Condemned To Die (The Death Eater Series Book 1)

by Catherine Stovall

  Through her thoughts, Zane saw him as Alyvia did. His profile against the light of the fire, made him appear mysterious and alluring. The lust that had brought her to the shaming moment infiltrated their shared senses, until she was dizzy with it.

  Her voice was a kitten’s purr as she rolled the name in a seductive whisper. “Victor?”

  Zane turned so that she could see his face. Her outrage and embarrassment whipped at him like daggers from her eyes.

  “You little bastard! What are you doing here? Get out of my house before I call the cops!”

  His voice was warm, flirtatious. “Come now, Alyvia. Isn’t this what you want, a young stranger in your bed?”

  Zane slipped from the chair and approached, careful to move slowly so she did not try to bolt. He took his time crossing the room, allowing the tentacle to deepen its reach in her mind. Though his power was wrapping her brain like a roll of barbed wire, he did not pull the strings. More than anything, he wanted to make her want him of her own will.

  Her pouty lips trembled and her eyes sparked with tears. “Get out. I swear to God, I will have you thrown in jail, you little pervert.”

  Zane smiled, taking the last step to close the distance between them. He stood as close as he could without touching her flesh, letting the warmth of his breath tease the lobe of her ear and the curve of her neckline.

  He drew out her name in a hushed and passionate whisper. “A-ly-vi-a, don’t you want me?”

  He leaned backward and peeled off the tight t-shirt, revealing well toned muscles and a deep v-cut that her eyes roamed hungrily. Zane almost laughed when she thought about how delectable he looked. Locking in on her thoughts, he did everything that she liked and more. She couldn’t resist the way he bit his lip and stared at her mouth as if he could spend an eternity kissing her breathless.

  She knew she should be afraid, but her desire pushed at her. Alyvia’s fantasies had presented themselves in the flesh and she couldn’t turn from them. Instead, her hands ran greedily up his chest, pressing gently to make sure that she was not dreaming.

  As soon as she touched him, Zane sent a terrible thought into her mind. I am about to bed a stranger and I don’t even know his name. What have I become? I am little better than a whore. But I won’t stop, I can’t. She couldn’t hold back the tears and they slipped down her flushed cheeks to drip onto her heaving breast.

  Zane followed the progress with his eyes and the site of her flesh, covered in goose bumps and sweat, gave him great pleasure.“Do you want me, Alyvia? Will you let me do things to your body no other has?”

  She turned her head in an attempt to capture his mouth with hers as she whispered, “Yes.”

  Zane stepped out of the reach of her hungry lips and snapped the line that connected her brain to his. “You have chosen poorly, Alyvia. The only reason you are still alive after all these years of bedroom games is that no other man would do what I will.” Her body locked down on itself, and his laughter was fierce.

  The shock in her voice made her sound even older than her already advancing years. “What are you doing? How are you doing this? You let me go. I have company coming. You can’t hurt me, you’ll get caught. Your finger prints are everywhere. Victor will be here any minute.”

  “No, you told Victor to come after eleven. It’s only ten fifteen. I have lots of time with you. You are going to face all the horrors that you gave to your daughter, and you are going to pay for killing her.” The gentleness was gone from his voice, replaced by hard steel. He forced her body to turn toward the mirror. In the glow of the firelight, many of her imperfections were hidden. However, Alyvia’s perception was a matter of the mind, and it was the mind that he controlled.

  Even as she begged, even as she stood fearing for her life, Alyvia admired herself in the glass. “I didn’t kill Vega. I may not have been the best mother, but she was a difficult child. She’s the one that overdosed on drugs that you probably gave her.”

  Zane didn’t care about her protest or pleas of innocence. “Look at yourself, Alyvia. Look at what you have become.”

  He showed her the way she had looked at eighteen, all long legs and perky breasts. The image was how she pretended to see herself, trying hard to ignore the terrible onslaught of her years.

