20. Seraphina
20
SERAPHINA
“RETURN OF THE MONSTER”
I place the phone down, then head to the couch, never taking my eye off my bedroom door. I sit with my back to the front door, barely blinking for the whole ten minutes it takes Orion to get here. When he does, I throw myself from the couch, stumbling in my haste to open the front door.
I wrench it open, having to jut my chin up, up, up to look Orion in the face. His eyes are piercing in the shadows of the hallway, day-old stubble covering his jaw and adding to his attractiveness.
“Brandy. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.” His smile is teasing, and I can’t help the flush it brings to my face. I step to the side to let him inside, his signature scent of smoke and cedar invading my nostrils, giving me a head high.
“Thank you so much again. I’m sure it’s nothing, I just needed someone to check it out,” I say, hating the way my voice comes out all husky. Keep it in your pants, Seraphina. He’s here to make sure no one murders you in your sleep, not to shove his parsnip in your fairy garden.
I shake off that last disturbing thought as I follow him into the kitchen, my eyes tracking the corded muscles along his back and arms, at the way they strain against his thin black tee shirt with each slight movement. I wonder what it would be like to run my tongue across his ? —
“Did you happen to see the intruder?” He interrupts my indecent thoughts as he gazes around the kitchen.
“Um, no.” I wring my hands together as I look toward my bedroom door. “I just… heard something. Like a scraping or tapping noise…” Orion raises a brow, and heat creeps up the back of my neck as I realize how ridiculous it sounds aloud. I can practically hear the question in his mind: you called me over because you heard a noise? Really?
But to my surprise, he doesn’t say anything of the sort. His face fixes into a deadly serious expression, eyes thinning and scanning the room for threats. Without a word, he takes off in the direction of Maggie’s room.
”That’s my roommate’s room!” I whisper-shout, racing after him as he wraps his hand around the handle. “I already checked it, but?—”
The man barges in, doing a swift sweep of the closet and bathroom like I had earlier. Miraculously, Maggie sleeps through all his rude clomping, only occasionally opening her mouth to let loose a mighty snore.
When Orion is satisfied, he hastens from the room, closing the door silently behind him. Still not looking at me, he heads into my room and does the same thing, not even questioning why the door had been locked.
He comes out a few minutes later, a deep scowl etched on his face.
“What?”
“When did you say you first heard the noises?”
“Around 2:30.” A blush creeps up my neck at the intensity of his stare. “Why?”
“And have you been… drinking tonight?” he asks, completely ignoring my last question.
What the fuck? “Are you trying to insinuate that I’m making up someone breaking into my house?”
“It wouldn’t be the craziest thing a woman did to get me into a room with her.”
My veins flare with anger, and I have to dig my fingernails into my palms until I draw blood to stop myself from kneeing him where the sun doesn't shine. “I think you should leave now.”
Orion shrugs nonchalantly, though the aura pulsing from his shoulders deepens to a swirling black hue. “Well, I didn’t see any signs of a break-in. If you heard anything, it was likely some old pipes settling.”
“You think?” My voice shakes, but if Orion notices, he doesn’t mention it.
“I’m positive.” The smile spreading across his face is the same one he gave me that night in the bar, and like that night, I’m deeply unsettled by the sight. Something so beautiful shouldn’t be so… sinister. Should it?
Orion makes for the door, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his gray sweats. “Well, call me if anything else happens. Or if you just need someone to keep you company.”
I’m about to tell him I have Maggie for that, but before I get the chance, he slides out of the front door, snapping it closed behind him. I stare at the closed door for several minutes, trying to convince my heart to cease its wild thrumming.
It does me no good.
With a sigh, I trudge into my bedroom, checking once more beneath my bed for good measure. A prickle of anxiety runs the length of my spine as I climb under the covers, and though I try for several minutes to get comfortable, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone in this room.
This is ridiculous. I was going to be the next Madam. If there is an intruder, he has far more reason to be scared of me than I of him.
With that thought, I forcefully shut my eyes and focus on getting some much-needed rest. My dagger clenched tightly in my palm beneath the sheets. I’m just about to slip into nothingness when I hear it—not the gentle tapping from earlier, or even that awful scraping—something far worse than the two combined.
