Sick Like Me
A Miss Hyde Novella Volume 4
Kindra Sowder
Burning Willow Press, LLC
Spartanburg, SC 29302
This edition published in 2017 by Burning Willow Press, LLC (USA)
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The persons, places, and events of this novel are works of fiction.
Any coincidence with individual’s past or present, is merely that, coincidence.
© Burning Willow Press, 2017
Copyright © Kindra Sowder 2017
Cover Art & Design © Loraine Van Tonder/Ryn Katryn Designs 2017
Edit © Edd Sowder 2017
Interior Format © Sowder Publishing Services
Chapter 1
“I’m a what?” I said with a chuckle. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I was something I only read about in books? There was no way possible. Right? “Like, from the Greek myths? Are you serious?”
Cyra smiled at me, her eyes sparkling in the light of my living room. Her bodyguard, a large man, built like a linebacker, sauntered into the room with two glasses of red wine. He handed one to Cyra and reached out to offer the other to me, of which I took. I eyed the wine for a moment and then greedily gulped it down without tasting it.
“Is it that hard to believe, Blythe? I mean, really?” Cyra asked after a sip of her wine. Her pink hair was brilliant even in the dim lighting, and her brown eyes flashed as she watched me absorb her words.
“Ummm, yeah. That sounds insane,” I replied.
Cyra shrugged and leaned back into the couch cushions with arms outstretched. “That’s just as well, anyway. It’s not a supernatural affliction, Blythe. Not even close. It’s more of,” she paused and looked to be thinking about the term she’d use to describe it, “a mutation. It’s just what I call them because it’s so fitting.”
As I listened to her, I realized there was no other way I could ever explain it. And, what little I did know, did seem to substantiate her claim. I was a succubus and this man, this Adam, was one as well. But the first? That seemed more far-fetched than anything. I glanced up as the bodyguard took a few steps back, placing his back at the wall with his arms folded in front of him.
“And those men? They worked for him?” I asked, looking to Cyra now instead of the man I was certain could snap me in half without even trying.
She nodded. “They did, but as soon as he was aware they went rogue and took you, he fired them. Which is all well and good I guess since you killed them.”
“Hyde killed them,” I snapped. Hyde was separate from me, wasn’t she? She was the monster?
“If only it were that simple, huh?” She took another sip of wine and leaned forward with the glass resting on the tips of her fingers in a cradle. “I mean, was she really acting alone when she killed Johan and Mitch?”
I sat for a moment and then chugged the rest of my wine, placing the glass gently on the coffee table. She grinned at me in triumph when I didn’t reply.
“See? Not so simple after all, is it?”
I couldn’t deny any of it. I couldn’t deny that I had let her partially take over and that I had let her help me murder them for what they did to me. To us. It was always us, wasn’t it? Ever since that moment I relinquished all control I had to let her save us. Or was it before then? Long before. I dropped my head into my hands and moaned.
“And those women that turned up dead? What about them? Was that Johan and Mitch, or was that Adam?” I asked, hoping for an honest answer from the woman who had been working for someone like me the entire time. She wasn’t as ignorant of the facts as she had seemed before.
“One was Adam. Only one,” she stated while holding up her index finger as if counting. “The other two were a product of those sick fucks. Something about women with this affliction turns them on. Torturing and killing them, anyways. You got lucky.”
“Oh, God.”
Cyra laughed, low and melodic. “God has nothing to do with it.”
I dropped my hands and pulled my legs up to my chest, hugging them against me so I would feel solid again instead of this trembling pool of need for something that I was no longer able to have. Peace. I had wanted peace before, but now all I felt was this lingering need under the surface to maim. Or was it there all along and I had ignored it? I began to question everything. Every choice I had ever made to every kill to every moment I was locked in that place with Mitch and Johan.
“And my parents? Did I really…,” I began.
“Kill them? Yes, but they gave themselves to you. Both of your parents were like you, battling something inside of them until they realized they couldn’t anymore. Each succubus always ends up taking into them the sacrifice of their parents, their hearts are given to solidify the bond between you and your,” she paused and smirked, “inner demons.”
What I had seen in my dream was real and was obviously covered up by Hyde herself. Just like she covered up every single murder since. Would continue to do for any others we decided on in the future.
Nausea forced its way up my throat, causing me to gag. I ran to the kitchen and vomited into the sink until there was nothing left. The wine looked like blood as it ran down the drain and I retched again. Panic burned in my throat as Hyde rolled within me, heat and desire and sinister intent moving through me like a wildfire, and I couldn’t stop it. I liked the feel of it, which meant Cyra was right. My parents sacrificed themselves to solidify this bond, and then I continued to build on that sacrifice since my first solitary kill. The brutality of what Hyde had done to those two men in that warehouse after I let her in to avenge us was all it took to make us equals, and now that bond could never be severed. She was more a part of me now than she had ever been. There was no refuting that after what we had done.
