"Who insisted that Cinnamon take loan of that
wolf that saved her precious skin today?"
Jeremy’s voice was almost a snarl though on his lips
was a smile, his finger still under her chin, their faces so close that they
almost touched.
Alexandra’s heart was beating so hard she thought it
might leap up her throat. She pushed herself up on tip-toe, but just before her
lips touched Jeremy’s, Cinnamon moaned faintly and tossed. Alexandra hurried
over to her friend’s side. She deftly reached under the covers and changed
Cinnamon out of her bloodstained overalls and into a light shift, then dipped a
rag into a nearby basin and began to rinse the blood off of Cinnamon.
Jeremy stood next to Alexandra for just a moment,
then gently put his hand around hers, and mildly took the rag out of her fist.
“Let me take care of her,” Jeremy insisted kindly,
“Go and get some rest now. You’ve had a fright as well, my dear.
Alexandra began to object, but Jeremy shushed her
gently, and sent her on her way. Alexandra gathered the bloody clothes and
deposited them into the hamper, then with a yawn, she left. Jeremy listened to
her footfalls until he knew she had reached her room, heard her shuffle about
getting ready for bed. Then he stepped into the hallway and watched until the
light from under her doorway extinguished. Alexandra was asleep. Jeremy stood
just a moment longer in the hall, making sure than Alexandra would not change
her mind, and then, with a quiet bark of laugher, he walked silently back into
Cinnamon’s room, locking the door behind him. Cinnamon was asleep, a sleep as
deep and heavy as though she’d been drugged. The moon was just rising, and the
faint moonlight spilled across the bedroom floor. The moon was not quite full
yet, but it was nearly so, and it lit the room with a pale, wane light.
Cinnamon had a fair complexion naturally, and with the blood she had lost she
was paler still. The lighting of the moon made Cinnamon look as white as
alabaster stone, and the dried blood across Cinnamon’s body stood out in stark
contrast. Jeremy pulled the chair away from the vanity and up next to the
sleeping girl. He gently combed her hair away from her face with his fingers,
and kissed her forehead lightly, just the way he had on the first night he had
cared for her at his home. He kissed her forehead again, and then her cheek,
her jaw, and then her neck, being very gentle with her injury. He breathed in
deeply, drawing in her scent, her hair, her skin, her blood and the raw meat
just within her wound. He turned her head very gently to the side, and licked
her skin from her clavicle to her jaw.
Chapter Ten
The dried blood began to soften, and he licked her
again. Again and again, emitting a low growl of pleasure, until she was clean.
He cleaned her thoroughly, sucking each finger clean, and the small spaces
between each finger, her palm down to her wrist and up to her shoulders. He
took the greatest care with the knife wounds on Cinnamon’s neck and shoulder,
as gently as a wolf with her pups. He licked clean her collarbone, but stopped
and reached into the basin for the rag, which he used to clean her from her collar
bone to her navel. He was an old-fashioned southern gentleman, after all. He
dipped the rag into the basin again, and gave her another thorough washing from
her forehead down her arms; saliva could be a little sticky sometimes.
Cinnamon was a good name for her, Jeremy decided.
She tasted as delicious as she looked. It was hard not to try and get some
more. He took the rag from the basin and walked over to the mirror in the
vanity. He had to wipe every last drop of blood off of his face. When he was satisfied
that he was clean, he took the basin to the window and dumped the dirty water
out of it. Through the window, in the illumination of the moon, he could see
the caretaker’s cabin beyond the willow tree. He shook his head. He’d have to
bury the old woman before Cinnamon and Alexandra awoke; he’d like to tell them
that he had taken care of it and so they needn’t worry. But he knew there could
be other night creatures out, and if there were, it was almost a guarantee that
they’d already discovered the dead woman. Jeremy was satisfied with Cinnamon;
and he wasn’t in the mood for a fight; he’d wait a while yet.
Tybalt was worried about Cinnamon. He knew all about
the attack, he had watched it all before him. If Ajax hadn’t been there to
attack Tybalt knew that he’d have had to save his mistress, and the old crone,
the same one he had seen take the album from the attic, might have killed them
both. Tybalt jumped up on a ledge to look out the window at the night. It was
very bright out. He should probably go and take a look around, just to be safe.
