Cindy gaped at the woman. What she had done felt right. It was insane, she recognized that, but it felt right. Nothing had ever felt so right. Her entire life as she’d known it-along with all her extravagant plans for the future-was over. Something new, something breathtakingly, unexpectedly better had come along.
It was incredible, a startling revelation, an epiphany. Nothing should surprise her now.
But this-well, frankly the woman’s attitude was shocking.
Cindy had just butchered her son before her eyes.
And she was…happy?
It didn’t make sense.
“What the hell’s the matter with you, you fucking old hag?”
Lizzie Bishop’s smile still radiated unabashed joy. “I should’ve known all along. You’re special. You’re one of her chosen ones.”
Cindy shook her head. “Chosen ones? Who are you talking about?”
Lizzie seemed surprised. “Why, Lamia, of course.”
“I don’t know who the fuck that is.”
“You will, dear.”
“You know something? Don’t call me ‘dear,’ okay? I’ve always hated that.”
Cindy disengaged herself from Zack’s ruined body. She straddled Lizzie and flexed the blades. She leered at the woman. “Are you ready for this?”
She wanted to see terror steal into the woman’s eyes, but there was no fear there. Lizzie was still smiling. “I’ve never been so ready. Not for anything.”
Cindy frowned. “Stop that shit. You’re freaking me out.”
She went to work with the blades one more time.
Then she stood up and surveyed the carnage. The formerly immaculate foyer was awash in crimson. The lifeless bodies at her feet possessed a grisly beauty. She felt a strange kind of pride. She had snuffed them. The work of her own hands had splashed all this blood around.
She felt powerful again.
More than that-she’d never felt so good in her life.
And she shivered with delight at the knowledge that there was still one more thing that could make her feel even better-Myra Lewis dead at her feet.
The cunt’s face reappeared in her mind.
Cindy grinned.
“Here I come, bitch, ready or not.”
She opened the front door and stepped outside.
Then froze.
Myra Lewis was sitting on a white wicker chair on the porch, one leg curled beneath her as she nonchalantly smoked a clove cigarette. She looked at Cindy and smiled. “Hello, darling.” She glanced at the bloody shears and expelled a cloud of pungent smoke. “I see you’ve been busy.”
Cindy snarled and raised the shears high over her head. A delirious sensation of purest ecstasy swirled inside her. Her fondest wish was about to come true. And the stupid bitch was just sitting there, waiting for it. As if she didn’t have a care in the world.
I’ll fix that, Cindy thought. And pounced.
Or, rather, she tried to pounce.
She couldn’t move. Something had reached inside her and paralyzed her. She saw the flicker of amusement in Myra’s eyes and knew at once the bitch had done it. The sense of power she’d so reveled in moments ago was gone. Terror now welled inside her. She wanted to cry. Because whatever else Myra Lewis might be, one thing was clear-she wasn’t human.
Myra flicked the cigarette away. She unfolded the leg tucked beneath her and scooted to the edge of the chair. “You don’t need to be afraid, Cindy.” Her voice was low and earnest. And a strange thing happened-Cindy believed her. “I had a hunch about you. I thought I could provoke some interesting things.” She smiled and shot a glance at the open door behind Cindy. “Turns out I was right. I want you to join me, Cindy. I want you to help me kill them all. Will you do that?”
Cindy felt some of the paralysis slip away. Her legs remained frozen, but her upper body was under her own control again. The shears slipped from her hands and landed with a clatter on the porch.
“Yes.” She sniffled. “I think I want that more than anything.”
Myra smiled again. “Good. A change is coming, Cindy. A storm. Soon Rockville will be a ghost town. You’re going to kill a lot of people for me.”
Hot tears spilled down Cindy’s cheeks. “Thank you. Oh, thank you…”
“But now I need you to do something else for me first.” Myra’s eyes gleamed, and there was a new intensity in her voice. “A symbol of your subservience and devotion to me.”
Cindy’s legs prickled with a pins-and-needles sensation. Her body was fully under her control again. “What do you want me to do?”
A corner of Myra’s mouth twitched. “I want you to come to me on your hands and knees. And then I want you to kiss my feet.”
Only moments earlier the prospect of such a thing would have made Cindy sick. But now there was only pleasure and the desire to prove herself worthy to Myra. Before she could even consciously decide to obey, she felt her bare knees touch the cold concrete surface of the porch. Then she leaned forward and placed the palms of her hands on the concrete.
“Come to me,” Myra said.
“Yes, Lamia.”
Cindy almost frowned.
Why had she addressed Myra as Lamia?
You know why, a voice somewhere deep inside whispered. Deep down, you’ve always known.
But that was something to think about later. Maybe.
Cindy pushed the thought away and did as she was ordered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jordan burped.
She put a hand over her stomach and groaned. “I don’t think I can eat any more Todd.”
Bridget put down the length of fried intestine she’d been nibbling on. “Yeah, I’ve kinda had my fill of him, too.”
Angela belched.
All three of the women seated around Todd’s kitchen table laughed. Jordan glanced down at the beach ball-shaped monster that had nuzzled against her ankles throughout the meal. It looked up at her with its leering pumpkinlike eyes. She dropped a Todd morsel and the creature snatched it out of the air with its tongue.
Bridget grinned. “I think you’ve made a friend.”
“I think you’re right,” Jordan said.
Bridget reached across the table to stroke the back of Jordan’s hand. “It’s nice to see you getting into the spirit of things. The idea of cannibalism makes most people kind of, well…uptight.”
Angela giggled.
“Now that you’ve explained about Lamia, I feel a lot better about things,” Jordan said. “I can see why you thought I wouldn’t fit in with you guys, but you were wrong.”
“Hmm. Do you really think so?” Bridget bent one of Jordan’s fingers backward, just enough to hurt. “I still don’t think you’re fit for anything other than slave duty.” She smiled. “Tell me, why do you think I’m wrong?”
Bridget pushed Jordan’s finger backward some more. Jordan gritted her teeth, but she didn’t cry out. Nor did she attempt to yank her hand away. She’d already learned the price of resisting Bridget’s various tortures. Her hair was still a bit damp from the multiple toilet-bowl dunkings, and her back was raw from the belt-lashing she’d endured prior to that. Oh, they had been very cruel. But Jordan wouldn’t have expected anything less from such sadists. Yet, she had survived this much. It couldn’t get much worse. Or so she hoped.
Her smile wavered a bit, but she managed to reinforce it. “The way I see it, Lamia is all about female empowerment. She’s the ultimate feminist. Knowing what you know about me, you should see how perfectly her objectives mesh with my ideals.”
Angela snickered. “You don’t understand anything at all.”
Jordan tried to sound hurt. “Oh?”
Bridget nodded. “She’s right, Jordan. Yes, women assume the leadership roles within Lamia’s ring of power. Lamia sees that as the natural order of things. But the really important thing for all of us is the glorification of Lamia. She’s a deity, you know. A goddess. A divine being. All-powerful. And in the end, even the women of Rockville must fall at her feet and praise her.”