Whistling.
In the night, little doves take flight,
Silver wings soft as fading light.
Once they trilled a gentle song,
But in the dark, their calls feel wrong.
‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,
For the doves have found their rightful home,
In the night, little doves take flight,
Silver wings shining in moonlight
Once they trilled a gentle song,
Now a warning as shadows grow long.
‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you roam,
For the devil has taken his rightful throne.
Little doves with wings of ghostly gray,
They sit from their perch—watch the living fade away.
‘O wide-eyed lovers, don’t you cry.
Do not linger, or you will die.
When the doves begin to sigh,
It’s time to say your last goodbye.
As the tune comes to a close, I stand from shaking legs, my fist a vice around my dagger as I walk toward the closet—toward the origin of that horrible sound. As I reach out, the song starts from the beginning, and I nearly lose my nerve.
Taking a deep breath, I throw open the door, my dagger raised high and ready to slash whatever sick fuck is hanging out in my closet.
Only, there’s no one inside.
Instead, a black flip phone lies on the ground, its screen lit up like a beacon as it vibrates, screaming the tune from its speakers as someone calls it over, and over, and over.
When I realize the whistling is just a recorded ringtone, some of my anxiety falls away. But it’s only for a moment.
Because this means someone was in my apartment. It means I’m not crazy—the noises were real. And if they were real…
I stoop, snatching the phone and answering before I have the sense to think it over. I wait for the person on the other side to speak, but there’s nothing on the other end besides some creepy, heavy breathing.
“Hello?” My heart threatens to burst from my chest. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Nothing.
“I’m going to hang up if you don’t say something.”
Still nothing.
I sigh, about to pull the phone from my ear when the bone-chilling voice shakes from the speakers.
“ There’s a monster under the bed. ”
I hang up so fast my thumb cramps. Swallowing hard, I back up from the closet, not even realizing when my calves hit the bed frame. And then I’m reminded what the creepy voice said—that there’s a monster beneath the bed.
I cringe, holding on to my dagger for dear life as I wait for a pair of hands to reach out and snatch my ankles. When nothing happens, I crouch down, every cell in my body screaming that I definitely, under no circumstances, want to look under the bed.
My breathing picks up pace as I press my cheek to the floor, searching the shadows for anything out of place. At first, I don’t see anything.
But then my eyes adjust to the dark, and I see him.
The man in the plague mask.
I’m too shocked to move for a moment. He’s not doing anything—just lying on his stomach, chin resting comfortably on interwoven fingers— staring at me. If I wasn’t so damn terrified, I might describe the sight as adorable. But I am, and it’s not—not when I don’t know who this is or what their intentions are.
Gaining my bearings, I rush forward with my dagger, aiming where the intruder's artery should be. Somehow, he anticipates the attack and moves back just in time. The blade swipes the air, and I fall forward onto my face with the force of my attack, giving the intruder several precious moments to escape from under the bed.
I scramble to my feet, but by the time I do, he’s already at the front door. I get one look of his mocking wave before he slips away—having enough decency to close the door softly before he makes his great escape.
Though it’s useless, I launch my dagger at the door, a scream of rage trying to claw up my throat. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I try to steady my breathing, concentrating on pushing the rage deep down where it can’t harm anyone. Where it can’t harm me.
For a few moments, I just stare at the door the masked man slipped out, racking my brain trying to figure out how he got in and evaded not just me, but Orion searching the apartment.
I contemplate calling Orion again, only to shove the thought from my mind as soon as it comes. He already thought I was crazy and just hearing noises. Now that the intruder is gone, and there’s no evidence, he’ll no doubt conclude I’m some crazy coot.
He’ll never take me seriously again.
Shaking my head, I move to the front door and lock it tight, triple checking the stupid thing even though I know in the back of my mind he didn’t get in through there. With anxiety pricking the back of my neck, I head back to my bed, crawling under the covers yet again.
The only thing that gives me comfort is the fact that I survived the Sanctum. And if I can live through that, I can handle some creepy stalker in a plague mask trying to get his rocks off by scaring me.
I fall asleep with the dagger in my hand all the same.