by David Beers
Tommy's brow furrowed. "What?"
"I don't know if something is happening, but I think it might be. There's too much pressure on this situation. Brown is feeling it and we are too. Whatever we need, whatever evidence exists, it's inside that house and we have to get to it."
"I don't think you understand the point of a stakeout. It's to observe. If we go up to his front door right now, all that blows up. We can't observe him anymore. And, it's two in the fucking morning, Christian, in case you didn't notice."
Christian swallowed. He knew all of that but he also remembered what he read in the book: The question I need to answer tonight is what connection exists between Luke and Bradley Brown?
Tonight, not tomorrow. Now, not later. Christian never questioned what he found in the mansion; he trusted it implicitly because it never let him down. If the book said he needed to figure it out tonight, then tonight was what mattered. Not listening wasn't even possible, even if he wanted to. Christian had spent too many years following his mind's directions to go against it now.
No, Tommy was wrong. They weren't here tonight to observe. They were here to solve this damned thing.
Christian opened his car door without another word. He stepped outside and jogged across the street, not looking back to see if Tommy was following.
"Christian!" Tommy's voice was a harsh whisper that didn't echo, but reached Christian's ears all the same. Christian said nothing, but kept jogging, moving across the neighbors' lawns.
He stopped when he reached Brown's. He stood underneath a street light for everyone to see him. Should he sneak around the back, looking in windows, playing a sleuth? Or should he go right to the front door and force the issue?
Tonight. Not tomorrow. Not the next day.
Christian walked forward, across the yard and up to the front door. He could hear Tommy's feet hitting the pavement behind him, on his way to back up a partner that he surely must feel was insane.
Christian rang the doorbell.
Maybe everyone involved in this was insane.
LUKE HEARD THE DOORBELL.
It meant Christian had made his move. Certainly Tommy would never have marched up to the house during a stakeout, and no one else would be here at this hour. No, Christian Windsor had figured it out, or was on his way to doing so.
Luke thought that was simply remarkable. No fear entered his mind, no panic his body. He stood in exactly the same position as the doorbell's ring quickly faded, though Mr. Brown turned around at a speed which could have injured his ankles. Mr. Ranger stared at the door, too, hope blooming on his face.
Luke looked at the two men, understanding coming to him. Christian's move forced the issue, but that was fine. Luke's plans were long and complex, encompassing many different pathways, and if this was the one Fate forced him down, then he would meet it with a smile. No grim determination rested inside him, only a playful sense of fun.
Because this, above all else, would be fun.
"Who the fuck is that?" Mr. Brown asked.
"I think it's my partners."
"You told them I was here? You fucking told them!" Mr. Brown said, whipping back around.
"No, of course not. However, one of my partners is something of a savant, and I think he's started figuring out what's going on."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Luke straightened up, no longer leaning on the counter. He walked over to Mr. Ranger's wheelchair and stepped behind it.
"I think Agent Christian Windsor may have an inkling that we're working together, or at least a connection exists here that shouldn't."
"So what do we do?" Mr. Brown spat out.
"Isn't that obvious? We kill them."
BRADLEY'S left hand shook as he stood in front of the front door. He had looked through the peephole a moment before and saw Titan was right: two men stood there, the same two from the day before. The younger one in front, so that had to be Christian Windsor—the savant who had somehow figured everything out.
Bradley didn't know if he believed a goddamn word Titan said, but his left hand was shaking so bad he couldn't think of anything else to do.
We kill them, Titan had said.
He made it so sound so goddamn easy, just off two FBI agents who showed up at his house this early in the morning.
Bradley could hear his mother calling from the back, the doorbell having woken her. Titan better fucking deal with her, though he better not hurt her. Not a hair on her head.
The doorbell rang again and Bradley jumped backward a step. He looked down at his left hand and shoved it into his pocket.
"Fine, motherfuckers. Fine."
He reached forward and opened the door, a look of concern donning his face as the two men came into view.
"Hello?" he said, hoping his voice carried just the right amount of annoyance.
"Hi, Mr. Brown," Christian Windsor said. "I was in the neighborhood and wanted to talk with you if you had the time."
"Do you know what fucking time it is?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry about coming at this hour, but it's pretty important we talk."
Remember what you're supposed to do. Don't turn them away. Kill them.
Bradley looked at the agent behind Windsor, the older one. He wasn't looking at Bradley but at his partner. He didn't want to be here.
Windsor is calling the shots right now; Titan wasn't lying about that, Bradley thought.
"Whatever," he said. "Come on in."
He moved away from the door, opening his house to them. Windsor walked in, followed by the other one—Bradley couldn't remember his name. Couldn't remember much because the front of his head was starting to fucking hurt again. Always at the worst time. Always trying to steal things from him just like the rest of the goddamn world.
He closed his eyes tight for a second, trying to force away the pain. He couldn't hold them like that, though, not with the two goddamn cops here. He opened his eyes to see them both staring at him. The door was still ajar.
"Are you okay?" the older agent said.
