Finally, at age ten, Mr. Durand returned home from work early one day to find his wife beating Hanley's behind with a belt while shrieking obscenities. Astounded and heartbroken, Mr. Durand tossed her out on the spot. He apologized profusely to his children, but the damage was done. Too much time had gone by that he failed to notice their suffering. So their hearts had grown cold to him. And to the world.
***
By the time Hanley and Giselle reached their teenaged years, they probably could be considered unruly. Among their peers at Faraway Senior High, they were considered "not to be messed with." It wasn't that they were bullies, or outwardly nasty to any particular person. They were just hard. Brooding and angsty. Maybe it was because they were so quiet, most often seen together with their matching faces set in stony frowns. Maybe it was because they were known hunters; spending hours together in the forest hunting wild game. Maybe it was because of all the silly stories that had sprung up about them, as if they were some sort of urban legends.
Or maybe it was just their bitterly cold, dark, haunted eyes.
Whatever the case, they didn't have much in the way of friends. Which was why it was so surprising when Hanley responded to a knock on the front door to find Zoe Locke and Jennifer Tide shivering on their doorstep.
"Well hi," Hanley said.
"Hi," Zoe said nervously. "I… Um… Could we come in? We need to talk to you."
Hanley studied them for a minute and then stood aside, inviting them in with a cordial sweep of his hand. This gesture surprised Zoe and Jennifer, as they'd never expected him to be so inviting.
They found themselves standing in a tiny, but cozy living room. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the TV played quietly. Hanley gestured to the couch. "Sit if you like," he said shortly.
"Well, um…" Zoe said, again overwhelmed by jitters. "Is your sister home by chance? We'd like to talk to you both, if you don’t mind."
"Giselle!" Hanley called out. Seconds later, his lovely sister emerged from a doorway off the living room. "We have visitors," he remarked. Giselle arched an eyebrow and gave Zoe and Jennifer a polite smile.
After another awkward moment, Giselle and Hanley finally took seats on the couch, since their guests clearly were not going to. "So?" Hanley said curiously. "What brings you out?"
Zoe nervously wrung her hands and began to pace. "Well, it's just that… You're probably not going to believe us. You're probably going to think we're nuts."
Giselle chuckled, giving the pair an incredulous look. "Try us."
"Well… I… Uh…"
Jennifer took a deep breath and cut Zoe off. "We know where our missing classmates are!"
Giselle gasped, and Hanley's jaw dropped.
"Not because we're the murders!" Zoe exclaimed, nudging Jennifer.
Hanley jumped up. "Whoa whoa whoa. Slow down. Start from the beginning."
Zoe began her twisted tale, and related it the same as she had to Jennifer. To her immense relief, the Durand twins watched her intently, and judging by the looks on their faces, they seemed to at least be entertaining the idea that she wasn't lying. When she finished, Hanley dropped back onto the couch.
"OK. But, why are you telling us this? Why not go straight to the police?"
"You think I haven't told the police!?" Zoe cried. "They don't believe me! This is the BAR family we're talking about here."
Giselle nodded. "Good point. But, I still don't understand why you're telling us this."
"Chief Jiminy is holding a town meeting in one hour," Jennifer said passionately. "We'd like you to come with us and hear what he has to say. Reach out to him one last time with us. And, if he doesn't believe us this time… We'd like you to help us take down the Bar's ourselves."
Hanley and Giselle gave them both long, piercing gazes as they thought it over.
"Please," Zoe pleaded. "I know our classmates are in that house. Jennifer and I can't do this alone. We have to save them!"
Once again, Hanley stood. He strode to the coat rack where he threw Giselle her jacket, then began shrugging into his own. "Come on," he said to his sister. "We're going with them.
