Devour (Twisted Metamorphosis #1)

Chapter Sixteen

Something was off with me; something felt wrong. I haven’t had an issue like this in a long time, but I woke up missing time. My body is sore, tense, and exhausted—like I was doing something strenuous, but I know all I did was sleep, right?

Placing a hand on top of my folder, notebook, and files on my lap, I stared out the passenger window of Helena’s car, trying to piece together the events after the bar.

I remember that woman touching me, and I left. I felt the panic attack coming and I couldn’t let it ravage me in front of my new coworkers.

I remember Anton and Evan trying to help me, and Helena was somehow there.

I remember handing Evan my car keys.

I remember Helena driving me home.

I remember she got me a glass of water that had a strange aftertaste. I almost thought it was sparkling water, but it wasn’t carbonated.

I remember being so overwhelmed with the desire to feast on her, make her mine and—

“We’re here, Camden,” Helena said, shifting her car into park. “Are you alright?” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and rubbed her thumb back and forth. The gesture was intimate, but just knowing that she was touching me sent hot arousal straight to my dick.

“I-I’m fine, I think?” I laughed nervously.

“Oh? What is it? Anything I can do to assist you?”

“I feel like I’m missing time again. It used to happen when I had to channel my, um, gift during a case,” I said, my eyes still staring out the window. “But, it’s alright, Helena. I probably just need some good sleep,” I said, turning to look into her concerned eyes, forcing a smile. She lifted that one critical eyebrow, and I cleared my throat, knowing she could see right through me.

“Well, shall we brief Jacobs on Connor Scott’s autopsy?” She asked, stepping out of the car, grabbing her bag. Gathering my things, I stepped out and closed the door to her car gently.

Shifting my things to one hand and tucking them at my side, I offered Helena the crook of my arm. I noticed she appreciated this, so I have been trying to start the habit of making her feel comfortable.

“Thank you, Camden. You’re quite the gentleman. I really appreciate that about you.” She smiled as we stepped into the elevator. My chest was warm and her praise comforted me like the sun’s rays on a chilly day.

The elevator door opened to the BAU’s office space, and I held my arm in front of the elevator doors so they wouldn’t close, and nodded at Helena to let her pass first. She smiled again, adjusting her bag on her shoulder and walking in front of me toward Jacobs’s office.

“Sullivan, Doctor, please come in.” Jacobs said, opening his office door for us after Helena knocked softly. Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I motioned for Helena to take a seat first before taking mine.

“Good morning. Shall we get right into it? Did you prepare the report I asked for, Sullivan?”

“Yes, sir.” Reaching into my case file, I pulled out a copy of my report on Connor Scott's autopsy, handing it to Jacobs. “Connor was killed by a single stab wound to the neck. It was expertly done—surgical even—severing both jugulars.”

“Doctor Arellano is suspecting a large knife, possibly a hunting knife. Miss Marx will be helping narrow down the list of possibilities, starting with the most popular and readily available options,” Helena added, crossing her legs demurely.

“Connor Scott was also exsanguinated, and restrained at his wrists. He was most likely hung with his arms over his head, and his leg was amputated post mortem,” I said, flipping to the next page.

“Has the leg been found? Why would the Butcher deviate from his norm and take a leg…?” Jacobs studied my report. He looked overwhelmed, not like the stoic, stable agent I was told he was.

“Are you alright, sir?” I asked, concerned.

“My apologies, Sullivan. It has been a long week.” Jacobs paused for a brief moment before continuing. “This case started with his father, the senator’s disappearance. He is still missing and so is his assistant, Grace Kim. Finding them needs to be a priority for you; especially since Grace’s blood was at Connor’s crime scene. Please make visiting Grace’s home a priority before anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered with a nod.

“Did we find a connection with the victims?” Jacobs asked.

“From what I can see, sir, every other victim is either a criminal or accused of being one. The charges that were filed were all felonies, but none of them did any jail time,” I said pensively, lost in thought.

“What is it, Agent?” Helena asked.

