Shadowface

Chapter 28

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

SUMMER

I am awakened by soft and beautiful humming. It is a low, melancholic melody that I remember hearing in my sleep, followed by a loud, solitary cry. I open my eyes to darkness and, for a moment, panic sets in. The cry seemed so real, so distinct, and markedly feminine.

I lie still, my eyes wide open, waiting for it to happen again, wondering if it was just a part of my dream. All I hear are the occasional cracks in the walls, like whispers from the deceased. The noise from the party outside must have faded away by now. Dani is probably upset that I never responded to her texts.

But I heard something, or someone?—

The draft…there is a draft. Which means there is fresh air coming from somewhere.

Lincoln is curled around me in a deep sleep. So many sounds are coming out of the walls, it’s a wonder how I ever fell asleep. Creaks and moans, the furnace kicking on and off, and a cool breeze hits me. Light footsteps pattering on the floors above us, lingering from whatever was going on upstairs while we were down here, getting lost in each other.

Lincoln adjusts himself, but keeps his arm wrapped around me, holding me tightly in the same position we fell asleep in.

Even the supernatural, god of all things, master of minds, still needs sleep like us mere mortals.

I can’t help but smile. The bulge pressing against my lower back is mortal too, so is his heartbeat and the orgasms I gave him last night, leaving me wet and sticky. Everything about him seemed real and human as he held his body close to mine after he finished.

I’m still overwhelmed by what he said to me. That he was created solely to protect me, that his entire existence revolves around me.

He is my protector.

I clung to him, refusing to let go until I succumbed to darkness. No mind control needed. I’d have given him anything he wanted in that moment—dead or alive.

After we finished, I passed out in a peaceful drug-infused bliss. And now I’m wide awake and cold, even with his hot breath tickling my ear. I turn toward him, wiping his soft hair across his brow, appreciating how vulnerable he is at this moment. I could kill him right now if I wished.

Real. Lincoln Kennedy is real.

He shifts momentarily, and I lay my head in the crook of his arm and his breath softens. Then I hear it again…a soft cry, a soft sob in the air, deep in the walls and I shoot up.

We’re not alone down here.

I shiver. Another breeze touches my bare skin and Lincoln doesn’t hear it. He keeps his breath steady.

Goosebumps pebble my flesh as I rise like a ghost and tiptoe across the room. My eyes can distinguish the furniture, while my hands trace the pillars, guiding me to the darker corner, toward the only other door in the basement.

I pause, turning my head toward the bed. It’s warmer there than creeping around naked. The sheets are soft against my bare skin. He’s soft too, especially when he’s asleep.

I hear it again. Soft sobbing coming from somewhere in this basement. What’s left of my shattered conscience pushes me forward. That or jealousy, I’m not sure which one at this point.

If Lincoln has another girl down here, I will be the one doing the slaughtering. And it won’t be her…I’ll mutilate him.

Tiptoeing silently on bare feet, I cautiously open the door. I step inside and close the door behind me. My breath is heavy, my stomach in a tight knot. The air is fresher and cleaner, as if it’s coming directly from outside.

I stumble forward in the dark and listen. “Hello,” I whisper.

Silence.

I frown. “Hello? Is someone here?” I whisper again.

A pause…

“Help me, please.” A muffled cry comes from inside the walls.

I turn and press my hands up toward the wall from where I heard her.

“Cali?”

Another pause. “Please, get me out of here, he has me.”

A deep sense of relief washes over me. He has her, but he didn’t kill her. He’s had her this entire time.

I press my forehead against the wall. “Are you hurt?” I ask her. “Has he physically hurt you?”

A muffled sob. “Yes, he cut me once, and he won’t let me go. Please, I’m begging you, I can’t be locked in here anymore.” Her voice is clear now, like we are talking through a vent. He’s had her for weeks… weeks.

I dig my fingers into the wall and grind my teeth together. I turn my head toward the door in which I came.

“Keep your voice down,” I warn in a hushed whisper. “You don’t want to wake him up.”

“Will you help me? Please call the police, do something, just get me out of here. I won’t tell anyone or say anything, I swear.” The way she’s talking to me, as if I have something to hide, as if I’m one of them.

