Page 7 of Psycho
Something withered within him as reality sank in.Admission to who? Him? Lucas already knew he was right. Clearly, August did, too.
“Why? Why would I want to go to lunch with you?” Lucas asked, unsure how else to frame it.
August took a single step, just one expensive loafer crossing the threshold. But it was enough for Lucas to smell his expensive cologne, something spicy that made Lucas want to lean in, to press his face against August’s throat where the scent would be strongest.
“I think you know.”
Lucas swallowed hard. “Do I?”
August’s smile was wolfish. “You know, I don’t believe in psychics or mediums. But, given the way you reacted when you touched me, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lucas lied.
August examined his face. “You’re really very pretty.”
Lucas blinked at the unexpected compliment. “What?”
“When I saw you on the quad, I thought you were attractive, but up close…you’re almost pretty. Delicate even. I always pictured cops as being these big, tough, former military types, but you’re…kind of sweet looking.”
“You do realize you’re speaking out loud, right?” Lucas asked, unnerved by both his lack of manners and the raw hunger in the other man’s eyes.
“I’m aware.”
“Do you often speak to strangers like this?” Lucas asked, hating how raw his voice was.
“No. But most people haven’t been inside my head. I figured we’d moved past politeness.”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to threaten me or flirt with me,” Lucas admitted, willing his pulse to stop hammering in his throat.
“You could call this flirting. I don’t really make threats. Threats imply that the threatened has a chance to escape punishment. That’s never the case with me. The guilty are always punished.”
“So, you admit it,” Lucas whispered. “You admit that you’re a killer?”
“Was that ever in question? Do you not believe your own visions?” August asked, head tilted like he was trying to figure Lucas out, like Lucas was somehow the odd one.
Lucas stuffed his shaky hands in his pockets, his gaze dipping to his shoes. “I believe them. Most others don’t.”
“I work in quantum and theoretical physics. Many people think my work borders on science fiction. I don’t know about clairvoyants, but I do know how you reacted when you touched me. You weren’t faking that.”
Lucas’s head was spinning. This man, this killer, was standing there telling Lucas he believed him, believed his gifts. August Mulvaney was a murderer and he knew Lucas knew it. “And you…what? Just wanted me to know that you know? Why are you here?”
August shrugged. “I had hoped to offer you an explanation. Something to appease your panic. I imagine, given your past, the idea of working beside a killer would seem daunting.”
“Who are you?” Lucas asked.
August held out his hand as if they were at a faculty mixer. “August Mulvaney.” Lucas just looked at it until August dropped it once more. “Alright. Well, if you don’t want to have lunch with me, I have no reason to cancel lunch with my brother. But if you change your mind, my cell phone number is on the back. We could always do dinner.”
Lucas looked down at the card offered, hesitating before he took it. What was happening? The man in front of him was clearly a psychopath. Lucas had interviewed enough of them to know they didn’t understand societal norms enough to fake them.
His blood felt hot in his veins as anger took root. “You can’t flirt or threaten your way out of this. I know what you are.”
August chuckled. “And what am I?”
“A killer,” Lucas said again. They were just talking in circles and it was making him dizzy.
The look August gave him was so devoid of emotion it made his stomach feel hollow. “Oh, I’m so much more than that. But if you want to know the rest, you’ll have to go to dinner with me.”
“I could just go to the police,” Lucas snapped, clenching his teeth until his jaw ached.