  Seeing the lines fade from her face and her skin glow, she smiled. However, her pleasure quickly changed to horror as Zane sped the hands of time and the smooth surface of the reflection’s skin began to sag and wrinkle. The blonde hair turned gray. The hips widened, the teeth yellowed, and her vivid green eyes faded to the color of dying moss.

  His words were shards of ice sliding down her spine. “Do you see yourself behind the wall of illusion? You are old, Alyvia. The only reason anyone ever wanted you was so that they could laugh behind your back. Yet, you paraded yourself around as if you were a goddess. You hated Vega from the beginning, didn’t you? You resented what pregnancy did to your body, and you hated the attention others lavished on a beautiful child. Most of all, you hated watching her become more stunning every year as your face cracked and your body crumbled.”

  She whimpered. Her denials, like drops of rain on summer asphalt, fizzled away before they could find purchase. “I loved her. I tried to be a good mother. You don’t understand. You don’t have children.”

  His anger at her words made the tentacle twist inside her skull, causing the pain to begin. “Neither do you, Alyvia. Your child is dead. You pushed her away, abandoned her, and made her feel so ugly and unwanted that she saw no hope.”

  Gasping as the agony ripped into her skin, she begged. “I did not. She killed herself. I swear that I loved her. I am her mother.”

  He pulled out her memories, the ones he had chosen especially for the moment. “You were her enemy, not her mother. Now, come with me, Alyvia. We are running out of time.”

  He led her from the room. Her movements were stiff from the weight of his control, but she followed voluntarily. Standing on the landing outside the room, Zane’s smile was sweet, almost shy.

  “I have something for you.”

  Alyvia forgot to be afraid. “A present?”

  “Yes, a necklace of sorts.” He lifted the rope from the floor and slipped a carefully tied noose over her head. She smiled as if he had presented her with the queen’s diamonds as he tightened the knot. Taking a step back and pretending to admire her, he snarled. “You are not worthy of its beauty. “

  She had no time to respond at the false adoration combined with the violent tone of his words. Images slammed into her mind in full, techno color 3-D. She saw herself slapping a ten-year-old Vega in the face.

  “Diamonds and pearls aren’t meant for grubby, ugly little girls.” As the child ran from the room crying, Alyvia had laughed.

  The image faded and an invisible hand smacked against the woman’s cheek as another squeezed her heart. Zane leaned against the banister, one eyebrow arched in a cocky and knowing expression. “Do you feel the pain that your child felt?”

  She was unable to answer as the pain left her, only to be replaced by another memory. The vision revealed a much younger Alyvia, dressed in her wedding finery. Stepping into a room, she had found her soon to be husband embracing her fourteen-year-old daughter. Their actions had been innocent, a father expressing his love for the child he never thought he’d have. Alyvia had nearly choked on the thickness of her hate and jealousy as she stormed in, throwing harsh and disgusting accusations at the people who loved her most.

  Michael’s insistence that he had only been trying to comfort the child’s bruised heart only infuriated Alyvia more. She had grabbed for Vega’s hair but missed when the child tried to dodge. Gold painted nails had raked down innocent flesh, leaving a trail of bloody welts from brow to cheek.

  Seeing what she had done and the look of horror on Michael’s face, Alyvia had collapsed into hysterical tears. Michael had held them both for a moment, trying to calm his fiancé and her daughter before he was forced to leave the room to find assis
tance for Vega’s wounds.

  Turning to her daughter, the remorse had vanished. “If you ever come near him again, you little slut, I will do more than just rake your face. You will never be half the woman I am.”

  Alyvia blinked as her eyes focused on the stairwell and Zane once more and the past faded away. The shame she felt painted her cheeks and neck red. Her mouth opened to explain, but there was no justification to be found after seeing herself so clearly. As if a large cat had taken a swipe at her, she could feel the claws dig into her face, just as the barbs inside her mind twisted.

  Her head tossed to the side and her back arched in the throes of her torment, causing her to thrust her breasts against Zane as he stepped forward. He loosened the coils in her mind and very slowly eased the pain. In relief and exhaustion, she fell forward against him. Her childish whimpers reminded him of so many women over the years. They had all been vicious to anything or anyone weaker, but had become mewling kittens when he stepped into their lives.

