Denouement (The Darkness Series Book 3) (14 page)

He felt a twinge of guilt, but it soon passed. After all, it was the patient or him and he’d always put himself first in those scenarios. He closed the front door to the house on the tortured yell coming from the room he’d left behind. Obviously the gag had been removed. Dr. Daniels was glad he wasn’t around to witness that exchange. The poor bastard.

Back in the room, the patient glared up at the new man in front of him, his eyes spitting fire at him.

The other man chuckled, delighted in how things were going. “I must say, I was impressed to hear about your attempt to escape last week. I didn’t think you had the balls for anything like that anymore. You’ve been the model patient these past two years.”

The prisoner fought to speak, mumbling around the gag stuffed in his mouth. Taking pity on him, the man pulled it out. “What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you, my friend.”

He gasped, darting his tongue out to wet his dehydrated lips. “I said,” he wheezed. “I said, when I get out of here I’m going to fucking tear you limb from limb and feed your worthless carcass to the wolves.”

His captor let out a shout of laughter and slapped his knees. “Oh, you’ve always been such an amusement to me. I’m pleased to see you haven’t lost that while being here.” He leaned forward and got in his face.

“So tell me, Gabe, how did it feel watching me fuck Nora? What was it like knowing that I have your life now? Your face. Your job. Your son. All mine. And the fucking cherry on top of it all, look at Nora.” He paused the screen on a shot of Nora’s face, her head was thrown back and her mouth was slightly parted as “Gabe” sucked on her tits.

“You see that? She’s mine. Not yours, mine and she fucking loves it every time I touch her. All she needed was a chance to see that there was a better man out there for her.”

The real Gabe’s face contorted in pain as he stared at the screen. “She doesn’t fucking love you, Marcus. You’re playing her. You had to be
me
to get her, otherwise she never would have laid a finger on you, you useless piece of shit.”

Fury filled Marcus and he turned away, pressing more buttons on the remote. Finding the spot he wanted he pressed play and spun back to face Gabe.

“How about this then? Nora does love me, you fool. Your whole family does. Your life is mine, exactly how it always should have been. You never deserved Nora and you’ll never have her again. Just like you’ll never have him.”

On the screen, Caleb ran to Marcus and leaped up into his arms. “Daddy!” he called out, snuggling into his arms.

At the scene, Gabe let out a tortured yell, his heart breaking into a million pieces as he watched his son be fooled by a monster in disguise.

Marcus smiled, satisfied and left the video playing as he walked out of the room, leaving Gabe behind in his own misery.

T
he old woman
kicked and screamed as she was dragged by her short hair and the scruff of her shirt. Indignity filled her as her shirt rose up, exposing her flesh. No one but her dear late husband, Frank had ever seen so much of her, it was a privilege granted only to him.

She’d been walking to her car after her morning ritual of visiting his grave when she’d been attacked from behind and shoved into the backseat of a waiting vehicle. Sheer terror gripped her as she’d fought to get the back door open, panicking when it was locked. What was going on? Why would someone want to abduct her of all people?

Everyone that knew her knew she visited Frank’s grave every morning fussing over the flowers and filling him in on her daily activities the day before. When he’d passed suddenly from complications during a routine surgery, she’d been devastated. At sixty-two, she’d never expected to be a widow. She and Frank should have grown old together, experiencing the joy of watching their children flourish and their grandchildren grow up. “You’re my star, Rosie,” he used to tell her. An old joke from her teenage days when she’d dreamed of becoming the next big film star. She’d traded that dream for an apron and a wooden spoon; staying home to raise their son and daughter while Frank provided for them.

“Please, please, sir. You’re hurting me, please let go,” she begged as he continued to drag her. They’d arrived at some sort of warehouse and the ski-masked man had pulled her from the car and despite her struggles, managed to get her inside. He hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire time which only resulted in heightening her fright. Desperate, she dug her nails into his hand, searching for traction and feeling a small burst of triumph when she felt the skin tear.

The man dropped her suddenly, pain shooting through her as her body connected with the cold, concrete floor. “You think it was smart to hurt me, lady? You think you can leave a mark on me and I won’t leave one on you ten times worse?” He looked down at his hand, then thrust it into her face for her to see up close.

“You drew blood. You drew
my
blood,” he raged. He grabbed her hair with both hands and shook her. “I’m having a very bad day. I brought you here to cheer me up. And this is how you repay me?” His rambling made no sense and Rosie sought to reassure him.

“I’m, I’m sorry, sir. Please, please I want to help you. Tell me what I can do to make things better,” she pleaded, her head spinning with confusion.

“She gave me an assignment. I’m very good at my job, lady. Never have I left a client unsatisfied with my performance. But this time, this time it was different. The plan didn’t carry out the way I envisioned. They ruined everything, don’t you see?” He withdrew a small packet from his pocket and passed it from hand to hand, the tapping sound seeming to calm him.

Rosie propped herself up on her elbows and slowly started to scoot backwards. He was lost in his re-counting of events and didn’t notice that she’d put five feet of distance between them.

“I gave up my right to truly enjoy her, to witness the transformation of her skin; all in the name of following orders. And now…now she’s free and I failed. I never fail. I
can’t
fail. But you,” he pierced her with a look, his hands fisting around the box of matches when he noticed she was getting away. He advanced on her in three large steps, capturing her hands with one of his while she screamed. “You are going to help me. You’re going to give me what I need so I can focus. You want to help me, don’t you?”