Part X
Coat of Many Colors
Chapter 29
The buzz in the town hall was almost deafening, as nearly everyone in Faraway had packed into the building for the emergency meeting called by Chief Jiminy. Townsfolk young and old anxiously waited with standing room only for their commanding officer to appear behind the small podium in front of the crowd. Angry energy radiated throughout the room as people speculated he would have nothing of value to report or advice, and a revolt of sorts could ensue.
Seven teens total had disappeared and the death count had risen to seven as well, as Aliah Joiner, mistress to one Mr. Pure, had succumbed to her injuries. Though Mr. Pure had been exonerated, Ms. Joiner's death was still being considered a part of the killing spree without any inkling as to why.
Hysteria had mounted to an all-time high around Faraway. The schools were practically empty as parent after parent removed their children. Businesses had all but shut down, as workers elected to take time off and stay home to carefully monitor their children. The people wanted answers. And they had gotten none.
A hush settled over the crowd as Chief Jiminy finally approached the podium, accompanied by a strange man.
The man was extraordinarily tall, and so thin he looked skeletal. He had odd, dark eyes that seemed to look straight through to the soul of a person. He wore close cropped hair and had a handlebar mustache. Perhaps his strangest characteristic was the multicolored patchwork blazer he wore, along with an old fashioned bowler hat. Whispers moved through the crowd as people wondered aloud who the outlandish looking man might be.
"Attention, attention," Chief Jiminy muttered into the microphone. He jumped back at the squeal of feedback, unaccustomed to the use of modern technology. "Citizens of Faraway, as we're all aware, we find ourselves in crisis."
A rumble of angry responses roared through the crowd. Chief Jiminy waved his hands, motioning for them all to hush.
"FBI has provided little to no assistance, and every lead I've been provided has turned up no results," Jiminy said sadly. "I assure you, folks, no stone has been left unturned."
"Obviously that's not true!" shouted a man in the back.
"Yeah! Or our kids would be back home!" shouted a woman from somewhere in the crowd.
Chief Jiminy's face reddened. He felt uncomfortable under the angry scrutiny of his people. He sensed that this hostile group could turn on him in the drop of a hat. So, he hurried on.
"Now, now, I don't intend to stop! Not for anything! That's why; I'd like to introduce to you, Detective Piper, from New York City!" He gestured to the colorful stranger. Stepping out of the way, Jiminy offered Detective Piper the floor.
A pin could've been heard dropping as the detective strolled behind the podium. He leveled a piercing gaze upon the crowd that sent a collective chill throughout the place.
"Good evening," he said in a crystal clear oddly melodious voice. "I, am Detective Piper." His words seemed to cast some sort of spell over the crowd. The look and the sound of him was unsettling, and he did not necessarily invite trust. But, they had no choice.
"I am here," the man continued. "To find your children. Officer Jiminy here can attest to my flawless record of solving cases. I can promise you, within the week, your children will be returned to their beds."
Mesmerized by the man, Faraway citizens gaped at him with tears sparkling in their eyes. They didn't have a reason on earth to believe him, yet that thought did not even occur to them. They simply accepted his word as truth.
"But," said Detective Piper. "There is only one issue. My services are not free, and Chief Jiminy has already informed me that my fee is not in the city's budget."
Another rush of whispers moved through the crowed. "Well? How much do you need?" a man called out.
Detective Piper's thin face split into a frightening grin. "My fee for
this case is one million dollars."
The crowd exploded. They had all accepted him as their only shot, no questions asked. Only to have their hopes wantonly dashed. People chattered amongst themselves, everybody throwing out amounts they could contribute to the pool. For a moment, chaos ensued until one man stepped forward quietly, and the crowd parted to allow him access to the podium. When the crowd settled, the man spoke.
"I will pay your fee in its entirety, upon the return of the children," the man said quietly, meeting Detective Piper's scary eyes.
Chief Jiminy leapt forward to embrace the Good Samaritan, blubbering. "Oh thank you! Thank you, Mr. Bar!"
