16. We Hunt
16
WE HUNT
REMIEL
A siren wails through Vile House, and just as I glimpse Krypt’s deranged eyes, the power cuts off and darkness hides them from me. The red glow of an emergency light dims the space a moment later, and I tremble at the unknown.
“What’s happening?” I try to stand, but Krypt grabs my hand and wraps it around his cock. “What’s going on?”
Hoots and hollers come from deeper in the house, and a few human howls send chills up my spine. Things bang and doors slam, and Krypt grows impossibly harder in my hand. I try to ask again, but he grabs the back of my head and forces his cock down my throat until I’m suffocating while he comes. He doesn’t pull out until fear and a lack of oxygen make my eyes flutter, a second away from passing out.
I suck in air, gasping and gagging. “Krypt! What’s happening?”
“I brought you a surprise, Remiel,” he says, his voice once again jittery. “It’s time to make good on the first name on your list.”
Reeven Matterson. The leader of the Matter Cult. I gulp. “What do you mean?”
“No one enters Vile House unless they’re here to make a deal, and if they don’t, they never leave.” He grips my face in his hand. “And I just lured your cult leader straight to us.”
I’m too scared to look into his eyes, illuminated red from the emergency lights. “What do we do now?”
He laughs, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard the sound. It’s deep, prickly, and unhinged. “We hunt.”
Krypt does up his pants and throws off his shirt. His naked torso and Vile House tattoo make him demonic, but the blades he holds make him deranged. He puts on his purple mask, and no part of me wants to leave this bedroom with him. I’m a coward, because I’d rather hide in the closet than face the first name on my list.
“I don’t hunt, Krypt. Jesus! What is happening?”
“Put this on.” He puts it on for me, strapping a black mask to my face. When I look in the mirror, the stitched face of it basks in the red light, and when he pulls my hood up, my temperament changes. I become less afraid. Darker-minded. Gleefully contemptible. “No one in Vile House will touch you, but that doesn’t mean you're safe, Remiel. Never leave my side.”
Oh my god.
Krypt throws his bedroom door open, and different sounds rush at us. Chasing footsteps and wicked laughter. Banging doors and cries for mercy. Who else is here? Who else are they hunting? Who is my enemy tonight?
He takes my wrist and tugs me down the hall and stairs, leading me to a living room area I’ve never seen before. The dinner he fed me almost comes back up when I see nine more Vile Boys waiting in their masks. Others in black masks stand behind them, but more are already hunting the prey in the house, preventing them from leaving.
The blue mask guy with Krypt the night of my house fire laughs. The white-masked one barely prevents himself from pursuing. The teal mask moves from side to side without making a single sound. The pink one is brimming with energy, and the yellow one matches his vibe.
Tonight, the Vile Boys are sick and twisted, ready to be let loose inside their own house to complete my bargain. I asked for this. I made a deal for this. Which makes me their devil tonight. All ten of them are shirtless, and they turn around for me to look, to identify them. Granting me permission, I see their matching back tattoos. Their colours. Their names.
Seven. Orange. I’m fixing his guitar.
Monster. Yellow and agitated.
Riot, the one in white from the other night.
Menace, the one in blue. The one who took Cain…
Facts. Burnt copper. Twitching.
Ransom. The stoic one in red.
Kyd, the energetic one in pink.
Glitch, who is literally glitching with the need to chase something, his neon green mask tilting from side to side.
My brother. Ghost. The teal face of his mask warped into a disgusting smile.
And Krypt. My monster, who contains his own monsters. Tonight, he will willingly let his sickness shine, and I hate that a rush of adrenaline lights up inside me, excited to see the ten in their prime for the first time.
“Reeven Matterson!” Kyd shouts, following the name with a cackle so intense I shiver on the spot. “Where are youuuu?”
“Let me hunt, Krypt!” Monster demands. “Let me go! Set me loose!”
Ransom laughs behind his red mask, eyes on Monster.
“Hero?” Krypt asks, keeping my name to himself for now. The ten know who I am to him, but maybe the black masks don’t. “Bargain struck?”
A thrill pulses in time with my heart, quickening its tempo and rendering me unafraid. “Bargain met.”
