I rolled my eyes, and despite all my effort, I found myself chuckling as I continued on my way home. I continued laughing and smirking stupidly down at my phone as I scrolled through my other messages and caught up on a few social media postsfromSandi’sthat Isaac had sent me when I noticed a sound trailing behind me.
Footsteps.
I didn’t think much about it at first. It wasn’t uncommon for people to be out at this time of night, especially in a college town. However, these footsteps seemed to trail behind me, a little too close for my liking. I picked up my pace, trying to walk off the thrumming of adrenaline starting to take hold of my body. But the quicker and louder my footsteps came, the louder the ones behind me became, too.
It might just be a coincidence.
I took a quiet but deep breath, trying to calm my heartbeat whilst simultaneously knowing I’d already lost control of it completely. The last thing I wanted to do was turn around. I didn’t need whoever it was behind knowing the fear they currently inflicted on my body.
I tried to clutch at my spiralling thoughts as my brain churned through every worst-case scenario.No. Just no. I didn’t survive the summoning of a demon just to be intimidated by some drunk asshole with no boundaries.I started moving more quickly, ignoring the hair standing at the back of my neck. Warning signs blasted through my mind. The same warning signs that I had gotten the first time theBoardroom Butcherhad stood in front of me a few weeks ago.
I crossed to the other side of the road without thinking, hoping the extra distance would make the difference, glancing back slightly as I did.
Oh fuck, someone is definitely following me.
I reached into my pocket, rifling for anything that could double as a weapon. Something deadly. Something lethal. Something that felt exactly like the keys to my apartment. I gripped them between my trembling fingers, ignoring that one news article. The onewhere that one journalist interviewed a bunch of intimates–the one where they mentioned that keys weren’t really a deterrent–‘if your assailant is close enough for you to use your keys, you are already fucked.’
I pulled out my phone and dialled Thallor’s number. It rang once, twice, and then…nothing.
Great. Of course, you don’t answer your phone.
I was so busy tapping at my screen and trying to get Thallor to answer that I didn’t realise I’d taken several wrong turns. Several wrong turns had taken me further away from my home. I could still hear the footsteps following after me. Steady. Unhurried. Predatory. I couldn’t keep walking in the same direction, but I also didn’t want to turn around.
Fuck. What do I do? What do I do?
I stopped dead in my tracks. I was hit with a wall of cool air that prickled at my cheeks. And behind me, the footsteps stopped too. The momentary silence stretched between us. And with every second, I saw all the possible outcomes to this scenario, including the one where I was left stranded and naked in a ditch somewhere outside of town.
I took off running before I could process what I was doing or where I was going. I just needed to put as much distance between me and the owner of the footsteps as possible. It was clear that the momentary loss of momentum from me stopping had been just enough for them to fall behind, and I took full advantage of it.
As I rounded the next corner, I swerved down the first alley that came up ahead and ducked behind a large dumpster. I pressed my back against the cold metal and tried to take as many deep, quiet breaths as possible. As much as I tried, I could not control the frantic rise and fall of my chest. My hands were white knuckled around my phone, and I kept a firm grip on it in an attempt to stop myself from shaking so badly.
I held my breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible, my body pressedagainst the dumpster like it might somehow swallow me whole. I waited as the minutes stretched on, and after about ten minutes of sitting there and hearing nothing but the dripping of a pipe, I figured it was okay to stand up.
There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe what it was like to come face to face with fear itself. TheBoardroom Butcherstood at the mouth of the alley with the most terrifying smile, cut across his face.
Everything in my body screamedDanger! Get away! Don’t let him near you!Whilst Thallor’s demon form, I had come to decide, was terrifying in a beautiful, hypnotic,I ’m-too-scared-to-look-awayway, this man was just plain horrifying.
They say that the most terrifying monsters are the ones that hide in plain sight. But that isn’t really true. The ones that are truly horrifying are the ones that do not hide at all. They are the ones who will walk right up to you with a smile on their face and venom in their hearts. The ones that let their putrid intentions leak from their porcelain veneer becausethey can.The ones with an air of defiance and an arrogance–one born of knowing that it’s easier to let them get close than call out for help.
I’d told myself–convinced myself–his odd behaviour was unconventional. Odd. But in my gut, I’d always known there was something off about this man. His gelled hair wasn’t gelled, but greasy. His ill-fitting suit hung limply about his body as if he were wearing someone else’s skin. His eyes that always watched a little too closely were now devoid of anything other than sheer malevolence.
“I didn’t peg you for the dumpster diving type, Quincey,” he said, letting each letter of my name pool out of his mouth. Slow. Like molasses in January. I didn’t want to know how he knew my fucking name. Or why he knew my fucking name. I stood beside the dumpster, not daring to take a step forward, whilst knowing that the only way out of this situationalivewas forward.
“What do you want?” I snapped, trying to hide the trembling in my own voice.
He made a high-pitched humming sound. “Just to talk.”
Oh fuck no. I would rather have Thallor impale me with one of his curvy horns than ever have to speak or talk to this man ever again.
“You should have talked to me at the bar. I’m going home now.” I push as much aggression and assertion into the words that I can. Getting nice would get me nowhere but an early grave with a man like this.
“I like you, Quincey,” he started. “I like you a lot.”
Well, that was deeply upsetting.Calling all freaks, murderers, and psychos alike, Quincey Sterling is a free woman.
“I don’t care,” I growled at him. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get home.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was floaty and lilting.Like a soft whisper.But it crept up my spine and tickled the back of my neck before wrapping around my throat like a noose. “I won’t be able to do that.”
