by Mason, V. F.
I took extreme measures to make sure everything was protected at all costs, so no one could disturb my peace here; nothing’s more annoying than setting up another domain with my specific likes. Building this place took nearly three years, and I still have some things to work on, like an electric chair.
Certain serial killers don’t think in advance, preferring to assume that cops won’t find them, but I live by different rules.
Never underestimate your enemy, especially those who in the eyes of people hold all the power.
I’m on my way outside to lock this place and head to a much-needed rest when my phone vibrates, and I see Laura’s name flashing on the display.
“Eudard,” she shouts, and I pull the phone away from my ear. Kicking the door open wide, I inhale the fresh ocean breeze into my lungs.
Nothing better in this world than walking out to this magnificent weather and view of the sunset practically kissing the ocean after taking a life.
“I’m not deaf, Laura,” I tell her, but it only earns me another screech and I wonder how people survive around her on a daily basis.
Her voice is so fucking annoying it’s a miracle I didn’t seal her mouth with tape a long time ago. “Oh really? Why haven’t you bothered to pick up your phone until now then?”
“To avoid your voice,” I reply honestly, and she falls silent for a few seconds, which allows me to shut the door in peace before moving toward my bike parked on the side of the road.
“You are such an asshole, Eudard.” Even though she sounds mad, there is no heat in her words, and I grin.
“You still love me though, huh?”
“I kind of have to.” She waits a bit before adding, “You are my brother, after all. Comes with the territory.”
“Yeah, what an inconvenience,” I mutter, and she huffs in exasperation.
“I can’t believe you.” She laughs for a moment before all traces of humor leave her and seriousness comes back to her tone. “Where were you?”
“I can’t remember it.”
“Remember what?” she asks in confusion, and I fish for a cigarette, lighting it, and groan inwardly at the first taste of nicotine hitting my mouth.
Heaven for this devil.
“A time where I gave you the impression you could question me.”
“Oh my God, you are such an—”
At this point, I’ve had about enough of this shit, so I cut her off. “Laura, either get to the point or I’m gonna hang up. And a warning? I’m holding on by a very thin thread.” I have better things to do than listen to her dramatic entreaties.
That’s Eachann’s job.
A simmering rage zips through me like a flash of light and I grit my teeth, breathing deeply to wipe it away.
The priest is talented like that; just the thought of his name alone has the power to raise such deep hatred within me I’m surprised the ground is not shaking with it.
“I sold a house six weeks ago. That’s why I called.” Exhaling a puff of smoke, I hop on the bike and start it up, listening to the loud roar as it vibrates between my thighs.
Ah, nothing like owning a fucking motorcycle.
“Congratulations.” I’m not sure why she wanted to contact me for this news, considering I told her to quit that shit and do something useful around town, as rarely anyone new comes to live in this hole.
Instead, she’s wasting her talents selling nonexistent houses just to prove to our father she doesn’t need the family business.
What an idiotic way of thinking. When someone gives you power, you do not decline but grab it with both hands. And then use it however you see fit, scaring those who gave it to you in the first place.
That’s how true fear is born, but my naïve little sister lives in her makeshift reality. “Is there anything else?” I ask, finishing the cigarette, throwing it down at my feet, and stepping on it.
“It’s about the house.”
She waits a bit again, so I bark, “Laura, get on with it.” I have to get home before sunset or Micaden is going to pitch a fit about me mingling in his town without permission.
I could always argue that my dungeon stands right in the middle of our two borders and technically anyone can claim the territory, but the fucker has a temper a mile wide and I’m in no mood to argue with him today.
Or measure whose dick is bigger for that matter.
“I sold the Griffins’ house.”
I freeze, the whole world going still around me, where even the squawking of the birds above in the sky comes in slow motion as if from far away.
The smoke I was about to exhale sticks in my throat, creating a boundless fire inside me, all while different emotions spin in me like a vivid carousel.
But among them all, the most prominent are fury and desire.
“Her name is Cassandra Scott,” Laura rushes to say at my silence, and I hear something drop on the other end of the line, like she’s shuffling through papers. “She is a famous contemporary dancer.”
I still say nothing, digesting the information and tasting her name on my tongue that doesn’t roll off it as it should. Maybe because it reeks of deceit and fakeness from the web of lies she has dusted herself in.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Eudard—” I hang up on Laura before she can say anything else, because it’s going to be useless anyway.
She is back, and she can try to fool everyone, even the saintly priest.
But she can never fool me.
I’ve waited ten years for her, and finally the prey has come back to her hunter, to become my ultimate prize in this war a decade in the making.
But first she has to finish her business. Familiar euphoria runs over my skin, awakening the sinister madman inside me who is already hungry for the pain and blood she’ll inflict.
And then I’ll finish it for her in the vilest of ways possible.
Only then can I capture my phoenix who rose from the ashes.
Grabbing the handlebars tightly, I roar the machine to life once again and ride off in the direction of my apartment before I go back to my hometown.
