Shadowface

Chapter 36

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SIX

MIKAEL

B reath is truly a precious thing, often taken for granted—the simple act of inhaling and exhaling. It represents motion, fleeting moments of life itself. I repeatedly open and close my hand, still trying to adapt to my body. Still trying to adapt to the simple act of taking a breath. It’s like skin that isn’t fully mine yet, a glove that requires breaking in. The way my body moves now differs from what I remember.

Years of stolen moments that are slowly becoming mine.

He’s still inside me like a dull ball of energy. Like a computer that’s shut off, but is still connected to the hard drive. I found a box and put him in it, mirroring what he’s done to me for the past few years, taking only the best parts of him.

The push and pull between us is still happening; we are not yet unified. What I’m experiencing is not yet fusion, because fusion requires acceptance on both parties, and while we are undoubtedly stronger together, I’ve not yet accepted all parts of him—just the parts that serve me and to fuse you must accept all of the alter.

And he’s clearly not accepted me in my entirety, given the pulse of anger fleeting around my brain untethered.

I sense him, though, in every corner of my mind, alien and foreign and devoid of a soul.

Right now, the thesis demands my full attention, so I sit in front of my computer working. His thoughts are becoming mine, every psychological theory he’s memorized, analyzed, and practiced. Every experience of his blurs into my psyche as if I’m downloading it. As each idea comes alive within me, my mind grows more connected to the material. Every new word, and it’s as if I’ve been studying this forever. Every minute, every tiny memory, no matter the significance, dulls him.

The god I created is dying.

I grit my teeth and slam the computer shut, and lean back and turn the music up, trying to drown out Xander and Bianca squabbling upstairs.

Hard metal music is blaring from my speakers because I can’t fucking stand that classical shit Lincoln likes, and this was the last band I listened to before I shut myself off. The heavy metal with screaming because I can’t let Lincoln define my adult existence entirely.

Bianca, I’ve decided, will be the first one I kill when the time presents itself, since Xander seems incapable of controlling his woman. Either that, or I’ll silence her to submission like I did that blonde bitch I mistook for Summer.

Xander will thank me…eventually.

I stare at my phone and grind my jaw together as I seem to do a lot. It’s been a week since I saw Summer in my office. And beyond the confines of the classroom, where she’s not glanced up at me even once.

Every day she talks to that fucker who’s had his grubby paws on her all semester after I warned her, repeatedly , not to go near him. She twirls her hair and gives him flirty gestures as if daring me to do something about it.

I’ve texted her multiple times, and she hasn’t answered. And if it wasn’t for this damn thesis deadline, I’d crawl into her bedroom, fuck her senseless, and end this nonsense.

I’m spiraling, I realize—chasing an unwilling prey. I shoot off a text and run my hands through my hair.

SF: I miss you, baby. I’m sorry if I scared you.

My heart is scattered when I see that she’s read it and appears to be responding, only for the phone to go silent. Maybe I was too rough with her the other day, but the way she succumbed to me. I know she liked it.

I text her again—the angry split flickering to the surface.

SF : Silence isn’t an option, Summer. Do you have to learn the hard way again?

Finally, a response.

Summer : You’re such a liar. You’re incapable of being sorry. I will never forgive you for taking him away from me. You are nothing but pain.

A pit turns in my stomach as I reflect on her words. She’s not wrong, but that hurt and anger aren’t a part of me now, allowing me to envision a life beyond my past trauma. Why can’t she understand that? Why can’t she comprehend she’s the finite part of why I’m whole again?

SF: I’m learning to control my urges, baby. I promise you. I need to see you again.

Another drawn out pause.

I dial her number; it rings three times, each adding to my growing fury every time it rings. I turn down the music and walk to my bed and she finally answers.

“Mikael,” she snips, “why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you, Summer,” I bark out. “Not a day will go by where I won’t want you, or think about you, or watch your every move. You’re the only reason I’m still alive. You are the only reason I want to live. We were meant to be together, baby, and I’ll slaughter this entire town if I can’t have you.”

