Page 43 of His to Haunt

I clear my throat, wishing I could say yes, but then she might ask me to expound on the topic. “No, I was not aware. But that’s extraordinary considering how rare psychopathy is: one percent of the population.”

“Well, that depends on how you look at the numbers. About thirty percent of people demonstrate certain anti-social traits.The Bay Area is experiencing a mental health crisis like it has never seen before. One in four people in this region needs mental health support.”

I nod at her. “Yes, my graduating thesis was on the modern decline of mental health in the West.”

“So I read,” she smiles.

I smile back. “Right,” I say, slightly embarrassed. I’m not sure if she is referring to my resume or my actual thesis.

“So, Leena, here at Hodge’s, we have been addressing this crisis by focusing our efforts beyond the standard services for depression, anxiety, PTSD, OCD, eating disorders, and addiction. We mainly take on clients ranging the borderline personality spectrum, which intersects with secondary psychopathy and other anti-social behavioral issues. Is this your first internship in clinical psychology, Leena?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Mm-hm. Methods for treating psychopathy are multimodal, involving a range of therapies. It will be your job, Leena, to assist with the clientele by shadowing procedures and helping with reports and research. You will be making use of the extensive library, and feel free to check out any non-leather-bound books for research outside of the clinic, as well as accessing the online database.”

“Yes, okay.”

“Now, I do have an appointment, but if you would like to visit the cafe or pursue the library, go right ahead. Other than that, I will see you on Wednesday.”

I blink my eyes, confused. “I’m sorry, it was my impression that I would be working Monday through Friday.”

She stands, smoothing her pants. “My apologies for the misunderstanding. Initially, you will be needed on Wednesdays and Fridays. After a trial period, you will begin assisting Dr. Morris, and we can negotiate a raise in compensation.”

“I see. Understood,” I say with a nod, containing my disappointment.

Not wanting to drive back to Moonvine just yet, I find my way to the upstairs library, which circles the stairway. Just like the rest of the interior of the building, the library carpet and furnishings are in shades of grey and blue, while the walls are crisply white.

I’m drawn to the leatherbounds, and before long, I’m sitting in a chair reading about the Dark Triad, the cluster of three overlapping negative personality traits represented as a triangle: Machiavelism, Narcissism, and Psychopathy. All three traits share certain characteristics, like a lack of empathy, being manipulative, and hostile.

I think of Zand.

He started off hostile seeming, but then after deciding he wanted something from me—posing as a model for his art—he became more hospitable. I wanted to see this as him warming up to me, but it could just be a manipulation on his part.

Maybe I’m taking his behavior out of context. Rachel cutting him out of the will probably came as a shock to him, and naturally, he was upset, which he externalized by blaming me. I mean, the man has one very non-sociopathic hobby: gardening. That he has done this consistently for years, and it isn’t just some random new hobby that he’s tried due to boredom like a typically fickle narcissist, is a positive thing.

His style of art, however, is alarming. It’s the way he portrays his subject matter that is disturbing. Does he get off on dead women, or what? I’ll admit that he is very talented; his paintings are highly detailed and realistic, and there is a certain dark beauty to his work—Gothic, I suppose. Just like Moonvine Manor.

I can’t believe I’ve agreed to be his model. Really, I let him pressure me into it. But to be honest, that isn’t the whole reason.Part of me wants the chance to pick his brain, to get answers regarding my sister.

I leave the library with a sigh, another realization dawning on me that I hate to admit. There is a part of me that is…intrigued by Zand and genuinely wants to get to know him better. At the carriage house, I kept getting lost in the mystery of his face, and his captivating eyes. He’s such a strange kind of beautiful, just like his art. This worries me.

God, I don’t want to be like Rachel, falling under his dark spell.

I want to say that I am not my sister. But when we were young, I mimicked her every move and manner. I wanted to be her. So, I’m worried that I will once again fall into her footsteps, living her former life, feeling close to her by becoming her like conjoined twins, our fates entangled like ivy.

Vampire

Rachel

Just as suspected, he ditched the whore.

My turn again.

If only he hadn’t seemed so objective, coldly professional, and unmoved…maybe I would not have felt compelled to do what I did. I was frustrated and hasty.

I don’t regret it though.

Now, at least, I know how he feels about me. It’s sobering.

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