I felt Jackson’s eyes on my back. Cyra hadn’t even bothered to follow me from what I could tell. The click of her heels never made it into the kitchen. Never even made a sound to track my movements.
Turning back toward the living room after spitting into the sink a couple of times and running water to wash away my shame, I trailed the wall across from Jackson to make my way back into the living room. The distance between myself and the man was heavy with lead and fear and darkness, never to be filled with anything even remotely close to light ever again.
I was a monster. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
My body froze just in the entryway into the living room, heart thudding in my chest as if the revelation of what I was just hit me. But that wasn’t even true. Not even remotely. I had always known on some level, hadn’t I?
Cyra repositioned herself on the white couch to watch me, her brilliant pink hair brushing her shoulders as she rested her arm on the back.
“Oh, come on now, Blythe. You’ve seen this coming, haven’t you? Adam did, and he wants me to help you with your transition until he feels you are ready to come face to face with him,” she comforted.
“And he plans to do that how?” I asked when I cross
ed my arms over my chest.
A sound I recognized as the ringtone for my best friend floated through the air and echoed off the walls. Jackson shifted slightly and reached into his coat pocket, pulling my cell phone out as it rang loudly in his massive hands. He shot me an inquisitive look after looking at the screen. I sneered back at him before turning my head to silently beg Cyra to get her huge gorilla of a bodyguard to give up my phone.
“You may want to talk to the poor girl. I have to say she’s worse than any ex-boyfriend I’ve ever had,” Cyra said sarcastically. She flipped her pink hair over her shoulder, and her brown eyes met mine.
I gripped the phone and slid it from his fingers, my fist closing tight around the device as it rang over and over again.
“You know, if I were even slightly attracted to you, I would’ve ripped your heart out of your chest to get this away from you instead of being so nice about it.”
His eyes widened slightly but then hardened like my words hadn’t truly frightened him. I knew better than that. Before either he or Cyra had a chance to speak, I walked past them both and down the hallway, trailing my free hand along the walls as I made my way to my bedroom. The only place that still held any solace away from the events of the past few days. Images and flashes of pain and torture moved through my mind and stopped me mid-step into the threshold of my bedroom. Apparently, the room would be more of a sore spot than I thought. With a heavy sigh and the phone still blaring in my ears, I looked at the screen. Lauren’s picture shown with the green phone symbol on one side and the red on the other. I brushed the green button with my thumb and raised the phone to my ear. I heard Lauren’s shrill voice over the line before I pressed it to my ear.
“Blythe?” she yelled in such a high pitch I felt only dogs should be able to hear her. “Blythe? God dammit, Blythe, answer me!”
“Jesus Christ, Lauren, calm the fuck down, will you?” I bit back at her with just enough cynicism to deter her from shouting even more. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. My head began to ache and pounded dully across my neck and forehead. “Can you, you know, tone it down?”
“Tone it down? Really? You haven’t answered your phone in two days, and you want me to calm the fuck down? Are you fucking serious, right now?” Lauren shouted even louder.
“Okay, so do you want to find out what’s going on or not, Lauren? Because I can take or leave this bullshit right now,” I replied. The headache grew more persistent. My neck began to hurt even more as tension rippled through my body and Hyde flared with irritation.
With a heavy sigh, Lauren muttered, “Okay, I’m sorry. What happened?”
That was the moment I realized I hadn’t even come close to figuring out what to tell her. There was no way I could tell her what had truly happened. Now I showed barely any signs of the damage inflicted on me and would be completely injury free by the time I made it back to the gallery to work. I mentally kicked myself and scrambled for something even remotely believable that wouldn’t cause her to ask too many questions. Just one lie. That was all this was. One small tiny white lie to save Lauren, my best friend, from the terrifying truth. From the fact that I was kidnapped, tortured, and raped. Then killed my captors with my bare hands because of another part of me that adores bloodshed and eats the hearts of men. Yes, that was a truth I wanted to avoid.
“Food poisoning,” were the first words that fled from my open mouth.
“Food poisoning?” Lauren asked skeptically.
“Food poisoning,” I reaffirmed as the guilt of lying to Lauren set in.
“Food poisoning kept you from answering the phone?”
I was losing her. I could hear it in her tone of voice.
“Yes, both ends, if you must know. John and I became best of friends over the last two days,” I quipped.
“Okay, that was way more information than I needed. You also missed your appointment with Emmett Adler. You’re going to want to call him when you come in tomorrow. Hannah isn’t thrilled that you’ve been out, but I have a feeling she’s willing to forgive you at this point. Just make sure you call her too.”
After a beat of silence, I cleared my throat as quietly as I could and questioned, “What about you? Are you willing to forgive me?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Blythe. After this it may take quite a bit to win my favor again,” she said sarcastically.
