Madman’s Method: Madman Duet Book One

by Mason, V. F.

  Until he showed me his true colors.

  “Oh, hi.” He extends his hand to me. “Cole Calvin. You are the newcomer.”

  Glancing at his paint-smeared palm, I wiggle my white-gloved hand. “Sorry, I think this will stain.” He jerks back, surprised at my abrupt decline, but instead, I hook my arm with his, coming closer to him. “Would this work? My name is Cassandra Scott and I’m afraid to walk in there.” I smile shyly, my cheeks blushing for good measure while throwing my hair over my shoulder, and in doing this make Cole admire the rich, dark locks that hold the combination of his two favorite colors. Black and dark brown. “Can I come in and sit with you?” I add a little tremble on the last words, worriedly watching the church as if monsters will come out of it.

  While this kind of behavior is scandalous in most places and warrants a close relationship with the person in other parts of the world, in this small town, it’s normal.

  I’m a new, unmarried female in need of male assistance, and Cole Calvin is a sucker to everything new and shiny. “Of course!” He clears his throat and clasps his hand with Mira’s, his niece, and motions with his head toward the church. “Let’s rock your first ever Sunday mass in this town.”

  I laugh nervously, fanning myself. “I hope it goes well.” I sigh again.

  His gaze softens, and he winks at me. “Don’t worry. People here are like angels.”

  If by angels he means the fallen kind like the devil himself, then sure. Cole Calvin has always been an anomaly among us, but I’ve never thought he’d grow up a naïve fool.

  But oh well, at least it plays perfectly into my plans.

  He pushes the heavy door open right in the middle of Eachann’s sermon. “That’s why God—” The scraping of the latch and loud click of my heels make him pause and he raises his gaze from the Bible, his sole focus on us.

  He is so far away from me that I can’t make out his reaction to our interruption, nor do I care. He was the one who invited me here, so he can deal with it.

  “Sorry,” Cole mumbles to the congregation, quickly striding to his seat, which should be second row on the left side. But while he rushes over, I intentionally drop my purse on the floor, the rattling sound echoing through the walls and bringing even more, if it’s possible, attention to us.

  “Oh,” I whisper and then shoo away Cole, who wants to help me, pointing at Mira who is already at her seat trying to wiggle past two ladies. “I’ll be right there.” Reluctantly, he nods and jogs to his seat, all while I kneel, pick up my purse, and place my hair over one shoulder.

  Then raising my chin high, I walk slowly, agonizingly slowly, to the seat while Eachann stays silent, but so does the rest of the congregation.

  Everyone’s eyes are on me, after all, exactly like I want it.

  I add extra sway to my hips, each move graceful and calculated to bring the most focus to me, and from the corner of my eye, I notice how several heads—the heads I need to hang in one of the guys’ dungeons—swing in my direction while the women frown.

  Men are so predictable.

  Dangle a beautiful treat in front of them, and they become fools ready to do anything.

  Oh, but I intend to use this power with full force, slowly dragging them to their downfall, stripping them of their sanity.

  Finally reaching the second row, I send Father Eachann an apologetic look, but his face is indifferent, like he doesn’t quite know what to make of me.

  He is a priest who vowed to serve God, yet he can’t help but have emotions toward me. The saintly man who promised not to be tempted by the flesh.

  But then it wouldn’t be the first time this priest lied about something, covering truth with his holy façade.

  A façade this sinner will crack to dig out his true, rotten nature for the world to see.

  I genuflect before entering the pew and slide past those two ladies who happen to be Cole’s mother and sister and who huff in exasperation, hiding it behind their fans when I sit carefully on the bench, taking out a bulletin I picked up earlier. “I think everyone is staring,” I whisper to Cole, who waves my worry off.

  “Don’t pay any attention. They always stare.” He waits a minute before adding, “Besides, you are worthy of every glance.”

  I mentally chuckle, checking the time on my diamond watch.