The police… Given the chief of police’s daughter was straddling a masked man upstairs earlier, I don’t think the police will do anything even if I called them. Lincoln told me who each of them were. The police chief’s daughter, the mayor’s son. Dani told me about all of them.

Calling the police is pointless.

It would be so easy to find her, rescue her, and let her go. Both of us should just flee. Mikael’s the one who took her, and Lincoln is protecting her. Either way, Lincoln will go down for this, and I can’t let that happen. After last night, I am convinced Lincoln can’t hurt a soul.

Mikael was the one who cut her, and it’s a miracle she’s even still alive.

But he didn’t kill her…

I stand dazed for a moment, my hair falling over my face as I’m left pondering and puzzling the pieces together.

Lincoln did, however, lie to me. He fabricated the narrative for his sick pleasure to get to me and make me admit to the darkest parts of myself. It’s easier to fall in love with a monster than to admit you are one.

I take a moment to catch my breath as my thigh starts to pulse. I run my fingers over the blistering scar. Was that why he cut Cali? Did he mark her, too?

Something inside me stirs.

He didn’t kill her.

I slam my hand against the wall. “Fuck,” I cry out.

I can’t do it. I can’t turn him in, but I can save Cali. I continue moving, searching for a way to reach her. I run my hands along the wall, hoping to find something. I need to see her and make sure she’s okay. But it’s been weeks, and she’s still alive. I’m sure she’s miserable, but at least she’s okay.

He didn’t kill her.

Eventually, my hand meets cold metal. I pause before I turn the handle and push another door open and fumble my way until my hands find a light switch.

The light pops on and I jolt back.

In front of me stands a woman with white hair, her eyes filled with blood, and her body marked with shadows. A smile spreads across her face, causing my heart to skip a beat. It’s as if I’m looking at the exact replica of my grandmother, who once lived in this very house.

It takes me a moment to realize it’s not her ghost covered in blood, but rather a mirror tucked away in the corner of a bathroom. The girl staring back at me is none other than myself, although I hardly recognize her. I take a deep breath and shut myself in and warmth instantly hits my skin.

I look back at the mirror and finally see nothing of the girl I see staring back at me. I’m a disheveled, freshly fucked mess. There is a girl hidden within these walls, yet I’m not screaming bloody murder.

I turn the shower on, cranking the heat as high as it can go, letting the steam build up around me. I sit on the floor like a child, and take deep cleansing breaths, letting the warmth fill my bones as the entire washroom fills with thick steam.

After a few minutes, my head starts to hang heavily in front of me. Suddenly, a faint squeaky noise echoes through the mist. I scramble to my feet and squint to read the message on the mirror. The fog gradually lifts, allowing me to read the message clearly, as if it were written plain as day.

Hi pretty girl…

My breath falters as a shadow engulfs me, and the burlap mask stares back at me through the mirror.

I whip around and face him. A faint squeak escapes me as I take him in. He’s wearing only boxers and the mask. The rest of him is identical to the man I was just sleeping next to, the same man who was holding me ten minutes ago.

Part of me wants to cry out for Lincoln, as if he’s merely sleeping in the next room and could come save me.

“Mikael,” I whisper, the only sound now a faint drip of water beside us in the room that’s otherwise full of steam.

He nods slowly and I freeze, swallowing hard as my throat tightens. He tilts his head in response, his eyes drifting to my neck, then down the bare skin beneath it. My tiny breasts rise with rapid breath as I stand in front of him, entirely exposed. He’s calm as he beholds me with a predatory gaze that makes me twist and burn.

“Fear is so fucking sexy on you,” he says. “I could die watching you scream, and it would never be enough for me.”

I hate myself for the pleasure shooting to my core. Shame blends with pleasure as I stare at the shadowed man who ruined my life.

With fire in my eyes, I reach for his mask. He stops me, gripping my hands, and just by the grip, I realize Lincoln is completely shut out. Even their hands seem different. “I want to see you,” I whisper. “I deserve to see you, Mikael.”

His chest expands as I pull the mask off his face. It is not Lincoln Kennedy staring back at me, and these eyes are not translucent.

My mouth gapes open as I stare into them, and something shocking stares back at me. Something so innocent and pure. So real. His pupils dilate as if he can see me clearly, and his eyes gleam.

