Page 9 of Psycho
“Somebody other than Adam’s pet?” Atticus asked, looking flummoxed.
This time, it was Adam who gave him the finger. “Noah is not my pet.”
“Focus,” Aiden muttered. “Who knows about you?”
August sighed. “A new professor.”
“How would that even be possible? Is he related to another victim? Did he hear something? See something?” Atticus asked, not bothering to let August answer.
“Nothing like that,” August assured him.
Aiden fell back into his chair. “Why do you think this co-worker knows about you?”
August sighed. “Because he said, ‘I know what you are.’”
“Maybe he just meant you’re an ass,” Adam said.
“Or off putting,” Atticus offered.
Aiden nodded. “Or just weird.”
August rolled his eyes. “He said he knew I killed people. Used the wordkiller. I don’t think it was a metaphor for something.”
“How would he know that?” Atticus asked, his pale face pinking like a hairless cat.
August took another sip of his water, liking the feel of the bubbles on his tongue. “He’s clairvoyant.”
His brothers volleyed looks back and forth between them before glancing at him as if waiting for August to deliver the punchline, but none came.
Finally, Aiden said, “You’re joking.”
August shook his head. “I’m not.”
“You can’t possibly believe this. You’re a scientist, for God’s sake,” Atticus said.
“I mean, the dude said he was a killer. I don’t think he was talking about his personality,” Adam said. “Regardless of how he knows, we still need to take it seriously. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” August said.
“You don’t know?” Adam echoed. “You have a look on your face that says you do know.”
August shook his head, struggling to find the right words. Words that could somehow convey the feeling that had struck him when Lucas had looked at him. “I kind of want to…play with him?”
Was that even the right way to phrase it? August wanted to open him up, see what made him a person. He wanted to poke him and prod at him, like a dog with a toy. August wanted to see if he could make Lucas squeak.
“P-Play with him?” Atticus sputtered.
“Like paper dolls or like a cat wants to play with a mouse before he maims it?” Aiden asked, not sounding particularly bothered by whatever August’s answer might be.
“I don’t want to hurt him… Not much, anyway. Just a little. I want to see what I can do…what he’ll let me get away with before he pushes back.”
Atticus’s eyes bulged. “What are you talking about? You need to tell Dad. We need to neutralize the threat.”
“Neutralize the threat,” Aiden said, cracking a smile for the first time since they’d sat down. “You’re such a tool, man.”
“Excuse me for trying to keep us all out of prison,” Atticus said, pouting.
Adam waved Atticus off, giving August his full attention. “What do you mean?”