Rosie shook her head, dreading what was to come. This man was clearly insane. He needed some serious help and if she couldn’t reason with him, she feared that great harm would come to her.

“Sir, sir. Listen to me, I’m not the one you need to help you. I’m not.” Her words had him pausing and behind the mask, his eyes narrowed.

“And why is that?”

Now that she had his attention, Rosie panicked, not knowing what to say to get him to listen to reason. Going with instinct, she tried to appeal to his senses. “I’m old, I can’t do what you want. You probably need someone that understands you, someone from your generation that you can talk to and figure out what went wrong. You can try telling me the details, but I’m not sure I’d be able to relate. We’re from two different worlds, you and I,” she finished. Knowing that her argument quite possibly might have put someone younger in danger ate away at her, but if she could get free—she could be essential to this lunatic’s capture. He just had to trust her; believe her.

“I know what went wrong!” he burst out, shaking a fist at her. “That fucking bitch had a backup plan to ensure her survival. She thinks she’s so goddamn smart. Well, I’ll show her who the smart one is. Who the real master of this game is.
Who she should fear the most.
” He struck a match and brought it down to her cheek, holding the flame there while she thrashed.

“Your words don’t fool me, old woman. I know what you were trying to do. Throw someone else under the bus so that I would let you go.”

Rosie screamed and cried as her skin was seared away. The pain was unlike anything she’d ever felt before and she’d delivered two children over ten pounds naturally. “Stop! Stop, stop!” she yelled, trying to claw at his hands. He kept the flame on her face until it died out and then he stared at her as she panted, tears spilling from her eyes.

“My God, what a sight. Your aged skin…it’s so much more beautiful now. I need more than this.”

Rosie rolled to her side, intent on gaining her feet and making a run for it. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her further across the warehouse. His precise steps gave off the feel that he knew exactly where he was going, but as far as Rosie could tell, the warehouse was basically abandoned. She spotted an object not far away and focused on it. Horror filled her when she realized what it was. “No. No, no, no, no. Please no,” she cried. It was a fireplace. One of those old wood ones. It stood in the corner like the gateway to hell, black and hard and alight with flames. She glanced up at him as she tugged her arm, trying to break loose.

“Don’t do this. There are other ways. You don’t need to, ahhh—” she burst out as he pushed her to her knees. He got behind her and locked her body in with his knees. Opening the caged door to the fireplace, he took a moment to rejoice in the embers. The fire breathed life into him, gave him back the piece of himself he’d lost. He needed to embrace it; to become one with its essence. To
feed
it and watch it flourish.

Grabbing her arm, he thrust it into the flames, all the way up to her elbow. Ignoring the tortured screams, he trapped her in the flame and watched fixated as her shirt burned away and then her skin began to melt. “Yes,” he whispered. “Just like that. More, more.” After a few minutes, Rosie passed out, going limp in his arms. His hunger still not satisfied, he dragged her to the center of the room and lowered the large stainless steel hook by chains.

When it was within reach, he bound her hands, not caring that her right arm was basically bone and strung her up on the hook. No amount of shaking or slapping her face was bringing her around which was a huge disappointment as he wanted to see the terror in her eyes; but it didn’t stop him from lighting a match, and then another and another until the packet was empty and her skin was tinged and marred.

Frustrated that he had no more matches and she still wasn’t awake, he paced a few feet away. “Fuck!” he shouted. Nothing was going to plan. First he’d fucked up the execution of that annoying librarian. Now he’d had to settle for a daylight snatch and grab, completely out of his normal routine. There’d been no research, no planning. He’d deviated so far off his normal course he was lucky he hadn’t been caught. The burning wasn’t as satisfying with his victim not conscious to take part in his craft. He usually chose people he knew could withstand the pain. This time, he’d chosen the complete wrong person.

Aggravated, he tugged off his ski-mask and tossed it aside. Perhaps it was time to change tactics. Grabbing the knife from a nearby table, he advanced on Rosie. With brutal efficiency, he slashed the blade across her torso, leaving a deep gash and causing a pool of blood to rush from her body. Rosie’s eyes popped open wide and she let out a gut-wrenching scream.

Revived, the man spotted one lone match on the floor. Striking it, he held the flame to the opening of her wound, completely transfixed with the blood mixing with the fire. His heartbeat sped up and lust curdled in his veins. This was it. This was what he’d been missing all along. It was time for him to ascend to the next level, to let his craft evolve. It was time to answer the call of the flames with the sacrifice of blood.

He bared his teeth at Rosie. “Thank you. You were the perfect choice after all, pet.”

I
t took three
days for the Fire Marshall to give the all clear and allow Aubrey access to the library. The fire had officially been declared an arson investigation, the intent to cause harm to her evident. She pulled down the crime scene tape from across the door and slid the key in the lock of the main entrance, Autumn by her side; uncharacteristically quiet. The lingering smell of smoke assaulted her senses when they stepped through the doorway. Taking in the destruction, devastation filled her. The firefighters had done the best they could to put out the fire without a large amount of loss; but there was only so much they could do. Most of the tall wooden shelves had been destroyed. Walking towards the first one, Aubrey bent and picked up a book from the floor. It crumbled to pieces in her hands, the pages tinged to a dark brown. Spinning in a slow circle, tears rolled down her cheeks as she surveyed the damage.