11. A Matter of Perspective
A Matter of Perspective
That goddamned promise.
He had stood in front of her door that first night. Fully intending to solve the problem before it grew roots. Listening to her breathing. Awake, tense.
If anything she had deserved a painless end. And if need be, he could still do that.
Blood dripped onto the floor. Raising his index finger and thumb to his nose assured him it was still in its original place. Surprising.
A swift turn into the kitchen, paper towel to staunch the bleeding and… another piece to bind the wound on his finger.
Dios mio. This girl is akin to a feral cat.
Shame for her, he kept himself in tip-top shape. She would need to get creative to get out of here, but he didn’t doubt for a second that he had a fighter in front of him.
And that boded problems.
He opened the door with a flourish. A young postman stood behind it, with a wide-toothed smile on his boyish face. The youth’s mouth fell open for a moment, closing with an audible click.
Lucien lowered his voice gently, “Might I ask what you’re here for?”
“Oh y-yes o-of course. Sorry, sir.” He ruffled through a bunch of letters. “Are you Lucien Alexander Evans?”
“I am indeed. And you are?” He trailed off.
The boy went with a hand through his hair. “Oh, sorry, my name is Mick. I’m B-Barry, his replacement.”
He’d gotten used to it, of course, the grovelling. It wasn’t their intention, and it sure made his job one hell of a lot easier. But it still… remained… awkward. Useful, but intense.
Lucien forced enthusiasm to coat his words. “Aha! I did catch word of his retirement, how is he doing?”
“Last I heard he’s doing good! Settling in well.” Mick motioned with a hand to the house. “What was all that racket about?”
“Oh that.” Lucien waved his injured hand around, deep red sinking through the paper. “I picked up another stray. He’s got actual bark and bite!”
Mick snickered. “I heard you tend to help animals off the streets. I thought they were rumors though! Thought the shelter would keep you busy enough!”
The boy handed him a letter. Evans, his last name painted the letter in familiar swirling writing. “I’ll get out of your hair, sir! My mum won’t believe I know where you live!”
Lucien’s finger raised in front of his mouth. “Shhh, do I need to worry about stalkers?”
Mick’s cheeks paled. “Oh no, sir, of course not!”
He sent the kid a wink. “Just teasing you lad. I know you’ll guard my address with your life right?”
Mick mock saluted before dashing off the steps.
Problem solved.
One of them that is. He shut the door with an ankle, the parchment stiff between his fingers.
At this rate, the poison could still finish the deed for him.
His bet was that Kate hadn’t even noticed it herself yet. Fear masking the bodily sensations she was facing. The hand bracing against a chair to get up, the rubbing over her legs for circulation, her heart must be pounding. Fighting what he had given all six of them.
Five dead. One living. An anomaly.
If only she knew.
So the waiting game it was. Even though he should have finished it when she went still in his hold on Christmas. The thrashing mere seconds before, even her nails had been a final declaration of no. She wouldn’t admit defeat…
It would have been so easy. Much easier than the shitstorm he would find himself in if they found out. But he had loosened his grip, watched as the color flushed her cheeks once more.
There were those who had crossed certain lines.
Lines that Lucien felt were drawn into the sand.
Those, he sometimes liked to take his time with.
Children and animals, on the other hand.
Off the hook. Fixing his transgression with Kate could prove difficult though.
She had survived the hit. Not knowing why could make the possibility of ending her life… that much more inhumane.
That goddamned promise would be… complicating things.
A word is a word after all.
Same went for the DNA that hid beneath her fingers. If it had been anyone else, he would have simply… deleted that trace. God knew he had his ways for that. But desecrating her in that way. If anything, he admired the strength behind her ice blue eyes, the defiance running through her veins.
If his artistic side won out on a particular moonlit night, he’d say she was like the black rose he’d given her, beautiful but dangerous, lively but raised in darkness. And prickly like the thorn that had dug into her fingers. Very prickly.
Good thing he’d learned to deal with pain a long, long time ago. If he hadn’t, the black rose might have escaped during their first encounter.
Striding over to the music installation, he turned the knob down. The voices of the artists now floating through the house. Like the ghosts of his past whispering to him. It was better than silence.
His feet padded over the hallway, stopping at her door. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his expression into one of neutrality before pushing the handle down.
Katherine sat on the bed, legs curled up against her chin. Looking for all her strength, all her defiance, like a woman close to giving up. But those eyes… gleamed in the evening light.
He ignored the silent stab in his heart. Choosing to lean against the doorway. Kate lifted her head, her dark brown hair falling past her shoulders. Sending him a look that would make any lesser man shift in place.
“Ghost. Free.” His trusted companion glanced between him and Kate. Tail thumping on the floor in sync with his heart.
Sorry, buddy.
Shooting his loyal dog a silent wink, Ghost left the room, his tail dragging behind him.
He understood. Ghost had been on a highway to becoming friends with the girl he would have to kill at some point. Animals, they carried more empathy than humans. More than Lucien harbored in his heart.
Kate’s hand supported her shoulder.
“Let me check out that arm.” The words slipped from his lips. Uninvited.
Her head snapped up. Confusion plain. “No, thank you.”
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” Pain had never been part of the plan.
She huffed. “Yeah well, you did.”
Silence fell between them.
But then she broke it, voice breaking alongside it. “I don’t fucking get it. What am I even doing here?”
If only I knew.
“Why not just be done with me?” A sob wrecked her composure. He witnessed how she fought against it. Teeth grinding over each other to force it back down. Down where she buried all the rest.
“I can’t constantly watch my back, waiting for you to take your chance.”
Lucien sighed. This… this was the reason he should have ended it.
“Don’t give up on yourself just yet.”
“What?” Disbelief framed her pale face. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
He shouldn’t have.
“The way you fight back. It’s…” He shook his head. Letting that part go unsaid. “But your body is tired. The poison is still coursing through your veins. Give it some rest before shooting your shot again.” He still had a conscience left. Broken in pieces and floating around. But it existed.
How could he snuff out the candle of her fight, just like that?
Still, she clenched her knees tightly. But her eyebrow was raised, curious. Good.
He smirked. “If there is anyone here who needs to look out, it’s me.”
Kate’s shoulders shook. For a second he feared she was crying again. Instead, gritty laughter escaped her.
I’m slipping into madness. There is no other explanation. Seems she’s right there with me, though.
“Please get out.” She rested her face in her hands.
“Let me help you first. Please.”
She peeked through her hands, a strange glint in her eyes. Almost… hopeful. “Fine. But don’t try anything funny.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She allowed him closer. It was a start.
He stepped deeper in her room. Feeling like he was trespassing into her space. It was his house for goodness sake.
Lucien pulled the chair up to her bed. Careful not to touch anywhere else, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.
He breathed a sigh. Probing for damage. Kate winced… that was the spot.
“Can you lift your arm for me?”
She did. He frowned while rotating her arm, blocked a bit. Shoulders, such fragile joints.
“Chances are you’ll get some swelling. It’ll be difficult to use your shoulder for a couple of days. But it won’t last long.”
Their faces met, her breath tickling his aching nose. “Sorry.” It needed to be said. Even though she’d made him bleed. Twice.
Her hand clenched over his forearm, pulling him firmly toward her until he was half leaning over the bed. She pulled him even closer, whispering. “I will escape… you.”
Lucien pried her fingers off of him, fighting back the urge to jerk back from her. “I believe you.”
That goddamned promise.