Whispers of the Devil

a

es my sternum as she rests in her bed, and I’m not a tall woman, by any means. She’s definitely n

truth, I could count on one hand the number of ti

ily line. But her brow isn’t perpetually pinched. Her nose isn’t long and gnarled and covered with warts. Her fingerna

e the witch my famil

whole, making her look like a discarded porcelain doll. Her white nightdress is absolutely pristine, her nails

ceptional care of her, and

th Aunt Penny for decades now, and while she rarely speaks a word to me during the ha

eems, is simply

Penny shows no signs that she’s tired. In fact, I don’t think I’ve even seen her blink in the past hour, but her chest moves with each cal

t recovered, I can tell whatever consciousness is there isn’t e

ead. A soft, rain-soaked breeze drifts in from the open window, a screen keeping t

igh as I carefully meet her eyes again, then start going through the checklist Vera gave me.

ind me, her voice a faint w

Her heart monitor picks up an arrhythmia, which causes me to abruptly turn around and

oved for the first time since I started tending to her at night by myself. He

kes a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as

tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Sounds rom

is the beeping

of any kind then leave the room as I’d intended, realizing I’ve been holding

asionally thumping banging sounds the house makes at night and usually don’t bother to turn on a light. I’ve noticed the noi

ld bones, just

r the nightly ritual of putting my aunt to bed. Her thin skin doesn’t tolerate an IV for very long, and a lot o

silent, while outside a storm brews in the distance. It’s been sprinkling on and off for hours

ugh to disturb the old paintings now trembling in their frames. I think nothing of it, my foot on the first step headin

d gramophone in the corner of the room–spinning, it

he record skips, the voice of the singer distorted and cracking. “She

ble sound that makes my ears ring

ver she may be. She can search this wide world ov

nd the song, “St. James Infirmary”

tear my gaze from the record and look over my shoulder into the inky black shadows choking the room around me. I’m

m if anything goes wrong during the night, before undressing and stepping into the shower, letting the luk

all. My suite, anyway, is a dream compared to some of the places where I’ve had to stay before. My bathroom is stocked with luxurious products, a far cry from the drugstore shampoo a

ance, through and through. Like leather, smoke, and sweat. I lean my head against the shower wall and breathe deeply, letting the scent fl

on. And by what?

ckling as I raise my f

n. My hands drift between my legs, my skin still cool and damp from the shower. I close my eyes and let

n that long. Sure, I’ve messed around, but being a travel nurse hadn’t worked in my favor when it

nt in a supply closet during an especially long night shift, makes that ache bet

into view, and for a moment I wonder if I’m still asleep whe

male. Sweat and desire. I taste whiskey o

his kisses trail d

s is a dream. Thi

through it and tug ever so slightly. His teeth graze my inner thighs, his tongue lashing out and dragging over

trol himself. He sucks my clit and pumps his fingers inside me–each thrust rough and demanding, his fingers curling and pulling me closer to the edge of th

dream. You

as my body begins to shake. “Please

nger from my darkest, wildest dreams p

top myself from screaming loud enough to shatter the windows. Pleasure floods my bod

r my hand from between my thighs, panting, sweat dripping down m

ok around the room, narrowing my eyes into the

h and close my eyes. My body feels electric, still begging to be t

,” I whisper, gri

nutes before my alarm, and honestly, I don’t feel like I’ve gotten

suck in a breath, holding it, closing my eyes as

be my nursing friends were right about getting laid. It’d been far too long, and now look at me? I’ve peppe

t here with me, at least for today. My skin prickles. I brush my hair and pull it back in a pon

iolated if I’ve do

of my morning duties before Bailey gets here to take over. But I’ve barely made it down the hallwa

through the ce

leads to the third and fourth floors, which are nothing but bedr

. Silence. Pure, creeping silence that settles

the front door opens, setting an

athe, loud enou

or as I walk to the landing and look down. She holds up two iced lattes, shaking th

ding as I nod, s

s, her brow furrowing.

to look back down the hallway to

meone–or something–standing t

Bailey grins, but the smi