Killer of the Bells (A Really Gay Villain Christmas #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

VALE

“Get Vale to do it. I’m busy.” Gareth’s shout was muffled due to the flashlight clenched between his teeth.

Baz’s small face screwed up in annoyance, and he said, “If I wanted it done after a ten-minute argument, I would have already asked Vale. However, I need this door open now, and Vix isn’t around to hack it open.

That leaves you, sweet cheeks. Bring those muscles over here and pop this baby open for me. ”

“Vale is stronger and faster. Do it without argument, Vale, and I’ll forget about what happened yesterday.”

I’d had worse offers, so I shrugged and walked over to the door in question. Gareth was far too creative with his payback for me not to take him up on the deal.

“It’s almost two feet thick,” Baz warned, “So, you might need to put in actual effort for once.”

I tapped the door with a single finger, and it fell inward with a loud, ear-splitting shriek of rending metal. I shouldn’t have given in to the childish urge to overperform, but my impulse control was shit because it was December 1st.

December 1st is the absolute worst day of the year.

“Can I go now?” I yawned.

“No.” Baz and Gareth said in unison. It was automatic for them, likely because I’d already asked them three times in the past hour.

“I’m not doing that again,” I announced. “Physical exertion is disgusting.”

“Yes, I can see how much that took out of you. The collective thanks you for your efforts,” Gareth said dryly without looking up from the control panel he was half inside.

I rolled my eyes even though I knew Gareth wouldn’t see it. He’d still know.

He claims not to be psychic, but I’ve seen his test results. His external awareness is off the charts. If a mouse farts in the yard down the street, Gareth will know.

“I don’t know why you complain so much when we ask you to do the heavy lifting,” Baz said as he fished around in his pocket.

“I’ve never seen you strain to do anything, so I know it’s not hard for you.

Found it! Vale, this is for you.” Baz pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed me his middle finger.

I scoffed and turned my head away.

People only think about what they can see. The strength, the speed, the body count. No one asks about the toll it takes on me to do such things.

All my abilities come from the same well of power. If I use strength to bulldoze through one problem, it rouses the source of my power—the monster. When the monster inside me is dormant, I can handle it far more easily than I can when it’s boiling away, restless and aching for action.

The only reason I help the collective at all is because Gareth allows me access to all his resources in return for my help.

I didn’t bother explaining any of that to Baz.

He’s one of the dumbest people I’ve ever met. He’s got a tight little asshole and one of the most talented mouths I’ve had the pleasure of using, but there’s nothing going on upstairs. The contrast between him and his genius partner in crime is staggering, to say the least.

Vix. A familiar combination of irritation and loss came over me, and I shrugged it off.

What was done was done, and there was no point crying over it.

If, on occasion, I wanted to punch a certain giant, dumb ox in the face until he was nothing but a distant memory, then it was no one’s business but mine.

“If you don’t need me anymore, I’m leaving,” I said, already making my way to the edge of the roof.

Baz had access to the building, and Gareth was tits-deep into the control panel for a machine I knew nothing about.

If a project wasn’t mine, I didn’t bother learning the specifics.

I just did what I was asked to do—within reason—and then fucked off the second I got the chance.

Especially during a mission on December 1st. I was running out of time if I wanted to make something inevitable somewhat less humiliating.

“Actually, I do have something,” Baz said. “I need you to hold something for me.”

I didn’t even get a chance to complain that my talents were better utilized doing literally anything else when Baz grabbed his crotch and elaborated. “Hang on to my dick for me and keep it safe.”

I sneered and was about to say something so horrible even Baz’s feelings would be hurt when the church bells began to toll the hour.

I was miles from them, and they still had the power to make my nervous system go berserk.

It was like being battered repeatedly by a stick made of pure insanity, so instead of letting Baz have it, I stepped off the building to fall into the darkness of the alley below.

I landed heavily and leaned against a brick wall until the bells were done. It would have been much worse if the job had been closer to the bells. Distance helped mitigate the effect that the tolling of cold-iron bells had on the magic inside me.

