“He told you to go straight home.” I hope these words will get his ass moving; otherwise, they will discover him here, and then God knows what will happen to us.
Even though Pastor loves Caspian too, ignoring some of the stunts he pulls, which always surprises me, I don’t think he will be able to close his eyes on secret meet-ups that will look suspicious to everyone.
Caspian’s cigarette pauses midway to his mouth at my words though, and he stays unmovable for a few seconds before he lifts his gaze back to me. “After dinner, go to your room as soon as you can.”
“What?” During the years, he’s always had odd requests for me regarding these dinners, but this one is just beyond bizarre.
Who does he think those people are? Criminals? I don’t like them either, but it’s not like they are a danger to society.
“I will do—”
“Callista,” he says with steel coating his tone. “Listen to me well. After dinner, go to your room, lock the door, and keep your window open. Do you understand?”
“Caspian, why would I do that?” He doesn’t expect me to follow these commands without some kind of explanation, does he?
“Just promise me you’ll do it.” He throws the butt on the grass, stepping on it and twisting his foot while still drilling his gaze on me. “Promise me, Callista.”
I hear dogs barking in the distance along with the voices of the guards. Any minute now, they’ll be here. “I promise,” I say, only because I know Caspian won’t leave otherwise.
He is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.
He disappears in the garden minutes before the guards show up, and exhaling in relief, I wave at them before closing the window and rushing to the shower, as time is flying fast all while Caspian’s words play in my mind.
Callista
“Come on, belosnejka,” Arson says from above me while I’m still sitting on the floor, my dress smeared in the victim’s blood.
I hide my head between my knees, wrapping my hands tight around them, rocking back and forth. With each swing, I pray for the image in my head to disappear and my ears to become deaf so I won’t hear echoes of the agonized screams that will haunt me for eternity.
He burned him alive.
Burned him alive without a care in the world and laughed afterward! What kind of monster is he to behave like this?
A firm hand fists my hair and forcefully tilts my head back so that my eyes clash with the silver ones reflecting light flickering in them. “You are a monster,” I whisper without waiting for his voice to send shivers down my spine, for even his breath inspires fear inside me, because I’m not sure what kind of madness he might dish out on me. “I hate you.”
“Want to know a secret, darling?” He pulls at my hair a little, sending prickles of pain through me, then squats next to me so we are on the same level. “I don’t much care what you feel or think about me.” He leans closer to whisper into my ear. “Only what you can do for me. Remember your promise if you want to live and not become a pile of ashes.” With that, he gets up, pulling me with him, and although I resist his hold, my strength is not enough to overcome his.
Tearing my arms away from him, I step to the side, gritting my teeth. “Don’t touch me.” The dress swirls around my knees from the AC blasting at us, and I ignore the coldness sinking into my bones, making my body tremble. “You told me you wouldn’t kill him if I agreed to your terms.”
He cocks his head to the side, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought, and then mock-surprise laces his tone when he asks, “Did I?” I’m almost shaking from fury and fear but stand my ground, nodding because I’m too mad to say anything else.
Comply if I want to live?
I barely hold back the hollow chuckle threatening to escape my mouth, because I’ve never heard a more ridiculous thing.
After he just showed me what he is capable of doing, I’ll never trust his word, because just like every other monster, he didn’t stick to it.
Instead, he manipulated me into playing to his hands before he dished out punishment on the poor man.
The click of his fingers in front of my nose snaps me from my gloomy thoughts, and he elaborates with his non-freaking-chalant tone that makes me want to punch him in the face so he’ll forever shut up. “I promised not to stab him to death. I never said anything about not killing him.” My brows furrow at this, and I quickly play back the conversation we had.
What…?
My eyes widen when I understand he’s right, and that’s when he taps on my nose. I duck my head to the side, avoiding the contact. “Lesson number one. Listen carefully to people. For only then can you truly understand what their motivations are, and how they plan to use you.” He points at his ear. “No illusions, no mistakes.” Then he gives a brief glance to his victim emitting the lingering odor of burned flesh that smells so bad I want to gag, but I don’t look there. I’m too afraid to see the skeleton and not lose my shit in front of Arson. “As for him, he’s really not worth it.”
Not worth it? Is he kidding me right now? “He lost his life, because you are a sick bastard!” I shout, coughing a little, and he shrugs, going to the table to grab a black bag from the floor nearby. He puts different knives inside along with some ropes and gasoline.
Dear God, does he plan to hunt again tonight? Is one kill not enough for the likes of him?
I’ve read only two or three articles about serial killers. It was written that they kill to get some high that allows for them to feed on it for months or years, depending on the situation. Only when this overwhelming emotion washes away do they seek another kill, where they once again can tear someone’s soul apart for their own gratification.
Figures I’d be lucky enough to encounter one psycho who is ready to kill someone else only minutes after his last victim!
