Page 80 of Deviant

“Curious? Curious?” Antonio repeats, losing all show of calmness that I’ve seen to date. “Who the fuck…” He pauses, staring at me. “Tell me you didn’t do this…”

I get to my feet slowly. “Of course I didn’t.” I reply. I wouldn’t be so damned stupid as to kick the hornets’ nest so blatantly. Does he really think I’d have as little imagination as all that?

“But that means war.” I state, meeting his eyes. “If Turner is gone, then all bets are off. The Chapter is wide open, defenceless.”

Antonio shakes his head like he can’t quite believe it. “This can’t be happening. Who the fuck would even dare…?”

“It’s obvious.” I say, drawing myself up, growing bored of his sudden show of dramatics. “The Esau faction is behind this.”

“No.” Antonio says. “They wouldn’t dare, they’re too fractured, too…”

“For fuck’s sake.” I snap, losing my patience, shoving the very evidence I stole from Antony damned Wallis in front of him so that they’ll be no denying it. “Who else could it be?” I continue, “who else would benefit from such a move?”

He blinks back at me like he’s an idiot. Like his brain can’t compute it. “Do you think they know that Turner was sick, that we were going to replace him?”

“Of course they did.” I mean, I was the one who let it out. I was the one who stirred the pot. Wouldn’t say I’d have predicted this outcome, but now that it’s here, I’ll take open war, I’ll take the carnage. Better that than operating from the shadows like I’m some sort of thief.

“We need to meet with the Senate. We need to move, now.” Antonio says.

“I agree.” I smile, feeling like suddenly all the power is in my hands. “Get my driver to ready the car. I just have one thing I need to see to first.”

“Now?” Antonio splutters.

“Now.” I confirm. “And get Conrad. I want him where I can see him. I won’t have them going after him to get to me.”

I don’t wait for a response, I turn and leave him there, still half speechless.

During the day,Oblivion can be an eery place. Oh, the party never stops, the games always continue, but it never feels the same. Darkness has a way of hiding things, obscuring them. You expect evil at night, you expect horror then.

I make my way silently through the hall, noting the changes we made after the whole bomb incident. The additional security, the fireproofing, all of it.

There’s a few people here and there, but I keep my gaze ahead, ignoring them, and ensuring they get the message that I’m not interested in a conversation right now.

When I make it to the lower levels, you can feel the change in the atmosphere, you can feel the way the air chills.

I walk past what was Paitlyn’s cell, not even glancing in through the bars. We had the entire corridor rebuilt. It’s got a new girl in there now. If I listen carefully enough, I can hear the sound of her sobbing. She’s got a long way to go before she becomes anything close to her predecessor, but I’m sure her owner will get there.

At the very end, I type in a code only I know. The door appears as if from the very walls itself and silently opens. I slip through before making my way past another set of locked doors. This place doesn’t technically exist. It’s not on any blueprints. Nor any plans. No cameras are here either. No one knows about this except me and her.

She looks up as I walk in. Her mouth is open, ajar, just as always from the way it healed badly after I shattered it one too many times.

“Good evening, wife.” I say.

She trembles, whimpering, and, because half her vocal cords are ripped to shreds from all the years of screaming, it comes out more like a strangled gurgle, like she’s choking on her own fear. God, I hope she is.

There’s a great silver scar that slashes down the front of her face. Her right eye is hazy from the damage, and I know she can’t see shit out of it.

Her bones are all gnarled up and twisted, her hands are turned inwards at the wrists like she’s permanently trying to tear her own flesh off. You wouldn’t think she was the same age as me. You wouldn’t think she was mid-forties. Her long hair hangs down, straggly and grey, and there’s clumps missing with glaring bald spots from where she repeatedly rips it out.

I step over the pile of human excrement that she’s currently sitting in and my nose wrinkles at the stench, though she seems to be completely oblivious to it.

Years ago, she was beautiful. Years ago, this woman was all I ever thought I wanted. All I ever thought I would love.

A part of me is sad to be doing this. To be ending this. I’d planned for her to suffer for many more years to come. I’d planned for her to live as long as I did, to die here, in the darkness, long after her mind had been lost.

But I won’t take the risk now. She’s not worth it. Not worth losing everything for.

My hand wraps around her throat in a familiar fashion. She’s so skinny, she’s practically weightless and it takes little effort to haul her up. In many ways she’s the same as Liliana, emaciated, scarred, completely ruined by my hands.

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