Page 137 of Sinister Legacy
Heavy feet land on the broken glass with a loud thud as he climbs in through the window, the crunching sound sending my heart into overdrive.
I’m desperately trying to shift the desk when he takes a taunting, slow step closer.
Then another.
“Oh, God, no,” I whimper, pushing on the desk. The legs scrape on the floor, but I’m not fast enough.
Diving to my left, I grab a hardback from the bookshelf and throw it at him. He easily ducks, chuckling distortedly behind his mask as he takes another calculated step forward.
“It’s over, Keira.”
“Fuck you!” I hiss, tossing another book. “Fuck you and your stupid games!”
The mask tilts to the left, with jagged, pointed teeth and an evil smile. “That’s not very nice, Keira. Imadeyou. Without me, you wouldn’t have discovered your full potential. Your beautiful, sinister legacy. The darkness that runs in your veins and spills with your blood.”
My chest is heaving, and my arms ache from throwing book after book. Reaching up on my tiptoes, I grab hold of the Devil’s Ivy and throw that, too.
The monster in front of me steps to the side as it goes flying, and I release a frustrated, defeated sob. I can’t win.
“You’re a vision when you’re scared, Keira, with your glassy, wide eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and parted lips.”
“You’re fucking sick!”
The devil’s mask leers down at me when he kills the distance between us and drags the flat end of the knife over my cheek. “Says the girl who carved her stepdad to pieces. Oh, how I enjoyed watching the security footage. Seeing with my own two eyes how you took your time with him, reveling in your kill. You were a beautiful monster.” He taps my parted lips with the curved blade, edging the sharp tip inside my mouth. “Don’t you see? People like you, Keira, are superior humans. You’re an apex predator. Not mediocre like all the other people here in Blackwoods. You’re beautiful in your lethality. It’s why people gravitate toward you. Why Liam harbored an obsession with you and now King. They all want to feel like they’re part of the Hill legacy. Something that’s bigger than themselves.” Leaning in, he nuzzles me, the mask brushing the side of my face. “Prey is attracted to danger. It’s the evilest, most sinister design by our creator. Religious people preach God is love.” A soft, nefarious chuckle. “God is the designer of evil. Why else did he create the angler fish and parasitoids? Do you know what they are, Keira?”
Whimpering with fear, I shake my head.
“They’re parasites, body snatchers that start their lives inside or on their hosts, usually in caterpillars. The parasite eats the caterpillar alive. Do you know what the fascinating thing about it is?” He breathes me in, easing the knife further into my mouth until I don’t dare breathe. “It infects the caterpillar, causing it to protect its host while it eats it alive. The caterpillar ends up protecting its own killer. Isn’t God so loving, Keira? That even a prey in the throes of death will vicariously attack anyone that tries to save it from its killer?” He hums, inching back. “Now, be a good girl and stick your tongue out.”
Staring into the cold, dark eyes behind the devil’s mask, I do as I’m told. The flat end of the cold blade drags down my tongue and back up, over and over, until he turns it, the sharp bite threatening to cut me.
“Do you like the taste of Officer Wells’s blood? You should see it stain your tongue crimson red.” He digs the blade in, making my heart rate triple. The burning sting is followed by a rush of warm blood dripping down my chin.
The knife slides away, and he grips my jaw with his leather-gloved fingers, staring down at the blood smeared over my mouth.
As I splutter a cough, more pours from my lips. I don’t know if the cut was deep, but it is bleeding profusely. The coppery taste flows down my throat, making me retch.
“I want to play a little game,” he says, pulling my lip away from my teeth with his thumb before grabbing me by the throat and ramming my head into the bookshelf behind me. “Have sweet dreams, Keira.”
Darkness descends, sending me spiraling into an endless nightmare.
Istartle awake with a gasp and scuttle back until my spine meets the cold, concrete wall. I’m in a small room,abasement by the looks of it. The thin mattress beneath me is damp, and the white, crumpled sheets are stained yellow.
I dart my gaze around the empty room, briefly blinking at the drain in the middle and the dried blood around it. The floor is dirty and gritty, and there are no windows.
In the upper left corner is a camera with a flashing red light. Someone is watching and waiting for me to wake up. Waiting for me to scream. To scour the room for a way out.Anythingto escape this nightmare.
I do neither. I stare at the camera until I’m forced to blink. Until my heart rate is so slow, I wonder if it has ceased to beat.
Am I dead? Is this hell?
My tongue stings, my mouth tastes of iron, and I also have a dull ache in my head, an insistent throbbing from when he shoved my head into the bookshelf hard enough to cause me to blackout.
Eyes closed, I lean my head back against the cold, damp wall. The hairs on my arms stand on end from the chill in the air, and I pull my denim jacket closed around me, trying to preserve some heat. It doesn’t work. I’m frozen to the bone in this damp cellar.
At least the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling works. It could be worse. I could be submerged in complete darkness.
With my knees pulled up to my chest, I lean my cheek on them and let my eyes drift closed again. I’m tired.
