43. Cyrus
CYRUS
I could hear every breath in my ears as I watched the wrought iron gate peel open.
Looking over my shoulder, I looked out into the darkness of the park, knowing that buried in the Jungle of Feverpoint, Tess was locked up in my home.
She had no idea what we were capable of yet.
Good. I need her to let her guard down.
The safer she felt, the better my revenge would be.
But I needed a release — one away from Tess’ prying eyes. A chance to really let go.
The white van’s tail lights lit up as Blade reversed the van into the park. The trunk lined up perfectly with the iron fence. Feverpoint’s entrance made a perfect kettle into the park, making it perfect for the Running of the Scumbags.
They’d have nowhere to run except farther into our labyrinth.
My bloodthirst sat on the tip of my tongue, every inch of my body begging for relief.
Every hunt with Tess had been a tease, not enough to get my aggression out. All of it just kept building.
What was worse was the way having her in my apartment made me feel.
I couldn’t let her charm her way out of this. Not again.
I need to level out.
And a classic Fright Night was exactly what the doctor ordered. No illusion of a decades-worth of revenge. Just blood. Just violence.
The white van stopped, Blade throwing it in park and hopping out of the driver’s side. She walked around the entry gate, locking it behind herself.
“Ready to rumble?” She called out to Nash and I.
Nash sidled up to me and nodded. “Green.”
Blade slid her white mask over her face, the black smudges around her eyes making it difficult to see her green eyes in the darkness of the park. But her unruly blonde curls poked out from behind the plaster.
Next to me, Nash reached for the electric panel, flicking on the carnival music but leaving the park in darkness. Her finger reached for a farther lever.
The electric fence.
These monsters would try to run, but they’d be in for quite a shock. Nash’s favorite.
She put her mask over her face next, the hard, white porcelain and painted design obscuring her face.
Then there was me, my mask still in place, not needing to take it off to drive.
With everything in place, Blade slammed her palms into the metal of the van. “Wake up, fuckheads!” She grabbed the wood handles of her axes and pounded them into the metal.
Shaking my head, I could see the new dents in the white paint from here.
Blade threw open the doors, taking a step back as a few of the dealers fell out. “Ah, you were excited to see us.” Kneeling down, Blade started to cut their zip ties. “Better run, piggies. We’ll give you a head start.”
Seeing our clown masks again was enough to reignite their fear, to take away any bravery they’d mustered in the ride over.
The dealers took off, one at a time as their ties were cut.
Black hoods littered the admission booth.
As they disappeared into the darkness, the Squealer yelled. “What the fuck?!”
A smirk took over the corner of my lips.
My eyes went back to the apartment, the roof just barely visible from the front of Feverpoint.
What will she hear?
It was pretty isolated, quiet and shuttered up. The last thing I’d wanted was for her to see what we got up to. But I wanted her to listen, I wanted her to fear our return. Terror was the goal.
Once all the men had sprinted into the park, darkness hiding them from us, I rolled my shoulders back. I took a whiff of the fresh, early September air and let out a laugh. “Time for a hunt, Freaks.”
Blade yipped her excitement, tearing off the cobblestone path and into the park.
Nash and I kept hot on her heels.
Tonight, we shared the prize.
At each intersection, we paused and scanned the darkness. Without a word, we each took a corner. Prowling down each street in Feverpoint, Blade scouted the left and I took the right. Nash stayed at the center of the road, keeping an eye on the darkness for prey.
A scream of pain resounded off the pavement deeper in the park.
“That’s my snare.” Nash sounded excited, wanting some release of her own.
Blade was giddy, clapping the metal tips of her twins together. “Get your catch.”
Nash nodded, waltzing into the darkness with her mallet dragging on the stone behind her.
Keeping on, Blade and I continued our search.
Until we heard a loud yelp. “Fuck! OW!”
“Dinner’s ready.” Blade laughed.
And I felt my chest tighten with anticipation. Desperate.
Without another word, Blade and I knew exactly where the man had found a trap.
We took off in a full sprint toward Superhero Central.
We’d set a trap inside a few rides, assuming at least one of these dumbasses would think they could escape us by hiding indoors.
Clearly, this was their first rodeo.
And I would make sure that it was their last.
Running down the long dark tunnel into the depths of Mighty Meteor, we hurtled past the coaster’s cabin loading platform, and jumped down into the tracks.
With each step, we pushed ourselves farther into the darkness, only the occasional light flashing in the hallway. But the darkness was my ally, keeping my hearing sharp as I searched for our prey.
