20. Stevie
CHAPTER TWENTY
STEVIE
“You look beautiful,” Sebastian says as I walk out of the bedroom.
Since we weren’t given a dress code for the tasting, I opted for a long dress and a light sweater in case it’s chilly in there.
Sebastian’s leaning against the wall by the door with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his pants. The sleeves on his black collared shirt are rolled up on both sides, revealing the barbed wire tattoos that snake up his forearms.
Why is this the first time I’ve seen the entirety of his tattoo? Damn.
I fight a blush, but my cheeks burn anyway. “So do you.”
“Tracker?” He glances toward my feet.
I lift my long dress to expose my ankles, showing him how it’s still securely in place.
Sebastian lowers to his knees in front of me, making my heart race, then his fingers gently slide along the gold chain, checking to make sure it’s on tightly. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing off the warmth pooling in my stomach.
“Looks good,” he exclaims and straightens.
I tilt my head upward to meet his dark eyes. “Great.”
“I was thinking they might want to get to know us better this time,” he begins. “We already have a story about us as a couple, but what about your killing style?”
He brings up an important question. One I was thinking about on the silent flight out here, but as the ideas flowed, I thought about Annabel and how she’s an alter ego. She’s a dangerous vixen—a nightmare in heels.
I blow out a breath, feeling surprisingly nervous about sharing with him the character traits I’ve come up with for Annabel Lee.
“Uh, well, I was thinking I’d be like some sort of sexy nightmare in heels?” My voice comes out low, lacking confidence. And it’s completely unlike me.
Sebastian smirks. “That checks out.”
I huff out a laugh to mask those stupid tiny flutters that are back.
“And how do you trap and kill your victims?” he presses for a more in-depth description.
I decide to let him in a little and give him the only other thing I was envisioning. “Annabel likes to seduce her victims, then play with them a little before stabbing them in the chest.”
“Define play.”
My hands sweat from being put on the spot because what if the Society also wants the gory details? Am I prepared for that?
“Some things will remain private to my process,” I answer more self-assuredly. “Or if I can’t come up with anything, I’ll play it off with our phrase, ‘the dead have heard enough,’ then you can step it.”
Sebastian’s smile grows from humor to appreciation. “Fair enough. I think that will shut them up quickly.”
I toy back and forth with my necklace. “Good.”
“I think it’s time to head down there.” Sebastian steps into me, his face only inches from mine. “Ready?”
I swallow hard and answer with conviction, even though my bones buzz with nerves. “As ready as I can be.”
“Do not leave my side,” Sebastian commands. “Not once.”
“I won’t.”
He turns on his heels and bounds toward the door, but not before grabbing my hand. He does it so naturally, and it feels good.
As Sebastian and I head into the hallway in search of the barrel room, my stomach is in knots.
The anticipation of what the night has in store for us is getting easier in some ways compared to the other events, but harder in others because the more involved we become with the Society, the riskier things get.
I replay possibilities of Annabel’s story in my mind multiple times, but I’m learning that I perform best when put on the spot.
Then I recall Sebastian never discussed the Dark Prince’s background or killing style with me. “What about the Dark Prince?”
“Did you forget what I am?” He shoots me a glance from the side. “I don’t need to pretend to be a serial killer, Stevie.” The tone of his voice grows deeper with each word, sending chills up my spine. “I am one.”
My hand automatically tightens around his. I’m not sure if it’s from the reminder of his nighttime activities or from the unsettling nature of how his demeanor changed so quickly.
“Yes, I know,” I say. “Just wasn’t sure if you would change up your MO or not.”
“No, my method of operating will not change.”
We attempt to casually stroll around the main level of the chateau—passing what appears to be a dated drawing room, study, and conservatory—although there’s an urgency in our footing. My eyes scan the ornate space, taking in the high tray ceilings and monochromatic textures.
“Why does this place remind me of a life-size version of the game Clue, but with a French twist?” Sebastian mutters as we approach a sign that states Barrel Room with an arrow pointing toward two large wooden doors, with one left ajar, inviting us into the dungeon.
I chuckle quietly into the palm of my hand. “It totally does.”
“But the difference here is that we know who all the killers are.”