Lincoln’s eyes don’t gleam, and now I’m stuck wondering who has those translucent eyes I keep seeing. I’m positive now there is a third entity hiding in there.

There must be.

My hands find his cheek, my fingers a light caress as I move them over the bridge of his nose and to his lips, as if I need to explore every part of him. He grabs my hand, and my eyes stay steady on his as I move our hands down to my breast, giving him permission to touch me.

His hand tightens around the flesh and my nipples harden despite the heat.

His lips twitch into a smile, and he almost seems soft, which is exactly how I remember him. His hands were always soft, even if his words were cutting.

“Is this what you like?” I ask him, his head so close to mine our breaths mingle. He doesn’t respond, but he licks his lips as his other hand finds my waist and it’s exactly what he wants.

I remember… All those nights, he always started with my breasts before moving to other places. The way he looks at me now is almost boyish.

“You can touch me, Mikael,” I whisper into his cheek. “Anywhere you want. I’m yours just as much as I am his. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Did I really just say that? Is that what I want? Or is this the mind control they have over me?

He gently touches my nipple with his thumb. He squeezes and plays with it, and his smile gives me chills. The lights flicker again, as if he can control them, too.

“It’s cute you think I need your permission,” he scoffs, a smirk playing on his lips.

In one swift motion, his hand finds my throat. Time seems to stand still as he thrusts me up and slams me into the mirror.

The glass cracks slightly and his fingers begin to squeeze my neck. I can’t breathe, my lungs collapse, and little lights pepper my vision. Then he abruptly stops…

“You do not want me to do whatever I want,” he threatens, and his forehead meets mine. His hands once again turn to honey and he caresses my cheek. “Because I want to fucking kill you.”

I shake my head. “No, Mikael. You don’t.”

His eyes twinkle, his iron grip once again turns to a soft caress. “I’m nothing like Lincoln, pretty girl. And you know nothing about what I want.”

My heart flutters at his voice. This is the first time he’s really spoken to me—death threats don’t count and calling me pretty girl doesn’t, either.

He underestimates how much I understand him. Lincoln isn’t the host…he is. He is the architect behind it all. I’ve seen Mikael in Lincoln, but I don’t see any Lincoln in Mikael. Mikael’s been here the whole time.

I lift my leg so my thigh grazes his. Teasing him, taunting him. Taking some semblance of control and dignity back, even though I’m desperate for him.

I gaze up at him and he looks back at me with a soft, boyish expression. “Is that all you see when you look at me?” I ask him. “Just death and nothing else. I understand why Lincoln’s doing what he’s doing, but what is your goal, Mikael? Why are you always hiding?”

His lips curl, his eye twitches, and he stands back. “It’s hard to call it hiding when you’re being suppressed.”

For a moment his eyes start swirling like the mist, and I gasp, staring at that mesmerizing flicker before it disappears again. He’s still so good looking, but his mannerisms are so different. Almost…normal. Like he’s just some normal twenty-two-year-old, not some ageless entity. Despite his appetite for destruction or the fact he hides behind a supernatural, academic persona, he’s just a young man. One who society gave up on, and one with so many emotions he doesn’t know how to handle them.

“Is that all I am to you, the physical manifestation of your mother’s death?”

His body jolts and he punches the mirror a mere two inches from my head, shattering whatever was left of the glass. I gasp at the level of anger that radiates out of him, and I squeeze my eyes shut as shards of glass hit my face and neck and a sizable chunk of mirror falls to the sink basin below.

The shattering is so loud, it reverberates and shakes the room.

Time seems to stand still as my blood trickles down my face and his blood pours out of his knuckles. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t dare move. His hands now grasp a piece of glass and it’s all he needs to end me, and right now, all I feel is pure and utter terror. And heat…

Slick heat hits between my legs as I shake beneath him.

I stand in front of him, careful not to move, aware I am naked with shattered glass around me.

We stare at each other through the steam.

Long seconds go by, and he admires the blood dripping out of the shards in my skin, and finally he says, “Revenge.”

I suck in a breath and blink at him. “What?”

“I want revenge, pretty girl. I watched your father kill my mother, and now, I want to kill you.”

He tilts his head and cups my cheek, then pulls the little pieces of glass out of my skin. He turns on the water and washes the blood off my face. I lean into him, nearly collapsing as he nurses my wounds.