***
As the crowd began to disperse, following the town meeting, Zoe Locke, Jennifer Tide, and the Durand twins lingered in the hall. When they saw Detective Piper exit the room through a side door, they rushed to follow him.
"Detective Piper?" Jennifer called. "Oh, Detective Piper, wait!"
They stood in a dark hallway. He was strolling toward a rear exit where he undoubtedly had a car parked outside awaiting him. But he paused and turned to face the teenagers. They rushed to meet him.
"We… We think we can help you," Zoe confessed.
The man smiled darkly.
Part XI
Spinning
Chapter 30
Benjamin Bar was only three years old when he discovered the "special" room in the basement. The door to it had been locked then, but he was a resourceful child and easily earned entry unbeknownst to his parents.
He remembered it clearly. He'd wandered into the room, wide eyed and open mouthed. Perhaps if he'd been a normal child, he would've instinctively known, even at such a young age, to be frightened of such a place. Perhaps he'd have turned and ran away screaming. However, by that time, Benjamin already had a history of butchering woodland creatures and had set several rooms in the house on fire. He was already far from a normal child. And so, when Benjamin walked into the fascinating place, he suddenly felt at home. He knew he was where he belonged.
When Madre Bar walked in that day to find Benjamin happily playing on the floor among a collection of restraints, syringes, and knives, she clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. Because she knew. Of course, she'd already had suspicions, but she'd denied them to herself. Seeing him there confirmed her worst fears about her young son. The same evil darkness that infected his father infected Benjamin as well.
Times ten.
She'd only been married to Abraham for a year when she'd discovered what he was all about. She'd found remains of a victim of Abraham's in the garden shed outside the house they'd shared during those early days of their life together. And Abraham had found her finding them. She'd spun around when he entered behind her and caught the dark look on his face. The threatening look. A look of pure evil. He didn't have to speak his threat; one look into those bottomless eyes told her that she was no longer safe. She would never be safe again. And the look of terror on her face told Abraham that he was safe. This spineless mouse of a woman would never be brave enough to betray his secret.
For a time, she'd seen no more traces of her husband's sinister double life. As time passed, she successfully tricked her brain into forgetting the rotting body parts she'd once discovered. Mr. Bar saw success after success in the business world, and soon they were living in high style and had moved into Bar Estate.
Throughout the first year there, Mr. Bar spent a lot of time down in the basement that he said he was remodeling. Though years had gone by since her discovery in the garden shed, and she'd all but forgiven and forgotten, something inside her had warned never to go into the basement. But eventually, Mr. Bar proudly informed her that his work was finished and he had something to show her. Madre would never forget the sick feeling of dread as he'd happily lead her down to the basement, and how she'd wept when she saw what he'd built. She was married to a rich and powerful man. He informed her he was ready to take his games to a new level of enjoyment. And that she would help.
Three years later, Benjamin came along. She was able to refocus her efforts away from the activities that periodically took place in her husband's basement, onto her beautiful new baby. Abraham seemed content to leave her and the baby alone. She spent every available moment on Benjamin.
All the while, trying to ignore that same vacant look in the baby's eyes that she saw in his father's. Trying to pretend that Benjamin wasn't far too quiet and sullen. Trying to believe that all of his inappropriate behaviors, even as early as infancy, meant nothing.
As Benjamin grew, she further told herself that the disemboweled birds, squirrels and cats turning up all about the yard were victims of nature. Tried to tell herself that other children were just rude, not that they shied away from her child because he triggered their instincts to be afraid.
But the day she found him in the torture chamber, happy as a lamb, the truth came crashing in.
"Benjamin?" she said softly with a shaky voice. The little boy continued playing and ignored her, as he often did. "Benjamin?" she said again. "You… You aren't frightened in this place?"
His eyes snapped up. He gave her a beautiful smile. This was only the third time she'd ever known her toddler to smile. The other two times had been when he'd proudly carried a bloody squirrel carcass to her in the yard, and another time when she'd thought he was in bed and he'd snuck into the family room and found his parents watching a violent, gory slasher movie.
