All Chapters of Whispers of the Devil: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

JuliaI hate this place.As the movers scurry about, hauling boxes and expensive furniture under Jack’s watchful eye, I lounge in a deck chair with a glass of lemonade in one hand, trying not to cry.This whole place is ghastly, no matter where I turn. The landscapers had been out a few weeks earlier and had turned the backyard where I’m currently sitting into a patchwork of sod. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken, and the grass is now dead and lifeless. Beyond, the yard gives way to mud and marsh. Cypress trees rise up in gnarled fingers, their roots hidden by murky sludge. Insects whine and drone amid the greenish haze.I won’t even let myself think about those dreadful tombstones. Jack’s been arguing with the town for permission to remove the cemetery, but so far, he hasn’t been able to cut through the red tape. I take another sip of lemonade and then press the side of the sweating glass against my forehead. How is it so hot? It’s early November. Even the mountains of snow we had whil

JuliaThe morning is blindingly bright and damp as hell.“Shit!” I yelp as I jump up from the rocking chair I’ve just sat in. I should’ve realized that all of the furniture out here on the back porch would be soaking wet after last night’s rain. The sun has only been up for a few hours, and with the humidity churning the air into a soupy mess, nothing has even begun to dry out from the thunderstorm.I really fucking hate it out here. Even the house’s redeeming qualities, like the luxurious deck, are rendered useless by the swamp and the unrelenting Louisiana weather.“This is why we can’t have nice things,” I mutter grumpily as I raise my mug to my lips and take a sip. At least the coffee’s good. Thank God for small mercies.My original plan had been to settle out here with my morning coffee in an attempt to make peace with the swamp. Obviously, nature isn’t too keen on this tentative truce, so I resign myself to leaning against the railing with the ceramic mug clasped between my hand

JakeThe closer I get to the house, the worse I feel.I notice it the moment I turn onto the winding drive that marks the entrance of the property. The car’s tires slide on the muddy, rutted road, and the frame of the vehicle is so low that I swear I can feel my fillings rattle as I maneuver down the potholed path. For once in my life, I actually regret owning such a fancy ride. This wouldn’t be happening in a truck or an SUV.Cypress branches close in overhead, blotting out the sun with feathery leaves and twisted, mottled wood. The trunks churn on either side of me, grotesque in their stature. Thick underbrush creeps into the road. For a moment, it feels like I’m all alone in this wild place.Dread mounts in my gut as I navigate the familiar turns of the drive. I have a terrible thought that the path will go on forever, that each twist in the road will simply guide me farther away from civilization.But then the trees part, and the mud shifts to patchy gravel that crunches satisfyi

ZekeGod, I feel so alive.I close my eyes and let the relentless eye of the sun beat down on me. What does it see when it looks at me? A man? Something more? Something less?And what does Julia see, I wonder?I know it’s dangerous to let my thoughts wander down this path, but it’s as though my mind has become untethered with possibilities. My hand curls around a phantom mug, remembering the feeling of the smooth porcelain against my palm and the heat radiating through my hand as Julia had questioned me with increasing interest.I’d just had coffee with Julia Carter.She wore no makeup, and her hair was mussed from sleep, but that had somehow only made her more beautiful. Her eyes, as green as moss, shone in the fresh morning light. I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to brush my fingertips over the soft curve of her lips, but propriety stopped me in my tracks.I wouldn’t disrespect Julia like that. She is too good for me to be thinking about her in such a way.To

JuliaTears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. But I know that if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter to myself.I’m lying on the couch in the living room, attempting to watch my favorite reality TV show. After I confronted Jake earlier, I haven’t been able to focus. Racing thoughts flutter through my brain like paper in the wind. I’d optimistically heated up a frozen dinner, but I’d only been able to pick at it before my nausea had overpowered my desire to eat. Now the meal sits, cold and congealed, on the coffee table, all but forgotten.I know I could call Nina for support, but I don’t want to go there until I have all of the facts. And the truth is, I don’t really have many of those at all right now.Yes, Jake’s reaction to my questions all but confirmed my suspicions that he’s nothing more than a cheating bastard. I have no doubt that he’s up to his old tricks, but this time, I’m not going to let him off so easily. I need cold, hard pr