Chapter Twelve #2
I roll my eyes. “Yes, because that’s what I’m known for, my patience.”
He gets out with a chuckle and comes around to open the door for me. He holds out his hand and helps me out, closing the door behind us, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
The land is flat, the grass sparse, and the trees that sit at the far end of the space look like they’re slowly dying.
Still, I let this man lead me out into the middle of nowhere, belatedly remembering my powers don’t work on him.
I want to pretend I’m not bothered. That I trust him not to hurt me, but the farther away from civilization we go, the more I feel my heart rate pick up, and my palms get damp.
He stops abruptly, turning to look at me with a frown. “Cece?”
I lift my head, trying to mask my expression, but I have a distinct feeling it’s irrelevant. He can feel my panic, dammit.
He pulls a gun from the back of his pants, making my mouth run dry. Before I can make a run for it, he points it at me, grip first. I look at him, unsure, before I reach for it.
“If I scare you or you feel threatened by me in any way, shoot me.”
“You’re crazy,” I whisper, but I wrap my hand around the grip anyway.
“Crazy about you.”
I take the gun, hating that I feel reassured having it. “How will this ever work with the threat of violence between us?”
“The threat of violence has always been between us. I put it there, even before that night. You saw me hurt Andy, saw me threaten the doc. I know you must have heard the rumors about me. I’m not a stable man.
It’s never bothered me before, having that label.
If anything, I played into it. But with you…
I want you to feel safe enough to sleep beside me without Riggs and Shepard there to protect you.
I want to be your first choice to call, occasionally. Not an afterthought.”
“You want to be able to take me for a midnight walk in a graveyard like a good serial killer without me thinking I’ll be your next victim.”
He looks at me, amused. “I wouldn’t say I’m a serial killer.”
“That’s alright, I can say it for both of us.”
He grins, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t have a manic edge to it.
“Well, the walking through the cemetery for a midnight stroll might come true if you play your cards right,” I offer.
“Okay, not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m game.”
“You’re such a werido.”
“Something tells me you like that about me.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
He chuckles before he stops and crouches down, tugging at a metal loop I missed earlier.
And then I get it, because I have a similar setup at the ranch.
A trapdoor opens, and Austin gestures for me to go ahead of him, so I do.
It’s dark, but there are emergency wall lights throughout, just enough light to illuminate the way so I don’t trip and break my neck.
It’s cold and damp down here. The little black dress I’m wearing does little to ward off the cold.
I feel Austin’s hand on my back, guiding me farther, and as the temperature drops lower, it feels like it’s burning a hole through my dress.
Eventually, the tunnel opens into a wider space.
In that space is Porter—chained to the wall by a heavy-looking shackle.
Blood slowly drips from his wrist, evidence of his struggle.
“Only one wrist? That’s risky, isn’t it? If it were me, I would probably chain him up by his wrists and ankles. Snakes have a tendency to slither away otherwise.”
Porter lifts his head, which almost seems too heavy for his shoulders, and glares at me. It doesn’t have the impact he was hoping for with the beating he’s taken.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Cece,” Austin muses, like I’m a cute five-year-old. All that’s missing is the pat on the head.
Now I’m the one glaring.
“What? I’m just saying, I’ve been doing this for a really long time, and nobody has gotten free yet. I think I’m good.”
“Said every complacent serial killer right before they got arrested.”
“Ye of little faith.”
I huff out a laugh, walk over to Austin’s guest and pull the gun from my pocket, pointing it at his forehead. “Hello, Daddy dearest. Did you miss me?”
He eyes me, but the hostility from before has been replaced with wariness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spits.
“If you say so, Porter. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Martin Hart’s grave was exhumed today, and guess who they didn’t find?”
Panic flashes behind his eyes, but he hides it swiftly. “That has nothing to do with me.”
“Right, right. Nothing a little DNA sample won’t clear right up. Austin, you wanna grab a sample for me, you know, just to be sure?”
“Of course.”
“You motherfucker.” Porter thrashes, but Austin doesn’t give a shit. “Do you even know who he is?” he yells at me.
“Of course I do. He’s mine.”
And with that, Austin blinds him with a proud smile before whipping out a wicked-looking knife that swiftly cuts Porter’s pinky finger from his hand like it was nothing
Porter screams as Austin holds it out to me.
“A hair would have worked. I really should have been more specific.” I sigh. I look at the finger and grimace. “Why don’t you keep hold of it for me?”
He shrugs before slipping it into his pocket.
I shake my head and turn back to Porter. “Well, I suppose we can just leave you here for a few days until the results come back.”
“A few days? Try for a few months. There is always a backlog,” Austin points out.
“True.” I pretend to contemplate it, but then shrug. “Oh well. If he dies, he dies. It’s not really any skin off my nose. The rats will take care of the worst of him anyway.” Not much scared my father, but for some reason, he had a bizarre fear of rats.
“No, wait. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Oh, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.”
“Calliope. This isn’t you.”
“How the fuck would you know what isn’t me?” I shove the gun back in my pocket before I hold my hand out and let sparks dance over it. Porter sucks in a deep breath, struggling against the shackle once more “Seems I’ve learned a lot of things since I’ve been away.”
“No. You can’t use your powers on me. They won’t work,” he tries calling my bluff.
“Hmm…well, they worked on Dale, so let’s test that theory.
” I zap him, not with the full force of my gift, just enough to sear through his shirt and into his skin.
He bellows in pain, which brings a smile to my face.
“Well, would you look at that?” I take a deep breath before blowing it out.
“Nothing beats the smell of burning flesh. Mmm… eau de traitor, my favorite.”
“But—”
“You might have had immunity from my mother’s powers, but not mine.
You probably still have some affinity to the land around the ranch.
I’ve noticed that sometimes the house knows you’re there, and others, it doesn’t notice you at all.
If it wasn’t for Austin, I might never have noticed.
The land doesn’t see him either. Maybe if Mom were still around, you’d be as undetectable as he is.
But yet again, you failed where he succeeded. ”
Austin eyes me, his tongue moving over his bottom lip as he watches me.