Following the chilling success of their first collection, Lady Eckland, Glenn Riley, and new collaborator, Bella Darkwood return to guide you through the shadowy corridors of fear with their second compendium, *Whispers In The Dark 2*. These master...
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The sea was calm as Stephen boarded his sleek motor yacht under the moonless night sky. Not a whisper of wind caused the vessels in the marina to stir, and even the usual lapping of waves against hulls was silent. An ominous stillness permeated the air as Stephen fired up the engines and steered toward the shadowy horizon.
The events of the last 48 hours played in his mind—the confrontation with his wife, Cassandra, after he'd learned of her affair with his assistant director Emma. The venomous hatred that overtook him when Cassandra defiantly confessed her love for Emma. And the malevolent plan for revenge that began forming even as Cassandra desperately pleaded for his understanding.
He had concealed his rage behind a façade of forgiveness, inviting the two lovers to join him at his secluded beach house on the pretext of reconciliation. Once there, he slipped a lethal concoction into their wine over dinner and watched with grim satisfaction as their unconscious bodies slumped to the imported Italian marble floor.
There were no witnesses in the remote location, no staff on hand to intervene. He set calmly about dismembering the two lifeless women, sanitizing and preserving select parts he planned to mail to Emma’s family in taunting installments over the coming months. The rest he sealed in weighted trunks, loading them onto his yacht in the dead of night under cover of darkness.
Now only the gentle rumble of the engines broke the silence as Stephen steered his yacht ever deeper into the night-shrouded sea, the trunks containing his gruesome cargo secured tightly in the hold. Miles from shore, well beyond the usual marine traffic routes, he cut the engines and the boat bobbed lazily atop the black, glossy waters.
As Stephen began winching the first trunk up from the hold, the boat listed sharply beneath his feet. He staggered sideways, struggling to regain his balance as he scanned the tranquil sea surrounding him.
“What the hell?” he muttered, detecting no apparent cause for the sudden tilt.
Just as quickly as it came, the unusual swell passed, the deck once again leveling beneath his shoes. Shrugging off the strange occurrence, he returned to the task at hand. With a heavy splash the trunk sank into the dark depths, the contained body parts destined to become fodder for the sea creatures lurking in the murky abyss.
One by one, Stephen emptied the remaining trunks until no evidence of his monstrous acts remained on board. He dusted off his hands in satisfaction, the tension that had built steadily over the preceding weeks finally easing from his body. As he raised the anchor and restarted the engines to begin the return voyage, a thin mist crept across the water toward him.
Tendrils of vapor reached toward the boat, writhing delicate white fingers clutching at the hull. Stephen watched, mesmerized momentarily by the unusual sight—the sea had been clear moments before and no inclement weather lingered offshore.
As swiftly as it manifested from the dark waters, the mist dissipated, leaving Stephen questioning his eyes. He reached for the throttle, ready to speed away from this strange stretch of ocean. Just then a loud thud echoed up from directly beneath his shoes accompanied by a simultaneous rapping against the window behind his head.