“You want to kill me,” she cries out. “And I don’t want to die anymore.” Her voice sounds so distant, like she’s never been further away from me. “Those thoughts are ones you implanted in me. You ruined my mind, Mikael, and you’re going to destroy my body, but I will not give you my soul.”

I grab the blade I keep in my pocket and squeeze it until it draws blood. Reminding me that breath is not the only symbol of life; blood represents life as much as it does death.

“Your father knew what I was when he brought me to your house,” I tell her. “He knew how I’d react to you and brought me near you, anyway. He gave you to me, pretty girl, whether he meant to or not. He handed you to me on a silver platter. You don’t get a choice in this matter.”

Her breath grows heavy, like she’s crying. Her sweet voice, so gentle and full of despair, nearly kills me. I hate when she cries, and she used to whimper in her sleep so often. I was the one who wiped away those tears.

Me.

“Is Lincoln really gone?” she murmurs.

My jaw tightens, and I grab the blanket, twisting it in my hands. “He never existed . Any love you have for him is for me. You falling for Lincoln is the equivalent of falling for a machine. Did it feel like you were being fucked by someone who didn’t love you? Every orgasm you’ve ever had is one I’ve given you, baby. Every damn time.”

She sucks in a breath. “He can’t be gone. It’s impossible to kill an alter. He called himself a god. He’s stronger than you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, my patience waning from her lack of understanding. “God, demon, angel…ancient spirit. I’m not disputing that he wasn’t those things. But do you know what he wasn’t, baby?”

Silence.

“Fucking human,” I hiss. “He was programmed by the child version of me who realized life was easier without caring. My subconscious created a better version of myself, and now…now I’m slowly becoming him. I’m stealing everything he ever did, all the parts of him that suit me, because they were all mine to begin with. We are one fucking person, so quit referring to him as if he’s someone else. I’m your god, baby. I’m everything you will ever need if you can just trust me.”

She lets out a sob. “Mikael, I’m leaving.”

My breath grows heavy, and I run my hand over the back of my neck. “What?”

“Don’t try to follow me and don’t contact my family or Dani. I told them I can’t be here anymore because it reminds me of my dad. I’m leaving as soon as I can. If you come near me, or ever contact me again, I will run far away and tell the world what’s going on here. I am not lying about that. You’re very sick, and this world was better when you were locked away.”

“Go ahead, baby.” I let out a dark laugh. “Tell the world what I am; they won’t do anything about it. They’ll silence you before you can leave town. Everyone wants this to happen; your death means everything to them. It’s our way, Summer. We can play this game of cat and mouse if you want. Deep down, I want you to run from me. I want to see how wet your pussy is before I kill you.”

I kill the line before she can respond, seething anger roiling through me.

My anger feels like home. It fuels me, gives me purpose, gives me hope. It makes me fucking ravished —especially when I think about Summer in her tight little outfits and her salty attitude.

I walk over to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, running my hand over my chin. I inspect my adult face—the perfectly portioned features I got from my mother.

By society’s standards, I am attractive. Society likes pretty people; they revel in those they deem attractive. But if society knew what went on in my head, my brain would be dissected.

I want to kill every blonde girl I meet. Everyone who remotely reminds me of my mother, I want to make their eyes bleed. But thanks to Lincoln, we seem to settle into society just fine.

Lincoln’s glasses are in a case by the sink—the last place he stood before I took over. I put them on and stare at the blurry face in the shattered mirror. Distorted eyes, a twisted mouth, a ghostly double shadow behind me. It’s how I saw myself when Lincoln was in control. The reflection of what I truly am.

A monster with a shadowed face…

Shadowface.

It’s the adult version of myself, as if Lincoln never existed.

The thumping and shouting continues upstairs. I pull off the glasses and get dressed. I need to talk to Xander. He’s the only other person who knows about me. He watched me transform when we were kids, and he watched as I lost myself.