"Besides the fact that you two are here after I just worked a long shift? Yeah, I'm peachy." He turned and closed the door. "Let's go to the kitchen."
He led the way, hoping that Titan wasn't lying. Ranger had better be back in one of the rooms, and his mother quiet—but not harmed. And Titan better be hiding too.
How has it all gotten so fucked up? he wondered.
Shut up. You've got work to do now and sitting here worrying about your problems isn't going to get any of it done.
Christian moved over to where Titan had stood and leaned against the counter in nearly the exact same spot.
"I'd offer you two a seat, but I don't want you to get comfortable. Now, what do you want?"
Windsor was looking around the kitchen in much the same fashion a hound dog would use his nose, as if he knew some clue rested in this place and once he saw it, everything would be solved. Bradley didn't look around even though he wanted to—he had to trust Titan.
"Hello?" Bradley said. "You like my interior decorating? Want to talk about that?"
"I'm sorry," the older agent said. "We, umm—"
"I'd like to talk about your father," Windsor said, interrupting as if he hadn't heard his partner. He looked down from the cabinets and met Bradley's eyes. "Do you think it'd be okay if we discussed how he died?"
Bradley's jaw involuntarily flexed. "I don't like remembering it."
"You don't like remembering it, or you don't want to talk about what actually happened?"
"You don't know what you're fucking talking about," Bradley said, the rage in his voice real now—no longer a ploy to cover up the panic.
"I do, and you know I do. What was the final straw, Bradley? What made you decide that you had to kill him, that there wasn't any other way?"
Bradley shook his head. He hadn't truly thought about it in such a long time. He and his mother never mentioned it, not after he took her eyes. Nothing that happened in the past was mentioned in his ho
use again.
"I didn't kill him."
"You did, though. How did you learn to take eyes out so carefully? With so much attention to detail?"
Bradley shook his head again, but he didn't say anything.
"Was it the animals? It was, wasn't it? You started there, using the traps on your farm. You'd take their eyes out before skinning them. Your parents didn't know because when you brought the animal in to be eaten, it was fully dressed. Was your father the first person's eyes you took?"
Bradley looked through an ocean of tears, barely containing them from spilling over onto his cheeks.
"What did he do to you?" the agent asked.
"How do you know?" Bradley finally whispered.
Windsor said nothing, only stared at him, and Bradley felt he saw everything. He couldn't hide from that all encompassing stare. Those eyes, they were what his father had wanted from his mother and him. Those eyes were truth, more so than any of the ones Bradley had collected so far.
As a tear fell from Bradley, a tall, dark figure appeared behind the two agents. It moved with no more substance than a shadow, not a sound creaking out from beneath its feet as it flashed over the two agents.
A hand came down and the older one collapsed to the floor.
The perfect eyes, the ones holding the truth, grew in alarm as their owner tried to turn around. Windsor couldn't though. Because that same blazing quick hand came down—and Bradley saw it held a gun now, pistol whipping the back of Windsor's head.
Both agents lay on Bradley's floor and Luke Titan stood above them, smiling. "Should we get started?"
VERONICA'S EYES HURT.
She didn't remember anyone removing the blindfold, but now brightness fell down on her like heaven had opened its gates, deciding to shine on all the evil to ever exist.
She clenched them shut even as hands grabbed her. She felt her arms being untied, but before she could move them, they were rushed down to her naked stomach and retied there.
Veronica cried out, opening her eyes the best she could, but she only saw an outline above her—the light behind the person masking their face's details.
"Please," she said.
Her legs were worked on with the exact same efficiency and then a bag of some sort was shoved over her head, blinding her as the light had done, but with less pain.
She felt hands picking her up from the bed. Despite everything happening, her mind registered how easily they moved her, as if she was no more than a loose sheet of paper. She felt the change in air as she exited the room. Going somewhere, and dear God, was this it? Would she be raped and murdered now? For days she'd lain inside that room thinking it would come soon, but it hadn't. She'd been left alone for the most part and her mind must have begun to think it wouldn't happen.
But it was.
Veronica screamed, or tried, but her voice barely made a noise above a whisper. She hadn't spoken in so long her vocal chords had forgotten how to work.
"Shhh," a voice said.
And then she felt a couch underneath her.
Lips next to her ears, and in a, indistinguishable voice, she heard them say, "Now don't move."
Please God, she prayed. Please don't let this happen. Please.
She felt a rag cover her face, and before she could attempt to stop breathing, her lungs had already inhaled whatever substance it held.
CHAPTER 31
L uke looked at the five people in front of him. Christian and Tommy lay head to foot on the floor, still unconscious from Luke's ferocious strike. Ms. Lopez lay on the couch, the chloroform having done its job. Mr. Ranger occupied his wheelchair, the only victim still allowed to look around because of his inability to tell the world anything.
And Bradley Brown stood in front of all of it.
"I said I would help you, Mr. Brown, and so I have. Here they are. Everyone you need to ensure your safety moving forward. I will, of course, clean up from my end. The bureau will not know your name. I will create some evidence that points to someone else. You'll be safe ... But, you must leave. You and your mother. You will move to Canada, not in the states, because I know that you can't control yourself now. You will start up again and my record is far too pristine to collar the wrong person, when you're eventually caught."