“Oh yeah? Well, then I believe I’m going to have to go ahead and give Mr. Adler a call since I have a feeling it’ll take a lot less to win him over.”
“You called my bluff.”
“You bet your ass, I did. I’ll be in tomorrow, I promise.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. And, when you don’t show up, you better answer or Hannah will flip not having her best at the gallery for another day.”
“I’ll be there,” I laughed. “Pinky promise.”
“Okay, okay. You better. Don’t force me to call the police because I was very close to doing just that,” she snapped on the line.
“Got ya,” I replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Tomorrow,” Lauren murmured.
Then the line went dead. I sighed for what felt like the millionth time in the past five minutes and dropped my hand to my side with the phone still gripped so tightly that the hard-plastic bit into my flesh.
My stare moved to the bed where I slept with nightmares dancing in my mind for God only knew how long. The pain medication Cyra fed me made it so hard to know exactly how long I laid in that bed healing from my ordeal. Physically, anyway. I knew that the mental damages would take even longer. If ever. Knowing that the man Cyra worked for was the man those horrible men who didn’t deserve names worked for as well.
Chills ran up and down my spine. The feeling of my own drugs used against me and the look in Johan’s eyes when he abducted me was enough to make my knees buckle.
I slid down to the floor against the door jamb and closed my eyes, fighting back the burning tears and the slither of Hyde inside me. She moved in the darkest corners of my mind, attempting to soothe me with her sadistic warmth, but it was no good. Images of what had been done to me and what I had done to those men flashed through my mind. I couldn’t stand the sight of it. Opening my eyes, I decided it would be best if I just left them open. Never slept again no matter how mad I would become.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I refused to look back at Cyra and Jackson as I sat there staring at the floor. There was no way I could step foot in that room ever again. Not willingly. There was only one solution. Switch bedrooms. There was a spare room in the apartment I never used for anything. I could always furnish it and use it, only using my current bedroom as a guest room for those nights when Lauren couldn’t be trusted to go home alone. The plan was perfect, but now I felt like a coward.
“Jackson, please go get the car ready. I have a feeling Blythe is going to need some alone time without the two of us bothering her,” Cyra whispered to her bodyguard behind my back.
If it weren’t for my extremely acute ears, I would have never heard a word. There was the click click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she slowly approached me, her nervous energy nearly palpable and tingling in the air between us. Fabric moving against skin came from beside my left shoulder as she knelt beside me, but didn’t make a move to touch me. This only made me clench my cell phone even harder.
“Blythe, we’re going to go, but I want you to know that if you need anything, I am only a phone call away,” she said in a cajoling tone. “I added my other line to your contacts. You are more than welcome to call it.”
I didn’t want to hear it. Not even one word of it, but I knew it would make her feel better if she felt she was helpful in some way. I squeezed my eyes shut and hung my head.
“Thank you,” was my only response.
With a small pat of reassurance on my shoulder, she stood and walked away. The sound of her heels on the floor echoed through the hushed apartment until I heard th
e door leaving my apartment open and close.
Then there was only silence.
And me.
Chapter 2
I stood just outside the closed wooden door that led into Emmett Adler’s apartment, my knee-length white dress and matching heels were chosen to show health and vitality. The decision to look the opposite of how I felt was easy enough. The small purse that held my business cards, wallet and cell phone was cumbersome as it hung limply on my shoulder.
I had called to reschedule our appointment, feigning being ill and unable to call to cancel, just like I had with Lauren. Another lie. He was perfectly all right with that but wanted to know if I had an open appointment the following morning. I did, but I also knew Hannah would want to see me at the gallery today. My job wasn’t in jeopardy that I was certain, but could I tell her the same lie I told Lauren and Emmett? That I was sick? She had a way of seeing the truth behind the lie so I was severely hoping she wouldn’t notice a thing. After all, I had plenty of practice lying at that point.
Without another thought, I took a deep breath and raised my hand to knock on the door, but never got to. The door swung open, and the deep and sultry eyes of Emmett Adler greeted me. The perfect man. The perfect artist. Completely unhindered by what most thought was beautiful to see something deeper in the obscene.
Well, what a lot of people felt was obscene.
He smiled, showing a broad expanse of perfect white teeth. I couldn’t help but grin back and stick my hand out in a show of professionalism even though I did find him highly attractive. His gray tank was covered in splotches of paint ranging from bright yellow to a deep and vibrant red. The jeans that covered his legs looked much in the same shape, and he stood there with bare feet. The dark hair on his head was a disheveled mess but still managed to look amazing on him regardless.
“Miss McAlister, I thought I heard you out here,” he mused as he took a step back and welcomed me inside while disregarding the handshake altogether. “Sorry, I’d hug you, but I’m covered in paint.”
Sick Like Me (A Miss Hyde Novella Book 4) Page 1