  He let his lips graze her ear as he murmured softly. “Look at what you have done, remember all your sins against your child, and realize that everyone knows. They all tell jokes at your expense every time your back is turned. The whispers at the club, the strange looks at parties, and the way the staff shy away when you come near. Those actions are all because they recognize you for what you are. You are old and in social ruin, Alyvia, but I can make it all go away. Do you want it to go away, dear? All you have to do is climb the banister and let go. It won’t hurt anymore. You will be forever remembered as vibrant and beautiful, no more growing old. Just let it all go, Alyvia.”

  She did as he said and climbed until she sat on the thin railing, facing him. Zane stepped up and captured her eyes. “Are you ready, Alyvia?”

  She sobbed and her body teetered until her hands locked down with a white knuckled grip on the banister. “No. I don’t want to die. I’m sorry. I will be good. I will be better. I’m so sorry.”

  The emptiness in his voice sent visions of hollow pits into her mind as the tentacle tightened and forced her to place her hands into her lap. Leaving her precariously balancing between life and death, Zane gave her the final reminder of why she did not deserve mercy.

  “Sorry will not bring back your daughter. It will not take back Vega’s pain, and it will not undo your final act of cruelty, the final knife in your child’s heart.”

  The memory was crystal clear but brief. Alyvia watched it replay as she screamed for mercy, unsure if her words could be heard. She saw herself standing on the back patio with Briton smiling down at her, hot lust on his face. Just beyond his broad shoulders, Alyvia could see Vega’s approach. The girl’s timing had been perfect. Slipping her hands around the boy’s neck, she had pulled his mouth to hers and his hands had moved to cup her body with familiarity. Vega had screamed as her heart broke, Briton had turned in shock, and Alyvia had felt the ultimate satisfaction.

  Zane didn’t give her time to fade slowly back to him. As soon as the images cleared, he slammed her with pain. Every vein in her body heated up, as if her heart was pumping magnitudes of hot lava throughout her limbs. He made her skin feel as if it were bubbling, preparing to blister and explode. Yet, when she searched for burns, there was no sign of damage, not a single flaw.

  The only thing that was real was Zane’s voice. “Let go and end this, Alyvia. I can go all night.”

  Her body plummeted backward, one black stiletto flying wildly through the air as she went. The banister cracked under the weight of her body as the rope jerked, breaking her slender neck. Zane counted to three, waiting for the asphyxiation to do its job. When she neared the final end, he kicked the fractured railing, sending pieces flying outward. Alyvia’s body fell in a lifeless heap to the marble floor below.

  He watched for a moment as blood seeped beneath her messy blonde curls. The strands soaked up the crimson liquid, and the contrasting colors reminded him so much of his Vega with her auburn highlights. The sadness that snuck under his veneer of hate nudged him to finish what he had begun. Leaping down, he landed within inches of his victim’s body. Pinching her face between thumb and forefinger, Zane looked deep within Alyvia’s fading eyes and took her last breath into his body.

  Stepping away from the fresh kill, he felt more alive than he could ever remember being. Of course, that was always the way he felt when he was full of dying souls. Their restless energy spun through him like a hurricane of turmoil and injustice. Their evil fed the demon inside. Lost in the powerful physical and emotional high, he almost didn’t hear the car door outside. Returning to his senses, Zane bolted for the backdoor, avoiding having an innocent’s blood on his hands and dying breath on his lips. That was not the way he worked.

  Zane sat in the small coffee shop, listening intently to the thoughts and voices of Oaksdale’s busy bodies. According to all that he heard, his plan had worked flawlessly. The bodies were found within an hour of each other. Chief Martin had told his wife, in strict confidence, that they discovered evidence of a lengthy affair between Briton Hadley and Alyvia Bellator. Of course, Mary Martin had rushed right out to tell Beatrice Jones and her sister, Lucy. She had sworn both women to secrecy, but obviously they had to tell their closest friends.

