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“Get in the water.”
The voice penetrates his brain and Alastor immediately drops the body he’s dragging to check his ears.
The plugs are still there.
With a sigh of relief, the killer picks the body back up and carries on forward.
“Get in the water.”
Alastor ignores the voice as it grows louder and more demanding the closer he gets to the river. Whoever said that plugging your ears will protect you in these parts was clearly wrong because that fish-tailed thing will just screech through the cotton and beeswax. He stays calm as the idea to go for a swim invades his thoughts. He reminds himself how late it is. He’ll ruin his clothes. He has work in the morning.
“Get in the water.”
“Here.”
He drops the hundred pound sack of flesh into the water and turns around.
“Come back.”
He doesn’t understand why the creature is so fixated on him. Yes, he brings it food, but if he jumps in with it he’ll drown. Alastor’s not stupid. Everyone in New Orleans knows the stories. That thing plans on eating him the second falls in.
“Come back.”
He will come back. Like a fool, he always comes back. Nobody checks the water here. Nobody comes and goes.
“Come back.”
It’s the perfect place to hide a body.
“Come back and jump!”
Alastor marches on. Head facing forward, smile on his face, heart beating in his chest, the man marches forward. “Just don’t turn around,” he reminds himself. “Just don’t turn around.”