Page 46 of Sick Bargain

Matterson’s followers. He must have brought them here before we even had the conversation in his bedroom. That’s who has been screaming this whole time. The entire Matter Cult is here, and I have the power to wipe them out entirely. I’m thirsty for it.

I’m so fucking thirsty it terrifies me.

I press back against his bare chest, rubbing my ass on his still-hard cock. “Teach me how to hunt.”

He moans against my neck, the sound growly and pleased.

Vile House has turnedinto a madhouse.

With Krypt at my back and a knife in my hand, we stalk through the halls and act like gods. I’ve never felt powerfulbefore, and without my Vile Boy behind me, I’m still not, but that doesn’t stop me from revelling in the audacity of this night.

The Matter Cult is here, and their terror is addicting. I understand why Gregory Malone haunts me now. Tonight, I get to be the death omen.

With screams and pleas for mercy echoing throughout the house, Krypt leads me through a series of connected patient rooms. The other nine are stalking the Matter Cult, but I have my sights set on Reeven Matterson himself. The man who trapped my family in his cult and has been punishing them ever since they broke free. The man who made me sacrifice my blood to him on my seventeenth birthday. The man who does nothing but scare and dictate his constituents and force them to do all his dirty work.

I’m out for his head.

“Bloodthirsty looks good on you, hero.” Krypt has already maimed three people. He didn’t even hesitate, just like when he threw that dagger at the Krampus. He slashed hard enough to draw blood, and snapped bones to create musical screams. But he hasn’t killed. Not yet. He says that will happen in the basement. “Listen,” he demands, lips by my temple and his bloody chest at my back. “What do you hear?”

I go completely still against him, tuning out the sound of my blood rushing to listen to the sounds of the house. Someone is running in the hallway to my right. Someone else is yelling about fairness from the upper floor. A few people are crying, sobbing quietly. A woman whispers about seeing an exit back that way. Thrashing bodies are being dragged down the basement stairs. Psychos are hunting. My morals are quiet, not telling me whether the entire cult deserves to live or die.

Krypt’s heart beats against my chest. Loud but unhurried.

A chair scrapes up ahead.

“There,” I whisper, feeling Krypt nod against the side of my head. “Matterson.”

“Fingers tight. Breath steady. Eyes open, Remiel.” He fixes my grip on the knife’s hilt. “Stalk him.”

I want to ask what to do with him once I catch him, but I bite my tongue. I don’t even know if I’m capable of that yet. On hushed feet, I step forward, following the almost silent sounds of Matterson sneaking through the house. I know it’s him because we’ve been following him for a while now, corralling him exactly where Krypt wants him to go, keeping him away from exits and ensuring he gets lost in the maze of Vile House. We’ve been scaring him, letting him think he can get away before yanking that hope out from under him time and time again.

On my own two feet with the knife in my hand, I walk through rows of chairs in the darkness, breathing through the mouth hole in my new mask. It’s a throwback to the night Matterson chased my family home and stalked us through my mom’s house. I was twenty-three then, but I’m a different Remiel Sauder now. Darker. Dirtier. Under the watchful eye of a chilling man in a purple mask.

Matterson uses the darkness of the theatre room to climb onto a small stage, slinking behind the podium at the head of the room. I watch the area, waiting to see if he’s going to appear on the other side of it. When he doesn’t, Krypt touches my shoulder. A quiet command.

He goes left, and I go right, approaching the podium from opposite sides to trap our prey. My heart pumps hard and my eyes narrow, focusing on his hiding place. When a blue glow appears from inside the platform’s concave back, Krypt’s mask looks at me again. We both stop.

Whispered and frantic, Matterson talks into his phone. “Get to the room with the stage! Get me the hell out of here, Jones.”

Calling his cult to his rescue won’t work. Not tonight. Especially when Krypt snatches the phone from his hand and puts it on speaker. Matterson screams, but the voice coming through the phone quiets him.

“Matterson? Help us! We’re in the basement, and they’re keeping us here. The fuck are you doing?!”

Reeven Matterson is nothing but a coward who relies solely on his following. He won’t save them, and they’re stupid for wishing for it.

“Krypt,” one of the Vile Boys says through the speakerphone. “Have fun.”

I’m grinning behind my mask, amped on adrenaline. This is the first time I’ve known what it feels like to be stronger, deadlier, more sinister than a cult leader, and I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.

“What’s going on here?” he asks, sparing me a quick look before focusing on Krypt. Krypt has the Vile mask, and I don’t, but that doesn’t make me less of a threat. I want to teach him that lesson. “Why are we here? What is going on?”

He sounds like me from a few hours ago.

I look at the purple-masked man who has done nothing but ruin my life. Krypt is twisted beyond recognition, daunting and harsh, but right now, he’s awaiting my order, like I hold the chains to whatever lives in his eyes. I nod at him, still grinning, and Krypt grabs Matterson from beneath the podium.

He screams, and I shiver in fondness for it. Oh my god, I’m sicker than I thought I was. When Krypt has him contained, a knife to his throat, he pushes him onto his knees and makes Matterson face me. I stand above him, just because I can, looking down at the man who stalked and murdered my mom’s side of the family. As I look at his tears, the tremble of his hands, and the pure panic in his eyes, I breathe it all in and allow myself this moment to feel as vile as the rest of the ten.

I sink down to eye level with Matterson, and with a final look at Krypt for permission, I lift my mask.

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