Page 70 of Anathema Codex

I haven’t seen anything yet that would freak me out and almost everyone I’ve run into since walking away from the groupie circle has either smiled at me or waved hello.

I run a hand back through my hair as I keep walking. I’m hoping that Pops will forget all about me and maybe leave me here. I’m sure I’ll be able to get back to New York somehow and, when I do, I’ll send the cops straight to his door.

If they don’t get Daphne, then at the very least they’ll get him. Something about the way he delights in the deaths of others, the way he commands it… Yeah, there’s no way in hell he hasn’t done this before himself.

I stop walking and step closer to a picture of some kind of goat-looking thing and raise an eyebrow. I have no idea what the fuck it’s supposed to be, but I can totally get down with the naked ladies dancing around it in the picture.

I grit my teeth.

That’s probably this bastard’s end game, minus the entire goat thing. He’s way too fucking vain to look like anything other than himself, though it makes me wonder just how far he’d be able to get in life if I used his precious little hatchet to carve his face off.

My lower lip begins to tremble as I wipe away a tear before it has the chance to fall. I wish Wills has was here. Not only would she have already put Lakyn in his fucking place, she was dying to come here.

And I fucked it all up by killing her goddamn charity case.

The longer that realization settles with me, the more I know that I can’t turn Lakyn in. I can’t let someone else do to him and Daphne what’s fallen on my shoulders. It’s my responsibility and I refuse to let Willa’s death go unavenged.

“Hey, kid!”

I glance over my shoulder and take a deep breath when I hear Lakyn’s shout bounce off the walls.

Before he has a chance to find me, I glance up and down the hallway until I see a door that I know I have no business opening and duck inside, pulling it closed behind me.

* * *

“Fuck!”

I take a deep breath and grit my teeth as I regain my balance. I’ve managed to steady myself by placing a hand on the wall and letting it help me down the dark staircase. I almost fell down thinking this would be just another room and, somehow, I doubt that the assholes upstairs would have cared any.

Once I reach the bottom of the steps, I extend my foot forward to tap around. I want to be sure there aren’t any more stairs so I don’t almost fall do—

“Ow! Fuck!”

I grab my nose with one hand, close the other into a fist, and punch the door that’s a few steps away from the bottom of the staircase. I wasn’t expecting it and walked right into the fucking thing.

After I’ve sufficiently managed to hurt my hand as much as my nose, I feel around the door until I find the knob, twist it, and push the door open. It’s another pitch-black room. Apparently, these fuckers are watching their electricity bill or something.

Because I don’t want any more bumps, bruises, or near-death experiences, I decide it’s best to feel around the wall for a light switch, which I manage to find easier than I thought I would.

The lights click on, instantly illuminating the room, and as I look around I’m wondering if I walked into a fucking sex dungeon.

The walls are black, so are the tables that line the right side of the room, and there’s a few chairs tipped over on the floor.

I walk over to one and use my foot to move it to the side, shuddering when I see it has some strappy thing attached to it.

I should probably get sanitized after I leave this damn place.

Glancing around the room, I take in the rest of it which looks pretty mundane, until I see the small stage-looking thing against the back wall.

There’s a large portrait hanging in a black frame that I can’t exactly make out from where I’m standing, so I do the rational thing and satisfy my curiosity by closing the gap and taking a look.

Pretty,I think with a smirk as I stop in front of the stage.

The woman in the painting has long, blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that would light up a psych ward.

It’s weird, though, because the longer I stand here and stare at her, the more I feel like she’s staring back.

I never did care for art, but I can appreciate the fine details and hard work that goes into almost anything.

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