by Mason, V. F.
Madman’s Method
Madman Duet Book One
V. F. Mason
Copyright © 2019 by V. F. Mason
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Hot Tree Editing
Cover Design: Sommer Stein
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Chris
To the power of love.
Contents
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
Callum’s Hell Excerpt
Acknowledgments
Also by V. F. Mason
Contact
Prologue
“There is a method to every madness.
But is there a cure for it?”
Madman
Cassandra
A push from the back sends me flying onto the floor, my knees hitting the hard marble soundly. My cry of pain echoes around the room, mixing with the organ sounds, sending shivers down my spine.
Each note of Bach’s masterpiece accompanies his harsh footsteps as he walks around me, snapping his fingers in time with the music. The combination twists me from the inside out, as it sends me into a spiral of madness and a haze that blurs my vision.
For where people hear notes, I hear one terror-filled scream after another that nothing can stop.
And agony so strong I might not be able to survive it.
Church is a sanctuary for those who seek redemption, but it becomes a prison for those who want vengeance.
Digging my nails into my palms to the point of drawing blood, I shake my head and place my fists on the cold marble, breathing heavily as droplets of blood slide from my forehead to my cheek.
Pain comes from so many places on my body, from the various wounds inflicted on me, I don’t bother to concentrate on any of it.
Perfectly shiny black shoes come into view as he finally stands in front of me, and that’s when another sound fills the room.
The loud whoosh and slap of his belt as he takes it out of his pants and hits it against his knees, the leather bouncing quickly, indicates the amount of torture it can bring.
Willing all the self-control and strength that still fuel my exhausted body to stay strong, I shift to the side, wanting to crawl away from him, but he fists my hair, stilling my movements. I swallow back the groan of protest demanding escape. Prickles of pain travel through my entire body, so severe that for a second I forget how to breathe. “Little sinner,” he murmurs, pulling at my hair so harshly that my eyes water, and then he angles my head so I can meet his cold stare head on. “Leaving so soon?”
I bite my lip, swallowing the scream threatening to tear from my throat, and instead I stay silent, lifting my chin high.
Even in this situation, he won’t know the satisfaction of my surrender.
It’s not like I have anything to lose anyway.
But I’ll be damned if I give him what he seeks in this night of terror he designed around us.
“You can end this anytime, Cassandra,” he says so casually, yet his hold on me tightens when he speaks my name with hate so prominent I’m surprised I’m not dead yet. “Just submit.”
I barely contain the laughter wanting to erupt, because he truly believes I’m that naïve.
Most people might not know his nature hiding behind the mask of male perfection and dream-come-true looks, but I do.
It’s nothing but rotten, and whoever comes in contact with it gets coated in it too, so much there is never an escape from the dirt he smears on people.
He is like a disease that has no mercy on the body, swallowing all the cells at once and infecting the blood to the point of the person vanishing from this planet.
All while languishing in agony that has no relief or escape, where hope dies bit by bit every single day while the world practically mocks you for believing in good things.
Nothing else is good enough for the likes of him.
I discovered monsters existed in this world a long time ago, so rarely anything surprises me.
But he took the word monster and twisted it to the point of me not even knowing how to label him for the hideous things he is capable of.
If others are monsters lurking in the night for fresh flesh to feed on… he is the devil who burns everything in his wake and then forever strips people of their sanity when he traps them in his hell, where the only way out is death.
A devil who doesn’t even burn in the church, but instead makes it his hunting ground.
“Go to hell,” I reply hoarsely, coughing on the blood in my mouth and shifting to the side, twisting in his hold, ready to run away from him at any moment.
Although he might be the devil, unafraid of the church, I’m the sinner who will use whatever way necessary if it means crawling out of hell.
Even if the doors of heaven are forever locked to me.
Chuckling, he fists my hair harder and drags me to the Jesus statue that shines brightly under the moonlight streaming through the stained glass, cascading down in a magical yet sinister way where, despite the holy place, demons still have a place to live.
I plaster my palms on the marble, but my strength is nothing against his, and my skin continues to slide on the floor as he moves us closer and closer to the steps leading to the altar, smearing my blood all over it.
Bumping my knees against it, I stifle a groan. Before I can catch a breath, I’m flung aside, causing me to land on my side, my skin already bruised from his harsh treatment earlier.
Although, he considers it nothing but a gentle caress.
