Chocolate and Honey

A short story with the same female lead as "Mock Orange Blossoms" I do adore her.

“Scream and I’ll kill you.”

Bent over a row of violets a woman pauses. The sharp threat comes from a man just behind her, pressing a gun into her head. Minutes earlier he abandoned his car after a shot burst a back tire. He’d ducked into the flower shop as the sirens drew closer, luck on his side that the sole occupant was distracted.

“Slowly stand and turn around,” he commands, stepping back as she does.

He studies her, mid-twenties, body language timid. Hands raised in surrender she waits, silently submissive, but something about her makes his skin crawl.

“Move to the register,” he orders, following her. “Hands flat on the counter.”

Standing behind her, barrel touching her spine, he scans the street through the front window.

“If a cop comes in looking for me tell him you’re alone, understand?”

 She nods.

“Good girl. Keep it up and you might live.”

Fingers drumming on the counter he surveys the shop, eyes stopping on a pouch next to the register tied with a perfect white ribbon.

“S’that?” He asks, tapping the pouch.

“Candy,” her voice is soft, calm. The hair rises on his neck.

Opening the pouch he pops a chocolate into his mouth, pleased by the unexpected honey center.

“Pretty good,” he mutters eating three more.

“The police are here,” she says with a nod towards the window.

Startled, he spots the cruiser parked across the street. Ducking under the counter he presses the gun against her stomach in warning, holding his breath as bells chime above the door.

“Can I help you?” She asks, as footsteps draw closer.

“Ms. St. Ange we’ve reason to believe there’s a criminal in the area. There was a shooting at the courthouse and the perpetrator’s car was found several blocks from here.”

“How terrible,” she says, concerned. “Is everyone alright?”

“Only a minor injury was sustained. Have you seen anyone in the last thirty minutes?”

“Just you.”

“Then for your safety close your shop and stay inside until an officer tells you it’s safe.”

“Of course, Officer. Good luck.”

Retreating steps followed by the chime of bells. A heartbeat. Two. Ten.

“He’s gone now.”

“Your name’s St. Ange?” He asks her, standing close enough her arm brushes his chest.

“Yes.”

“Any relation to Cedric St. Ange the district attorney?”

“My brother,” she replies coolly.

With a whooping laugh he grabs her face forcing her to look at him.

“That’s the bastard I just tried to kill,” he leers, “but this is better. He puts my brother away and I get to take it out on his sister. Once I’m through with you sweetie pie he’ll wish I’d shot him.”

Another guttural laugh as he looks into her eyes, wanting to relish in her fear. A chill races down his spine, slithering through his veins. Her eyes are empty. No fear, no panic, just flat pools of cinnamon. Raising the gun he presses it into her temple hard enough to bruise.

“Maybe you don’t understand the situation you’re in, but it’s time to be afraid you stupid bitch,” he snarls.

Quirking an eyebrow, she remains stoic. Another shiver wracks his body. Her expression doesn’t change but the air around her seeps malice. He swallows, throat suddenly dry, as fire erupts in his stomach and the world grows dim.

Heady fuzzy, mouth feeling like cotton, blurred eyes open. He tries lifting a hand but it won’t move. Struggling, he finds his body immobile, crying hoarsely when he can’t lift his head.

“You’re awake,” a pleased voice says. “I wasn’t sure you’d rouse after eating so much candy. Chocolate and honey cover the taste of henbane, which is what’s caused your muscles to go into a state of paralysis. Of course, if you aren’t properly treated it will eventually spread to your heart and lungs, killing you. But we’ll have plenty of time before that.”

Cecily St. Ange fills his vision, leaning over the table he’s prone on. Eyes alight with bloodlust she purrs darkly, “Now then, shall we start with needles or the blow torch?”