  Five minutes into our meeting and Cole Calvin is already a goner. However, I have different plans for him unlike the founding five, although his agony will be just as painful.

  “Since you’re late, Cole, I’d appreciate you not interrupting me now. You can have a rendezvous after the mass.”

  Slight chuckles rumble through the crowd while Cole mutters under his breath, “Jerk.”

  My, oh my. Did he just call one of the Campbells a name?

  I lean back, plastering my spine to the wood while I catch the gaze of Frank Whitley across from me, who quickly turns his head away to face Eachann.

  Of course, long legs are his weakness. He told me so himself, after all.

  Hike that fucking dress higher. Show me those legs of hers that she always teases me with when she skates on her stupid ice.

  Half an hour later, Eachann clears his throat and asks, “Since we’re done with mass, I’d like to raise the subject of the annual camping trip for the kids.”

  A collective grumble echoes in the space and I smirk, because nothing has changed.

  Despite our town being small, it has an understanding with the neighbor island town that once a year we’ll gather all the kids together and take them on a camping trip. Hiking, kayaking in the lake, two nights in the forest with a campfire and other crap kids love.

  However, the town’s citizens lost love for it after one of the foster kids, Brochan, got into a fight with Ralph back when they were kids. No one knew what the reason was, but I think it was over a boat, because Ralph was hogging it.

  Since then, everyone is wary of letting their kids go there and mingle with those kids, because they’re afraid of the conflicts that might arise from it. My parents used to laugh at this assumption and send me there every summer; the trip was always awesome.

  My heart pangs painfully at the memory of my parents and I squeeze my fists, hiding them away from prying eyes. They have no place in my vengeance, so thinking about them brings nothing but shame.

  “I don’t want my daughter to go there,” a female voice speaks out, and I peek over the crowd to see who it belongs to. Ah, Miranda, one of Dorothy’s old minions. I heard she married a doctor and elevated her status in town. “I don’t trust them.” A few people make faces behind Miranda’s back while her daughter’s cheeks go pink from embarrassment. She must not share her mother’s sentiment on the subject. “I don’t want some outside kid to think he has a right to put his hands on her.” Considering her kid is eight years old, what kind of worry is this?

  Before Eachann can reply, I recognize Samantha as she snorts and gets up, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you implying that kids from the nearby town are perverted creeps? Then the same can apply to our kids. Why are you not mentioning that?”

  Miranda’s lips thin as she looks over her shoulder, raising her nose in distaste. “They wouldn’t do it.”

  It’s my turn to chuckle at her conviction that her daughter is safe from her hometown boys, and Cole’s sister sends me a dirty look.

  What the fuck ever, and oh my, I swore in church.

  People continue to argue over the subject for a few minutes, but they shut up when Eachann slams his palm on the podium and everyone’s attention returns to him. “I will not have arguments in the church.” My brows raise at the authority lacing his tone, such a contrast with his usually calm demeanor. “The camping trip is happening in three weeks. We need food, sleeping bags, and the usual supplies.” He scans the crowd. “I hope everyone can put away their differences and agree on everything. Also, I want everyone to be friendly.” He proceeds to talk about safety, and Cole chooses this moment to whisper in my ear.

  “
This trip is so happening.”

  I half turn to him. “You think so?” I whisper back, eyeing the priest skeptically and playing my role to perfection. “People don’t look very enthusiastic about it.”

  “Well, they aren’t, but no one wants to piss off Eudard.” Ah, so he still holds the same power ten years later. It doesn’t really surprise me, because the report said as much, but still. “The mayor?”

  Cole nods, locking his fingers over his knee as his leg jerks. “Yep, who knows how he might react to it.”

  “Because the priest is his twin?”

  That statement earns me a snort, and my brows furrow. “Yeah, no. The Campbell twins used to be close, but no more. Because Eudard supports foster kids and always attends the camping trips instead of Eachann.”

  My mind is reeling from the information he just dumped on me for two reasons.

