Page 8

CHAPTER 7

S inner

The first time I killed a man I’d still been a child. What I did remember was the feeling of satisfaction watching the light in the man’s eyes fade into matching the pitch-black soul the bastard had tried to protect.

If he’d even had a soul.

He’d beaten me for years, enjoying every moment of hearing my cries. He’d taken great pleasure in finding implements that would leave marks of varying shapes and sizes, while other times careful in his choice.

Those acts of violence never left marks, just damage on the inside.

Including to my mind.

I’d believed I deserved every punishment. He’d told me over and over again I’d been responsible for my mother’s death and should pay for my sins. I’d even bought his words that I deserved to die.

Yet one day I’d found the courage to find the will to live.

So I’d killed him.

The act had been bloody and gruesome and for a little while I’d felt relief. He might have been the first, but he certainly hadn’t been the last. The satisfaction only lasted but for so long, less as I grew even older.

I’d never forget the day of the man’s funeral. I would also never be able to understand why mourners seemed to covet evil. They should all have thanked me. Yet they’d stood like statues, clinging to each other as if desperate with sorrow. Rain had been falling in a slow yet steady stream, the wet grass and freshly dug earth providing a pungent yet delicious odor. If only it had been mixed with the stench of decay, I would have been a happy boy.

I’d never mourned anyone and couldn’t understand the reason for all the pomp and circumstance in the first place. The bastard had clearly gone to hell where he belonged.

I remembered reading the gravestones while mourners wept for the loss of such a great man. There was sorrow everywhere, sadness colliding with the collected raindrops as they fell against tearstained faces. Beloved father. Adored brother. Cherished son.

They all seemed like a joke, a need to pontificate one last time. Perhaps I should consider myself rather jaded in my thinking. Yes, I was an unusual man both in tastes and in how I lived my life. So the fuck what?

On that day, I’d looked at my foster mother and had smiled. There hadn’t been a single tear in her eyes. Perhaps one day she’d thank me for saving her from the bastard’s fists. I’d been proud for the first time in my life. Proud I’d driven away the brutality. Proud I would finally live my life without fear of punishment. Proud.

I’d ended a life and created one of my own.

I’d also brought justice when no one else had been willing to do so.

In my mind, I’d been a hero, but I’d heard whispers from those who believed I was born of evil. They’d called me a sinner and the name had been the one I’d adopted when satisfying my darkest of needs.

Just like tonight.

I would bring peace to myself for a few days while ridding the earth of a piece of shit. Did I consider myself evil? No. I was imperfect and that was fine. Some would say I was damaged beyond repair, but those still whispered the words had no clue what I’d been through or what I’d accomplished.

The house where Joel Merrick lived was designed for warmth and comfort.

Not mine.

The sprawling estate I’d purchased merely played a functional role, an extension of who I was. With a gym in my dining room, a dungeon in my basement, and various selected pieces of violent and sensual art on the walls, anyone who entered would question my sanity.

Fortunately, I never allowed anyone into my home, including my brothers.

We weren’t close by traditional standards. There were no family gatherings to allow our fondest memories of growing up together to be shared and laughed at.

Namely because we had no such fond memories.

Being dumped into the system as babies had done nothing to cement our closeness as a family. Being separated had certainly done more harm than good, and during the fucked-up years of being tossed from one reprehensible family to another, the few memories I’d had of any family member had faded into the shadows.

Only by chance had we discovered each other years before. Were we close now that we’d found each other again?

Not in any normal method. Psychiatrists would call us unredeemable. So the fuck what? We were happy now that we were rich.

Although the three of us had become bored. Hence the creation of the Obsidian Society. The yearly contest helped feed our blackened souls.

I headed into my bedroom, dutifully hanging up my suit. Normally, I’d spend an hour in my gym followed by honing my weaponry skills prior to creating a work of art for dinner.

Not tonight.

Tonight was all about evening the playing field.

I grabbed a pair of black jeans and a muscle tee shirt. They would do for the night’s festivities. After fastening my belt, I headed for my dresser, removing my Patek Philippe watch, a five-hundred-thousand-dollar present to myself after the last game had done so well, selecting a simple TAG Heuer instead. I never wore my prized watches when handling company issues.

That was something I learned years before rekindling our brotherly relationship.

There were too many assholes who fought back. I’d lost many a decent watch, smashed or stolen.

If I’d learned one thing in becoming a thrown-away child, it was that keeping the few items I considered precious safe from others was very important.

After snapping the band into place, I glared at my reflection. With my arms covered in tattoos and the bulk of my muscles, I could be quite terrifying.

Before leaving my bedroom, I returned to my walk-in closet, shifting a rack of clothes out of the way. I pressed the pads of my fingers on the small console and a door leading to a hidden closet opened.

Nestled inside were my collection of weapons, ammunition, and my masks.

I was selective in the one I chose. Tonight, I would fade into the darkness, the hockey mask the only thing that would draw attention. Even if someone noticed me, by the time they ceased freaking out at the monster standing in front of them, I’d be long gone.

I popped a magazine into a Glock before snagging a favorite hunting knife. I also carried a handgun because I could never ensure what I’d discover upon arriving at my destination. While I usually determined and waited for the best possible time to handle my business, with Merrick chomping at the bit to release their product, I couldn’t afford myself the luxury.