He catches me, and when I look up at him, his eyes are wild. And sad…so sad.

“Then why haven’t you?” I ask. “You had so many chances. All those nights, you could have done it so quickly.” I pause and gaze up at him. “You never came back to me. I waited so long for you to come back to me, and you never did. I dream about you every single night.”

It’s true. I’ve never gone a day without thinking about him. There hasn’t been a single night where I haven’t dreamt about him.

He leans his forehead against mine—a similar mannerism to Lincoln, although that’s the only similarity.

“I fell in love with you, Summer,” he whispers, and I blink at him a few times to make sure I heard him right. “And it hurts; it fucking pains me. Falling in love with you was the worst mistake I ever made. I lost myself because of you.”

I hitch a breath. “Mikael,” I whisper, and my heart breaks for him.

It was him, not Lincoln, I spent that night with. He took my virginity, and I gave it to him willingly. My silent, scary monster now has a name.

He rubs my cheek, his pale skin glowing. “I still hate you. I hate that you got to live a normal life while my mom suffered. I hate how pretty you are,” he whispers. “I hate how much I want you.”

I let out a tiny whimper as a pained look crosses his face. He said the same words to me at the rave before he marked me. He’s so close, his lips a kissable distance.

“You can’t kill me yet, can you?” I dare to say to him. “You marked me for the devil, and he’s not ready to claim me.” My leg wraps around him, and I pull him into my allure. His erection is so stiff, it centers itself right between my legs. I arch my hips to rub myself against him, daring him to do something…anything to me.

His mouth twitches at my coy bodily threats. “They will expect your body, pretty girl. I have to deliver it to them.”

The Order of the Shadow’s.

“Why do you care what they want, if all you want to do is kill them?”

He smirks. “Why do you think all I want to do is kill them?”

I fold my arms and arch a brow. “I just assumed.”

“I do, but maybe I want to rule them first.”

I jerk my head to the side, mimicking his mocking stance. “Maybe that’s what I want to do, too. Lincoln told me it’s mine by birthright, and it would only be yours by technicality.”

I just drew a line in the sand.

His eye twitches as he beholds me, as if seeing me differently. Seeing me as something more than a victim.

“Is that so, pretty girl?”

“I was victimized by all of this, too, Mikael. I didn’t even know this secret society existed before coming here. I didn’t realize what my father was.”

The slam of his wrist against the glass jolts me. He misses my head by mere inches, and I start shaking. I hate how much he scares me, but he does.

“You,” he says very slowly, “are a fucking liar.”

Lying? What am I lying about?

“You knew exactly what he was. You dreamed about it for years.”

That void…that itch on the edge of my mind I can’t grasp. What is he referring to? It has something to do with my father. I saw something I shouldn’t have.

A sharp image cuts into my mind of a woman.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He flinches at the only words I can think of to say at this moment. “I’m sorry about what my father did to your mother.” As if my meager apologies matter, as if they mean anything. “I’m sorry for existing,” I say to him in a final plea.

“My mother wanted it,” he finally says, and he moves his hand between my legs, sliding his finger inside. “Just like you want it.”

I gasp at how good it feels. At how much pent-up sexual tension is still inside me, despite Lincoln fucking me silly for hours.

This is different. A totally different person, and it’s like neither of them are enough for me.

My lips find his, and he finally gives me what I want. He kisses me softly, keeping his fingers inside me before pulling back. He gives me a feline smirk as he walks toward the door.

“See you soon, pretty girl.”

“Wait…where are you going?” I say breathlessly.

He pauses at the door and his head turns slightly, but he keeps his back to me. “Lincoln needs some sleep. He has to work on his thesis tomorrow.”

He vanishes and I let out a deep breath, only now remembering the girl hiding within the walls who likely heard everything.

I step into the shower and take my time cleaning off the blood. Afterward, I tiptoe out into the hallway, careful not to step on the shattered glass, and whisper, “Cali, can you hear me?”

She answers immediately, “Yeah.”

“I’m going to get you out of here alive, but you have to trust me, okay?”

A pause, then she says, “Okay.”

I walk back into Lincoln’s bedroom and crawl into bed with him. He’s lying the exact way I left him. He curls his arm around me, and I snuggle in next to him, as if he was there fast asleep all along.