  First, how come the twins are not close anymore, and second, why does the mayor go out on the trip and not the priest? It was always the members of the church who accompanied us. “So they’re enemies?” I conclude, shocked as hell at this information.

  Cole shrugs, biting on his lip. “I’m not sure.” He pauses before swallowing harshly. “They don’t mention each other’s names and don’t interact at all.” He leans closer, since a few people from the front shush us while the argument continues. “They used to present such a strong front together, but no one knows what happened between them. Eudard doesn’t even show up for family gatherings if Eachann is there.” Cole is worse than the local gossip, Tracy. She at least never spills the beans to strangers or new people, but Cole has no filter.

  But all this unsettles me, since those details weren’t in my report. I just assumed they interacted even though Eachann travelled the world to pilgrimage in Spain and holy places Eudard mostly spent his time abroad.

  That’s why I was surprised when he took the position of mayor one year ago and settled down in this town.

  What affected their relationship to the point that neither of them were able to stay in the same room anymore?

  Finally, Eachann clears his throat once again and announces, “That’s it for today. I hope to see you all in three weeks for the camping trip.” He flips the book closed and everyone rises, the humming noises bouncing off the walls.

  Several people rush toward Eachann, but I smile at Cole who motions toward the exit. “How about a coffee?” he suggests, lifting his elbow at me, awaiting an answer. Apparently in this town every guy who is interested in you offers you coffee.

  I wonder if it stands for sex somehow.

  Before I can reply, an authoritative yet soft voice speaks from next to me. “Not so fast, Cole.” But no matter how the person who this voice belongs to wants to conceal her true nature with that softness, my ears hear the natural predator ready to strike its next victim. “You can’t whisk away our newcomer just yet. You gotta introduce her to us.” There is a bite to her last sentence, and I blush again—thank God for the acting teacher who taught me how to do that—and turn, coming face-to-face with one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen.

  Her eyes sparkle, framed by the blonde locks that have been arranged neatly on her head. With her floral dress and ballerinas, she reminds me of those perfect housewives in the fifties.

  A designer bag dangles on her wrist while she scans me from head to toe, as if assessing an enemy, and annoyance flickers across her face, clearly shelving me as one.

  With my looks, I represent the competition she doesn’t want.

  “Hello, I believe we haven’t been introduced yet. My name is Patricia Brown.” She leans closer, to give me a butterfly kiss on both of my cheeks, and her perfume washes over me, making me want to gag from the sweetness of it. “I’m the head of the town committee here.” Which basically means she controls any social activities around town, and no one can do shit without her permission.

  If Patricia Brown doesn’t want you to have a playground in your yard? You won’t have one; it’s as simple as that. And if you decide to throw a party, even a kid’s birthday, without inviting her out of respect? You better believe it’s the last party you ever host because no one will show up for the next one.

  She would have probably been considered First Lady of the town if only her last name had been Campbell.

  “Honey, come here!” she calls out to a redheaded man who spins around at the sound of her call. He is wearing a perfectly tailored suit that showcases his tall and beefy physique. He oozes class, and there is no doubt he had been into sports in his youth. “That’s my husband, Ralph Brown,” she says proudly, but her eyes narrow on him when he focuses his stare on me.

  I see appreciation when he glides his blue pools over me, liking what he sees, but he masks it with a friendly smile and wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Nice to meet you and welcome to our town. In case you get in trouble, let me know.” Right, his father used to be the head of police before he died of the heart attack.

  And last I heard, Ralph is expected to be the new sheriff.

  I hit his chest, trying to get out of his grip, but his strong hands dig into me and push me on the ground, where I land painfully. Before I can get up, he is on me, pinning me down while his hands roam all over my body, his lips on my neck while I cry out in protest. “No!” I slap him again, but he is like an unmovable brick wall.

  Revulsion rushes through me and I raise my knee to hit him, but he stops me and lifts up only to slap me on the cheek, my head snapping to the side. “Stupid bitch, you asked for it.” His friends laugh around me while Cole continues to read as if nothing is happening, even though I scream his name for help.

