Eidolon
/??'d??l?n/
noun– literary
– an idealized person or thing.
– a spectre orphantom.
A ghost. Fantastic.
I hit enter again. Second page. Third. Indie band. Video game. Philosophy forums. Pretentious poetry blogs.
Nothing that explains anything, not even a simple hint.
My pulse hammers, my scalp prickles, that feeling you get when someone’s standing too close behind you. If they wanted me arrested, the knife would be sitting in an evidence bag, not here. Not in my home.
Wait.
The only way they could’ve gotten it—
Someone saw me kill him.
The walls seem to lean in, my stomach knots so hard I double over, my hands go slick, breathing turns shallow, like there’s not enough air in the whole building.
I stumble to the counter; the knife still waits there. I hold it under the light but there are no prints, mine or someone else and not a single drop of blood. It's completely clean, spotless.
Whoever they are… they took it, scrubbed it, then walked into my locked apartment, and left it for me to find.
They didn’t report me, so what the fuck do they want? Blackmail?
My eyes dart around the apartment. Peeling paint, acrooked rug, a thrift-store bed and books stacked in towers because I can’t afford shelves. Nothing screams “I’m rich!”. I work from home as a data organizer for a high-tech company. My salary covers my expenses and that’s about it.
The radiator groans and I freeze. I’m getting too paranoid, and I still have more kills to do.
I move towards the picture on the wall, and curl my fingers around the little pink notebook. I open on the folded page, and I see one name in red ink.
Camden Wolfe.
Whoever Eidolon is… they’ll have to wait.
I’ve got one more monster to bury first.
“Candice Malborn.” My voice is soft, almost sweet, as I smile and shake his hand.
“Camden Wolfe,” he says, puffed up like a goddamn peacock in heat.
“This car looks perfect.” I point to a top-of-the-line Mercedes I’ll never afford, but Candice? She absolutelycould.
The fake ID was easy, the blonde wig—long and sleek—heavy makeup, and the rented designer dress weren’t hard to get either. It’s all more than enough shine to catch the attention of a man who thinks he owns the world.
Camden runs this place. Exclusive, high-end, and built for the ultra-rich. It took me two months to get a face-to-face, and now that I’m here? He can’t take his eyes off me.
Six months I’ve followed him, learning every weakness, everything that made him tick. What he wants and desires, and I check all his boxes.
“Want to test drive it?” he asks, dangling the key. His grin is all teeth.
I giggle. “No, that’s fine. I just want to see which one I prefer before my father comes to get it for me.” I wink, lean down to peek inside and catch him licking his lips.
