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“That’s a lot of juice for a duster.”
This is the weirdest conversation ever. Maybe we’re being punked. It could be a local game that is played on all the curious, overly imaginative visitors who go sticking their noses into people’s homes.
“Exactly. Especially a young one like him. That’s why we have to be careful. He’s stronger than he looks. I barely made it away from him alive. Then he did something that landed me in that godforsaken hole. I will find him and—”
The words are cut short when the guy we followed gasps, and the blue suit guy called Liam whirls around to pale at whatever he sees. The part of the room they’re staring at is hidden from us.
“Who the hell are you?” Liam asks. “How did you get in here?”
Something clanks to the ground within their room, and Marilyn inches closer to me.
“You’ll find I’m immune to most lock-you-out spells,” a foreign voice says.
I swallow hard, trying to process his words. Spells? These people really do take that shit serious around here.
“What do you want?” Liam asks, backing up for some reason.
The guy we followed slowly moves toward the door, but before he can escape, a bloodcurdling scream erupts through the air. Marilyn jumps, and I clamp my hand over her mouth out of instinct before she can make a sound.
The man howls in pain, even though he seems frozen to his spot. My stomach lurches and my heart thuds in my ears when blood starts oozing from his eyes. His gaze locks on us, and blood starts spurting from his mouth as his body begins to convulse.
I look away, unable to keep watching, and Marilyn remains stone still beside me as a loud thud hits the ground and silence ensues.
“What the fuck do you want?” I hear Liam shout.
“I want you to sit down,” the other voice says.
I turn back just in time to see Liam struggling with air until his ass is finally planted onto a seat. He seems to be fighting with an unseen force, unable to move against it.
My eyes fall to the man on the ground who is bleeding from every orifice of
his face as he stares vacantly at the wall. Dead. He’s dead!
How…
“I don’t even know who the hell you are? What do you want?” Liam persists, still struggling in vain.
“I don’t know you either,” the voice tells him.
My heart slams into my chest when the guy walks into view, and I see the telltale scars on his face, along with the silver eyes. I swear Liam’s eyes ignite with flames, but I’m so far past delusional that I’m not sure.
“Then why are you doing this?” Liam pleads, sounding close to tears.
“A little because I can,” the scarred guy says with a dark, scary smirk. “But mostly because I want to.”
When Liam cries out in pain, the music in the room grows louder, as if to drown out the sounds. I watch in disbelief as a gash forms on Liam’s arm and runs down to his fingertips.
“Pretty fucking weak if it’s this easy,” the scarred man says, grinning as though he’s getting off on the torture. “Should have never come to Pine Shore.”
Liam screams this time, and I gag quietly as his chest starts to open up like an autopsy is being performed. The skin peels back, following the line of an invisible scalpel, and Marilyn faints. Fucking faints.
I curse silently, holding her up as I try to think of how to get us out of here. There’s no way I can drag her out.
More screams erupt, and a closet comes into view. That’s our only option. That and prayer.
“Don’t worry, Liam. You still have a little longer left to live,” the scarred man taunts, a twisted sense of humor causing him to laugh. “I plan on taking my time.”
My stomach roils, and I tuck us away in the closet, shivering and barely keeping from freaking out as a psychopath down the hall mauls and forces out screams from Liam.