His voice pulls me back to our conversation while he continues to drop his things inside the bag, rattling it a little, probably to make more room, before resuming loading it. “I am a sick bastard—no doubts there.” He tilts one knife from side to side, while examining it closer and then sliding his fingers over the ridged edges. “That being said, you’re crying over a man who pimped out young girls. He used to gather them from around the shelters, promising food and toys. Instead, he pimped them to old, greedy guys who like little girls. Doesn’t make you exactly a saint either in this case.” He winks at me while I freeze on the spot, shock traveling through me, and for the first time, I glance back at the man and see him in a different light.
Wiping away the tears streaming down my cheeks, I exhale a raspy breath while musing over the information he has given me.
He killed a man who abused little girls? He allowed someone to rape them?
“Don’t feel so sorry for him now, huh?” Arson singsongs from the table, and I turn my eyes to him, shaking my head and then deciding that once again I was played for a fool.
“It doesn’t change anything.” His brow lifts. “You are still a killer who is my captor. Even if he deserved it, you have no right to take anyone’s life. You are not God.” I finish my speech, breathing heavily and believing in my words to my very core.
There are a lot of bad people in this world who are capable of horrendous things, because their hearts are forever smeared in darkness.
People are not judges in this world though, and we can’t allow folks to kill each other in the name of goodness or whatever other excuses they have.
At least it makes no difference to me, so if he expected me to be more… I’m not even sure what his expectations are, but anyhow, it failed.
To my surprise, he hangs the bag on his shoulder and claps his hands. “True. I’m glad you are smart, my beautiful captive. It will make your life easier. I’m a monster without a conscience. And I don’t seek redemption or understanding for what I do.” With that, he points at the door, his voice dropping a few octaves, which indicates to me that he is done with this stupid conversation and my hysterics. “Walk to the door and into
the hallway. I’ve wasted enough time here.”
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, but he ignores me, forcefully spinning me around to the door, and then pushes me toward it with his splayed palm on my back.
Slapping his hand away, I speed up my movements and take a deep breath when my hands wrap around the handle.
Monster or not, he is taking me away from here, which means I’m one step closer to freedom.
I’m not sure what he wants to do to me, but outside, there are more chances to escape this captivity than inside.
There is law, other compassionate people, and finally ways to get around the property. I know better than anyone how to sneak away from someone who watches me like a hawk.
Thank you, God, for this opportunity.
I almost drop forward with a yelp when the arm from behind me pushes the door wide open and instantly the spacious, dark hallway opens to my view, and I blink, a little surprised.
Since I thought he kept me in some kind of basement, I expected we’d be inside a house, but the hallway reminds me of another basement.
Or rather a creepy place with stone walls and endless doors probably leading to other rooms like this one, because several screams erupt from behind them.
“How many psychos live here?” I whisper and then jump a little when Arson speaks in my ear.
“You only need to care about me. Do not think about anyone else.”
Yeah, like that’s possible.
At least the monster is possessive enough to not share me or God forbid allow other psychos to terrorize me.
One captor is enough, thank you very much.
Quickly going through, I manage to do it before the door slams in his face, since it’s so heavy and well sprung.
A minute reprieve from Arson allows me to study the environment around me.
Only then I notice a man walking toward us, but he stops abruptly when his ice-cold blue eyes land on me, which makes me gasp in surprise.
He is wearing a three-piece suit, which emphasizes the dominant energy swirling around him, shrinking this hallway into a tiny space where everything revolves around him. His thumbs are hooked into his pockets, and he studies me with interest although some confusion crosses his face too.
All in all, this man is probably considered handsome and must have some higher position in this place, because even the word “power” is not enough to describe the impact of his sheer presence.
Scanning my appearance for a few seconds, he finally asks in his deep voice, “Are you lost?”
What if he is Arson’s boss and doesn’t know what he is doing here? Creeps usually hide their true nature from the outside world, right?
My chance for escape might have shown up here sooner than I expected!
I run to him, grab his hand, and beg, “Please help me. Please. He’s going to—” His eyes narrow on me as if he’s searching for some kind of familiar features, but then it becomes blank with only boredom present.
The sinking despair comes back, and that’s when I hear the door shut again and Arson’s heavy boots echoing down the hall.
“Belosnejnaya moya, what did I say about touching strangers?” He casually throws his hand around my shoulder, and I shiver with revulsion.
I twist in his hold, trying to get away, but his strong grip doesn’t let me. Only then his words register in my mind, belosnejnaya moya?
He called me some word in a foreign language three times already.
What kind of language even is this?
The man shifts his focus to him. “What are you doing, Arson?”
Even though I keep my eyes on the blond guy, I feel Arson shrug. “I was showing Chloe around my space.”
Liar! Such a liar! He even makes it sound like we are friends and I’m curious about his life! “I hate it here. You’re a maniac,” I hiss at him, trying to hit him, but he quickly catches my fist and wraps his hand around it.
Still not even sparing me a glance, he grins at the stranger while dragging me out and throws over his shoulder, “Room nine,” as we pass him.