We share another quick chuckle before we approach the doors. “I guess this is it?”
Sebastian steps in front of me, blocking me from the entrance. “Follow behind me.”
I do as he says, letting him lead me into a chilled stone room. As we round the corner, I spot a group of men and one woman sitting around a distressed wooden table.
Sebastian’s shoulders square on high alert. He’s activated his protective mode, which intrigues me because he does it as if it’s second nature to him. Does he know how to be anything else?
I’m also surprised none of the members are hiding behind masks again. The juxtaposition of what looks to be a group of friends meeting in wine country for a romantic weekend against what are serial killers coming to convene—or brag, maybe, about their kills.
“Ah, our new lovers!” Silas rises from his chair and walks over to greet us.
Candelabras line the dimly lit room, giving the space a low orange hue as Sebastian clutches my hand, keeping me close at his side. Under other circumstances, it would be quite romantic here.
“Hello,” Sebastian greets, extending a free hand to shake Silas’s.
Then Silas turns to me. “You are looking beautiful, Ms. Annabel Lee.” A stark contrast in demeanor to the last couple of times we’ve met. Is the formality gone at this point?
I smile in return, but remain silent, trying to gauge the energy in the room or why things have suddenly shifted.
Sebastian steps in to respond on my behalf. “She’s good. A little fatigued from the flight.”
“Wonderful,” Silas says. “I hope your accommodations are comfortable.”
“Yes, they’re great. It’s a beautiful property,” Sebastian replies, glancing at the group sitting around the table.
Silas senses his distance. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from getting to know the other members.” He gestures to the two empty chairs at the end of the table.
Sebastian leads me to the others, positioning himself between me and the older man in the black hat. On the table in front of each one of us is a set of four wineglasses, one champagne flute, and a small plate. A wine tasting?
From the corner of my eye, I spot Silas walk to the head of the table. Sebastian wraps his arm around the back of my chair like protection, and I have to fight the urge to lean into it. Because if I’m one of them, why would I need protection?
“Thank you all for being here,” Silas speaks, and the room falls silent.
Everyone turns their focus to him as he stands in front of us, commanding our attention.
“Every two years, different chapters of the Black Veil Society all over the country get together to build community, partnerships, and more importantly, protect its members.”
Chapters? Protection? Sebastian must have caught the words as well, because his hand is suddenly on my thigh, squeezing gently. I acknowledge him the only way I can at this moment—by resting mine on top of his and returning the gesture.
“Killing season is our time to celebrate being masters of the universe. But also to share with each other personal methods and what drives each kill.” The table erupts in applause, and I immediately jump into action, bringing my hands together to mirror their energetic response. Sebastian does the same.
“Yes, we’re all grateful to be back after we were forced to pause our past killing seasons by outside forces.
” He cocks his head, implying everyone at the table knows what he’s referring to.
“These next two days, you will be encouraged to get to know each other, share stories, and bond over what type of hunger lives inside you. Then you’ll have one night in this small, unsuspecting town to do what you wish, if you so choose, before we reconvene at breakfast the next day and then head back to Seattle for the next event in this year’s killing season. ”
Do what you wish…
My mind spins with every other meaning that phrase could suggest, but I know better.
Silas returns to the head of the table when a couple of waiters enter the room carrying bottles of bubbly beverages in their hands. They walk around the table slowly, filling up each one of our glasses.
My eyes dart to Sebastian. His head shakes slowly, reminding me not to drink from the already opened bottle.
“Now,” Silas continues. “Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves, as some of you have been here for many years, while others are only attending their second or third killing season with us.” Then he turns to Sebastian and me with a devilish smile. “Or your first.”
I take in a sharp breath, anxiously awaiting their responses.
From two seats away, a tall man with chestnut hair stands.
“I guess I’ll start,” he says. I lean around Sebastian to get a good look at him.
The man looks our age. “I’m Pete. Or what I’m better known in local media circles as—The Poisoner.
I’m from Illinois and enjoy luring women from clubs back to my hotel room and, to state the obvious, poison my victims. Some have said that’s the easy way out, but I don’t like to hear them scream.
” His eyes blacken. “I’d rather listen closely as they take their last breath while ravaging their lifeless bodies. ”
Oh my fucking god.