Read Online Vengeance Bound by Justina Ireland - Free Book Online

got to his junkyard, since that was his habit for such a long time. Pick a girl up, do his dark business, stuff the body into the trunk of a car, and crush it. It’s one of the reasons the authorities found only four of his victims. How many other girls got turned into scrap metal?
    Hank has changed his routine since his stint in prison. It intrigues me that I’ve overlooked the possibility, and I wonder where he dumps the bodies now. Cornfield? Junkyard? Maybe it’s still the trunks of the victims’ cars?
    While I’m thinking, he grabs for me. I’m already out of the truck and sliding across the snow slush gravel of the parking lot. During our drive it started snowing again, and flakes fly into my eyes as I jog. My muscles are still loose from my earlier run, and my head pounds as They seek their freedom. The frigid night air burns my lungs, and I breathe deeply, enjoying the pain. Hank’s footsteps sound behind me. Even from a distance I can hear his labored breathing. He’s an old hound, but he’s not about to let his bone get away.
    I haven’t gone far before he catches me. I could have easily outrun him, but that would have defeated my purpose. This show has all been for his benefit. It’s so much better when they don’t see it coming.
    I’m a few steps from the field when he grabs me by my right shoulder and spins me around, holding me upright when I would fall. I swing at him with my left hand, awkward and ineffectual. I could drag this out, savor it and fight him for real, but Hank bores me. With the exception of his choice of location, he’s predictable. Plus, he stinks.
    He laughs at my weak punch and hauls me up against him, pinning my arms at my side. It doesn’t matter. By the time I need my hands, They’ll be free.
    He says something to me, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol. I am beyond hearing him. All I can think about is how much They’re going to enjoy what’s about to happen. His hands are roaming over my body now, and I swallow my revulsion at being pressed up against him. With a giddy laugh I release the hold I have on Them.
    It’s like releasing a long-held breath, the whoosh of air replaced by a rush of wings and the soft sliding of scales. I sigh happily. Hank frowns, confusion overriding his glee. I wonder if he can sense what is happening in his inebriated state. Hank, buddy, you really shouldn’t have had that last drink. You look a little tipsy. His expression goes flat, and I smile.
    “You’ve been a very bad boy, Hank Meacham.” The voice is mine and yet, not. It’s deep, throaty, like a stripper who smokes too much. Tisiphone’s voice given life by my throat.
    Hank releases me and takes a couple stumbling steps back. His eyes are wide with horror. My hair whips around my head, driven by a scalding wind. The night is suddenly hotter than an August day. The snow around me melts and evaporates, and steam shrouds me. My vision splits into three. We see three separate Hanks turn to run. A force blocks him, the serpent reaching out invisible coils to restrain his flight. He shoves at the air, a terrified mime in a box. His stupor is gone, fear wiping away the alcohol-fueled haze. He’s screaming now, shouting unintelligible words. Some of them sound like prayers. He blubbers through his panicked tears, pleading with an absent God for mercy.
    We shuffle forward and point at Hank, now curled up in a ball on the ground. “Judgment must be passed,” Megaera hisses, her voice sibilant and high. It’s pretty much pointless to tell him his crimes. He’s petrified with fear. I stride toward Hank. The chains that link me to Them rattle as I move, silver links dragging over the gravel parking lot. My fingers wrap around his chin, dragging him into a sitting position. The grip causes him to wince. With a little more pressure I could shatter his jaw. I hesitate, and They urge me to break it, Their voices rising and sliding over each other until the sound is deafening. Their cries