Macabre

  • Red, dripping, bony hands thrust out of the vampress’s chest cavity, shoving bone and meat aside, gouts of red fluid squirting between the gaps. Repulsed, Einar fell back, tearing his gaze from the spindly arms now groping out of the vampress’s body, to her ecstatic face (not an improvement), down to Clover beside him.

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  • “Oh, no. You’re not leaving, Marie. I’ve got one over there waiting for you,” he told her, pointing to the back deck. There stood another red, porcelain garden pot that matched the other five inside the garden.

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