Page 3 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

“Angor.”

Hmm. She didn’t know where Angor was.

“Why am I here?” She drew breath in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

“You were my gift to me.” His white eyes shone like twin full moons.

“What do you mean?” Madeline bit her lower lip, using the pain to center her thoughts.

Praevus’s wings disappeared from view as if he had retracted them. “That is none of your concern.”

She hated the sound of his hollow voice. “Turn me loose. You don’t want to hurt me.”

The guy was a nightmare, but she wasn’t dreaming. He was in focus. Too sharp.

She stifled sobs, reminding herself that crying did no good. And terror was incapacitating. It muddled thoughts, preventing her from forming a game plan. That was step two of Lizette Lee’s strategy. After clarification of the problem, came solving the problem.

Madeline began reciting the Dewey Decimal Classification system again, a focus for her concentration. She whispered, “Religion. Social Sciences. Language...”

The monster’s hollow voice interrupted her recitation. “But I do want to hurt you. Besides, if I turn you loose, there is nowhere for you to run in Angor.”

Madeline slowed her breathing, struggling to form thoughts. She stopped her mental relaxation technique. “Where is Angor? What part of St. Louis is it in?” But she already suspected this monster wasn’t human. Nor was he from Earth.

The white-eyed, bat-winged pervert chuckled. “St. Louis? Earth? These are places of your past. They will mean nothing to you. Not even a memory. I shall be your place, your reason for living, the center of your universe.”

He’s a fricking psycho villain from a bad melodrama. A megalomaniacal serial killer. If he were a book, she’d file him under Philosophy and Psychology. She’d shelve him with other parapsychology and occultism works in the Mental Derangements section. Of course, the label no longer existed, but it fit Praevus. She shook her head. Back to reality. “You’re going to kill me.”

He shrugged. “In a way. Your body will live on. Your mind, though, will belong to me. Its only thought will be my pleasure. My approval. If I want you to kill for me, you will. If I want you to fuck me, you will. If I want you to walk into a blazing fire for me, you will.” He rubbed his hands together.

Yep.

A B-movie villain.

He continued with his bad-film dialogue. “I have never had a human. I hope your flesh and mind are not too weak for my plans.”

Madeline and all of Earth had watched the shocking news several years ago. Humankind’s illusions had shattered like glass when TV anchors reported on Aeternals, a superior species living in another realm called Scath. We were not alone.

Hungry for knowledge, she’d studied the tons of newspapers that came into the library to get a clearer picture of these unknown beings. Though St. Louis hadn’t been attacked like other cities, she learned the American military had fought beside a group who called themselves ... what? Firebrands. Their common goal was to save the world from an organization determined to enslave humans. They won.

Once the good guys defeated the bad guys, Lizette Lee began broadcasting again after a long hiatus, telling how she’d been kidnapped, taken to this other realm, held prisoner, and saved by a Firebrand. Madeline had been happy to hear of her return.

Could Praevus be with those terrorists who wanted to enslave humans? Reporters had announced they’d been rounded up and killed or incarcerated, but he may have escaped.

“Are you an Aeternal from Scath?” she asked.

He rolled his white eyes as if he resented the accusation. “Those weak bastards? No. I told you. I am Praevus. I’m an Immortal. Well, I was. Now I am called a Scourge.”

“What’s an Immortal? What’s a Scourge?”

Keep him talking.

As long as he talked, she was safe. Besides, questions were an occupational hazard for a librarian and a big part of her personality. Madeline needed to know as much as possible about her problem before formulating a successful escape plan.

“I am an Immortal whom the black-winged assassin Dominion wrongfully threw into Angor. Because I have certain ... um ... tastes, they call me a Scourge. Someday, I shall find a way to extinct him or make him suffer an eternity of torture as I have. Perhaps the latter is better.” Her captor’s upper lip curled into a sneer.

Madeline didn’t understand what the hell Praevus was rattling on about, but she figured it was bad. Scourge? Immortal? Assassin? The last two rang a bell. She’d read something.

Think. Think.

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