Blade was moving fast but kept her steps quiet as she canvassed the space. Her head rotated on a smooth swivel as she checked every corner.
It wasn't long before we heard the whimpers of an injured man coming from the next room.
With a quick nod to each other Blade and I moved in sync, covered by complete darkness. The deep veil of shadows made it easier to corner the Screamer as he clutched his leg.
Blade laughed as the man trembled, blood soaking his hand and his eyes wide. “Looks like you got yourself into a bit of a trap.”
The man tried desperately to back away from Blade and I. He'd already encountered us once tonight and he knew that what came next wouldn't be pleasant.
He’d stumbled upon one of our bear traps. Spring loaded, the steel-toothed trap had wrapped around the poor fuckers leg. It would be heavy, too heavy for him to move with a few gaping wounds in his leg.
As I looked at his blood, my heart raced in my chest. It had been months since The Oracle had dropped anything in Feverpoint for us to play with. And there was something about the shimmering liquid that always made my body hum.
From the looks of it, Blade was feeling the same rush.
Stepping forward, she placed her boots on the man's wrists — pinning him to the ground as she towered over him.
From her back pocket, Blade pulled out the familiar, metal case and revealed our deck of tarot cards. She let out a loud cackle that reverberated off of the walls, kneeling down to get closer to her squirming prey. “Pick a card, any card.”
Standing over them, I watched the man thrash under Blade’s boot. It was pathetic, the way he thought there was still hope for him to survive.
But they were always like this, begging on their hands and knees — finally ready to take accountability for what they'd done in this life.
But it was too late for apologies, we were going to send them to the next.
My voice rumbled out of my chest, “Looks like he's a little tied up.”
The joke made Blade hiss a laughter that rose goosebumps on the Screamers skin. “Oh too bad, I'll just pick one for you.”
I knew under Blade’s ghastly mask that there would be an eerie smile that would have revealed her twisted plans to this drug-dealing crybaby.
Keeping her boots firmly on his wrists, Blade began to shuffle the tarot cards over his body. What started as a beautiful cascade of cards bridging over each other, quickly became a waterfall of colors falling over the Screamer's body until one card remained in Blade's hand.
She flipped it around to look at it, my eyes catching a glimpse as Blade clicked her tongue. “Bad luck.” She looked directly into the man's eyes, bringing the sharp edge of her axes to the man's neck. “It looks like you're gonna die.”
Realizing his destiny, the man thrashed harder than he had before.
But Blade wasn't interested in wasting any more time, the blood lust taking over as the cards doled out the man's “fate”.
She brought her ax to his wrists, letting each one drag up his forearm — from his palm all the way up to his elbow. Her touch was light, almost delicate.
She must have sharpened the blades today.
In a matter of seconds, blood poured from each vein and began to soak the ground beneath him.
“Pick up the cards, asshole.” I snapped at her.
They were sacred.
Blade could fuck around all she wanted, but she wasn't allowed to damage Nash's ability to see for all of us.
Sheathing the twins, Blade scooped up the cards. “Maybe the blood will make them more powerful.” Blade looked up at me with a wink.
It was my turn with the prey.
I shoved Blade's shoulders, knocking her off-balance and taking her place over the Screamer. I lowered myself down and stared at him as his eyes grew wider.
As blood poured from his veins, the man met my eyes through the stitches in my mask and spoke, “He Watches. He is Present."
My forehead wrinkled under the mask, making me appreciate the secrecy it provided. I wouldn't want this weak man to see my confusion in his dying breaths.
I wanted him to feel insignificant, like nothing he'd ever done or said would leave a lasting impact on this earth.
Because it wouldn't.
I lifted the blade of my machete to his cheek and let the metal sink into his flesh, carving two eyes and one eerie smile across the plane of his face.
My spine shivered at the feeling of his ripping flesh, how smoothly my machete made the cut. It was a brutal tool, not one meant for precision. But I didn’t care about clean lines. Not today.
His screams filled the room, his blood staining the ground.
And I watched the crimson fall from the incisions on his face.
If I'd let him live, those wounds would have turned into gorgeous scars. A mark of who had paid him a visit.
This man didn't deserve such beauty.
Instead I stood over him and watched life fade from his eyes as blood stopped pumping from the wounds and his body became still.
For a moment my mind was still, peace washing over me.
But there were more men to hunt.
And Tess — my Tess — was still locked away in my prison.
That gorgeous dangerous woman.
Nothing would taste sweeter than making her pay.