Page 7 of Six for Gold (The Magpie Rhyme #6)

R omeo didn’t get another taxi to Ally’s house.

He stayed home, still able to use Chad’s bank accounts to buy food and get it delivered.

That wouldn’t last forever.

Six days had passed.

Six long days where Romeo didn’t notice whether the sun rose or not and he didn’t care either way.

If you care about me, leave me be, let me go.

And they were the cruelest words Chad could’ve spoken because they pitted Romeo’s emotions against themselves. He loved Chad more than anything, more than his desire to satisfy the monster in his head, and above all else he wanted Chad to be happy.

Letting Chad go might give him the greatest chance at achieving that.

Josh had told him on the phone there was damage to Chad’s brain, particularly in his hippocampus. Romeo had not spared the region of Chad’s brain much thought. It was damaged, and it would get better, that was all Romeo could focus on.

Chad had to get better, there wasn’t an alternative.

The hippocampus dealt with memory and emotions. Of all the places in the human brain, it had to be there. An incident had taken Chad’s memories of him, had pulled them right out of his head.

And all he knew of Romeo now was what he’d read, watched and heard since he’d been discharged.

Chad had asked—pleaded with tears in his eyes—for Romeo to let him go.

He didn’t want to remember.

The thought of remembering Romeo made him shudder.

It made his eyes round, and wet, and dart with fear.

Romeo closed his eyes, pushing back into the sofa. The house was ominously quiet around him, and Chad’s words kept repeating in his head.

His demand to be let go.

Romeo took in a deep breath.

Could he do it?

Could he let Chad go?

He thought he could, if Chad would be truly better off without him.

That was love, wasn’t it?

Selfless.

He exhaled a long breath.

Romeo had brought darkness to Chad’s world. He’d corrupted him, made him lie and deceive. It was his fault the detective had been taken from Chad. If he hadn’t voiced his opinion on Vincent Whitehall’s undiscovered victim, things would’ve played out differently.

Chad wouldn’t have had to kill Lucinda Hastings.

He wouldn’t have lost his job or been vilified by the public, press, and his fellow police officers.

Let me go.

Romeo didn’t know if he could, but he could try—for Chad’s sake he could try.

But to do that, he needed a distraction.

One strong enough to push Chad from his mind.

Romeo opened his eyes.

He needed the monster.

****

C had had always been super cautious about Romeo going out in public.

Romeo’s lure in the beginning, when he’d been The Countdown Killer, had been his attractiveness. He was well groomed, wore a smart suit, and presented himself as a handsome man in desperate need of help at the side of the road.

For some he was sexually appealing, others, it was what his clothing represented, his status that drew them to him. There were a few times Romeo was offered a ride by someone who eyed him with the desire to steal from him. Only one had tried, though, and the exchange ended with the guy receiving a black eye and Romeo strolling away as if nothing had happened.

Not everyone stopped for the attractive businessman in need of help. Many passed by, either convincing themselves someone else would help, he deserved whatever plight he found himself in, or simply been too distracted by their own lives to notice him waiting on the grass verge as they approached.

Romeo no longer looked like that well-groomed man. He didn’t resemble his mugshot anymore. His hair was long enough to tuck behind his ears, usually wild and unkempt from walking in the windy fields. It matched his rugged stubble.

A scar tugged at one of his eyelids, pulling it down, exposing the pink flesh of his eye socket. Sometimes that was enough to put people off looking too closely at him.

The suits had been traded in for t-shirts and a brown bomber jacket.

He was more muscular than he had been with thick biceps and thighs.

His jeans were dark blue, tight on his legs, and he wore walking boots most of the time.

Romeo looked different. He could see it when he looked in the mirror. He preferred how he looked now—it felt comfortable, felt like home.

It was Chad who panicked about him being recognized. Chad couldn’t not see The Countdown Killer and assumed everyone would see him too.

Maybe if they were looking, they would.

Maybe a permanently suspicious person like Ally would see through his new face to the mask he used to wear.

Maybe someone as protective as Josh would eye every man with a hint of skepticism.

But they were detectives close to Chad.

Normal, average people didn’t notice. The taxi drivers hadn’t. The fisherman didn’t. Everyone he passed while he walked around the hospital had turned a blind eye.

And as Romeo climbed from the car, stepping out onto the pavement on a busy Friday night, not one person saw the killer.

And the monster relished that.

There were two nightclubs on the street, both three stories high and at opposite ends.