The ten holler, jumping on the spot before stalking through the house, set free on my first target. My brother comes up behind me, joining Krypt at my back.
“Welcome to chaos, brother,” he says, then presses something against my palm. A knife. I don’t know how to use it, but I wrap my fingers around it.
And for the first time since I struck my deal with Krypt, the two of them act like the best friends they are. United in their minds and excited about something so ugly.
“I compromised,” Krypt whispers in my ear, his body lurking over mine. “You didn’t think they deserved to join another cult, so I brought them to Vile House. If we catch them, we’ll decide their fate.”
Matterson’s followers. He must have brought them here before we even had the conversation in his bedroom. That’s who has been screaming this whole time. The entire Matter Cult is here, and I have the power to wipe them out entirely. I’m thirsty for it.
I’m so fucking thirsty it terrifies me.
I press back against his bare chest, rubbing my ass on his still-hard cock. “Teach me how to hunt.”
He moans against my neck, the sound growly and pleased.
Vile House has turned into a madhouse.
With Krypt at my back and a knife in my hand, we stalk through the halls and act like gods. I’ve never felt powerful before, and without my Vile Boy behind me, I’m still not, but that doesn’t stop me from revelling in the audacity of this night.
The Matter Cult is here, and their terror is addicting. I understand why Gregory Malone haunts me now. Tonight, I get to be the death omen.
With screams and pleas for mercy echoing throughout the house, Krypt leads me through a series of connected patient rooms. The other nine are stalking the Matter Cult, but I have my sights set on Reeven Matterson himself. The man who trapped my family in his cult and has been punishing them ever since they broke free. The man who made me sacrifice my blood to him on my seventeenth birthday. The man who does nothing but scare and dictate his constituents and force them to do all his dirty work.
I’m out for his head.
“Bloodthirsty looks good on you, hero.” Krypt has already maimed three people. He didn’t even hesitate, just like when he threw that dagger at the Krampus. He slashed hard enough to draw blood, and snapped bones to create musical screams. But he hasn’t killed. Not yet. He says that will happen in the basement. “Listen,” he demands, lips by my temple and his bloody chest at my back. “What do you hear?”
I go completely still against him, tuning out the sound of my blood rushing to listen to the sounds of the house. Someone is running in the hallway to my right. Someone else is yelling about fairness from the upper floor. A few people are crying, sobbing quietly. A woman whispers about seeing an exit back that way. Thrashing bodies are being dragged down the basement stairs. Psychos are hunting. My morals are quiet, not telling me whether the entire cult deserves to live or die.
Krypt’s heart beats against my chest. Loud but unhurried.
A chair scrapes up ahead.
“There,” I whisper, feeling Krypt nod against the side of my head. “Matterson.”
“Fingers tight. Breath steady. Eyes open, Remiel.” He fixes my grip on the knife’s hilt. “Stalk him.”
I want to ask what to do with him once I catch him, but I bite my tongue. I don’t even know if I’m capable of that yet. On hushed feet, I step forward, following the almost silent sounds of Matterson sneaking through the house. I know it’s him because we’ve been following him for a while now, corralling him exactly where Krypt wants him to go, keeping him away from exits and ensuring he gets lost in the maze of Vile House. We’ve been scaring him, letting him think he can get away before yanking that hope out from under him time and time again.
On my own two feet with the knife in my hand, I walk through rows of chairs in the darkness, breathing through the mouth hole in my new mask. It’s a throwback to the night Matterson chased my family home and stalked us through my mom’s house. I was twenty-three then, but I’m a different Remiel Sauder now. Darker. Dirtier. Under the watchful eye of a chilling man in a purple mask.
Matterson uses the darkness of the theatre room to climb onto a small stage, slinking behind the podium at the head of the room. I watch the area, waiting to see if he’s going to appear on the other side of it. When he doesn’t, Krypt touches my shoulder. A quiet command.
He goes left, and I go right, approaching the podium from opposite sides to trap our prey. My heart pumps hard and my eyes narrow, focusing on his hiding place. When a blue glow appears from inside the platform’s concave back, Krypt’s mask looks at me again. We both stop.
Whispered and frantic, Matterson talks into his phone. “Get to the room with the stage! Get me the hell out of here, Jones.”