But he cared about me, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He was the first person to actually give a shit, even if I didn’t know how to reciprocate at the time. Killing him seemed easier than to admit I kind of enjoyed hanging out with him.

And he already knows I’m back, though Lucy’s known for weeks.

I hear dark, nefarious laughter that echoes in the room, taking over all my senses, causing me to pull on my hair, trying to get it to stop. The hair on my neck stands on end.

It’s the laughter of a god. And he’s mad, the hatred almost mirroring my own. I close my eyes, and when I open them, a message is written on the mirror.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

Another voice, another presence.

I grind my teeth. Lincoln’s not dead, just weak. Desperate to experience what I’m not willing to give him yet. But this voice is something different. This voice is not Lincoln. I don’t recognize it.

An image pops into my head…a memory. One of him and Summer, fucking right in this shower and smug satisfaction blooms through me. His smug satisfaction. The moments he stole with her. She’s gazing at him with adoration, a look she’s only supposed to give me.

I crush his glasses in my hand and whip them against the wall.

“Fuck you,” I grit out to the mirror, as if he’s staring back at me. “This is my life. You can’t have it. You don’t fucking exist anymore.”

I let out a scream and punch the sink, then take deep breaths to calm myself. Those precious breaths I took for granted.

I need to take control of my sanity. I need to take control of my body. I need to take control of Summer, and to do that, I need to send her a stronger message.

T en minutes later, I stroll upstairs to the main house, a bit more composed. Lucy walks by with a pile of towels in her hand, and her eyes shine when she sees me.

“Mikael,” she says knowingly. “Where’s the girl?”

“Hi, Lucy,” I respond, giving her my devilish grin she used to love. At least someone’s happy to see me. “She’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She nods, her eyes flashing. “She’s perfect for you, Mikael. Don’t let her get away.”

I rest my hand on her arm. “I know, Lucy.”

She keeps walking, then pauses, tilting her head slightly. “You’re not going to go away again, are you?”

I cross my arms and lean against one of the large pillars at the front of the house. “Not a chance, Lucy.”

“Good.” She carries on, disappearing into the dark, whistling.

When I walk into the parlor room, Xander’s sitting in his high-backed chair with Bianca in her usual spot at his feet. Wendy and Gabe are sitting together, and they are all watching a movie.

Everyone ignores me, as usual. The only exception is Bianca, who crinkles her nose when I walk in and cross the room toward them.

Lincoln rarely makes appearances upstairs, always preferring to work in his dark basement hellhole. I, however, am getting a taste for hard liquor and enjoy the company of others after years of solitude and a muted existence. To walk, speak, and move in a way that’s distinctly me.

Plus, I need to make my presence known in this house. The sons and daughters need to know there is going to be a new Order. One where a child of a founding family will no longer take over as they have for the past 275 years. They will all realize what I am soon enough.

An anomaly in the code. An exception. A child of a sacrifice who shouldn’t even exist, let alone not kill on the spot.

I am more holy than Christ, and their day of rapture is coming.

Bianca scowls at me as I pass, barely an afterthought in her tiny world that revolves around Xander. Wendy and Gabe barely pass me a glance, too.

But Xander… Xander looks like he’s seen a ghost.

I walk over to him, grab the drink out of his hand, sip it, and take residence on my usual spot in a chair across from him, lounging my legs casually over it.

A sly smile slips out of me as he stares at me with a slight grin on his face.

Challenge accepted.

“What’s up, brother? ” I flash a quick smile.

The room grows quiet, watching the two of us as the tension grows between us. A coil of anger radiates off Xander, because the last time I saw him, I offered to bludgeon him in his sleep.

I’m rather relaxed for once and settle deeper into my chair with Xander’s whiskey in my hand, which I drink down in a single gulp, then motion for Lucy, who appears out of nowhere, to get me another.