“There's two butchers—two killers. Every other victim we have found has a bloody fingerprint signature, right?” I asked, “The alternating victims are people who got off on a technicality and are genuinely bad people who deserve life sentences for serious crimes.”

“Are you suggesting a vigilante copycat killer?” Jacobs asked, rubbing his face with his fingertips.

“It makes sense. They are dumping their kills after the butcher does, using the same type of location, even down to small details. It’s a smart way to cover their tracks and make us believe that the Butcher is responsible. But, this copycat is taking different trophies. I believe he’s taking body parts as trophies, but I need to review the previous case files of the Butcher’s victims before I came aboard to confirm this theory.” I sighed.

“Great. Just… Great. Let's keep this idea of a vigilante copycat to ourselves, please. The last thing we need is to have that leak out to the press—the fucking vultures.” Jacobs groaned, standing from his desk and buttoning his suit’s jacket. “I appreciate your thorough report, Sullivan. Let's discuss your findings with the team tomorrow morning, but keep digging, and find out as much as you can about this vigilante copycat. Call me immediately if you find Grace, or any significant evidence.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered obediently, standing from my seat

“I can accompany Agent Sullivan to Grace Kim’s home, since my only appointment today was canceled,” Helena said, standing as well.

“Great, let's circle back after tomorrow’s morning meeting and—” Jacobs was interrupted by his phone’s alarm. Helena and I both received text message notifications at the same time as well.

“Fuck, looks like we have another Butcher victim: Melanie Crawford. Fuck,” Jacobs said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s the director’s niece. I need to brief him. Sullivan, please go join Stevens and Santos at the crime scene. Get me answers today,” Jacobs ordered, as he held his phone up to his ear and walked out of his office. “Nichols, I need you to set up a press conference and—” his voice trailed off as he walked further away.

“After you, Doctor,” I offered, and she smiled, exiting the office in front of me. Tucking my file under my arm, I followed her out with my hands in my pockets.

“Looks like you get to see your first Butcher scene up close and personal, hmm?” Helena asked as we walked together to the elevator.

“Yes, It seems so.” Pressing the button to call the elevator, I found myself lost in thought.

Which killer is the true Butcher? Is this vigilante the Butcher? Or is the killer we’ve been calling the Butcher the actual copycat?

The ding of the elevator arriving pulled me out of my mind and I shook my head, confused.

“So, tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours, Agent,” Helena said playfully, giving me a sideways glance.

“I was just thinking—wondering—is the Butcher the actual Butcher? Or is this copycat vigilante the actual Butcher? Maybe the killer we are calling the Butcher is the actual copycat, and the killer, I think, is the copycat is the actual Butcher?” I chuckled. “I confuse myself trying to put it into words.”

The elevator doors opened to the parking structure, and we stepped out, pausing on the landing.

“It makes sense; I know what you are thinking,” Helena said inquisitively. “Maybe the copycat is the Butcher, and the Butcher is the copycat.”

“If only my mind could dissect my complex thoughts to form one coherent sentence.” I chuckled nervously.

“Your mind is fascinating, Camden. Please allow me the honor to dissect for you.” The way she looked up at me with big eyes, feigning innocence… “Would you like to drive to the crime scene? We can take Vera?” Helena asked. My eyes were laser focused on the way her delicious looking throat bobbed ever so slightly as she swallowed. “I just need to grab my lunch bag and a few things from my car before we go.”

My mind was going wild at the thought of how she would look with my hand around her neck. Shaking my head, and forcing myself out of my thoughts, I tried to make eye contact with her.

“Yes, of course, Doctor. Evan should have left my key under the visor. This, unfortunately, isn’t the first time this has happened,” I said, quickly turning away from her toward my car so she couldn’t see me adjust myself.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, I flipped down the visor and my keys fell into my lap.

Thank you, Evan. I thanked him in my mind, glancing out the windshield and focusing on a crack in the cement. Something was tugging at the corner of my mind. Gripping my steering wheel to keep myself grounded, I allowed the memories to come.

