stand behind the sheer curtains covering it.
Well, my ghostly form stands behind. I have yet to meet a human who sees me without me having to put in days of work, playing in their psyche.
It’s strenuous work getting into people’s heads to finally have them see me with their eyes—my human form that is.
I don’t know if it was Mr. Venom’s plan, but each of us are seen by humans differently. Mine happens to be lust, want, and even desire for me or the voice that they think is now in their head… then boom, I’m there. An apparition designed by their deepest desires.
But this doesn’t feel like Eliza is merely staring out the window. Her eyes are on mine, and our souls are practically purring to one another. There’s never been such an instant connection like this, definitely never dual sided. I keep looking at her, and then I speak.
“Eliza… That’s a pretty name for such a deadly woman.”
She tilts her head to the side, and a sinister smile pulls at her lips. “Cecilia, you crazy bitch,” she purrs, and I’m quick to look down, noticing the goose flesh across my now visible skin.
She can see me already… and she knows who, even what, I am.