"No, Mommy! This is WONDERFUL!"
So that was it, then. The only two people she loved in the world were monsters.
***
For the longest time, Benjamin didn't realize he was different. He didn't know that it wasn't normal to think about blood. To love the warmth of it on his hands. To love the taste of it. He didn't know he wasn't supposed to see violent scenes behind his eye lids, every time his eyes closed. He didn't know nightmares weren't supposed to make him happy.
He didn't know that killing was bad.
After the day his mom found him playing in Dad's special room, she started teaching him. By the time he reached kindergarten, he'd been trained not to speak of the things he thought about. Not to draw pictures. And most of all, not to hurt people, where other people might see. It made it kind of hard for him. He couldn't find much to talk about with people around him since he wasn't allowed to say what was on his mind, so he didn't talk much at all. And his mind was constantly so busy with his bloody imaginings that he found it hard to concentrate on mundane school work. Luckily, he was super smart about boring stuff like that so he could just quickly do it and then set it aside. Therefore, his teachers didn't hassle him much. His mother promised him from the first day she sent him to school, that if he followed her instructions carefully, that she would always make sure he had something to play with down in the basement. Because if he didn't trust her to take care of his needs, then he'd have to go away and never be allowed to play again.
Often time it would just be a dog or some other wild creature that his parents brought to him in the basement room. On rare occasions, his father brought one of his own findings down; a vagrant or prostitute, someone from the dregs of society who wouldn't be missed. And then they indulged in their bloody hobby and disposed of whatever remained.
Abraham could go for much longer than Benjamin in waiting to satisfy his dark tastes. And as Benjamin grew, Abraham grew more and more satisfied to just live vicariously through his son. He let Benjamin take the reins. Benjamin's tastes changed as well. He became full of hate toward the world around him. He came to love toying with his victims for a long while before the final show. He loved playing games with their minds and watching their torment. He couldn't grasp why they didn't think the same way that he did, so he wanted to punish them. To make sure they know what evils exist in the world right around them, before they died.
Benjamin Bar's love of his macabre slow dance with his victims was the only reason that his classmates were still alive. He enjoyed coming home from school
and going down to the basement. Watching their faces and hearing their whimpers when he entered the room. Each day he had a new game to play with one or the other of them. He'd remove one at a time from the cells to impose some sort of bloody torture on the victim in front of all the rest. Then he'd return that victim to the cell, bleeding and terrified. He fed and watered them just enough to keep them alive. And he spent his days trying to decide how they would meet their maker.
This bunch was the first he'd ever taken victims straight from his own town. He'd looked upon their faces nearly all his life. Maybe that's why he hated them so much more than victim's past. Maybe that's why he was so attached to the game with them; so unprepared to part with them.
But the familiar anxiety was mounting in him. That electric, tense energy coursing through him. When it was time to end them he would know by a decided shift in his mood. He would suddenly feel unearthly calm, and he would meticulously and peacefully murder them one by one. And then, all that anxious energy would subside and he'd feel better.
The time for that was near. He could feel it.
Chapter 31
"Please, let me stop," Ella moaned weakly.
Benjamin Bar stood outside the bars of her cell and had demanded for the past hour that she spin in circles. It was one of his games. He would wander into the chamber and make any of the prisoners he chose do ridiculous things for apparently no reason other than to sit piously and giggle at them. Ella felt thoroughly ill and didn't know how much longer she could go before collapsing. Nicholas and the others growled menacingly at Benjamin, but the psycho seemed not to notice their complaints.
"No stopping, spin spin spin!" he said in his impish sing song way.
Moments later, Ella vomited on the floor.
Benjamin groaned irritably. "Alright," he sighed. "You can stop. Let's play a new game!"
No Happily Ever After (The Fairytale Diaries #1) Page 12