With it being chilly, I chose a black leather jacket for a nice finishing touch, sliding the items into the interior pockets after jerking it on. The gloves were last. I loathed wearing them, but it was often a necessary evil. There was one more piece I needed. The photograph was tucked away along with several others. Pictures were often the key for allowing the city or the world to know what was going on behind closed doors.

Using secrets kept in padlocked boxes was a helpful tool.

As I walked down the steps, I thought about the various candidates for the upcoming event and the games that always brought joy to the three of us.

The questionnaire and winning or losing against an opponent in one of our games was kid’s play. Answers could be lies. Entrants could quickly learn the inside secrets to the games. It was the final test that would prove their mettle.

There were many who’d failed, more so over the last couple of years since we’d upped the danger level, feeding on the hunger discovered in the process.

Would the fair and lovely Sophie Turner make it through round one or would the questions prove too much for her innocence?

Thankfully, I knew the answer. I knew exactly what made the woman tick.

And I planned on enjoying every moment of exploiting it.

I stormed into the kitchen, yanking the keys to one of my vehicles into my hand. The nineteen sixty-six Oldsmobile Toronado in black was a perfect hunting car, the sleek vision fading into the background of night.

After jumping in and shoving the keys into the ignition, I pressed the opener for the garage. The light close to the ceiling provided a backdrop of the vehicles I owned, including my beloved Harley that also suited certain occasions.

But not tonight.

This was a simple in and out, avoiding causing any additional issues.

The engine roared to life and I backed out with a smile on my face.

With the past couple of days being so fruitful and tonight’s enjoyment, I would likely end up with quite an appetite. Perhaps I’d make coq au vin for dinner.

If there was one thing I did enjoy, it was a good meal after a hard day’s work.

The drive was without incident and only twenty minutes later, I pulled into the man’s exclusive neighborhood. While he was the pillar of the community, since his third divorce had gone through, he’d hired more escorts than usual. I had checked tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

Joel Merrick was highly respected in the upper portion of society in Chicago, his friends and family thinking him a fabulous guy.

Only his wives and my brothers and I knew differently. If there was one thing I knew about business, it was that you learned every dark secret you could about your competition. While there were still some good guys in the industry, including the man owning Sindom Entertainment, they were few and far between.

I rolled to a stop on the street, immediately turning off the lights. I wasn’t a true monster, or I wouldn’t care about erasing lives of anyone who attempted to interfere. People only got what they deserved.

The walk took only a couple of minutes. I donned the mask outside his front door, curious as to whether my fabulous lucky streak would hold. When the doorknob turned, I grinned behind the thick plastic.

There was classical music playing from somewhere in the house. I followed the sound toward the back of the house where I found Joel sipping a drink while watching the news. He didn’t seem to sense me come in, enjoying being able to kick his feet up after a long, tough day of stealing from another company.

I was swift in my actions moving forward, while still allowing for a few moments of sheer entertainment. There was such enjoyment in watching someone squirm, of seeing the horror in their eyes the few seconds before they realized their life would soon end.

Some would say taking a man’s life created a rush. For me it was more extreme. Ending a life created peace if only for a little while.

“What the fuck?” Joel said as he jerked to his feet. The poor man almost tripped on the corner of the stuffy leather chair, managing to drop his glass onto the small table in the process. The shattering of the crystal couldn’t take his attention off my face, or the knife as I lifted it into the air.

This wasn’t about reminiscing with regards to the choices he’d made. I had no interest in hearing him beg for mercy or promise me the world. All I was here for was catching a brief moment of the man’s terror and providing the ultimate end to a life not worth living.

“Who are you? What do you want? I have cash. Money. I’ll give it to you.”

I cocked my head to the side, studying him intently. In his cigar smoking jacket, it was easy to see how much of a relic he was. I pulled out the picture from my jacket, flashing it in front of him.

Almost instantly, the muscle on the corner of his mouth began to twitch.

“You’ve been a very bad boy,” I stated, referencing the obvious.

“I can explain.”

I chuckled in response. They all could. They acted as if they were nothing but decent men enjoying the spoils of their fortune. No one was immune to fading into black.

“Pu-lease. I have a wife. Kids.”

Lie.

“I’m a God-fearing Christian.”

Another lie.

“I’ll give you all my money.”

Now that might be a possibility although I didn’t need a cent from the prick.

Sadly, he was starting to blubber. It was time to finish another decent deed for the week. Using a gun was too good for the liar and thief.

I pulled out the knife, kicking him in the stomach and driving him to the floor. Placing one boot on his chest, I leaned over, taking my sweet time in doing so. “You’ve been sentenced to crimes against humanity. Your punishment?” I allowed the question to linger for him to completely understand.

“No!”

“Death.”

It was easy to gut a man when you knew what you were doing. However, I never used the same tactics or methods of enacting revenge. This time, I cut him with a specific design in mind.

While he gurgled blood, the light fading from his eyes, I stood back and admired my work.

The X was perfect. It could mean X marks the spot or X-rated. The idiots who found him would need to make that decision. I backed away, pulling out a cloth I always brought to the scene, wiping the blade before returning it to the sheath.

Standing back, I glanced around his fancy house with a smile on my face. With a slight adjustment to the picture I was leaving for evidence, I was satisfied.

Now, onto my next task and one I’d enjoy more than bothering to crush an insect.

Time to enjoy basking in the light of what would be the finest contestant the Obsidian Society had ever seen.

“I’m coming for you, Sophie. Be careful what you wish for.”

My laugh echoed in the room as I walked to the front door.