Calling his cult to his rescue won’t work. Not tonight. Especially when Krypt snatches the phone from his hand and puts it on speaker. Matterson screams, but the voice coming through the phone quiets him.
“Matterson? Help us! We’re in the basement, and they’re keeping us here. The fuck are you doing?!”
Reeven Matterson is nothing but a coward who relies solely on his following. He won’t save them, and they’re stupid for wishing for it.
“Krypt,” one of the Vile Boys says through the speakerphone. “Have fun.”
I’m grinning behind my mask, amped on adrenaline. This is the first time I’ve known what it feels like to be stronger, deadlier, more sinister than a cult leader, and I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, sparing me a quick look before focusing on Krypt. Krypt has the Vile mask, and I don’t, but that doesn’t make me less of a threat. I want to teach him that lesson. “Why are we here? What is going on?”
He sounds like me from a few hours ago.
I look at the purple-masked man who has done nothing but ruin my life. Krypt is twisted beyond recognition, daunting and harsh, but right now, he’s awaiting my order, like I hold the chains to whatever lives in his eyes. I nod at him, still grinning, and Krypt grabs Matterson from beneath the podium.
He screams, and I shiver in fondness for it. Oh my god, I’m sicker than I thought I was. When Krypt has him contained, a knife to his throat, he pushes him onto his knees and makes Matterson face me. I stand above him, just because I can, looking down at the man who stalked and murdered my mom’s side of the family. As I look at his tears, the tremble of his hands, and the pure panic in his eyes, I breathe it all in and allow myself this moment to feel as vile as the rest of the ten.
I sink down to eye level with Matterson, and with a final look at Krypt for permission, I lift my mask.
“Sauder,” Matterson gasps. “You! What is the purpose of this? You think you have what it takes to control me?” He thrashes in Krypt’s hold, but it doesn’t appear to be a challenge for my master.
“I think I have what it takes to kill you,” I tell him instead. It wasn’t a part of the deal I made with Krypt, but now that this disgusting cult leader is right in front of me, I want it to be. I want to take a life. I want to play the role of judge, jury, and executioner. I want to dole out justice and inflict the same damage upon him as he’s put on my family.
Virtue In Lives Exchanged… it’s the Vile House motto, and I want to play by its rules.
He laughs at my declaration, but Krypt shuts him up. “Look at him,” he snarls. “See his face. Look into the eyes of the man who will end your life.”
Matterson looks at me, seeing for the first time how crazed I’ve become. I let him see it all. I turn as destructive as I was the night I goaded Krypt into fucking me. When he shakes harder and the ground beneath him turns wet, I smile at him.
“Oh god,” he cries, his eyes shifting to something behind me.
I turn, finding my brother at my back. I never even heard his footsteps. His teal mask stares at Matterson, but his hand lands on my shoulder in support. Krypt tenses at the touch, but he allows me to have my moment. Crouching beside me, Ghost removes his mask, and Matterson stares in shock at the last two Sauder sons.
“You’re a Vile…” Matterson mutters. “Both of you?” He tries to look at Krypt, but he doesn’t allow it.
“Have you met my brother?” Ghost asks, his voice amused and entertained.
Krypt lifts his mask and looks at me, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Matterson is in his final six minutes, and Krypt has a question from before. So, I ask it this time.
“What are you thinking about, Reeven? In your moment of death?”
Krypt’s sick grin greets me, and I fucking love it.
“Is it regret? Is there a highlight reel of your life playing through your memories?” I lift the knife I’ve been holding and press it under his jaw, Krypt helping to keep him still. “What do you regret?”
“Nothing!” Matterson shouts. “Fucking nothing!”
I tilt my head at him and get a thrill out of using Krypt’s words again. “Pique my interest and I might let you live till sunrise.” Fuck, I’m gross. I’m gross to make a joke in a moment like this, especially when it refers to moments before Krypt assaulted me for the first time. Something is seriously wrong with me, but I’m too bloodthirsty to change at the moment.
“Six minutes,” Krypt says. “Just a drop in the time span of his life. Isn’t that right, Remiel?”
“I fucking hate that you two have murder jokes.” Ghost laughs hard. Harder than I’ve heard him laugh in a long time. It echoes through the theatre room and makes Matterson tremble. Ghost stands, giving me permission to lead this show. He steps up to Krypt’s side, forcing Matterson to focus on me and only me.