Earlier This Morning

My daily alarm blared from my phone’s speakers, scaring me awake. I shot up to a sitting position, ripping the thin comforter off of me, and I forced myself to stand. My vision was hazy and my head was pounding, but I made my way to my shitty little bathroom, and reached for my trusty migraine pills. Downing two pills with a handful of water, I studied my reflection in the mirror. I looked… rested?

But something was off—I was missing time.

I remember the dream vividly of Helena dropping me off and bringing me to bed, but something else happened. Looking around the room, I looked for anything out of the ordinary or out of place. Looking into the bedroom from the doorway of the bathroom, my eyes found one of my black hand towels sticking out of the laundry hamper.

That wasn’t there before.

Walking over to observe it, it was dirty, slightly damp, but balled up and tossed in the hamper.

Very strange.

Shaking it off, I returned to the bathroom and my eyes found my bright orange sticky note that said “Shower, it’s time for work” taped to the mirror.

Pulling open the shower curtain, I reached inside and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up. Stripping out of my sweatpants and tank top, I tossed them onto my catch-all chair and stepped back into the now steam-filled bathroom.

That was probably the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.

Pumping a generous amount of my shampoo in my hand, I washed my hair, massaging my scalp. My mind wandered to the way Helena took complete control of my body. It was everything I ever wanted, and everything I’ve imagined. Helena is a force, a goddess. She emanates pure feminine power and dominance; I wanted to worship her in every way: taste her, savor in her perfect body, surround myself with her strength and love and—

“Ah, what the fuck!” I hissed. A sharp pain stung on my abs as the soapy water made contact. Looking down, I saw at least six little crescent-shaped cuts.

What? Where did these come from? Are they from fingernails?

Tracing the cuts with my fingertips, I lined up my own fingernails, but they were too wide. I didn’t make these marks, but what did? Who did?

My phone’s alarm interrupted my thoughts again, and I quickly rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and shut the water off. My phone screen lit up with “Get Dressed” and I rolled my eyes, shutting off the alarm.

I hated that I needed to use alarms and reminders this way.

Tossing my damp towel onto my chair, I opened my small dresser to grab a clean pair of boxer briefs and stepped inside them. Next to my pile of clean boxer briefs was my half-folded pile of undershirt tank tops. I sniffed the one on top, making sure it was clean, and pulled it on. Closing the dresser drawer, my next sticky note on the outside of my dresser instructed me to “Put deodorant on.” With a sigh, I obeyed and went to the bathroom.

My phone’s alarm went off again, and the screen said “leave for work in five minutes.” With yet another sigh, I pulled fresh slacks out of my closet and a clean dress shirt. Quickly getting dressed, I pulled on fresh socks and my shoes, and found a tie on my catch-all chair that I swiftly knotted and put into place.

Walking to my kitchen table, I stopped in my tracks. I had paperwork and files all over the table all the time. It was chaotic, but it was my organized chaos. I knew where everything was. Things were shifted around, and one of my dining table chairs was in a different spot.

Images of pulling Helena to the edge of the table, expecting to feast on her, invaded my mind. My ringing phone pulled me out of my trance, and, good timing, since I was getting yet another hard-on thinking of her again.

“Yeah, yeah, go to work. I got it,” I said out loud as I shut the alarm off my phone and placed it in my pocket.

Okay, time to go and make sure I had everything from my mental checklist.

File, check.

Report, check.

Notebook, check.

Badge, check.

Keys, check.

Voice recorder, check.

Breakfast…

After patting my pockets for each item, I pulled open the refrigerator door, grabbing my overnight oats. Still feeling a little flustered, I pulled open my front door, nearly knocking over Helena.

“Good morning, Camden,” she purred, standing on my doorstep with her hands politely folded in front of her.

“Camden?”

Shaking my head, I looked at Helena, now sitting in my passenger seat. Her green eyes I love so much were worried, but studying me.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Doctor. Got lost in a daydream, I guess,” I chuckled nervously, starting up Vera and pulling out of my parking space.

“Hmm, alright, if you say so,” she said, her hands folded in her lap. “I grabbed your overnight oats, in case you get hungry. They fell onto the seat in my car.”

“Th-thank you, Doctor.”