The Desperado and the newly opened Goddess.

Romeo had stood outside The Desperado before when Chad was investigating a case.

He’d been inside it, too, when he attended the villains theme night and seduced Chad in the restroom.

He shook his head. He wasn’t thinking about Chad. He had to push him out of his mind. If he went inside The Desperado, he’d relive that night with Chad—he’d buzz with the memory.

Romeo turned away and strolled towards Goddess.

Blue neon lights twisted and twirled out the name of the night club.

Where The Desperado was painted black, Goddess was white.

It was still early in the night, and no queue had formed.

Romeo walked inside unchallenged.

The floor was blue, same as the walls and the ceiling, but the ceiling at least had lights dangling down, surrounded by cutouts of clouds. There were gold chains hanging down, too, glistening as the lights from the dance floor struck them.

There were no tables, but plenty of seating, plastic benches molded into cloud shapes. A neon light guided the way to the toilets, and on either door, a god had been painted.

Zeus and Athena.

Romeo narrowed his gaze at Zeus for a moment before backing out of the corridor and returning to the bar area. A staircase led to the next level and a sign on the wall stated that the floor above was only for those at God and Goddess status, in other words, VIPs.

Romeo moved to the bar. The shelf above the bottles had various props—a bow and arrow, a lightning bolt, a golden apple, wings. All trinkets associated with Greek Gods.

“What can I get you?”

Romeo had been so distracted running his gaze along the props, he hadn’t noticed the barman’s attention on him.

His heart began to thump.

He knew that face.

Black hair, black stubble, dark eyes.

The edge of Romeo’s lips quirked.

It was the face of Chad’s wannabe savior.

Dean, Romeo remembered, and Dean just so happened to be on Romeo’s list .

There was no bias when it came to killing, not for the monster, but for Romeo, there were exceptions, people he’d thought about strangling the life out of and enjoyed the daydream on an intimate level.

“Urm...” Dean snapped his fingers. “Are you with me?”

Romeo blew out a breath, scanning all the bottles on the wall behind. “Just a pint of beer.”

“Don’t I get a please?”

He’d said that before, Romeo remembered, so Romeo replied in the same way he had all those months ago.

“No. You don’t.”

Dean cocked his head. “Coming right up,” He sighed, turning his back on Romeo.

Romeo stalked up behind him and waited with his elbow on the bar.

This man had tried to take Chad from him. Maybe he’d been subtle in his approach, maybe Chad had been too blind to see it, but Romeo had.

“Been working here long?” he asked.

“A few months,” Dean replied. “I didn’t like to stay in one place for too long, was part of a company that rushed bar staff wherever they were needed, but then Olivia, my boss, offered me a permanent place here,” he shrugged. “I thought it was about time I settled down.”

“And have you?”

Dean glanced at him. He raised an eyebrow. “Have I what?”

“Settled down.”

Dean placed the pint on the bar. He scrunched his brow. “I guess...”

“With someone.” Romeo clarified.

“Oh. No. Not yet.”

“Haven’t found the right guy?”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Who says I’m after a guy?”

Romeo snorted, and leaned his mouth down to take a sip of beer.

“You haven’t paid.” Dean snapped.

Irritation twitched his nose. He didn’t like Romeo, and Romeo as sure as shit didn’t like him.

“My apologies.”

Romeo reached into his pocket and pulled out a note. He slapped it down on the counter. Dean stared at the back of Romeo’s hand until he lifted it, revealing the note. There was a flicker of something on Dean’s face.

“That should cover it.”

Dean shifted his jaw. “Actually, you’re a few coins short.”

Romeo snorted as he reached back into his pocket. He pulled out his change, sorted it in his hand, then dropped it on the bar. A few coins bounced and rolled away.

“What the hell is your problem?” Dean asked, laughing in disbelief.

He gathered up the coins and the note then stashed them in the cash machine. He slammed the drawer shut, shaking his head.

“You want to know about my problem?”

Dean crossed his arms. “Not particularly, but if it explains why you’re acting like such an asshole, I want to hear it.”

“I have... I had a boyfriend. I love him. I love him more than anything, but he’s scared of me. He’s asked—pleaded for me to let him go,” Romeo lifted his beer. He took a gulp. “And maybe ... maybe I know I should, maybe it’s the right thing to do but I don’t want to. I really fucking don’t want to.”

