To Light and Guard

Chapter Sixteen

"We don't serve your kind here." Mary Eunice blinked up from the menu to look at the waiter when he delivered the line; it provoked in her a sense of deja vu. I've been here before. She glanced across the table to Lana, who met her gaze with shock, but Mary Eunice's chest didn't echo with surprise. They're going to try to kick us out. "I'll have to ask you both to leave. Your presence might disturb the other patrons." His rebuking gaze upon Lana made her stomach boil with rage. How dare you look at her that way. "There are children here."

She lifted her head to the manager before he spoke, all red-faced and squishy and hateful. He thinks we look delicious. "You're despicable," he accused, those loathsome eyes fixed upon them and sweaty hands balling to fists. We'll see how delicious he thinks this is. His puffy neck veins protruded when he stood by their table. "Get out." Lana hesitated. Mary Eunice did not, a grin crawling upon her face. She strode out from behind the booth. Red, lacy lingerie clung to her frame, and black fishnet stockings left little of her legs to the imagination. "Get out!" he bellowed at Lana, spittle flying from his mouth.

Lana came unfrozen and lurched upward and grappled for Mary Eunice's arm, ready to tug her out of the restaurant. Mary Eunice dug in her heels. "C'mon," Lana whispered. She snatched at the arm again. "Mary Eunice, c'mon!"

Mary Eunice, however, stared at the restaurant manager. "I would watch your tone, if I were you, mister." Lana's face froze in terror at her confrontational words. Her lips formed pleas, but her voice vacated the premises, unable to form anything except a faint, garbled sound in the back of her throat. "We came here to eat lunch. We ordered ice water, no lemon, and sweet tea. Do you mind treating us with some human decency?"

His lip curled, and he lunged at her. Meaty hands closed around her throat. She chuckled and flicked her hand. "Well, won't you look at that?" she hummed, head tilted, as his ankles jerked out from under him and he levitated above their heads by his toes. His snarl became a wail of pain. "It hurts, doesn't it? Dangling by your little toe? All that weight on one tiny joint..." Her grin spread wider, dimples deepening. "Maybe you should shed a few pounds, mister." She released him from her telekinetic strength, and he crashed back to the ground. His arm snapped, and as she approached, he blubbered, begging for mercy.

She seized a steak knife from the plate of another customer, spinning it deftly between her fingers like a juggler with pins. "I can help you with that. We'll start with your shoulders. You know what they say about a good, tasty Boston butt, don't you? I'm sure you'll sell well." She peeled back his shirt and stuck the knife into the back of his shoulder, whittling it down into a long slab. He screamed, and with it, delight blossomed in her chest. "Maybe your people will reconsider before they try to mistreat my girlfriend again."

His blood poured onto the tile floor and stained her hands. Its blots didn't appear on her bright red outfit. "Pig brains are also a delicacy in some places," she teased, "but I think we'll save that for last. How about some sausage and Rocky Mountain oysters?" She stepped on his chest with her high heels and unbuckled his jeans. "I see you're not interested in looking up my skirt now, are you? But earlier, I made you so hard." She pouted down at him. He squirmed and panted and groaned, blubbering incoherently. "That's fine. People like meat best when it's tender, you know." She cut his underwear off of him and discarded them. "Look at that tiny package," she teased. "It will only feed one person. That's alright." With the tips of her fingers, she grabbed the head of his flaccid penis, handling it like a moldy piece of trash which would soil her hands. She severed it with a few heavy-handed saws of her steak knife. When the blade plunged into his testicles, he lost consciousness. "Good. Shut him up, for fuck's sake."

She righted herself with her prizes, and she smirked at Lana. "Do you want sausage and oysters?"

A face pressed into the back of her neck, muffled by her hair, and tugged her from her dream. "No, thanks," Lana mumbled. One of her arms strained around Mary Eunice, squished between the curve of her breasts so the hand rested just above her left one. "Your heart's really drummin'." She yawned, and morning breath fanned across Mary Eunice's face.