“Where? I’d like to check.” He pulled out his phone. “Who can verify it, Marla? One name. Give me one name and I’ll admit I’m crazy. My bet is that you were actually in Paris.” Ben stood up and stepped back into the grave. With renewed energy fueled by anger and hurt, he began to dig furiously. “How did you do it? All these years? I want to see what you’ve done. And when I’m finished here, I’m going to start digging over there.” He motioned toward a big cluster of bushes. “Or you could save me the trouble and just point.”

Tears began to roll down Ben’s cheeks with every scoop of earth. He wiped his arm on his coat as he continued digging. He shoveled until Todd’s body was fully uncovered. The body was twisted unnaturally, like he’d been tossed carelessly into the pit. Ben was thankful that he couldn’t see what remained of his face due to the mass of long, tangled dark hair. The sight sickened him.

“Jesus,” he said as he crawled away from the hole and vomited beside the stone walkway. He heard the sound of a power tool—perhaps an electric saw—starting up two or three houses down from theirs. A normal house with normal sounds. It was oddly comforting. And the whirring of the saw was also the last sound he heard before he felt a stab of pain in the back of his head and everything went black.

Ben woke to find his hands and feet bound by electrical tape. Marla was inching him closer to the grave, pulling his feet and torso in line with the hole to make it easier for her to roll him in. The reality hit him—she was going to bury him alive in his own backyard.

Ben began to scream. Marla put her hand over his mouth and he bit her. She pulled her hand away and then slapped him hard across the face, causing his already aching head to throb in earnest. She pulled off another piece of electrical tape and placed it over his mouth.

“You think I’m a monster.” She bent down, studying her handiwork. “Well, you have no idea of monsters, Ben. I could show you monsters.” She stood up, and he could hear her knees crack. “You asked if killing them was worth it? The answer is yes. I’ve lived for a hundred years. Killing is what keeps me alive. Every thirty years like clockwork, I find a willing sacrifice.” She smiled. “Well, willing is probably not the right term. Still, I get to keep living and looking like this.”

She wiped her face and then pulled Ben’s legs toward the hole. He kicked at her and screamed through the tape, but the sound was so muffled with the buzzing sound that continued a few houses down, drowning out his stifled pleas.