The Death Of Romance

Chapter Three: Lions, and Tigers, and Husbands, Oh My!

Sabra's husband was a disaster. I could see that as soon as he swaggered over and swung his arm around her shoulders. His blonde hair was unruly, feathering into multiple layers and thrown back into a messy pony tail at the base of his head. His vibrant green eyes made the freckles pop against his fair skin.

If that description wasn't enough to turn your stomach, then his breath would. He reeked of fresh peppermint and daffodils. Have you ever heard of such a disgusting scent? It crawled into my nose and sat there, tormenting me with an overwhelming need to vomit.

"Who's this?" He asked Sabra in a voice that apparently hadn't developed since adolescence. It was high-pitched, and almost boyish.

"Oh, uh, this is...Elvira, was it?" Sabra replied. I noticed that her shoulders had tensed at her husband's touch. "She was Larry's cousin."

The filthy wretch held his hand out to me, as if I would dare shake his vile meat hook! It was nearly insulting how he kept his hand there, then glared at me as if I were the one at fault for not partaking in his mortal habits. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elvira. I'm William. I worked with Larry at Chills for Frills."

My lips tugged into the most inviting frown that I could manage. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Despite my cold greeting, William didn't seem the least bit fazed. In fact, it made him smile even wider. His steely blue eyes were bereft of the same sorrow as his wife's. "I'm so sorry about your loss. Losing someone like Larry...well, it's gotta be tough."

"Not at all." I replied, admittedly puzzled by his assumptions. Was it customary to be so sympathetic during funerals? The very thought was completely ludicrous! "We are thrilled that he has decided to join our ancestors in the Ethereal Realm."

William blinked once, twice, then thrice. Finally, the grin stretched across his face like a Cheshire Cat, and he erupted into booming laughter. "It's good that you can still joke at a time like this."

His obnoxious cackles filled my mind with gruesome thoughts. Oh, how I would love to turn him into a loathsome little cockroach. It would certainly suit him better than his current form. "Do I look like a jester to you?"

My words only seemed to further his amusement. He pat me on the shoulder, laughter climbing to new heights and grabbing the attention of Larry's other colleagues. "You're a riot! Must have gotten your sense of humour from Larry. He was always joking around like that."

Though William certainly found my attitude humorous, Sabra's expression never wavered. She knew that I was being serious. I could see it in her perfectly dark eyes...and it made her uncomfortable. The poor dear thing was so dreadfully innocent. "D-Do...you know who killed your cousin? We were never told exactly how he died."

"Killed?" I repeated, almost joining her husband in his cackling.

"Yeah... The word around town's that he was killed by The Glutton."

I had to huff at such a ridiculous rumour. The Glutton was an up-and-coming serial killer that had sprouted into light only last week. It had been a wonderful form of entertainment for the Solstice family to guess the motives and methods of this mysterious murderer, but overall, he was rather sloppy. I wouldn't even rank him in my top 50 serial killers of the century.

The laughter swiftly left William's face and now it was cloaked in shadow. There was something lurking beneath there. I could see it, like the kraken swimming beneath an unsuspecting ship. "That's probably not an appropriate topic of conversation. She just lost her cousin."

Sabra seemed to shrink into herself. Her dark eyes flicked to the soil beneath our feet, and for a moment, she looked like a cowering lamb. One in dire need of a sheer because her midnight curls hid most of her face.

"Oh, but she does look so sweet when she is curious." My words forced her gaze back up, and those two pristine onyx irises stared at me with uncertainty. "The topic does not much bother me if it means I will hear more of that accent."

William's brow furrowed. "What accent?"

Typical. He had not noticed that small rumble beneath her voice. The one that spoke of an early childhood in the African heat. The one that she had tried to hide so desperately.

Attempting to ignore William's oblivious nature, I turned my attention back to the question at hand. "Regardless, my cousin was not killed by any such thing. He did it to himself."

"Oh...that's awful. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." Sabra muttered guiltily, trying to shrug her husband's arm off her shoulders but he refused to budge.

"It is quite horrid." I agreed with a curt nod. "He cut his own head clean off... I suppose you are unaware of how difficult that is to do, and to actually succeed is quite rare as well. I was planning something similar, but he has made it impossible for me to depart in such a fashion now."

Sabra let out a quiet gasp, much like a little mouse caught in a trap, then covered her mouth with her hand uncomfortably. William, however, chuckled once more to himself before his wife finally started tugging on his arm. "W-We'd better go, right honey?"

William's lips thinned into an irritated frown, but he indulged her nonetheless. "Yeah, I guess."

"So soon?" I asked, directing the question more towards Sabra than William. I couldn't have cared less if he left. In fact, I rather hoped that one of my wonderfully rotted ancestors would drag him into their graves on his way out.

Sabra nodded wildly, and pulled her husband away even more desperately. Now, upon first glance, it may appear as if she was running away from me...but that wasn't the whole truth. Within that one tiny interaction, I already knew more about William and Sabra than they could have ever imagined.

For instance, I knew that William was a phoney. That big smile and those sparkling, sea-foam eyes were an act. A terrible one at that. I could see a shadow looming within his skin, screaming and clawing at his insides. My guess was that he was probably a closet necrophilia addict...like Uncle Salem. Though, my uncle wasn't quite so secretive about it.

Then there was Sabra. Every time I opened my mouth she looked either frightened, appalled, or mortified...but it was clear that her sudden urge to leave was nothing to do with me, and everything to do with herself. She was afraid. Not of what I was saying, but of how it made her feel. I could see it in the way her lips locked up tight whenever she looked at me. There was a secret that she had buried deep inside of her heart, and she didn't dare let it wander.