“What’s his deal?” Bianca asks Xander, who ignores her.

Lincoln never stands up to him like that—always the peacekeeper, always calm, always trying to hide in plain sight.

But Xander needs to know I’m back, though I think he already does by his tight facial expression and slight look of terror in his eyes.

Xander’s not scared of anyone, but he fears me. I’m the only one who’s sicker in the head than he is.

He keeps his blue eyes on me, his dark hair hanging over his face. His brutish muscles are gleaming under his tattoos as he uncrosses his arms and turns the sound of the movie off.

He doesn’t outwardly show any fear, but he knows he’s in the same room as the devil.

“Everyone get the fuck out,” he barks. “I need to talk to my brother.”

Slowly, everyone makes motions to leave, looking confused and darting their gaze between us as I keep my expression cold and neutral.

Bianca runs her hand over her dark hair. Her lips are painted bright red as she kneels in her spot beneath him, pointedly not moving.

He nudges her with his knee. “That includes you, babe.”

Her lips part and she turns her head to me and glares. “Why do I have to leave?”

Our eyes meet and she startles, blinking a few times as she meets my gaze.

I don’t blink. I keep my gaze heavy set on her as a slow smile spreads across my face, imagining her with blood-stained tears.

She stares back, and her pupils expand as she takes me in. She can see me…like, really see me. She can see the evil rippling off me, the otherworldly presence behind my eyes as my vision pulsates.

Although we’ve never formally met, I already dislike her. I’ll take care to rip out her throat along with her tongue, so she can’t even scream in hell when I put her there. Not even demons should have to hear her annoying voice.

Her eyes drift to my hand, where I am playing with my razor blade.

Oops.

I forgot I was holding that. She looks at me, then back at Xander, her face draining color making her look rather…regal.

My voice is a deadly calm. “My patience is running thin with you, Bianca. Maybe I should cut your tongue out… I don’t think Xander would mind.”

She lets out an audible gasp.

“Bianca, go upstairs. I’ll be up soon,” Xander says calmly.

She sucks in a breath, then nods obediently this time. “You’re just going to let him talk to me like that?”

He grabs her hair and nudges her up. “Go. Now.”

She lets out a heavy sigh as she rises from her dirty spot on the floor and wipes the dust off her black pants.

She glares at me. “I always knew you were fucking crazy.”

She runs out the double doors leading to the grand house beyond.

“Make sure you’re fucking naked by the time I get there,” he calls after her.

A moment passes, then another. A heavy silence lingers between us, and I merely play with the sharp edge of the blade, keeping my focus steady on it.

“How long have you been back?”

I finally meet his eyes and squeeze my fists together around the blade. I’m finally becoming accustomed to this, and this body is like a temple. The pain is like honey as blood trickles down my wrist.

“Three days,” I tell him.

He rests his head back on the plush chair. “I fucking knew it.”

I arch my brows at him and jerk my head toward the dark hallway where Bianca disappeared into. “I can kill her for you, if you want, since you can’t seem to do it.”

He crosses his arms and looks at me with an amused face. “Is that fucking so?”

I shrug as Lucy brings me a full glass of whiskey. “Here you go, Mikael.” She runs her hand over the back of my head, her touch lingering on my shoulder.

I was always her favorite.

“Thanks, Lucy.” I grab my drink, clinking the ice on the expensive crystal, and continue as Lucy disappears back into the walls of the house. Xander’s eyes follow her as she leaves the two of us alone.

Lucy stopped me from killing Xander when we were kids, only because she gently placed her hands on my back—the same way she did just now.

“Please, Mikael. This isn’t our way; we only kill other people, not each other.”

Please. One simple word of kindness brought me back from the edge of darkness. Darkness I eventually slipped into, anyway. But it did save Xander’s life.

I hope he understands that.

As I soon discovered my taste for blood, there was no way back. Only death, destruction, and darkness lay in my path.