  By early afternoon, everyone that Zane touched with his power thought of nothing else. The whole town understood the secrets that Vega Williams had known. Their hearts filled with regret, sorrow, and pity each time they thought of the poor young woman who had fallen victim to a twisted family affair and those feelings flowed through the connection into him.

  Zane felt as if the very core of his soul had been gnawed on by the fiendish hounds of hell. Raw and exposed, his grief for yet another failed existence ate away at him. The infernal sun blazed for too long, taunting him. He longed for the comfort of the night and the promise that awaited him there. Not even the fleeting feeling of triumph could chase away the shadows of impatience from his heart.

  He left the coffee shop, a styrofoam cup filled with espresso in his hand. Walking past his motorcycle, he allowed his sneaker clad feet to carry him through the streets without knowledge of direction. He turned and twisted through the neighborhoods and back alleys, seeing the world around him as if he was looking through a dirty window pane on a rainy day. The world lost all clarity, nothing had a solid shape. His mind was set on only one desire, to end his menial existence.

  Zane wandered, feeling haunted and lost, until the sky began to fill with an array of orange, pink, and purple hues. The first star, a tiny pin prick of light, hung in the sky like a lone adventurer pressing through the fading day. The promise of nightfall steered him with purpose. Winding quickly through the off beaten paths of the city, he sought out his destiny, his final release.

  The giant oaks that surrounded the cemetery, where only the best of Oaksdale society were buried, hung in ominous boughs over the pathway. Their leaves were turned upward as if they could sense a storm brewing that no other could. Zane’s heart quickened as dusk fell, lengthening the shadows around him. He could hear her calling to him from the other side. He could feel her need as he grew closer to her grave. His longing to be done with all that was his world pulled at him until he sprinted across the freshly cut grounds.

  At last, he topped the small rise and looked over the sea of concrete angels and memories. His destination called to him as if a beacon of light was shining down upon the freshly dug sanctuary where his true love was hidden. Each step brought him closer to the finale.

  Not truly the end, he saw it as only another beginning. His freedom from another scenario of purgatory was close at hand. He despised the torment of seeing Vega’s body, lifeless and cold. Yet, it was something that he could not escape. The vision of her lips without breath and her eyes without sight was something that haunted his every moment.

  In front of the muddy dirt and heaps of artificial flowers, Zane fell to his knees. The time was near. He could feel it in his soul. They would be together again soon, if only brie
fly. Placing his hands palm down on the freshly turned soil, he pressed until they sank up to his wrist. Despite the heat of the day still clinging to the thick air, the earth was cool to the touch. He could feel the shifting, the metaphysical changes, that were happening six feet below.

  He heaved a sigh of relief as his mind screamed. Mine. She is mine and I am hers and we will meet again.

  There was no ceremony or ritual, no fleeting passages of rhyming words or candle lighting. He simply drew his pocket knife and flipped open the honed blade. As the last vestiges of daylight trickled from the horizon, he whipped the smooth edge across the flesh of his wrists before reburying them at the foot of her grave. He could feel the dirt seeping into the open wounds, but he was numb to the pain. His entire being was concentrated on the need to hold Vega in his arms and kiss her soft lips.

  Weakened by the loss of blood, he teetered. Zane’s vision blurred and unconsciousness beckoned from the other side. He fought to stay alert. The chance of failure was the burden of his act. If he faltered, all would be lost. His heart beat slowed, and his breathing came in quick and shallow gasps. Sweat dripped from his face, meshing with tears he did not realize were falling. The salty crystals descended as unheard and unseen testimonials to the torment and agony of one young man’s broken heart.

  A voice, soft and sweet, drew his attention upward and Zane dragged his head from its hanging position. His heart rejoiced as his eyes took in the sight of her golden curls with auburn highlights, green eyes that sparkled, and rose pink lips that smiled down at him.

  “Come, Zane. It’s over, but our time already ticks away on the cursed clock.”

  His legs shook from physical depletion, and he couldn’t stand without her help. Each time, it was harder to bring her back. He stared down at his arms as she held him close. The wounds had already healed, but under the ghostly moon, the scars seemed to glow in a silvery light.