After all, it belongs to me; it’s my duty to greet the newcomers.
They don’t call me a madman for nothing.
Chapter Five
“Love is the greatest gift a person can give to another.”
I wish Pastor Joseph wouldn’t have said those words to me all these years ago.
Because my love became nothing but a curse that cost so many lives I’m sure there is a personal space reserved for me in hell despite the clerical clothing I’m wearing.
From the memories of Arianna Griffin…
Rushing into the classroom, I exhale in relief, because Ms. Ava is still preparing her music instruments and pays no attention to the class.
Otherwise, she’d kick me out of the room, claiming I was late by one minute. She is a sweetheart through and through, but come late just once, and you’ll end up on her shit list.
Dropping onto a chair at the back of the class, I put my violin on the desk and smile shyly at the boy next to me. He is reading a thick book and still has his headphones on.
It’s a wonder the music is not blaring through them, as he prefers to have the volume high, probably to shut us all out of his head.
He must have felt my gaze on him, because he catches my stare, and I connect with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. They remind me of the ice during wintertime when the moonlight shines brightly on it and illuminates everything else.
Even the heavy black-rimmed glasses can’t cover up their beauty. Hi, I mouth to him, and he nods, hooking the headphones over his neck while he continues to stare at me without saying anything.
Whenever he does this, my heart flutters and butterflies erupt in my stomach, creating something warm as if I’m basking in the sunlight on a summer day.
Eachann “Saint” Campbell has had this effect on me for as long as I can remember.
His mouth opens to say something, but that�
��s when Samantha, who sits in front of me, spins around and winks. “Heard Ethan White asked you to homecoming.” I blink at her words, completely forgetting about the incident in the presence of my crush, and my cheeks heat up. “So are you guys a thing or something now?” she asks curiously with genuine interest, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
Even though she mingles with Dorothy, Samantha is mostly nice to me and even attends the extra music class with us, which is considered a nerd zone.
But even counting all that, her interest in the topic is odd to say the least. “No, we are just going together.” Until I cancel the whole thing. Out of respect to Ethan, I will act like I’m going.
“Oh cool. Because we kissed last night, and I just wanted to make sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s territory.”
Blinking once again at that, I reassure her, “No territory, no worries.”
She gives me a thumbs up and spins back to face Ms. Ava, who still fumbles with her piano, but then I feel like my right cheek is burning and look at Eachann again.
His green pools drill into me with thousands of questions in them, but he voices none of them. Instead, he pulls his gaze away from me and puts his headphones back on as if our earlier exchange didn’t happen.
And for some unexplainable reason, anger zips through me, along with annoyance that demands an outlet.
On impulse, I snatch his headphones from his ears, bringing his focus back to me when surprise flashes on his face. I hiss quietly, so no one will hear us, “If you don’t like Ethan taking me to homecoming, maybe you need to say something. Like invite me to it yourself.” Only when the words spill from my mouth do they register in my mind, and I gasp, covering it with my hand.
Oh my God, what have I done?
Having a crush on a boy is one thing, but just because he always smiles at you and talks to you while he ignores everyone else is not an indication he crushes on you back.
Even though I’ve hoped and hoped he’d ask me out or do something all these years. He always remembers my birthdays and competitions, giving me presents or good luck charms. He’s also never dated anyone else, so I’ve waited for him, like a fool in love who sees no one but the object of her infatuation.
I even joined this class for him, despite being so exhausted and busy from all the ice-skating I did on top of studying hard.
Patricia calls me an idiot and advises me to stay open to other options, but I’m not having any of that.
Maybe I should though.
In the middle of the most humiliating moment of my life, in which I wish for the floor to open up and swallow me whole quickly, Ms. Ava taps the notebook on the piano, snagging everyone’s attention. “I’m happy to see you all here.” She claps her hands and then sits by the piano. “I’m going to introduce a new song today. Open the books to page fifteen and we’ll start from the second verse.” Her mouth spreads in a smile when she zeroes her gaze on Eachann. “Except you. You will come and play here once we try it a couple times.” He is the only one allowed to come near the instrument, as she claims everyone else has no talent for it.
No one argues, since when Eachann plays, it’s like music of God, so powerful and magical the outside world ceases to exist for me. Plus, playing the organ in church during Sunday masses pretty much makes him the best.
And in this town, no one fights with the best, because you’ll end up beaten on the floor.
Founding families are treated like royalty for a reason.
Flipping to page fifteen, I take out my violin and place it on my shoulder, praying for my hands to stop trembling so much from the earlier exchange. The last thing I want is for the teacher to shame me for not practicing at home and dig my hole of humiliation even deeper.
Taking a deep breath, I concentrate on nothing but the violin while I place the bow on the strings, happy that she chose a sad melody.
