Chapter 39
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
SUMMER
A s I leave the house, I pause by Dani’s door. It’s quiet in her room and the lights are off. She’s gone for the night. I resist the temptation of leaving her a note under her door, knowing this might be the last time I see her.
So I grab my phone and order a ride just to the edge of town. The scent of frost is in the air as my breath swirls in front of me, the light crystals making everything glow. The driver swerves through the dark until he reaches trees and roads I barely recognize.
“You can drop me off here,” I tell the driver, and I wrap the hood of my coat over my head.
He shrugs and says in his strong Northeastern accent, “You sure? There’s nothing out here.”
“I’m sure. Thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” he says and idles the car, waiting for me to leave.
I pause for a moment before exiting, resting my hand on the door handle. “Have you lived here long?”
He shrugs and peers at me through the rearview mirror. “Long enough. Why are you asking?”
I open the door. “I think you know why.”
He turns and faces me as I have one foot out. “If you’re concerned about dying, ma’am, then why are you asking to be left in the middle of nowhere where that football player got hacked up?”
I shudder despite myself. Good point.
I don’t respond as I leave the car, shutting the door and he peels out. I’m met with a frosty fall wind, so I wrap my arms around myself, wondering if I am indeed walking to my death.
I walk through the tall grass, and around the dead trees toward the abandoned Fresh Mart . Suffocating silence presses in on me.
I take the small path using my cellphone for light and shuffle toward where I think the warehouse is. My footsteps crunch on the fall foliage. A hint of something is burning nearby. Smoke. Definitely smoke. But it’s sweet, like the candles Lincoln burns in his bedroom. My chest tightens as the scent lingers.
I approach the warehouse, and its darkness and eerie silence pull me in. I snicker to myself, no longer caring how crazy I must look.
This is the epitome of cliché, which is why Mikael drew me here, so he can chase me into darkness. But I refuse to run, especially from him.
My footfalls barely make any noise as I creep to the warehouse door. My last memory of this place was different. The number of people in this building was suffocating. However, now in the vast emptiness of the room, I can hardly breathe.
I’ve never been so fucking scared.
The door opens easily enough, and more inky darkness greets me. I nearly trip, and as I find my footing, and something catches my eye on the ground beneath me.
A burlap mask.
Those dark, dead holes for eyes staring up at me from the floor.
I lean down and pick it up, pinching the fabric between my fingers before I pull it over my face. A flicker of excitement shoots through me.
Okay, Shadowface. I’ll play.
I can’t explain why the mask gives me power. Like somehow it evens the playing field between us. Like perhaps, in some way, it will protect me.
It is, after all, my birthright and not his.
I slow my breathing as I creep to the center of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible.
He’s here, watching me. His malevolent presence tickles all my senses.
“Mikael,” I say in a hushed whisper, as if there could be anyone else waiting for me on the other side of this darkness. “Are you here? ”
Deathly silence greets me, as if he’s creating a black hole in this room, sucking anything that’s good and holy out of it.
A whimper sounds from the corner, and I turn toward the small flickering lights.
Lincoln’s scented candles—at least ten of them—surround a body on the ground.
Misty’s tied up in the corner. Her hands are bound behind her back, her pretty face smashed to the ground, but otherwise, she looks untouched.
“Misty,” I hiss and rush over, moving her face away from the dirty floor and check over her body. Her eyes grow wide when she sees my mask. I pull off my jacket and drape it over her, covering her, leaving me exposed.
“I won’t hurt you,” I reassure her, trying to speak softly as I assist her to her feet.
Her fingers find my hair. “Summer? Is that you?”
My hair… Why does everyone recognize me because of my hair?
It’s then I sense him, like an otherworldly god-like presence sifting into the room, snaking around my heart. The ancient presence manifested into the body of my boyfriend.
Piano music wafts down from a hidden speaker, and he’s standing a mere ten feet away, hiding in the shadows of the room. A stream of moonlight from a nearby window hits him. He says nothing—he’s contemplative and quiet.
The vision of him takes my breath away. He’s never looked so sexy in his tight black shirt, and I have a senseless urge to bare it all for him and let him stab me.
Instead, the rational part of my brain takes over. My conscience kicks in—the one I need to prove to myself that I have.
“Let her go,” I tell him, rising to my feet to face him. “She’s not part of this.”
He tilts his head, and then I notice his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief as they reflect in the candlelight.
Those glasses…it must be him.
I blow out a breath and take one slow, cautious step toward him. “Lincoln? Is that you?”
I narrow my eyes as he slowly and methodically grabs his glasses and pulls them into his right hand. His motions are so calm and composed. “You have to run, Summer.”
My flesh crawls. “Lincoln, don’t leave me again, please. You have to face him. I can help you work through this.”
