The Day She Married His Killer, I Brought the Coffin

My brother and I were twin hex-craft masters from the Southern Highlands.

I was born rotten. A killer, a skin-flayer, a terror to everyone within a hundred miles.

My brother was the opposite. Gentle. Kind. Three years ago, he married into the Sanchez family as a live-in husband, joining the wealthiest household in the region.

I never imagined the next time I'd see him, it would be his body, sent back to the Highlands by a corpse courier.

He was stuffed inside a battered coffin. Every fingernail had been pried off. The Corpse Courierre wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left on his body.

The corpse courier looked at me. Something like pity flickered across his face.

“Lloyd Manning asked me to pass along a message before he died. He said you absolutely must not go after the Sanchez family.”

“They're not the kind of people we can afford to cross.”

I lowered my head, staring at my brother's ruined body, and felt the red creeping into my eyes.

The corpse courier sighed, turned, and walked away, muttering as he went.

“What a shame. Such a good young man, tortured to death by Myron Henson.”

“Word is, Lloyd's wife is marrying Myron next month……”

I raised my eyes slowly. My pupils had gone a vivid, unnatural red, bright with something far past anger.

So that was how they'd treated my brother.

On the day of Naomi Sanchez and Myron Henson's wedding, I carried the coffin on my back all the way to the venue.

I dropped it on the ground and spoke, voice flat.

“There won't be any vows exchanged today.”

“Not until you've knelt before my brother first.”

——

I hadn't raised my voice, but every head in the room turned toward me.

A woman among the guests was the first to laugh.

“Who is this guy? Some hick from the sticks? Look at what he's wearing to Ms. Sanchez's wedding.”

“No idea. Must be from out of town. Look at those cloth shoes. How embarrassing.”

I looked down at my shoes.

Black cloth uppers, tight even stitching, a small white camellia embroidered on each one.

I'd kept this pair for three years. Today was the first time I'd worn them.

They were spotless. Not a speck of dirt.

My brother made them for me. I could never bring myself to get them dirty.

Naomi Sanchez frowned at me, her face pinched with impatience.

That expression. I knew it well.

Because I'd swallowed my brother's Natal Hex-insect and absorbed scattered fragments of his memories.

The very first day Lloyd married into the Sanchez household, Myron showed up.

He claimed his family had fallen on hard times and needed somewhere to stay for a while.

My brother smiled and agreed, then personally tidied up a room for Myron.

Three days later, my brother was heading downstairs when Myron, standing at the foot of the staircase, stuck out his foot and tripped him.

Lloyd tumbled down the stairs. His forehead split open, and blood ran down the bridge of his nose.

Naomi heard the commotion and came out of her study. She tore into my brother without a second glance at the blood on his face.

“Myron is in poor health. Can't you watch where you're going? What if you'd knocked into him?”

The worst time was when Myron's cat died.

He stood there with red-rimmed eyes and told Naomi that Lloyd had used hex-craft to kill it.

Naomi ordered my brother locked inside the freezer. Three days and three nights.

When the cold had nearly killed him, Lloyd clawed the door apart with his bare hands. Nine of his ten fingers snapped.

He sobbed and told himself that Naomi just felt sorry for Myron, that once Myron recovered, everything would be fine.

But Myron never recovered.

Every time Naomi showed Lloyd even the slightest warmth, Myron collapsed.

Coughing. Vomiting blood. Fainting. Always something new.

And every time, Naomi found a new way to punish my brother, sending people to beat obedience into him, again and again.

Three years. My brother lived like that for three years.

Naomi's voice pulled me out of the memories. She was frowning, her tone sharp with irritation.

“Lloyd.”

“Today is my wedding day with Myron. Stop this superstitious nonsense. You actually carried a coffin in here? Are you trying to ruin things for Myron on purpose?”

“I already told you, this marriage is just to fulfill his wish. Why do you have to be so petty about it?”