Depressing music seems fitting for my current mood. Putting my chin on the rest, I play the melody, letting the notes wash over me, creating a protective cocoon, where the boys who don’t love me don’t exist and only the heartache that consumes me stays.
Closing my eyes, I give it my all, imagining what beautiful things I can perform with such a melody on the ice, my mind swirling with the art that surrounds me wherever I go.
I continue to play and play, but then the loud clearing of a throat stills my movements, and my eyes snap open to see everyone staring at me, frowning.
The teacher blinks a few times and then smiles gently. “Ah, it was great, Arianna. If only you played like that every time.” Of course, no praise comes from her without critique. “One more time before Eachann takes his position.”
I’m about to resume, when he speaks for the first time. “Would you have said yes?”
Looking back at this now, I wish he had never asked me that question.
Maybe then my life wouldn’t have turned into a nightmare with no way of escape.
Maybe then my life wouldn’t have been tainted in the darkness.
Maybe then my life wouldn’t have become so tragic.
Eachann
Parking the car on the edge of the road, I turn the engine off while studying the environment around me.
The place that has had the power to bring chaos within me almost instantly, oddly enough right now has nothing but peace to offer me.
Getting out of the vehicle, I shut the door soundly while breathing the early fall air into my lungs. The smell of lavender and roses mix together and create something akin to a bittersweet scent that fills this place.
Eachann, come here.
Scrunching my eyes and trying to block out the voice that enters my dreams almost every night, I shake my head and concentrate on nature.
The grass is perfectly cut along with the various rose bushes that spread through the space hidden under the huge tree, it’s branches waving under the light breeze.
A narrow path leads to a two-story Victorian-style house, with an attic that’s every kid’s dream, that shines brightly under the sunlight, the freshly painted boards especially vivid, like the bluest of skies.
Several comfortable-looking chairs are placed around the porch along with a swing, creating a homey feeling, yet not detracting from its previous glory.
And somehow, even though everything is finely polished and new and fashionable, the place seems to be trapped under it rather than flourishing in it.
Because the true beauty of it got lost under all the luxuries.
Familiar squawking erupts around the place, and I walk closer to the lake glistening like thousands of diamonds where I see swans swimming. They cackle and then circle each other before diving under, probably to fish for their food.
“Eachann, do you want to feed the swans?”
Even though I see her mouth moving, I don’t hear a thing she says, because I can only stand still, in awe of her beauty.
From her red locks that almost become one with the sun to her gentle, rare violet eyes and the softest of skin that just begs for me to bring her closer.
Arianna is an angel in human disguise. What else can explain her beauty and my pull toward her when I promised myself to devote my life to God?
“Stop.” I order myself to wash away the memory of that day, at least for the time being. It has all the time in the world to haunt me later when I’m incapable of blocking it.
But then I’m almost knocked on my ass when I notice the silhouette of a woman near the shore, her head thrown back and arms raised high, and my heart pangs in a way a priest’s shouldn’t.
That’s when, on the field where all my hopes once died, one is reborn and I quicken my steps, practically running, grateful I chose jeans and a clerical shirt for this trip.
What if… what if… what if…
My heart beats wildly in my chest to the point of me feeling the pulse in my neck, and dizziness sways me a little. I finally wrap my hand around her arm, pulling her into the shade, anticipating seeing familiar violet diamonds.
A hollow chuckle threatens to escape me, because how can one person be so stupid?
I spread her ashes in this very lake myself, while on my knees begging the sky for forgiveness.
What if simply can’t exist in my vocabulary.
Nevertheless, the sight of this woman stops everything, and my breath hitches in my lungs as an unfamiliar emotion slams into me, rooting me to the spot and making me squeeze her arms harder, all while I drink in her features.
Her rich, dark locks cascade down her back, her pale face flushes a little, and she wiggles out of my hold, stepping back while her dark summer dress swirls around her legs when the wind hits us.
In the eyes of normal men, she’d probably be considered beautiful, but the intense pull I felt toward her just minutes ago vanishes, leaving only shame behind.
What have I done?
Did I just grab a woman at her home, practically assaulting her?
Please, Eachann. Help me.
My hands fist by my sides, nails digging into my palms to keep me in the present moment with the woman and place that bring nothing but chaos to my already painful existence. “I apologize,” I finally say, my voice unusually raspy. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She rubs her arms and then crosses them, her perfectly arched brow rising. “What did you mean when you grabbed me, then? Or is it a way of greeting in this town that I’m not aware of?” The hostility in her tone doesn’t surprise me, but the effect her husky and low voice has on me does.
What in God’s name is going on with me?
“I’m sorry again. I thought you were someone else.”
An unreadable expression crosses her face before she kneels down to pick up the bread, which must have fallen from her hands when I grabbed her, and tears a piece from it. “My house is twenty minutes away from the church, Father. Who did you expect to see here exactly?” She throws the pieces to the two swans who swim quickly to munch on it and then dusts her hands, turning her attention back to me. “Isn’t it why you came here?”