I take a sip and continue, “Bianca won’t help you transcend. Let’s not pretend you’re not waiting for someone else. Is that why she acts like a fucking dog?”

His eyes are dark. He knows I’m right. The Codex is clear.

He leans forward and takes a contemplative sip of his drink. “I don’t know what the fuck goes on in that girl’s mind.”

I’m sure she’s just as crazy as the rest of us. No rational girl would ever date a member of the ancestry, knowing they will likely become a sacrifice. Even if she is technically one of us.

The ritual is brutal, savage and bloody.

“Does my grandmother know you’re back?” he asks.

“We had a visit.”

He arches his dark brows. “I’m sure she was thrilled.”

“I think she suspected it when I marked Summer Landry. Lincoln was trying to stop it, so I took control and made it happen, anyway.”

He grins at me. “The way you and Lincoln can lie to the world is mind-blowing, but do not fucking lie to me, Mike. You owe me that much. Do you have something to do with that missing girl found in the woods?”

I knew he’d put two and two together, eventually.

I adjust my collar and shrug. “I’ll admit it. Taking her was a mistake, but we fixed it. She’s all better and still breathing. No harm done.”

We worked together when we said goodbye to Cali. Lincoln has the ability to make logical decisions, rather than being driven by emotions. He found a solution that didn’t involve death. Combining Lincoln’s logical thinking with my primal psychotic impulses turned out to be successful.

He stares at me with a grim expression. “Is he gone, then?”

A tingle hints under my skin. Lincoln is still skimming the surface of my reality. I’m accepting my thoughts as my own as I accept his, but not fully fused.

Two entities where there should only be one. Three, if you count that split dying to come out.

I sense the thrum of it—it tickles all my senses.

“Not completely,” I tell him. “He’ll never be gone…not in the way you think.”

His eyes twitch like he’s trying to decipher if I’m telling the truth. “You seem different,” he finally says, as if he’s done assessing me. “More in control, like you finally hit puberty or something.”

I scoff, rise, and grab my drink, pulling on my collar. It still seems strange wearing his clothes. People like him, they respect him. Girls blush when he walks into a room.

People never used to look at me like that.

Never. Not once.

I like how it feels.

“I have all the control, Xander. It’s been a real fucking pleasure seeing you again, but I have to get this thesis done, and I have a faculty event I was invited to at the university.”

“At the university,” he mocks in a frilly voice, leaning back and crossing his arms.

I like this life; I deserve this life with pretty people, the elite, the private functions. I was destined to have this life all along.

He merely scoffs, rises, and walks toward me, and I don’t flinch as he towers over me. I give him this moment of control because I know with a blink of my eye I can make him squirm.

“Try not to kill anyone today, Mikey,” Xander says.

I smirk at him and head to the door, brushing past him. “I’ll do my best.”

“And whatever you’re doing, don’t get caught. There is only so much I can do to protect you. I know somewhere in that empty soul of yours you’re angry, but revenge comes in many forms. You don’t have to kill her; you don’t have to be a part of this.”

Lincoln skims to the surface—what’s left of him, anyway. And for a moment…one moment, my conscience kicks in. The rational part of my brain starts to buzz because I know he’s right. It would be easier not to kill her, to let Xander take what’s his.

But I’m not in love with Summer Landry; I’m obsessed with Summer Landry. And as long as she’s breathing, my urge to kill her will never cease. My desire to own her, love her, manipulate her will consume me until the day I die.

“Whatever I do with Summer Landry is none of your business,” I tell him. “I’ve marked her, so stay the fuck out of it, and I won’t interfere with what you have planned for Dani.”

The same pact we made when we found out about what the Order was. Who we both wanted from the start. Danielle Perri has no idea what she’s in for. She has no idea she caught Xander’s attention a long time ago.

“Enjoy that tight little blonde ass while you have her,” he calls after me.

I arch a brow, then face the door. “Oh, I plan on it.”

I let the double doors slam behind me.