Read Online Unquiet Dreams by K. A. Laity - Free Book Online Page B

and smooth and etched with vines and flowers along its handle. With a flip of her wrist it snapped into place, ready for work. Emma saw herself in the mirror and for once did not immediately duck away. She looked purposeful, commanding, even happy. She smiled at herself.
    Back in the room, her instruction continued. "Give her a permanent smile with which to meet us, Emma. We like to see our souls smiling." Emma lay one hand over her mother's terrified eyes and with the other, swiped an arc across her neck. For a second she held her breath as a terrific spurt burst forth, spraying her dress and the bed. Her mother's hands leaped up from the bed, waving swirls in the air, but soon dropping back down to her sides. Emma waited. When the blood stilled, Emma took her hand from her mother's face. She used the hem of her dress to rub the razor clean, then gently snapped it shut. She placed it reverently on the nightstand. Her mother's eyes gazed at the ceiling. Emma looked down. They were both soaked with blood.
    "This is my blood, Emma, the secret of life. Do not be ashamed or disgusted. Feel it, feel life." She put three fingers into the damp pool under her mother's neck. It felt cool and syrupy. Emma ran the fingers along her cheek—it's like Indian warpaint, she thought, imagining John Wayne movies—and licked her index finger. Salty. Life was good.
    "Now we must make her smaller and hide each part separately. The devils are after her and we must not let them find her. You must work quickly."
    Emma looked down at her mother's body with dismay. It was so big! How could she make it smaller? But ask and ye shall receive: "Downstairs in the root cellar, Emma, the kindling axe." Ah ha! That would be perfect. Emma scuffed her way down the hall, feeling tired. Her cheap sneakers squeaked on the kitchen tiles. The door to the cellar was swollen by the summer heat and refused, at first, to budge. When at last she tugged it open, Emma was rewarded with a blast of refreshingly cool air. At the bottom of the stairs, wedged deeply into the planks overhead, was the hatchet. She recalled her father telling her the story of The Three Sillies and smiled to think of his rough cheeks and gentle voice. Twenty years; and she could still conjure that memory effortlessly. She used both hands to pull the hatchet out. It gleamed at her in the twilit root cellar. "I could bury her here. The floor's hard, but it's still dirt."
    "Very good, Emma. You're very resourceful."
    Cutting her mother up proved to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. Her arms began to ache with the effort of chopping through the bones. Little shards flew up and bit into her skin like angry bees. She had to keep stopping to wipe the blade and handle, the slickness threatening to squirt it out of her grasp. When it was finally done, when the pieces were small enough to handle, Emma sank exhausted onto the edge of the sticky bed.
    "You need to rest awhile, Emma. Why not go watch some TV?" It sounded like a very good idea. She stopped by the fridge to grab a can of generic diet soda and stumbled into the living room. The curtains were still drawn but it made the room cooler, so she did not open them. Emma sank into her mother's chair with a grateful sigh. She was surprised to find her left hand still gripped the axe and let it drop to the floor with a muffled thump. She clicked on the remote.
    "—in Dallas earlier today. In the local news, a Miss Emma Bennett of Ridgeway Drive saved her mother from certain damnation today by her speedy intervention—" Emma fell into a doze, smiling proudly.
    She awoke with a gasp. The doorbell had rung, that was all. Emma lurched out of the chair, groaning at her stiffness. What time was it? What day was it? It seemed like a week ago she had sat down here. The bell rang out again and Emma hobbled to the door, unlocked it and swung it open. "It's your favorite mail carrier," the voices whispered in her head, but she could already see