“Come on, darling, apologize,” he orders, his deep and husky voice washing over me like cement, freezing my every emotion. “With Jesus as your witness.” He laughs again, the coldness of it sinking into me with each chuckle.
He takes out a cigarette and lights it up, inhaling deeply, and I hear him groan in pleasure.
Apologize?
“I have nothing to apologize for.” And even if I did, I wouldn’t have been sorry enough to do it.
“Cassandra.” There is a warning, barely audible, but since I’m so attuned to him, I catch it in his voice. It’s able to transform fire into ice, but I ignore it. “Apologize for the kiss.”
The minute the words slip past his lips, the memory of the kiss flashes in my mind, bringing back the chaos and emotions so profound I wonder how we didn’t burn with it.
On that day, a sinner kissed a saint, and oddly enough no thunder or lightning came from the sky. Maybe that was the day God and the devil took a break and didn’t notice how two mere mortals committed one of the greatest sins.
For a fraction of a second, I allow myself to bask in the beautiful memory of how the
softest of lips touched mine, how he pressed me against his chest, and how for the first time in what seemed like forever, the outside world ceased to exist for me.
Even the nightmares that have permanent residence in my brain.
However, the smell of rain and masculine scent vanish from my mind when I feel him coming closer to me. The smoke from his cigarette envelops us and my eyes snap open. “Stubbornness will become your undoing.”
No, my stubbornness allowed me to survive in the darkness.
His obsession will be my undoing.
Before I can blink though, he wraps his leather belt loosely around my throat, as if hanging the most expensive necklace on me, and leans forward, lightly caressing the skin of my neck. Goose bumps of disgust rush through me. “Apologize, Cassandra,” he orders again, and this time I shake my head, almost disappointed I can’t see the fury on his face from my refusal.
In this situation, that’s my only pleasure—for I denied the greatest of monsters his satisfaction.
The leather slowly tightens on me, but when I hear another voice—the voice that has the ability to erase the greatest of nightmares when he wants to—the movement around my throat stops.
The voice that hurt me too, but at least it gives me hope of escaping this hell.
“No!” he shouts, probably wanting to stop the madman, and for the first time in my life, I have no clue how it will end.
There are no rules in this twisted game of theirs.
But there is only one winner who will claim the sinner.
Chapter One
“Confessions have the power to bring peace to the mind.”
The local pastor in our church always said that whenever I had a problem.
He believed sharing our burdens could soothe the soul and leave only love inside.
My confession is not about peace or love though.
It’s for saints and holy people.
I’m a sinner.
My confession is about revenge a decade in the making.
Small town on the edge of an island, United States
Seven weeks earlier
Cassandra
“So this is the house,” Laura, the realtor, announces right before turning the key in the lock and pushing the door, motioning with her hand for me to proceed. “It has the best view in the entire town.” She leans a bit toward me, whispering, “The view of Magic Lake.”
“I see,” I reply, stepping inside. Instantly, the bitter smell of dust and rust assaults my senses, while the sound of our heels clicking echoes off the walls.
“This house actually has a rich history, you know. It was built during the Civil War.” Laura picks up the remote and turns on the AC, the buzzing filling the space. “The legend says that a Northern soldier fell in love with a Southern woman and created a home for them here. He was tragically killed and she was left to raise their child.” She sighs heavily, an unreadable expression crossing her face, and my brows furrow. Why is she sad from a story that happened hundreds of years ago? “Multiple generations lived here, cherishing their history.” A tinge of jealousy coats her voice, but I pay no attention to that.
I don’t much care for her family dynamics.
Instead, I sweep my gaze over the house, the spacious hall that has several alcoves leading to different rooms, a living room with a huge dining table, and a kitchen at the back.
I notice a terrace that showcases the view of the lake in the distance while several swans swim in it, basking in the sunset.
The broken stairs lead up to three more rooms and an attic perfect for summertime or kids—at least that’s what Laura claimed with the various pictures she showed me on the way here.
All in all, even though the house was built with love, there is nothing left of the magnificent beauty it once possessed. “They don’t anymore?” I shift my focus back to our conversation, and that’s when Laura’s face pales a little.
She looks to the side, straightening her perfectly ironed jacket, and then clears her throat. “No.” A bit passes before she adds, “They wanted different things.”
That’s one way to put it; I’ll give her that.
“Sad.” That’s all I say before I move away and go into the dining room, exploring the house as I trace my fingers along the cracked walls and well-worn furniture. Nothing will be able to clean the stained carpets. An endless supply of dust is everywhere, so much so that our shoes leave footprints and send it floating in the air, irritating my nose.
