Chapter Sixty-Two
Declan
Woozy from yet another crash, I sit on a steel chair in the middle of a concrete room staring at a video camera.
Tiny beads of blood drip from the gash in my brow, splashing down onto a large soot-like imprint on the ground beneath me.
The room is frigid and moist, and my bones hurt from the chill creeping across my skin.
Lifting my head and looking around, I find a giant shadow standing beside me, grimacing.
"We're here at last," the demonic creature speaks with a ruthless and broken vibrato. "I have been waiting for you, Declan. This has been a long time coming."
I spit a wad of bloody mucus at my captor, which passes through him and on the floor a few feet away.
"Who," I start to ask, but stop to rephrase my question, "What are you?"
The creature, covered in grime and reeking of decay, leans in so close I can feel its hot, rancid breath against my skin. Its eyes bore into mine with a ferocity that makes my stomach churn.
"You know exactly what I am. Do you take me for a fool?" Each word is spat with increasing venom, the voice grating like teeth on a chalkboard. "I have been with you every step of the way. I know that wannabe shaman told you about me."
My chest heaves while I twist my head from side to side, ignorant to this thing’s claims.
"I’ve had my head scrambled a few times recently, so I’m not sure what you’re talking about," I say weakly. It's been a long many days, the events of which remain murky at best. "What do you want with me?" I ask, my voice tinged with exhaustion and uncertainty.
"That's just it, I have what I want," the dark creature hisses at me. "You."
"What?" I don't comprehend.
Just then, the shadowy figure reaches a boney claw, his hand, out from his cloak, gripping my throat with his emaciated knuckles.
Cutting me off from the flow of oxygen, the dark assailant leans in as close to my face as possible.
Its burning eyes press against mine, and as the disgusting being expels the freezing cold breath from its mouth, all of my lost memories are forced back into my mind.
In an excruciating blink, I remember my first day of high school.
Meeting Kent. Experiencing my first true love—Daphne.
Sitting on my grandfather’s grave, praying for another lecture.
Being stabbed in the eye by Dr. Campos’ horny assistant, which only led to further torture.
The feel of Miss Paxon’s firm grip around my—all of it.
"Now," It says, moving slowly away from my face, "let us begin."
"Haha," I laugh without any humility. "I knew this was going to happen. You killed her. You killed my Daphne. I heard it on the recording the doctor played for me. Of course this is how it ends."
"Yes, Declan," It says, displeased with my careless tone, "this is how it ends." The shadowy beast points to the floor under the left side of my chair, where I find the weapon that will end my torment—a hunting knife, made with the trademark swirling of Damascus steel.
"I suppose you expect me to pick that up?" I ask with a smirk on my face. The fear did not return with my memory.
"That is entirely up to you." The ghastly creature snorts.
"Why’d you do it anyway?" I ask. "Why Daphne? Why did you use her to get to me?"
"Would you have preferred this face when you were daydreaming of making love to your soul mate?
" the dark captor retorts, pointing to its gruesome mug with eyes burning in their sockets.
"Everything has gone as I saw fit," It continues.
"I knew taking Daphne would make my next victim that much easier to seduce. "
I feel confused, yet strangely indifferent. "So, you seduced me? Is that how it works?"
"The first encounter is always the hardest," the beast explains. "There is often a lot of resistance. You were very young, and easily frightened. That’s why I creep in while you sleep, and filter into your dreams. But that only works for a while. You get a little older, and your interests and resolve change, and that’s harder. It’s not easy to stay rooted if you run away.
Hence the advantages of using a nearly flawless specimen like Daphne. "
Looking down, I now see the knife glimmering in my left hand. I try to let it go, but my fingers won’t move.
"That’s the real kick in the pants," the evil being whispers as it moves in close to my right ear. "Once I’m in, I control everything. Ha, ha, ha."
“You mean now? Tonight?”
“Sure,” It says dismissively.
“Don’t do that. We both know how this ends. Explain it to me. How long have you been in control?”
“We don’t have that kind of time, Declan,” it says. “I got a late start, and the day has nearly gone. But I’ll tell you what. You can ask me a few questions, and maybe you’ll figure it out on your own.”
"The Master," I say, taking the opportunity presented "That’s you as well?"
"No, Declan," the creature replies. "But I did leave his card on your desk. I thought it was only fair that you knew the end was coming. Again, the less you resisted the truth, the easier it was for me. Although, resistance is delicious."
“Miss Paxon’s eyes,” I mutter, afraid to hear the truth. “You did something with her eyes, didn’t you?”
“He, he, he.” The vile entity utters a slow laugh.
“Not exactly, but I am impressed. Part of having control includes being able to make you see whatever I want you to see. So, when that feral older woman was after your love gravy, I simply helped you get by your trepidation. Methinks you quite enjoyed it, did you not? Besides, it’s going to make you taste so much better. ”
“That is so fucked,” I say, filled with an ironic sense of betrayal.
“Interesting choice of words,” It says with a long breath, and the air around me turns ice cold. I watch it slowly raise its cryptic hand and find mine is mimicking its motion. “Time’s up, Declan.”