When the tolling had finished and the fabric of my being was no longer under assault, I collected myself, took a deep breath, and sped away into the night, eager to be home.

Once I was in my wing of the house, I could lose myself in research inside my soundproof lab and be safe from the urge to rend and tear.

I’d barely used my power at all on the evening’s mission, but it had riled easily due to the bells going off every hour, and now all it wanted to do was hunt.

That’s what I got for showing off. Mild usage of basic skills I’d mastered was a small drop in the bucket and rarely triggered the monster inside.

It was the bigger things like spellcasting or skills I never used, like extreme strength, that were more likely to set it off when I was on edge.

I’ve never been one to use strength to solve mundane problems. The society I grew up in disdained physical labor.

It was something strictly for the common man to do and not the aristocracy.

Not that I fit in with their idea of suitable behavior, but some social conditioning stuck, so I leave being a muscle monkey to Gareth if at all possible.

Speed, however, is different. I love to run.

There’s something about going so fast that I become a blur to the naked eye that brings me deep satisfaction.

It softens the demands of the monster inside me briefly, and every moment I get a chance to run, I take it.

I can generally only get away with it between dusk and dawn because I can’t go invisible, and as unobservant as the population of the valley we live in is, someone is bound to notice eventually if I zip around everywhere I go.

It was dark when I left Baz and Gareth, and, while we’d been two towns and a river away, I was home in minutes.

I slowed my pace because I was responsible for the no running in the house rule.

I entered through the front door and almost made it to the hallway connected to my wing of the house when I came across Vix just as his fiancé Paris came all over his face.

My heart clenched, and the power inside me demanded I pop Paris’s head free of his neck as gruesomely as possible. Internally, I told it to fuck off, while externally, I told the exhibitionists, “We talked about this.”

Vix’s pretty face was dreamy as he apologized. “I’m sorry, Vale. You know how it is.”

I did know how it was, having been in Paris’s place many times.

Vix’s mind was the sharpest, most exquisite diamond the scientific world had ever seen, but the drawbacks were costly for him.

Not only did he have no ability to control his manic episodes of creativity, but when he got overwhelmed, he’d fall into a comatose state, and to top it all off, his body had developed an extreme form of hypersexuality likely as an attempt to balance him out.

Vix was a charming and adorable man of extremes, and he had no control over any of it. Before he’d met Paris, Vix turned to his housemates to help him regulate his quirks and desires.

At first, Vix was nothing but an outlet for me to burn off excess energy so I didn’t have to go out and kill every night, but when Paris arrived and stole Vix away, I realized far too late the beautiful thing I’d taken for granted.

I knew Paris was better for Vix. He didn’t get lost in his lab for days on end, forgetting all about Vix until someone forced him to leave and eat.

Paris’s obsession was Vix. His entire purpose for existing seemed to be taking care of Vix’s every need and desire.

If Paris hadn’t been perfect for Vix, I would have successfully killed him instead of merely attempting it last year.

If I’d really wanted Paris dead, the deed would be done. The little electrocution incident was more of a warning than an actual attempt.

That didn’t mean I was happy about their relationship, and it didn’t mean I wanted to see Vix sucking Paris off in our foyer, so I said, “I’m telling Gareth,” before storming away. Being petty soothed the beast long enough to get far enough away to keep from killing Paris.

I stomped to my elevator, texting Gareth about Vix’s and Paris’s foyer activities as I rode to the top floor of my newly rebuilt wing. It had been burned down last winter, so I currently had the nicest part of the house, not including my room.

I refused to allow Vix to demolish my bedroom. It was cozy and perfect the way it was. Since it had survived the fire, why bother replacing it?

Baz often joked about me being the vampire living in their attic.

What an absolute child.

I slammed my door open and kicked off my boots, one after the other, flinging them in opposite directions.

“Why aren’t you ready to go?” The bane of my existence asked, sitting innocently in my windowsill like it wasn’t guarded and trapped to hell and back.

“Someday, one of Vix’s security measures is going to give you a nasty surprise. I look forward to that day,” I said, shedding my coat and allowing it to hit the floor with a muffled thump.