Page 12 of Behind the Shadows
“I swear to god, I won’t tell anyone! I have no idea who you or the other guy is. You can’t fucking do this. I have a family, kids.”
I laughed as he blubbered with every reason I shouldn’t kill him.
“Your cries are falling on deaf ears. You were here at the wrong time. It’s game over.”
His sobs rang out through the room as I played with the blade from my cross. “First, I’ll give you a tattoo on your back, so I know where to make the first cuts.”
“You’re a fucking psycho, man!”
An evil grin crept over my expression. “You have no idea, but you’re about to find out.”
Hours flewby in a frenzy of skin and screams, and then I cleaned up the mess. Every cut I inflicted, every drop of Michael’s blood that stained my hands, every one of his cries that echoed in my ears was worth it. I would do anything to protect Death—to protect those who meant the world to me—the ones I would murder for. Michael had been a thorn in our side, a problem that needed to be solved. And as I plunged my knife into his back, feeling the satisfying slickness of his flesh parting beneath it, I understood the thrill and power that Death must feel when he exacted justice.
A twisted sense of satisfaction washed over me, and for the first time, I understood the rush that came with taking a life. I’d assisted Death before, cleaned his messes, carried his burdens—but this kill was mine alone. The exhilaration was raw, dangerous, a demon inside me begging to be fed again. Mother would drag me to her church pastor if she knew. But it wasn’t about justice. It was about survival—because if I didn’t give my darkness somewhere to go, it would eat me alive. And staring down at Michael’s lifeless body, I knew one thing with absolute certainty—I would do it again, without hesitation.
As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the early morning sky, I bid farewell to the warehouse and embarked on a leisurely drive back to the city. I rarely took the same way twice in case I was being followed. The quiet roads were bordered by lush green fields, their dewy blades sparkling in the warm golden light. As I approached, the skyline grew larger and more imposing, with towering buildings reaching toward the heavenslike giants among men. The city pulsed with raw energy and life, a stark contrast to the place I had left behind.
I stifled a yawn and reminded myself to reach out to Death later to make sure he was on his way back east. Hopefully, he would stay there and not return to Portland for a while. His presence was complicating matters, and we had to be careful. When his bloodlust returned, it was with a vengeance. Would the same thing happen to me if I continued to kill? I barked out a laugh. Like I fucking cared. Since I was well trained as a cleaner by my uncle, I could get away with more than most. I’d never left any evidence behind when I’d cleaned for Death. I sure as hell wouldn’t start now.
“God Needs the Devil” by Jonah Kagen played softly over the car speakers as I hopped on I-5 and approached the hospital. I slowed and obeyed the speed limit, since the last fucking thing I needed was to get pulled over for speeding with tools and chemicals in my trunk. It would take some time to clean up everything and hide the car in a back alley behind the surgery center.
I caught sight of a white Mercedes speeding out of the underground garage on a collision course with me. My heart kicked into overdrive while I swerved at the last possible second and slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding the impact.
“Goddammit! Watch where—” I started, but then I found myself looking directly at a redheaded woman in the driver’s seat, her face frozen in terror.
The world spun around me as I was thrown against the seat belt. Confused and shaken, I hesitated, unsure whether to feel anger or relief. Moments later, with my mind still reeling, I drove into the side parking lot and stopped the car.
“Son of a bitch.” My thoughts spun out like a whirlwind as I tried to convince myself that the driver of the Mercedes wasn’twho I thought it was. It was literally fucking impossible. Yet, doubt gnawed at me.
An oppressive weight settled on my chest as I grappled with the idea that I might be losing my grip on reality, teetering dangerously close to the edge of sanity once more.
I climbed out of the car, the warm air chilling my sweat-slickened skin as the stomach-churning memories seeped into my head like a sickening fog, suffocating me with their gruesome details. I paced the length of the car and attempted to talk myself out of what I’d seen. She was only a mirage, my mind playing twisted tricks on me after I’d murdered someone like a cold psychopath. If this was what guilt felt like, maybe I did have a soul. It might be pitch black, but I’d take that over not having one at all.
But every time I rubbed my palms over my clammy skin in an attempt to scrub away the doubts, a different aspect of the woman’s appearance jumped out at me—her fiery red hair, piercing blue eyes, and full lips. As hard as I tried to dismiss the woman, it didn’t take long to realize my efforts were futile. That meant only one thing.
5
HOLLAND
The sharp sound blared from the small oval alarm clock on my nightstand. Sleep had completely eluded me. Every time I closed my eyes, the parking garage replayed in my mind like a nightmare stuck on repeat—the echo of my footsteps, the sudden grip from behind, the gloved hand clamping over my mouth. I couldn’t shake the feeling of breath against my ear or the twisted thrill in his voice when he whispered, “I would kill, but where’s the thrill in that? The hunt is what excites me, and there’s something intoxicating about toying with my prey.”
Instinct screamed at me to bolt back into the hospital, but that was impossible. Too many people. Too many questions I couldn’t afford. If anyone dug too deep, they’d find out who I really was—what I’d survived, what I’d done. I couldn’t risk that. Not here. Not at work. Better to take my chances in the garage, alone, than let my entire past unravel under fluorescent lights.
The moment I had broken free, I sprinted to my Mercedes in the parking garage. My legs shook as I fumbled with the keys.
Despite the chaos in my mind, fear fueled me, allowing me to start the engine and navigate out of the parking structure, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car.
Five minutes from the hospital, with no signs of pursuit, I pulled over. My legs were unsteady as I stepped out. A surge of nausea overtook me, twisting my moment of reprieve into fresh panic. I braced against the side of my Mercedes, caught between gratitude for my escape and the unsettling aftermath that left me tethered to both fear and freedom.
Even now, my skin crawled at the memory. My heart hadn’t slowed since. I’d barely made it through the front door before locking every deadbolt and slumping to the floor in a shaking heap. Sleep wasn’t just elusive; it felt impossible. How could I close my eyes knowing he was still out there, watching, waiting … hunting?
I sat on the edge of my queen-size bed and placed my feet on the floor, forcing myself to believe I was safe as I shut off the alarm. In the past, I’d tried to wake myself up with a gentler tone, but I never heard it if I was in the grips of a night terror.
Inhaling deeply, I tried to clear my thoughts as my attention landed on the collage of picture frames that graced the top of my dresser. My throat tightened with regret and loneliness as I stared at the only picture I had of a tall, skinny, strawberry-blonde-haired girl. She had her arm slung over my shoulder, grinning as I glowered at her. My sister was two years older than I was, but we’d always been close … until.
I swallowed over the lump in my throat, pushing the darkness away and forcing myself to look at the other pictures of a happier time with my parents, college graduation, and fun snapshots of Cami and other friends that I’d made since I’d moved to Portland. At least I was working from home today on client notes and a few virtual sessions. Thank God. After last night’s scare, I couldn’t shake what had happened at the hospital. I was almost certain the man in the garage was the same one I’d seen in the ER, but doubt gnawed at me. Maybe a shower would help calm me.
Forty-five minutes later, I was clean, dressed in a bright teal silk blouse and black slacks, and my makeup was in place. Next on my agenda were two shots of espresso and a cup of coffee with a dash of Snickers-flavored creamer.