  “You’ll be the first one I call,” I assure him, his gaze heating at my sultry voice, and I look back at his wife. “I’ve been meaning to call you actually. I’ve heard so many good things about the queen of the town.” Pleasure crosses her face, and she straightens a little under my praise, relaxing in her husband’s embrace.

  Still a selfish creature who believes the world revolves around her.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Before I can say, she wiggles her fingers at me. “No, no. This hasty talk and quick conversation is not our way.” She grabs my elbow and pulls me toward the door. “We have a tradition here, a Sunday lunch at our house.” She squeezes my elbow harder while I do the O with my mouth, acting surprised as hell.

  Even though it has been on my agenda all along.

  “You are officially invited.” Her Sunday lunches gather the elite of the elite of this and nearby towns, where they wine and dine while discussing the latest things happening.

  No doubt they planned to discuss me, but I beat them to it. And Patricia wants my whole attention when everyone else wants me.

  While I’m leaving with all these people, one thought plays in mind.

  Which of the Campbell twins will be there?

  Madman

  “It was a mistake. One-time mistake,” the voice rumbles, coughing a little, probably from the blood in his mouth after I plucked his teeth from it with pliers. “I’m sorry.”

  “Ah, you are sorry,” I say, tapping with my leather-gloved finger on my chin and sighing. “Sorry changes everything.” Hope flashes in his eyes, but before he can utter another word, I snap his mouth wide open until the corners of his lips tear, which makes him groan, and clamp the pliers around his tongue before cutting it swiftly.

  He moans, tears streaming down his face along with blood filling his mouth, but I keep his head thrown back so he has no choice but to swallow it.

  Throwing his tongue onto the circle close to his bare feet, I walk back to the weapon table while he spits on the floor, coughing once again and mumbling incoherent words to me. “I don’t really care, so don’t try.” He continues to mumble though, and I shake my head from the stupidity of some people.

  Oh yeah, I cut your tongue and all, but hey, if you mumble, I might spare your life.

  Chuckling, I grab the mug of coffee from the table and ta
ke greedy gulps, enjoying the burning liquid traveling through my system and fueling it with pleasure.

  A black coffee in hand and a tortured victim with his blood everywhere behind me, what could be better in the morning?

  A smile curves my lips when a certain beauty comes to mind.

  Only Cassandra by my side watching me do all these horrific things while the vein on her neck beats wildly and fear mars her expression.

  Because then she wouldn’t have illusions about monsters anymore. She won’t fear them, because she belongs to the devil himself and no one in this world will hurt her ever again as long as I’m breathing.

  Another mumble, this one more prominent, since he breathes through his nose harshly, and I turn around, taking another sip.

  He opens his mouth, saying something, and although his jaw is sore and filled with blood and torn skin, he manages to croak words. It’s all a mumbled mess, but I can read lips.

  A skill one acquires when he or she grows up in hell.

  “I didn’t mean to.” I read on them and laugh loudly, the sound rocking off the walls and dying with the higher note of heavy metal music.

  Rock music is for special victims; the ones who are just an amusement to me get the heavy metal as it serves to annoy them more.

  And the effect it has on some victims is indescribable.

  “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

  Oh, my devil.

  How can the thing he had done just happen? You need to think a serial killer is an idiot to believe that.

  Lifting the poker from the table, I pour a generous amount of whiskey on it before lighting it so fire flashes along it, the blue and orange licks enveloping the tip.

  He shakes his head, his gaze darting between me and the weapon, while I finish the bottle and throw it at his feet where it shatters. The glass must cut into his flesh, because he cries out in pain.

  “Those violin and piano classes.” I shake my head, stepping toward him while headbanging in time to the music. “They just fucking happen without your control. All those students who don’t listen, right?”

  He nods yet trembles all over, presses his back firm to the pole while shaking in the ropes, but they don’t budge.