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Chapter 12

Nina’s POV 5 years ago

A New and Improved Recipe

Six months.

Six fucking months; I have been catering to Anabelle’s cookie venture with no end in sight. I wasn’t sure how, but what I had created with the intention of a form of payback has only ended up biting me in the ass. As much as I wanted to quit this whole business collaboration with my worst enemy, I have no choice but to comply with her whims; she has made her threats to ruin my husband’s livelihood all too apparent.

I doubted her once and refused to complete an order, and learned that she was definitely not one to be trifled with as a result.

Let’s just say, my Dean was suddenly shut out by his suppliers as well as an unexpected visit from a representative of the Division of Funeral, Cemetery, and Consumer Services of the Department of Financial Services, stating that there seemed to be an issue with Dean’s licensure showing as being lapsed. I knew this was bullshit, of course; I was with him when he went to the Government Center to file for his renewal. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop them from putting a halt to our doing business and dragging their feet to resolve the issue.

One week later, I received a call from a very smug Anabelle asking if I had time to rethink my position on continuing our partnership or would I like for her to make more problems for Dean.

Seeing how miserable Dean had been trying to jump through hoops to fix things, only to be met with roadblocks, I caved into her little attempt at extortion.

The next day, everything was magically resolved, His License Renewal was found in their system, and all his suppliers had magically processed his orders.

Gotta love the power of money and assholes.

The more you have, the bigger the hole to shit upon others.

As I was saying, I have been in the cookie biz for six months. At first, my unique ingredient supply was easily accessible, but that supply became a lot scarcer once the winter months hit. Cold months in the Midwest make it a rare occasion to find stray dogs out and about. I tried to hit up the pound a couple of times, but that only drew unwanted attention to me. My next course of action was to substitute using other animals in the wild. That, too, was met with a negative result. Apparently, fresh dog blood was the only one that seemed to work in the recipe. Other types of blood only ruined the flavor of the chocolate significantly.

How would I know, you ask?
Well obviously. At a certain point, I needed to taste what the hell I was making in order to replicate it accordingly. Thus how I knew the other types of blood were just nasty as hell.

So once again, I was faced with another dilemma. That was until I found the solution in the most unlikely source, and honestly, the cookies that came out of that supply were even tastier than the original recipe.


Last month I was at my wit’s end. Orders had been coming in, and I had used up my supply of blood. That same day, a terrible accident had occurred on the 35W freeway with multiple casualties. A few nearby towns had been charged with holding the bodies in their minimal facilities. The Sheriff’s Departments for each city were busy notifying the families of the victims. Since Dean was licensed with assisting the Medical Examiner in our town, some of the bodies were stored in our funeral home’s freezers.

Small towns are somewhat limited when it comes to places to store a multitude of bodies, you know.

Of course, I was also assisting my husband with the dismembered victims being brought into our prep room. We received three victims that day. Two males and a female; all of them appeared to be in their early twenties. These people were the now mangled former inhabitants of the black Chevy Impala responsible for causing the massive pile up.

The ME was running toxicology reports on the driver, but it was easily ascertained that the driver was under the influence of something. Surviving witnesses to the tragic accident stated that the Impala was noted as speeding, wildly swerving in and out of lanes, and driving erratically. The fact that there was black ice on the freeway only made his irresponsibility a recipe for the catastrophe that occurred.

I suppose that was why my brain was able to justify my actions so quickly.

I perceived the driver’s blatant disregard for not only himself but those around him; his choosing to drive while intoxicated was a clear indication that I should be able to hold him in that same regard. So while we were setting up their bodies on the chilly metal trays, preparing them to be set in cold storage, I devised that I would snag a tiche of the driver’s blood; with the mangled state he was in, it’s not like anyone was going to notice anyway. I had deduced that Human blood was one of the strains of blood that I hadn’t attempted to use yet. If it were another failure, then so be it; I would have to try and figure something else out to meet the growing demand for my damn cookies.

Not wanting my husband to be aware of my current hidden agenda, I had to wait for the most opportune time to procure what I needed. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait for too long, though. Dean needed to make a trip over to the Police Station regarding the handling and storing of the bodies with respect to any familial requests for him to prepare them for cremation or viewing. Apparently, in this town, our Sheriff was the point of contact; all the contacted relatives were already over at the station. I could sense Dean’s hesitation with having to leave in the middle of what he was doing; with all the dismembered and mangled body parts, the place did resemble a sen right out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre at the moment. Of course, I assured my Dean that I was perfectly capable of handling the clean-up; for that, I was rewarded a promise of extra pampering tonight from my hubby.

Thank God I have an iron stomach for this shit.

I made my way over to the decapitated remains of the Impala driver and grimaced. The bloodied face of his detached head was permanently affixed with the last expression he must have made after that realizing that he was on a collision course headed directly into the trailer of a jack-knifed semi. The massive truck had lost control when it tried to avoid another vehicle that had been previously struck by the Impala, which in turn was sent into a tailspin right into oncoming traffic. The rest was an unfortunate domino effect of metal against metal, resulting in a twisted nightmare of blood, glass, and mangled bodies.

To put it bluntly, the accident resembled the opening scene from Final Destination 2, scary as hell, my friend.

This man disgusted me. He was responsible for the death and injury of so many without any retribution for his crime. Yes, he died, but that didn’t make the bitter taste of his sin diminish amongst the families of his victims.

In my opinion, taking the blood he cared so little about to create something that brought happiness was only fitting, and so I did.

To my surprise, the smooth blend of his blood with my chocolate mixture produced a cookie recipe that almost tasted as if the Gods created it.

I was pretty sure the universe was sending me a sign; create something sweet from those whose evil deeds left a bitter taste in the mouths of the innocent. Human blood was the way to go.

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