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“Because the killer could have struck in the daytime, at Sunday service, where there would have been kids in the congregation. He didn’t. He waited for a midnight mass – and those only happen, what, once a month or so? – and struck at a time where there wouldn’t be children present. So that means it wasn’t a mindless rampage or a break in psychosis, it was well-thought out and planned in advance. The killer had to have patience, and, if they stayed at the scene of the crime instead of fleeing, it means that everyone who was on their target list was at that church that night. Otherwise they would have left to find the others. That congregation was far from innocent, and whoever killed them did that little village and the rest of the world a favour. Bravo to them.”
I sigh and turn to the room, finally making eye contact with the other guys. They all look different in the light, but they all have the exact same expression: shock.
I’m not the only one who thinks that way. Nightshade levels a glare at me that sends a shiver down my spine, but I can tell that he respects my opinions because he inclines his head slightly before settling back in his chair.
“And if I told you that the killer was barely a teenager?” Satan asks in a tight voice.
“Then you’d just be proving my theory correct,” I tell her. “Those people did something horrible to that child – probably in the name of God – and got their just desserts.”
“Well put, Miss Kingfisher,” Satan’s smile is tight and as fake as they come. “Is that a normal way of thinking, though?”
I shrug and turn back to her. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a situation where I had to ask myself that question.” I don’t bother to elaborate any further. I’m sure she knows what I’m talking about.
“What about you, Miss Kingfisher?” Satan asks me, her voice pleasant but her eyes cold. “Have you ever killed a man in a church?”
I square my shoulders back and stare her in the eye fearlessly. “As a matter of fact, I have. I’m not ashamed of that fact, nor is it a secret.”
Satan’s eyes widen just a fraction, her interest piqued. “Do tell.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “It was a long time ago. I was thirteen and I had just run away from my foster home. I joined a cult. They brainwashed me into believing that the only way to please God was through human sacrifice. So, when they told me to kill a man in a church, I did it without question.”
The room falls silent, the only sound being the hum of the air conditioning. Satan leans forward, her eyes locking onto mine. “And how did it feel, Miss Kingfisher? To take a life in the name of afalseGod?”
I pause, thinking back. “It felt…powerful. Like I had control over life and death.”
Satan nods slowly before her face twists into an expression of disgust. “You just can’t ever tell the truth, can you, Miss Kingfisher?”
I laugh, even though she called me on my bullshit. “Who cares if every word out of my mouth just then was a lie? No one gives a fuck who I’ve killed or my reasons for doing so. We’re all killers here, and you clearly think very little of us, so why share sob stories to try and gain your approval? I sure as shit don’t want or need it, and I bet the others don’t either. Go fuck yourself.”
Her smile is glacial. “Let’s see if you’re still smiling and laughing tonight, shall we?”
“Don’t you know, monsters aren’t scared of the dark? We’re not afraid of anything because we slayed our demons a long time ago.”
“Is that so?” Satan gets to her feet, smooths out her skirt, and then turns to the rest of the room. “I’ll see you after lunch. Miss Kingfisher, please wait behind.”
Again, I laugh, like the naughty kid being kept behind after class. I’m not scared of her. Not scared of anyone in this place. There’s nothing she can say or do to me that will break me.
I watch as the other guys file out of the room, their eyes downcast and their shoulders slumped. Are they afraid of her, afraid of what she can do to them? They shouldn’t be. Whatever’s going on here, it’s them who need us, not the other way round. I’m not afraid of her or anyone else – what’s the worst they can do to us? We’re killers, monsters, and I’ve stared death in the face more times than I can count. I’m not afraid of dying.
“Sit down, Miss Kingfisher,” Satan motions to the chair opposite her. “I want to talk to you about something.”
I sit back down, crossing my legs and leaning back in the chair. “What is it?”
She leans forward, her eyes locked onto mine. “I think you and the asylum are a lot alike, Miss Kingfisher. You both have a thirst for blood, a desire to see others suffer. But where you differ is in your goals. You kill for the sake of killing, for the thrill of it. The asylum kills for a purpose, to further their agenda.”
I scoff. “And what agenda is that?”
Satan leans back and folds her hands in her lap. “The asylum is in the business of world domination. And they seem to think that with your skills and your…unique way of thinking, you could be a valuable asset to their team.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I would want to join your team?”
“You don’t have a choice. You’re already a part of it whether you like it or not. However, the powers that be heard your little speech in my office the other day and decided to grant your wish. Because they share the same desires, Miss Kingfisher. And because I know what you truly want. You want power, control, and respect. You want to be feared, not just for your killing abilities, but for your mind as well. Which is exactly why they want you to have these.”
I consider her words for a moment. She’s right – I do want those things. But I won’t admit it to her. While I’m distracted, she hands me a brown cardboard box and I remove the lid. Inside are seven identical devices that look a lot like—
“You’re giving us phones?”
“Theyare giving you the phones, Miss Kingfisher. Not me. You can’t call out, can’t use them off this island, cannot communicate with the outside world in any way. There are no internet facilities on them, and they are fully monitored at all times.”