Mr. Brown didn't turn around as Luke spoke. He stared in disbelief at what Luke had given him. A gift that he'd never seen before. Perfection—at least for someone with Mr. Brown's mind—lay before him.
"Now, if you don't exit the country, I will call on you, Mr. Brown. I will kill you. Do you understand?"
The man nodded.
"Good. I will leave you to it, then. When you're finished, pack, and start your trip to Canada. I will make sure nothing that happens here points to you. Okay?"
Another nod; Luke knew the man wasn't lying. He had seen Luke's hand and knew that it was at least as powerful as God's. He knew that Luke only spoke truth, and what he said would happen.
Luke turned from the room and left the five people to the chaos that he'd created for them.
CHRISTIAN DREAMED. Not of Luke, but of a monster. Monsters create monsters, just as humans spawn humans. Bradley Brown had to come from somewhere, and since Christian had refused to watch the video his mind had prepared, it forced it upon him during his unconsciousness.
The room Christian stands in is dark, but it always is when these things happen to Bradley Brown. Because the monster doesn't want to see his act, he wants to see something else.
There's grunting across the room and the sound of a bed squeaking. The grunting comes from the monster's mouth, and though he's not a man, he is male.
Christian steps closer to the bed, knowing that it wouldn't matter even if he sat down on it. These people cannot see him.
A flashlight turns on, and Christian sees more. A woman is bent over, naked, and the monster is behind her. A ball gag is tied around her face but this isn't any BDSM sex game. This is rape, pure and simple. The monster is pounding ruthlessly and the light shines first on the woman's face.
"LOOK AT ME!"
And the woman does, because she knows that if she doesn't, worse pain will come. Much worse.
"Yes," the monster moans.
Christian glances at the woman eyes, but only for a second, because he can't handle anymore than that. Her face is twisted in pain, fear, hate, and sweat. Hair falls across her face, but the monster reaches forward and pushes it away, making sure that he can see her eyes. The hatred—at life, at this man, at herself—nearly bleeds from them.
The light moves now and shines down on a boy. He's in his early teens, and if hate lived in the woman's eyes, then hell's fire rages in his. He's tied and ball gagged, naked as well. The light shines on the boy for a few seconds before the monster dismounts the woman.
He moves to the boy, and despite being bound, he puts up a fight. Kicking, trying to keep the monster away. The monster is strong, though, and with a few punches to the face, the boy is subdued. He lays on his stomach and the monster has his way with him next, the light intermittently flashing from the boy's face to the woman's.
The room fades to black and then Christian finds himself in a kitchen—the same one he saw years ago when the boy hadn't brought back the trapped animal. He knows time has passed since then, as the decorations have changed.
"You motherfucker! You goddamn motherfucker, I'm going to kill you."
Christian hears the words but can't see where they come from. He moves around the kitchen's island and walks into the connected dining room. Now he sees. The monster is bound to the table, thick ropes tying him down—strapped around his legs, arms, torso, and even his neck. The table is large and wooded, giving the monster six inches on either side of his head and feet. Spit sits on his face from the words he screams into the otherwise empty dining room.
Christian hears steps and looks to his left.
The dining room is empty no longer.
The boy is nearly a man now and he's holding a small leather bag.
The boy gets to work on the monster, leaving him awake as he does. Screams and blood fill the room, but no help comes, and eventually the screams die to whimpers. Finally, they disappear and the boy steps back. Blood covers his hands and arms; it's even splattered on his face.
The body in front of him has large round holes where the monster's eyeballs should be. Instead, they sit next to his left arm, bloodied, with one looking at the boy's chest and the other the ceiling.
The dining room fades to black and Christian is in the farm's fields next. He knows what happens here. He can see the heap of the monster's body lying a hundred feet in front of him. The boy sits in a tractor—one that harvests crops, and as he starts moving it forward, Christian wishes he could turn away.
The boy is no longer a boy, but just another monster.
BRADLEY LOOKED at the four people, slightly frightened of what had been given to him. He still didn't fully understand how it all happened, but here they were, all ready for whatever he fancied.
Bradley cleared his throat and looked over to Charlie.
"I need to wake the rest up. I think I'd like everyone awake when I get started."
Bradley walked over to Christian Windsor and slapped his face. The man stirred a bit and Bradley slapped him again, bringing him all the way out of his slumber. Bradley said nothing, but moved to the older agent and roughly slapped him until he woke as well.
Finally, he went to the woman. He didn't slap her, but shook her, and it took a bit longer, but eventually she came to.
Everyone was awake.
"Listen to me," the older agent said. "Whatever you're thinking, you don't want to do it."
Bradley turned from the couch and looked at the bound man on the floor. He smiled. "Why don't I?"
"Because you're going to get caught. Our other partner is supposed to take over our watch soon, and when he can't get in touch with us, it's over for you."