‘You know, it’s funny,’ Jago said lightly. ‘This is a first for me. I’ve never met another one of us in the wild before.’
‘One of us?’ I asked, my gaze drifting to the table where Greta and I had once sat.
Jago scoffed, as if I were being deliberately obtuse. ‘You know. One of the enlightened, shall we say?’
I had momentarily forgotten I was still pretending to be a serial killer, forgotten that he didn’t know I was a complete fraud in that regard. I felt like an actor playing Hamlet at the Globe who had just forgotten their lines.
‘I never would have pegged you for one, you know, Ruth,’ he added with this kind of condescending smirk. ‘Honestly, I thought you wouldn’t hurt a fly. You know, I’ve had my work plagiarised before, but never quite like this. Why?’ Jago asked, I noticed that the usual haughtiness was still there in his voice, but now it was laced with something more savage and primal.
‘Oh, don’t flatter yourself too much, it’s not very classy,’ I replied with more arrogance than I intended. Please don’t be mistaken, I was still absolutely terrified, but somehow, I was doing a sort of okay job of seeming quite relaxed in front of Jago. After years and years of trying to track him down, finally sitting face to face with Jago was having a strangely calming effect on me. It was almost reassuring, as if my whole body had agreed to keep me steady and sharpen my focus, mindful of how long I’d worked for this. Funny, really, I can’t speak to more than five people without my voice shaking, yet opposite a serial killer I was strangely composed.
Jago flinched at the change of tone and then almost smiled at that. He seemed… excited, like he quite enjoyed the surprise of me talking back to him. He lived a life as a serial killer and a celebrity journalist. I bet people very rarely gave him a taste of his own medicine.
I recalled what I had read at some point over the past few years: some victims had survived encounters with serial killers, not by appealing to any of their humanity or empathy, as those, of course, would be futile, but by meeting them as something akin to equals. Some killers would respond positively to that, enjoy the fact that someone was challenging them while they seemingly held all the power.
‘It’s funny, you know,’ he said, lounging back in his chair, placing one arm on the empty table next to him. ‘Because there I was, seeing this person flaunting being the TellTale Killer on DarkCell and I thought maybe…’ he paused as he debated if he was going to finish his sentence, ‘maybe there was someone out there like me. Maybe I wasn’t quite so alone.’
And then, with all the physical force of an uppercut to the chin, realisation smacked hard into me.
He still actually believed I idolised him. He wasn’t lurking on DarkCell to try and see if anyone would unravel the mystery of the TellTale Killer, he was really there because he adored and relished the attention all these weirdos on the internet were giving him. What a freak, scratch that, what an insecure freak.
I rolled my eyes, then glanced up at the long trail of vines draped from Sabroso’s rafters. A little ladybird trotted down a leaf and stopped, as if staring at me. I gave a small smile at it, as if it was here to give me one more form of backup.
‘So why didyoudo it?’ he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders, worried that if I gave him the answer too early, he’d see no further reason to keep me alive.
Jago shuffled himself on his chair, pushing just a hair’s width closer to watch my reaction more carefully.
‘You know, I was quite proud of the TellTale Killer,’ he mused blissfully. ‘Had a certainje ne sais quoi, you know?’
‘What are you talking about?’ I asked, incredulous, as one of my eyebrows hopped up my forehead. Negging a serial killer, quite a thing to be doing, but every second he was here gave Bill an extra second to enact his side of the plan.
He scoffed. ‘Oh, comeon. So you didn’t think it was a bit too much? Even when you were recreating it? I want to know your thoughts, honestly. Tell me, I can take it.’
I didn’t mean to laugh in his face, but I did, I absolutely cackled. I laughed so hard I was pretty sure the people next to us were wondering if I was having some sort of breakdown. It was probablya bit of nerves, but I knew the more scorned he looked, the funnier I found it.
‘The TellTale Killer is absolutely tacky,’ I managed between breaths. ‘It’s really, really tacky.’
‘Okay, but over one billion people know who I am, so…’ he whined, somewhat defensively.
‘Right,’ I groaned wearily as it was now my opportunity, to gently push myself across the edge of the table, to cross the Rubicon and show him I wasn’t afraid of him. ‘You want me to feed your little ego, don’t you? Tell you how clever and theatrical the TellTale Killer was. That’s why you went all in on the Poe, the letters, the hearts, isn’t it? Because there had to be a performance to it, a branding. The press wouldn’t just go for any old serial killer, would they? There needed to be aspectacle, there needed to bepizazz. A killer that was built from the ground up just to get as much attention as possible.’
Jago’s grin stretched across half his face; someone finally understood him.
‘I mean, you get it, you worked in journalism, you saw how many people reacted when you killed those people. There always has to be ahook. I spent days workshopping. “The Dickensian Killer” sounded rubbish, but “The TellTale Killer”? I mean, come on, that’s good. Shame that Poe was American, but it was important that he had global appeal.’
‘It’s quite derivative,’ I replied flatly.
‘Oh, well look who’s talking,’ he said with a dismissive wave, as if I were merely teasing him. ‘I mean, it’s Poe, right? And the angels, all pallid and wan. Uprising, unveiling, affirm. That the play is indeed the tragedy.’
I think he was trying to quote Poe but I don’t think he realised that he got a bunch of the words wrong. I don’t know whether he thought I’d be impressed, or this was just the kind of shit floating around in his mind normally.
‘You’re kidding me, right?’ I said. ‘You know that Poe wasn’tsome kind of serial-killer nihilist, so I have no idea why you thought he’d be a good choice for your whole gimmick.’
‘Yes, he was,’ Jago replied with unfounded certainty.
‘No, he wasn’t.’