Laura follows me, continuing to sing praises to the place. “And what’s more important, it’s in the perfect location. Only twenty minutes away from the center of town, so while you have your privacy, you still don’t have a long drive to reach civilization. Plus, a local store delivers food here, so you won’t have to ever worry about groceries.” Her voice is filled with such joy and anticipation I barely hold back the chuckle threatening to slip past my lips.
She truly wants to sell this house.
I reach the kitchen and freeze, noticing the small handwriting in red marker on the doorjamb with different numbers and a picture of a happy puppet who has his hands up next to each milestone.
For a fraction of a second, a breath stills in my chest, freezing everything around me, bringing back voices that pound inside my head and send me into a spiral of madness.
Where nothing but the fury remains, sinking its claws into me and demanding justice.
“All this can be easily removed and…” Laura’s voice is a blur in my ears as various images slam into me, one after another.
My hands fist so hard my knuckles become white, but the turmoil rushing through me stays hidden from the woman next to me, as nothing but a hint of a grin is displayed on my face.
“I’ll take it.” My tone is so calm I think Arson would have applauded me if he’d seen me in this moment.
Laura freezes with her mouth open and then closes it quickly, blinking rapidly. “Oh my God,” she squeals and jumps a little, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “I’ve never sold a house before!” She presses her palms to her lips as joy crosses her face, lighting up her eyes that sparkle with such happiness it almost feels tangible. “It’s like a dream come true,” she mutters, and I expect her to go rush through the paperwork.
However, Laura sighs in defeat and shakes her head, all traces of joy gone from her when she whispers, “I can’t do this.”
My brow rises and I cock my head to the side, wanting her to elaborate. “I’m very excited, but—” She fidgets with her fingers and then meets my stare, her green eyes reminding me so much of her brother’s.
After all, they’ve haunted me in my nightmares my whole life. “But?” I probe, wondering if there is some decent blood in the Campbells after all.
My curiosity is satisfied almost instantly, because after a second, she babbles so fast, as if she is afraid someone might hear or she’ll lose the courage to tell me. “Almost ten years ago, something happened in this house.” She licks her lips before continuing. “That’s why it’s for sale and no one wants it. Even though it’s a dream come true.” A flash of a blonde girl bouncing around the field pops in my head, reminding me how much she loved to come here on summer nights.
Leaning on the kitchen counter, I place my bag on it and cross my arms. “What happened?” Someone really should applaud me for my interested tone.
“A murder and a suicide.”
Ah, she is a Campbell after all.
I’m surprised at the weird disappointment flashing through my system and roll my eyes at the naivety left in me.
Of course she is; she grew up in this town.
Hard not to be one of them when everyone worships the ground you walk on because you have the power to destroy anyone you see fit with the lift of your finger.
She mentions only half of the events that happened within the walls of this house that was built with such love but then burned in the ashes of one man’s greed and jealousy.
It has seen so many sorrows the land under
it probably weeps from the grief.
Laura clears her throat and says, “No one wants to live in a house where—”
“I don’t care,” I say, and she blinks in surprise as I take off my sunglasses so she’ll have a clear view of me. “The past doesn’t matter to me. I like this house and I’m willing to pay whatever the seller wants.”
“What?” she whispers faintly before asking, “Are you sure?” If the situation were different, I would have found the realtor who tries to convince me not to buy a house hilarious.
But in the current situation, it brings up nothing but annoyance in me, because I’m wasting too much time on the easiest of things. “Yes, and, Laura, a bit of advice for the future? When a client says yes, grab him and get the damned contract.” Although my voice stays sweet and sugary, just like this town likes, she must read my face, because she nods and runs to the hallway.
“I’ll get it from the car. Be right back!” she shouts over her shoulder at the same time my phone rings in my bag. I take it out.
A grin curves my mouth when I see the name on the display and quickly pick it up. “Calling me to wish me luck? A text would have done.”
The person on the other end of the line is not very impressed with my teasing though. “Are you all settled?”
I hop up on the counter and reply, “Not yet, but with one signature it’ll be all done.”
“Cassan—”
“Let it go.” He stays silent for a moment, and I can imagine the thunder in his hazel eyes, yet strangely he doesn’t try to convince me to let go of this.
How can he?
Even though fate brought us together at Lachlan’s house all those years ago, we do not interfere in each other’s life.