“What do you regret, Reeven Matterson? Your six minutes are ticking down.” I smile at him.
“Not killing you when I had the chance,” he spits at me.
“Remiel,” Krypt warns, coming to the end of his leash. “I can’t listen to him talk to you like that.”
I move the knife down to Matterson’s chest, trying to find a fleshy place between his ribs. “Right here?” I ask as Matterson thrashes in his hold.
Krypt’s fingers land on mine, steering the tip of my weapon to the right place before he angles my hand. “Hard and upward,” Krypt says. “Leave it in so he doesn’t die right away.”
“No!” Matterson begs. “I’ll leave Moros. You can have my following. I don’t care about any of them. You can take them, and I’ll leave and never come back.”
“It’s too late for that,” I snap at him. “You fucked with my family for too long. My turn to fuck with you.” I push the knife, and it’s harder than I thought it would be. I bring the heel of my other hand to the butt of the hilt, using it to help me push harder.
Matterson cries, screaming into the theatre room. I push harder, and Krypt keeps him from thrashing too much. Ghost’s hands land on Matterson’s shoulders, holding him steady as I murder him.
I’m murdering someone. Right now.
“More, hero.”
“Then leave it in,” Ghost adds.
I take a deep breath. This is monumental and will change me to my very core, but I’ve come too far to turn back now. The sickness is in me, and it’s festering away in the centre of my chest, filtering through my bloodstream and turning me vile.
With a final shove, I stare into Matterson’s eyes. They aren’t like Ophelia’s because he’s not close enough to death yet. The blade is keeping most of his blood inside, but the stickiness of his wound reaches my hand, and I lift my fingers to look at it. Crimson, made brighter because of the glowing red emergency lights, drips down my fingers and weaves into the creases of my skin. I’m numb to it, but buzzing with something.
“It’s regrets, isn’t it?” I ask Matterson. “That’s what I thought about when Krypt almost killed me.”
Ghost glares at his best friend.
“I thought about my brothers, my dad, and all the people you took from my mom. Are you thinking about your kids, Reeven? Are you thinking about your wives? How many of them have you failed? Are you thinking about how much better off they’ll be without you?” I hit the knife in his chest, driving it a little deeper. “Reeven Matterson, founder of the pathetic Matter Cult. You’re fucking nothing! You wanna know why?” I stand, shivering with need. Need for what? I don’t know. “Because I fucking made you nothing.”
“Fuck,” Krypt groans.
Ghost hauls Matterson to his feet, and then black masks are there to help carry the dying man to the basement. “You good?” Ghost asks, getting right in my face. I nod, looking past him to latch onto Krypt’s gaze. “You’re good,” Ghost says with a laugh. “Don’t take too long.”
With that, everyone leaves me alone with Krypt on the stage of a theatre room in an old asylum house. Unmasked and bloody, frenzied and broken, cracked in half but healing.
“Look at me,” Krypt demands, grabbing my chin and forcing my eyes to his. “Oh, fuck, Remiel.” He growls low in his throat. “This is what it feels like to not be the hero. This is death and energy. This is wickedness and goodness morphed into one fucked up feeling. Feel it,” he commands. “Fucking feel it.”
I am feeling it. I’m humming with it. Vibrating and ready to explode. It’s overwhelming and powerful, and no part of me wants to let it go. It’s a high I’ll never top and a sensation I’ll never replicate. It’s what makes a serial killer a serial killer, because nothing—fucking nothing—can top this euphoric haze of pure power.
“Are you powerful?” Krypt asks, voice jittery.
“Yes.”
“Are you deadly?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the hero?”
“My hero. My own hero.”
He hums under his breath, sinking into this feeling with me. He builds it, makes it stronger, taunts it and teases it until I’m damn near ready to explode with it.
Then he takes it all away.
“I’m the antihero,” he snarls at me. “And you’re still mine. Fucking feel this, Remiel.” He drops his hand to squeeze my throat.
“What?” I bark at him. “Feel what?”
Like a bad omen, he whispers, “Fear.”
The energy of everything changes, and dread suffocates me. My cock is unbearably hard.