He reaches out and grabs my shoulders. “Summer…it’s too late for me. You need to listen to me and run.”
I set my jaw and shake my head. “I don’t want to run. I miss you so much.”
His eyes look pained and listless. “I’m telling you to fucking run, baby.”
“Why?” I sob, digging my heels in.
His body goes lucid, his breath shallow, as if he’s disintegrating in front of me. “Because he’s here…and he’ll kill you if you don’t.”
Suddenly, he’s not Lincoln any longer. In a flash, his head jolts, and those flickering eyes greet me.
Fuck.
I retreat a couple of steps, and my breath turns raspy. “Mikael?” I whisper. “Please tell me that’s you.”
I can handle Mikael. I can reason with Mikael…I think. But whoever this is?—
He slowly shakes his head and squeezes his hand, breaking the glasses, gripping them so tightly they turn into a little ball of glass and wire in his gloved hand.
Pure hatred spews out of him like the devil. He drops all but one sharp piece of glass, which clanks on the floor, and he holds it between his thumb and index finger.
I have witnessed the precision and skill of those fingers that hold sharp objects. My terror outweighs any lust or love I’ve ever known. My skin burns as he takes a few steps closer, his body tense and rigid.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“You know what I am.” His voice is raspy and mean, and I don’t like it.
This isn’t a person, this isn’t a god, or whatever he wants to refer to himself. He is nothing more than a primal emotion.
One. Primal. Feeling.
He’s a fragment…he’s not real.
He is hate —and he hates me.
I remain resolute and dig my heels into the ground. I need to reignite that love within him. It is the key to his sanity and the force that keeps him together.
I give him a flat stare. “I don’t know what you are. This isn’t you.”
As much as he hates me, he hates the people that created him more, for what they took from him. And I hate them, too.
Hatred and love, both possess the power to bring people together.
With a deep breath, my chest rises and falls rapidly as he looms over me, his gaze fixed downward. These are the eyes of everything that poisoned his mind.
I’m mesmerized by him. His lips are twisted and quirked in a way I’ve never seen before. He’s biting his lip, as if he wants to consume me. My life passes before my eyes, yet I remain frozen.
He’s here, fully here, and I’m not ready for him.
He plays with a lock of my hair and moves the glass down my neck. I swallow and sense the sharp edge as he slides it down.
Lower.
Lower.
Lower.
All the way down my belly so it’s in line with my pussy.
He drags off my mask and I open my mouth to say something, but he grabs my chin and rubs his finger over my lips.
“Don’t fucking talk, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Don’t fucking speak unless I tell you to speak, and maybe you’ll live through this.”
Mikael…this sounds like Mikael.
Our lips meet and I kiss him, slipping my tongue inside his mouth. I cup his face and move his hand over my breast. I moan, aware of Misty in the corner, staring at us.
He leans down and pulls my legs from underneath me, and we smash back into the wall with the weight of his body on top of me. My legs wrap around him and his dick presses right into my center. My body rolls into him as I find his lips again, and his body softens as I play with his tongue with mine.
Kiss him, just keep kissing him. Help him through whatever he’s going through. I’ll show him that my body and soul belong to him. We kiss, and he keeps pressing himself harder into me.
Harder.
Harder.
Harder.
I let out a squeak as I open myself to the mind of pure evil. My breath lengthens and I deepen my kiss as it seems to be working. Whatever he’s going through, I’m his cure, I know it. I’ll draw out whatever evil he has in him and bring it into me.
He’s been through enough.
Misty starts to cry beside us, sniffling like an idiot and catching his attention. He pulls his lips off me and his eyes draw over to her. They change again to that flickering god—the hatred inside him once again spewing out.
I pull him back to me. “Mikael, don’t do this,” I whisper, running my hands down the side of his body. “Let her go. You don’t have to kill her. You can have me, all of me, okay?”
His attention refocuses on me, and he looks down with a tenderness I can almost define as love. His dark hair gleams against his pale skin, his eyes flickering.
“I don’t want to kill her, Summer.” His voice is low and guttural. All his energy radiates off him as if he’s about to burst at the seams.
He moves his hands to my waist and runs his tongue along his teeth, placing a piece of glass in my hand.
He’s breathless, watching me hold the glass, and leans close to my ear, teasing my lips. “I want you to kill her, pretty girl.”
He moves back from me, one slow step after another. Watching me, waiting, his eyes twitching. “That’s why I took her. So we can give them her body, and we can finally be together.”
I shift my gaze to Misty, who’s gone wholly still. Her eyes are wide and red, almost like they’re bleeding. I stare back at Mikael, who is watching me. His face is truly neutral, and for a moment, it’s like I’m watching Lincoln.
Then…he pounces.
And I fucking run…