Dean shuffled. His face was serious, and he lowered his voice. “I think if he’s asked you to let him go, that’s what you need to do.”

“Weren’t you listening? I don’t want to.”

“It’s not about what you want—”

“Why isn’t it? Why can’t it be?”

“Because of what you just told me. You love him. And sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

“But then when I think about it, really think about it, letting him go.” Romeo ground his teeth. “The thought of someone else swooping in, trying to play hero and taking him away for good,” he shook his head. “I can’t stand it. It fills me with a rage I struggle to contain.”

Dean’s gaze flicked over Romeo’s physique, taking him in. His Adam’s apple thudded.

“I think,” Dean said slowly. “You’ve got to respect his wishes, and accept you weren’t meant to be.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Romeo exhaled a long breath. “It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And what do I do in the meantime?” he gestured to the mostly empty club. “Come to places like this, drink, dance, distract myself.”

“You do whatever you need to do to get through it.”

Romeo smiled. “You give good advice.”

Dean grinned. The tension that had been steadily mounting between them dissipated.

“Well,” Dean dusted his knuckles on his t-shirt. “I do try.”

“But you’re going to regret it.”

Romeo snatched his beer off the bar, and retreated to one of the uncomfortable looking benches, gaze never leaving Dean.

Dean watched him back until the snap of impatient fingers pulled his focus away, and the club, minute by minute got busier until there were too many bodies between them for Romeo to continue his stare.

****

H e doesn’t deserve to die.

They were Chad’s words about Dean.

Romeo heard them more and more each pint he drank.

In his head, Romeo replied.

No one deserves to die. That wasn’t how life and death worked. It wasn’t a case of being deserving of a life or not deserving of a death.

The Chad in his mind rolled his eyes.

Romeo lowered his gaze.

He missed him. He missed him so much he thought the loss might tear him in two. If that happened, the monster would escape completely, and all the party goers around him would be in danger.

He shook his head.

Killing Dean would help, he was sure of it.

The lights dimmed, and the volume of the music increased as the hours passed.

Goddess heaved with people, and Romeo had retreated to the back wall, leaning against it as he took in the club.

Dean was too distracted to think about him anymore. The queue never thinned out in front of him, and he was constantly leaning over the bar to catch the order of whoever was waiting to be served.

Dean was on his list, but he’d not actively sought to kill him. Fate had dropped him in Romeo’s path. Romeo didn’t worry himself over semantics like whether Dean ‘deserved’ it or not. All he knew was he was going to enjoy it that little bit more knowing it was him.

This wasn’t waiting at the side of the road for the right opportunity to present itself.

He’d chosen his victim already, and there was something new and exciting about that.

Romeo got to watch his prey over the course of a few hours. He watched him smile, and tip back his head as he laughed. He noted how Dean poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he concentrated and kept glancing back to the clock on the wall.

Dean was obviously well liked, smiling welcomingly at all who came to his section of the bar. There was a tips jar chained to a pillar beside him, and notes were shoved inside of it, some even sticking out of the slit at the top.

Romeo had watched Chad talk to Dean inside The Desperado, and the jealousy that had reared up had rooted him to the floor. He’d wanted to kill Dean just for speaking to him, for smiling at him. Chad had tried to tell him Dean was looking out for him, he was a nice guy, but that only made Romeo hate him more.

Romeo despised nice guys, particularly those that made it look so effortless.

Chad deserved a nice guy, and maybe if Romeo walked away, left the nightclub, Chad would somehow find his way into Dean’s arms.

Romeo crushed the plastic cup in his grip. Beer shot up, soaking the sleeve of his jacket.

Dean gestured to someone at the other end of the bar. The woman nodded in reply, then hurried towards him, taking over Dean’s section as he squeezed behind his colleagues to exit the bar.

He stepped out, making his way across the crowded room, smiling brightly, accepting arms around his neck, and high fives as he made his way towards the toilets.

Romeo pushed off from the wall and pursued.

He’d noticed the cameras when he’d first come inside. One covered the entrance, one the dance floor, and the third covered the back door. No camera covered the corridor to the toilets, and there were enough bodies jumping and swaying, Romeo managed to avoid the one pointed at the dance floor.

Dean pushed open the Zeus door then disappeared inside. Romeo followed. His palms itched, and his fingers tingled. If his monster had a face it would’ve been frothing at the mouth.

The toilets were not empty like he’d hoped, but two men were using the urinals.

Dean pushed into a cubicle and locked the door.