It took Tybalt a while to find a way out; Alexandra
had closed every window and locked every shutter. Tybalt dozed off by the dying
fire while trying to think of a way out. But after a few hours of waiting, he
heard Jeremy up and walking around. Maybe he was going out! Tybalt raced to the
grand foyer and arrived just in time to slip out the front door on Jeremy’s
heels. The night wasn’t quite as clear now, and a stiff wind had picked up.
To Tybalt’s surprise, Jeremy headed straight to the
caretaker’s cabin. Jeremy walked purposefully and quickly up the rickety front
steps, and threw open the front door. He looked around, but the cabin was still
and deserted. The dead woman still lay on the rug, much of her blood dried by
now. Jeremy picked her up roughly and slung her over his shoulder, then carried
her out of the cabin and under the willow tree. He picked up a shovel and began
to dig. Jeremy was a strong man and the earth was soft; it didn’t take long for
him to get six feet down.
Tybalt watched silently as Jeremy dug the hole
outside, and noticed something curious; on the other side of the willow tree,
in the old graveyard, there seemed to be a statue he had not noticed before,
atop the Rassmussen family crypt. But wait- statues’ cloaks don’t blow in the
wind. There was a woman, standing from a ways off and observing as Jeremy dug a
grave for the old crone. She had first had been standing, but presently
crouched down like a cat, and kept her perch, watching from afar.
Jeremy didn’t kick the old woman’s body into the
grave- he gently pulled her in, laid her at his feet, and then climbed out of
the hole. He stood over the grave for a moment, and then with a sigh, he began
to fill in the hole. The woman on the crypt looked on still. When the grave was
filled, she turned and disappeared off the roof, and into the swamp.
Jeremy tamped the dirt down firmly with his shovel
and then with his boot. He then took out his pocket watch and looked at the time,
and quickened his pace.
Tybalt followed Jeremy curiously as he headed back
towards the house, again slipping in at his feet through the door. Jeremy disappeared
upstairs for just a moment, then came back down and walked straight to the
kitchen, opening up the first cabinet he came to. He reached in and rummaged
around a moment before abandoning it for another.
“Cinnamon,” he muttered slightly under his breath, “Nutmeg,
Ginger, Cloves, Cayenne…”
He stopped suddenly, apparently having found what he
was looking for. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handsome
black gloves. He meticulously put them on, and then pulled out a mason jar. It
looked like salt or seasoning of some kind to Tybalt, but Tybalt was just a
cat, and not very astute with what humans put in their food. Jeremy headed back
to the front door, but Tybalt wasn’t able to slip out after him as he had done before.
So Tybalt jumped up onto a sofa and watched out the window as Jeremy took the
jar and sprinkled it’s contents all over the front porch, and then in a careful
circle around the house. The jar was empty, and Jeremy tucked it into the
recesses of his cloak.
It was nearly
five o’clock in the morning, and Jeremy was beginning to feel very tired. He tugged
his cloak tighter over his shoulders and headed back to Devil’s Bayou.
******************************
Just
a few hours later the sun rose, and Alexandra with it. She yawned and stretched,
then remembered all that had happened the day before. Still in her nightgown
and her dark hair in a braid over her shoulder, she hurried to Cinnamon’s room.
She burst in the door, more anxious than she knew why, and hurried to Cinnamon’s
side.
“Cinnamon?”
Alexandra petitioned, breathlessly, “Cinnamon?”
Cinnamon
grunted slightly, and tossed her head back and forth. Alexandra was relieved.
She sighed deeply and took a step back. As she looked around the room, she
remembered the kiss nearly shared between Jeremy and herself last night. How
strange it seemed now. Much like a memory one would pull out of a drunken
stupor; she was certain she had not imagined it, but was uncertain of the
details, and a bit confused about what prompted it all. She walked across the
bedroom to pull the chair from Cinnamon’s vanity over next to her bed, but
stopped when she saw a note. It was in a hand she did not recognize, but it was
unmistakably masculine, despite being old-fashioned, and she guessed at one it
was Jeremy’s. She unfolded it and read
it’s contents.
Ladies~
I
had to return to Devil’s Bayou this night on urgent matters. Please expect me
tomorrow evening. If a need arises that you must travel here, I urge you to
never leave the other alone, and always travel with Ajax. He is a good fellow,
and I think you will find yourself very safe with him.
~Jeremy
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