Dark Intent

It was a perfectly dreadful day. The kind of day that made a person want to dive back beneath the covers or curl up with a good spell book or two. Gray clouds hovered over the Mercier family home while a cold drizzle attempted to wash away the muck and mire of New Orleans. Honestly, that was too big of a task for rain. Hell, even floods couldn’t get rid of the stench permeating the area. I had no complaint with the weather. My issue ran a lot deeper than an atmospheric alteration.

Lowering the curtain, I returned to my seat at the head of the dining room table. It had been hours since I had last spoken to Kenrick, and I wasn’t happy about it. Not because I missed his presence. Okay, maybe just a tad. My funk had to do with how we left things between us.

My cousin and I never fought. Neither of us had ever said a cruel word to one another. Out of all my family, Kenrick was the only one I got along with unequivocally. I just hoped he would show up for breakfast. I purposefully asked the cook to prepare his favorite dishes—Cajun-style Eggs Benedict with Tasso ham, sweet-potato-pecan waffles served with Creole cream cheese and berries, freshly squeezed satsuma juice, and café au lait. Much more than my usual fare, but I wanted to see him happy. Regardless of what happened, he mattered to me.