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A flash of uncertainty tightens her features.
“He killed Bethany with hemlock,” I say, not letting up. I realized it wasn’t Devyn when we were attacked by the men with syringes. “You cared for her. You wanted to help her—to help them all. But this man…he’s obsessed with you. He can’t let you go.”
I felt the dark obsession in that chamber. I sensed the malice, the vile desperation.
Devyn leans in close to whisper. “He won’t even let me die.”
As she pulls away, a chill blankets my skin at her words. Keeping me snared in her solemn gaze, she snaps her fingers. “It’s time.”
At once, the surrounding marsh comes alive with the rustle of reeds. The figures masked in skulls move in from the high grass. Those closest to the flames place a beveled black plate over the fire. The beat of the drum rises, the rhythm climbing and accelerating my heart rate as they converge around the circle.
A sordid energy tangles my senses, and I seek Kallum across the parchment. His face is chalked with alchemical symbols. The philosopher’s stone marks the center of his forehead—darkly ironic, as it’s the same symbol he scored into Alister’s skull.
He watches the scene unfold as if he’s studying an ancient text, unlocking its code. As if he came here by choice.
Once they’re all gathered around the fire, they remove their masks. No longer anonymous dark figures, they become people. The officer who attacked us, his face bearing the bruises from Kallum’s wrath. Mrs. Lipton, her diamond earrings catching the firelight. Most of the others I place as family members of the locals that went missing.
What’s curious is that there are far less of them than what’s expected of this society. There were thirty-three missing locals. Yet there are only thirteen of their relatives present.
Devyn clasps my hand, making me startle. “I told Bethany to run,” she whispers near my ear. “I told her to run, Halen.”
I angle my face to meet her dark eyes. “I don’t understand—” My words are clipped short the moment I see him.
Shirtless, his broad chest adorned with glyphs, Riddick removes the skull from his face. He strides in Kallum’s direction, and I push past Devyn to reach him first.
Wrists still bound with rope, Kallum squares his shoulders and matches Riddick’s sinister glare. “You got my message.”
Riddick hangs the skull on his belt, his features carved in a sneer. “I did, and since we still need a tongue—” he glances down at the body “—I’ll just take yours. And I’ll really fucking enjoy it, too.” He rests his hand on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his belt. At Kallum’s silence, he chuckles. “What? No final, smart-ass quips, professor?”
Kallum’s mouth curves into a menacing smile, baring the blood staining his teeth. “Aristotle said, evil brings men together.” He glances around. “Looks like we’re all here. Untie me, and let’s have a real fucking party.”
Riddick drops his fist into Kallum’s face.
Kallum takes the hit, his head canted to the side as he swipes a bead of fresh blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
Emotions soaring, I lunge at Riddick, making a reach for the knife.
He expertly catches my wrist in a firm grip, then pushes my sleeve up. His narrowed gaze lowers to my forearm, to where the wound has long since torn open. “You really should have let me stitch you up, Halen.”
As he says this, I realize I was too focused on him at the ravine, on his suturing skill in connection to the suspect. “Where’s your superior?” I ask him, snatching my arm free.
Riddick doesn’t wear the antlers. He doesn’t have implants. He’s the second half of a partnership, the one who had to go undetected. I missed the obvious point Riddick made to replace this person’s police hat after he lost it during his fall down the ravine. Riddick did so to make sure to hide the implants from view.
As the fire snaps and burns hotter, Devyn materializes in my periphery. Staring into the depth of the marsh, she announces, “He’s here.”
Pulse firing in my veins, I look to the shadows where the immense figure emerges from the high reeds. Clothed only in black jeans and a skull, his stature is every bit as brawny as Landry, but he’s less defined. The years spent excelling at sports still shape his physique, but time and his current profession behind a desk has worn him.
Detective Dean Emmons lowers the menacing skull from his face, but the antlers remain, sharpened into spears atop his head. Letting the skull hang from his hand, he opens his arms wide. The drum surges.
While there was suspicion surrounding Detective Riddick when he stepped in, it was only so Emmons could operate behind the scenes.
Emmons advances into the clearing, his gait still slightly hindered by his injury. Devyn meets him halfway, and he clasps her by her nape in a show of ownership.
“Guess Emmons has the bigger dick,” Kallum remarks and cuts his gaze to Riddick, provoking him.
Riddick’s jaw tightens as he widens his stance in front of Kallum. “You flayed Alister,” he accuses in a hushed tone. “Wasn’t me or Emmons. So that means it had to be you. You’re one twisted fuck.”
“You’re so sure,” Kallum questions, turning his sharp gaze on the couple. “Maybe you just weren’t privy to their plan.”