Whatever the hell that means.
Do they have some other victim helplessly waiting around for this guy?
“Who was that man?” I exclaim, not that I care about it much, but maybe an answer will give me an indication of this place and what goes on around here.
Any information is useful if one plans to show resistance; at least that’s what all those books about history and the art of war implied.
“Someone you don’t ever want to cross” is all he says before we start going up the stairs with his new lighter the only source of light around us, like we’re in some kind of historical setting, searching within secret corridors.
Up in the distance, I see a heavy metal door and can’t help but mutter, “Are we in some kind of horror movie?” I’ve only watched one in my life, for the record.
He laughs, tightening his hold on me, and even though I hate it with all my being, I continue to walk, fisting the skirt of my dress harder.
Finally, we reach upstairs where a door is wide open, and Levi greets us with a smile. “I’m so happy to see you.” He addresses me with so much happiness in his tone it spikes my annoyance.
“He killed a man in front of me. I didn’t have much choice.”
The man pales a little at my sarcasm and sends a disapproving glance Arson’s way, who stays oblivious to it. Instead, he lets me go as if I burned his skin and then grabs me by the elbow, pulling me along the corridor that’s so luxurious my mouth drops open.
Golden walls, expensive marble statues, diamond chandeliers from a quick peek. Whoever lives here sure basks in money. But even though I hate such designs, because they remind me of Pastor’s home, I can’t help but notice that this one doesn’t have the same vibe.
It’s luxurious, obnoxiously so, yet this one lures you in, tempting you to find out what happens in this magnificent house, rather than alarms going off in your head and screaming at you to run away.
Pulling at my hand, I dig my heels into the carpet, and he finally stills his movements and pays attention to me. “I’m not a sack of potatoes. I’m capable of walking myself.” I rub my elbow a little and then wince when I notice a small mark on it from his hold.
It doesn’t escape his notice either, and he says roughly, “I’m sorry.”
I blink at this, not knowing how to react. To my memory, this is the only time anyone has apologized after hurting me. However, my confusion doesn’t last long, because once again he becomes the asshole that he is.
“Now let’s fucking go before I regret getting you out of the cage.” He kicks the main door open and we step outside. The harsh wind hits us in the face, and I take a deep breath, enjoying fresh air after so many months of being deprived of it.
Back home, I spent every free hour outside, either examining different herbs or staring up at the stars wishing for some kind of divine intervention to come and save me from that place.
Never in a million years though did I wish for a serial killer to kidnap me for his sick agenda where I’d have to be a toy in his twisted and dark games.
I guess the saying is right though.
Be careful what you wish for.
Because fate has a sense of humor too.
Arson
My car is already waiting in front of the mansion. The silver sports machine sits in the sun, and one of Lachlan’s guards stands by it, a bored expression on his face, although I don’t miss how he does a double-take at seeing my little captive.
I come closer, my boots thumping loudly on each of the marble stairs, and an angry growl escapes me, which makes the man jump away from the car and throw keys in my direction.
I catch them, barking, “Go.” He nods, running into the security house, and I rein in an unfamiliar emotion inside me that wants to beat the shit out of anyone for as much as looking, let alone talking, to Chloe.
For fuck’s sake, I barely restrained myself from dragging her away even faster
from Lachlan, but ignoring the man is out of the question.
Reaching my car door, I slam my fist on the roof while breathing through the fury and will my self-control to snap back in place and push aside any kind of emotion that never had and never will have a place in my life.
Emotions tend to lead to destruction, and I’ve had enough of that in my lifetime. I won’t allow anyone to shake what I’ve built through the years.
Especially not some skittish blonde captive who probably believes her God has solutions for all the problems and thinks I don’t see how she is lying to me without even blinking.
Chloe.
I chuckle, sitting inside my car and dropping the bag onto the back seat while snatching my sunglasses, sliding them on so it will act like a barrier between me and the girl whose real name I still don’t know.
The way she said it three months ago, with a slight edge to her tone and her eyes darting everywhere but at me… left no doubt about her lies.
I’m not sure why she is hiding it; I don’t give a fuck either way.
If she serves her purpose right and doesn’t die in the meantime, I will let her go so she can live her boring, saintly life convincing herself that heaven awaits her at the end of the tunnel while despising the likes of me.
My hands fist the steering wheel harder at the thought, like I’ll ever miss all the judgment flashing in her emerald greens whenever she looks at me.
Ah, there is one truth no one ever wants to face.
Saints sin far more frequently than sinners, only they cover it better and preserve their reputation.
I should know.
Pressing the button next to me, I wait for the passenger window to slide down. I dip my head to catch Chloe’s stare as she continues to stand still on the last step, her disgusting white dress plastered around her legs giving me some kind of clue about the shape of her body.
This dirty piece of cloth will be the first thing to go, because it smells like shit—not to mention she reminds me more of a witch than a woman.
Looking like this, she won’t serve my plan, and we can’t have that.
Arson’s Captive Page 9