Page 28 of The Darkest Half

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You joined me.”

“Yes, I did.”

She took a long drag from the cigarette, and smoke streamed from her Cupid’s Bow lips. “Then what changed, Fredrik? Are you only capable of following your instincts when you want to fuck someone or bleed them dry? Is that the only time when you have clarity?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Think about it,” she demanded in a calm voice. “You lose yourself the second you lose the craving to feed your ambitions, desires, and needs.” She took another drag and then squashed the cigarette out on the expensive wood bedframe.

Then she came back over to me, still standing with my back against the wall.

She pressed her breasts to my naked chest, pushed up on her toes, and kissed my neck. “You need to learn control, more than anything, Fredrik,” she whispered near my ear and tugged my earlobe with her teeth. “Control leads to clarity, and you need to possess these two things every second of every hour of every single day of your life.”

I understood what she was saying, but I hated her delivery of the message. Was she talking about fucking? Killing? Torturing? Playing judge, jury, and executioner?

Oh, wait, yes, she was talking about it all.

“You need to know yourself,” she said. “Once you know yourself, you can trust yourself. Once you trust yourself, you will control everything and everyone around you. Once you control your world, everything becomes clear, and you make fewer mistakes.”

I grabbed Seraphina by the back of her raven hair and wrenched her head backward on her neck, exposing her throat to me.

“Just say what you mean to fucking say,” I told her. “Stop talking in circles and give it to me straight.” I gazed into her black eyes that peered back into mine with all of the control, clarity, and confidence the world could offer—it was no wonder I couldn’t find any for myself.

A smile appeared in her eyes and slowly made its way to the corners of her delicious lips, still wet with the dead woman’s pleasure.

“Stop giving a shit,” she finally gave it to me straight. “Trust the first instinct you get and never look back; never question or doubt yourself, and always do everything with purpose.” She grinned seductively. “You learn to stop giving a shit about what the weaker half of you has to say, and you’ll realize how right you always were the first time.”

Everything became clear to me in that pivotal moment: all the times before when I made a mess of things; when I ended up killing someone I only meant to hurt; why I was so lost and confused and lonely, sloppy and insecure and without clarity—I didn’t know or trust myself, the weaker half of me, the half that all of us possess, ruled my life.

But for Seraphina, the darkest half was in control.

Until it wasn’t…

12

Izabel

I startle awake, my eyes darting all around the room. Somehow, I’d managed to end up lying on the floor again, though I’m still next to the door that seems more and more like it’s never going to open. Not even for water.

How long have I been asleep? It’s dark outside, but it feels much later than nine or ten o’clock. Not sure how I know that, but it’s just a feeling. Many animals—or maybe all of them; I’m not a wildlife expert—have internal day-night clocks. Take roosters, for example; they know long before dawn that the sun will rise soon, and they let everybody know they know. Have I become a rooster? Maybe I should start crowing; maybe that’ll get The Order’s attention, and they’ll send somebody in here to shut me up. Or give us water, at least.

Wow…I think I’m losing my mind—I just spent way too much time thinking about roosters…

Oh, right—I’d heard a noise.

Raising my back from the floor with difficulty, I sit upright and gaze around the room. Niklas is asleep against the wall—or he’s pretending to be asleep.

“Nik—did you hear that?” I whisper. He doesn’t answer or move. “Niklas,” I whisper louder. Wait—why am I even whispering at all? “NIKLAS!”

He jolts awake, spins around, and is on his feet in under two seconds, eyes wide, and although he looks alert, he looks half-dead.

“Listen,” I whisper again, and now I realize why I was whispering: I don’t want my voice to drown it out if I hear the noise again.

“What am I listening for?” he asks.

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