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CHAPTERTWENTY
Iglance at my watch. It reads 5:31 pm. That means it has taken us exactly twenty minutes to ride from NOLA to Norco. I glance at the desolate cabin surrounded by dense woods where we’re supposed to meet Hunter Gilles. I glance at Pocus, who’s currently scanning the environment, a hand resting lightly on the pistol in the holster around his waist.
“You’re sure about the address, Prez?” I ask, hesitantly glancing at the rundown house with peeling red paint. “Doesn’t look like anyone can live here.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Pocus says, already headed toward the front door. I throw one last suspicious glance around before following behind him.
I smelled the blood right before we walked in on the messy scene inside the house.
“What the….” I trail off, gaping in disbelief at the dead man, half lying on the long brown couch in the living room area with a fork sprouting out of his beefy neck. His face is frozen in surprise. And to top it off, I’ve never seen anyone caught more literally with their pants down. The guy’s dick is hanging out of his pants like a wet sock.
“I guess that’s Hunter Gilles,” I say, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.
“And this is his bitch,” Pocus says, gesturing at the thin blonde woman lying on the ground with a gaping bullet hole in her forehead.
I look around the room and freeze in my tracks as my eyes fall on the bloody letters on the opposite wall. The letters read, ‘THE ANGEL OF DEATH WATCHES OVER YOU,’ followed by a perfect drawing of two eyes.
“Edward,” I gasp softly. “He was here.”
“And it seems like we just missed him,” Pocus says, coming to stand beside me. “Their bodies are still warm. They couldn’t have been dead for over ten minutes.”
“Fuck!” I muttered under my breath. My chest suddenly feels tight, and I can’t breathe. I close my eyes, struggling not to get pulled down into the wave of emotions – anger, dread, regret, and guilt bearing down on me. These two are dead because of me.
Just a couple more dead bodies on my conscience… Great. Just what I needed.
“Fuck me.”
“What do you think the drawing of the eyes means, by the way?” Pocus asks. I look up to see him taking pictures of the writing on the wall with his smartphone.
“A euphemism for the sight he stole from me, I guess,” I reply in a light tone that contradicts the heaviness in my heart. “He wants me to know that he hurt my sight. And seeing as he announced himself in blood, it may or may not mean that he plans to kill me. Most likely the former.”
“If he killed Hunter Gilles, that means that he knew we’d be here today.”
“This is not Anderson playing some sick game, is it?”
“I don’t think so,” Pocus says, shaking his head slowly as he stares at the ominous proclamation on the wall. “He’s been watching us,” he drawls. “He must be one with the shadows… like Tongue. Anyway, if he killed Hunter because he knew we would come here, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t want to be found just yet?”
“No,” I reply slowly. “The game has started. He’s the predator, and I’m the prey. He used to do that a lot when we were boys. Whenever I hid, he’d put a dead animal on my bed, kill whatever pet I had, or make me get in trouble with Ma, just to make me cower in fear before the big event. He’s… taunting me, and I’m afraid it only gets worse from this point.”
“Motherfucker,” Pocus mutters. “At least we know he’s in New Orleans.”
“As if that’s supposed to be comforting,” I say, my stomach twisting as I look over at the gruesomely murdered man and woman on the ground. Pocus is watching me intently. I swallow nervously, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t know, man, I’m terrified. I…” I trail off, gesturing helplessly. “What if he comes after the MC? What if… what if he messes with Tory?” I close my eyes as the dread in my guts intensifies tenfold. “Oh dear God… oh, fuck.”
Pocus clasps a hand on my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “You underestimate yourself, mon ami. The little boy who had to hide away to protect himself is no longer who you are. You’re a man who’s seen war and drawn the blood of his adversaries. You’re a Ruthless King.”
And not for the first time, I lean into the reassurance in his eyes, drawing from his strength. Maybe Pocus is right. Maybe I have grown up a lot since I fled Cornwall, but have I outgrown the monster in my nightmares? I feel the same dread as I did those years ago whenever I tried to imagine what next of mine Edward would destroy to get to me. And now, the stakes are higher. The pawns in his game would be the people I care about – my family.
Pocus gives my shoulder another squeeze. “Don’t worry, Seer. We’ll be prepared for him whenever and when he reveals himself. We’ll not be surprised like our friend Hunter here.”
I’m about to say something to that when a distant sound catches my attention. I frown a little, straining my ears to decipher the sound. “Is that…?”
“Fuck!” Pocus curses loudly, running over to look out the window. “Do you suppose the bastard called the cops to his own crime scene?”
“Yeah, definitely sounds like Edward.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Pocus says, hurriedly dropping the curtain.
* * *
