25. Sebastian #2
I knew she’d give in eventually, if not for curiosity alone. Slipping inside her room, I take a quick scan of the place. There are clothes piled everywhere, and it smells like a brothel.
I stop halfway down the short hallway before I get to the large living space. “After you.” I stand to the side, gesturing for her to take the lead. I’ll need to come at her from behind.
Wendy closes the door behind us and turns to face me, then walks past, letting the tips of her fingers glide across my front. The action is off-putting, and I want to bat her away.
“So, what—”
In one swift motion, I pop the cap off the syringe and quickly jab it into the back of her neck. Wendy’s legs give out, sending her to the ground. She’s mostly out of it but still semi-conscious and won’t remember anything.
Her limp body and mumbled sounds are all I get from her as I lift her up. It would be so easy to kill her right here. Poisoning them all would be a piece of fucking cake, but I can’t. I have to be a patient and strategic killer, and that’s not something I’m used to. I prefer to act on impulse.
The four-post bed slams into the wall as I toss Wendy onto the mattress. She’ll be out for hours after the dose I gave her.
“Did she flirt with you?” Stevie’s voice is tight in my ear, and I sort of like it.
“Jealous much?”
She laughs. “You wish.”
“Well, she’s out. On to the next.”
Hayden chimes, “Bob is the next closest room, then Harry, and lastly Dan.”
“We’re not drugging Silas?”
“Did you see how much he drank at that cocktail hour? That dude has probably passed out anyway by now.” I slip out of Wendy’s hotel room, making sure the door latches in a tight close behind me.
“Okay.” Stevie exhales. “How much longer do I have to stay in the room for?”
“Until everyone is knocked out.” I make my way down the hall to the north side of the chateau. “Hayden, are you guys still trailing Pete?”
“Yeah. He’s at a small art gallery downtown,” Hayden responds.
“Great. I need another half hour, then Stevie and I will be on our way to where he is,” I say as I approach Bob’s room.
“Okay, at Bob’s room.” I give them a heads-up to ensure no one speaks during this time.
Then I lower to the floor, grabbing the second capped syringe from inside my sock and slipping it into my pocket.
I knock a few times before he answers.
“The Dark Prince.” His raspy voice greets me as soon as he answers the door.
I smile. “Hi, Bob.”
“Come in.” He moves to the side. His friendly demeanor is like meeting an old friend.
I cautiously enter the space, my eyes darting around quickly. “Thank you.”
Bob walks over to the mid-century modern bar cart with a glass bottom and a full decanter of whiskey. “Drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Bob grabs a glass and pours one for himself. “I can’t take all this wine. I need my bourbon.”
“I understand.”
My eyes roam the room. The luggage rests behind a credenza, and the space appears undisturbed, as if unoccupied. A controlled killer, like my cousin. I imagine he leaves his crime scenes clean, free of any evidence. Bob might be more difficult to drug.
“So, what can I do for you?” He sits on the armchair of the couch, swirling the amber liquid in his hand.
I broaden my shoulders, standing only a few feet away from him. “I was wondering what your plan is for tonight? Annabel and I were thinking about heading downtown and wanted to know if we’d run into anyone from the group.”
An insignificant detail, but a killer who’s controlled like Bob would appreciate such a question.
“Good call. Do we pretend to not know each other?” he asks.
I’m going to need to drink some of his bourbon, or when he wakes up soon, he’ll remember I was here. But if I happened to “black out” too, then it would seem as though the drink was tainted. The hope is that after Pete disappears, they’ll assume it was him.
“On second thought, I’d love a glass,” I say.
Bob’s face lights up. “My man,” he says, then turns his back to me, but not before placing his glass on a painted blue end table.
I spring into action, taking this opportunity to attack him from behind.
With one quick jab into the side of his neck, I thrust the entire amount of Midazolam into his bloodstream. Bob is a larger guy, and I can’t take any chances, so he gets a heavier dose. His entire, almost three hundred pounds falls back on me.
“Fuck,” I groan as the wind is knocked out of me.
With all my strength, I drag him over to the couch, dropping his top half down first. Then bend to scoop up his legs and fling them over, too.
“Sorry, Bob, but I can’t let you take any lives tonight,” I say.
Yanking the rubber gloves from my back pocket, I quickly pull them on.
Bob’s half-empty glass needs to be dumped and rinsed out.
I’d rather leave no evidence I was here, so maybe he’ll think he imagined the entire exchange.
If not, then I’ll complain about getting sick, too, which will be the second plan, assuming he’ll believe the alcohol was tainted.
After I finish rinsing out the glass and placing it back on the rolling rack with a mirrored bottom.
“Sebastian,” Hayden’s loud in my ear.
“Bob is out.”
“Good, but we need to hurry because our friend Pete might be on the move.” Hayden’s hoarse voice cracks with slight panic.
“He’s leaving?”
“Not sure yet.”
My pulse increases. “Fuck. I still need to get to the next two killers, Dan and Harry.”
“You’re not going to have time for a friendly chat,” he demands. “You’ve got to get in and get the hell out.”
Taking one last sweep of the room, I sprint out the door. Quietly escaping and making sure it latches behind me, I move on to the next.
“On my way to Harry’s,” I breathe out while jogging down the hall.
This is what happens when I don’t plan out every detail.
But I’m a fucking animal and know how to get the job done.