A third urinal was unoccupied between the two men, but Romeo didn’t take it. The guy closest to Romeo finished first. He washed his hands, and Romeo stepped aside to allow him to leave. The second man, bigger, burlier, raised a questioning eyebrow at Romeo still standing by the doorway.

Romeo shook his head.

The man washed his hands and stepped out. Romeo followed him back into the corridor and grabbed onto his bicep. “A hundred pounds in cash if you stop anyone coming in for the next five minutes.”

“W...what?”

“You heard me,” Romeo said, reaching into his jacket. He pulled out a few notes, not bothering to count them. He pushed them at the man until he took them. “Half now, half when I come out.”

Romeo didn’t wait for a response; he went back into the toilets just in time to see Dean leaving the cubicle.

Dean froze.

“You...” Dean said.

His brow furrowed.

“Me.” Romeo replied.

Then he was across the room, monster snarling so loud he thought Dean might be able to hear it too.

Some people struggled and fought, Romeo never felt their blows, the adrenaline rush was too intense, and others were so shocked by what was happening, they didn’t react, they immediately went into a helpless state.

Dean was the latter.

He froze, wide-eyed, as Romeo closed his hand around his throat and squeezed.

It felt good, so good, Romeo’s lashes fluttered and his blood burned.

He didn’t need to use two hands—he’d perfected strangling the life out of someone with one. He had enough strength he could lift Dean off the floor. It put strain on his whole body. Chad thought Romeo held their victims like that to show off his strength, and it was partly true, but he liked the stretch, and the burn rushing up his arm into his chest. His heart had to double its efforts at the same moment someone else’s was stuttering to a stop.

Dean spluttered.

Fight and flight seemed to kick in, but it was far too late for that. He gripped onto Romeo’s arm with both hands, but it was weak, pathetic even.

It only increased Dean’s panic when he realized he couldn’t save himself.

His life was now Romeo’s, and Romeo slowly distinguished it, watching with heated dark eyes as Dean’s rolled back. Dean’s face turned red, his cheeks bulged, and his paling lips opened with his last desperate gasps for air.

It was addicting, no doubt about it, power inducing in a way Romeo could never describe with words. You could only feel it, through hands, through arms, through the thudding heart in the chest. It was a physical thing, like something rising up within him.

Then he looked back over his shoulder. Or the monster looked back. Romeo didn’t know which part of him made the decision or why, but for some reason he looked back expecting to see Chad behind him.

Chad’s dark eyes, heaving chest, and twitching fingers. His look of want so palpable Romeo could feel his lust in waves.

He wasn’t there, and it wasn’t the same.

His high at taking a life had evolved to include Chad. He was part of it, the ritual, the moment.

It was still there, the rush, but Romeo knew it could be more, it should be more.

He wanted more.

The monster did too.

“What ... what are you doing?”

Romeo let go.

Dean hit the ground.

Romeo turned to face the man he’d paid to watch the door. His bottom lip trembled in reply to Romeo’s expression. He’d stepped into the toilets, but kept his back to the wall, flashing looks at Dean motionless on the ground.

Romeo didn’t wait to see if he was dead or not.

It just wasn’t important.

He dropped the remainder of what he owed on the toilets floor, then strolled away.

Let me go.

He couldn’t.

He’d tried to do the right thing and let Chad go, but his right didn’t coincide with everyone else’s.

Before Chad had become his Juliet, before they’d moved to Bardhum, before Romeo had realized how deeply he loved Chad, there had been him, a barn, and a handcuffed Chad.

There was a rake, and an incapacitated little magpie .

Because that’s all Chad had been in the beginning, just another magpie.

Romeo nursed him back to health, forced a bond between them, one that only grew stronger as time went by until it turned into something beautiful .

There were monsters, and there were magpies.

And there was a fragile truth about magpies Romeo had learned long ago.

Their legs could be broken.

Their wings could be clipped.

They could be ... confined.

Their behavior could be ... adapted.

It was a cruel thought to some, but monsters thought differently.

They were excited by the idea.

Monsters couldn’t be broken, or molded.

They were born.

They could only get more monstrous or die.

Manipulating an injured magpie, one that he’d so cruelly tormented by crushing its eggs year after year, making it reliant on him until it became his only friend.

That was ugly.

Evil even.

Chad was a magpie.

Romeo was a monster.

That hadn’t changed.

All Romeo needed to do was catch him.