by Tee, Marian
"Saoirse?"
The voice was smooth and deep, with more than a hint of arrogance. Hatefully familiar, too, and I couldn't help sucking my breath.
Shit.
My gaze darted up to Hadrian's handsome face, but his expression was unreadable, and that made me nervous somehow.
Jason came up to us then, and I nodded at him in greeting. "Hey."
"Just hey?" he asked teasingly.
I said nothing but forced myself to smile, unable to be rude. He looked good, I thought absently. But then he always did. I had wondered from time to time, how it would feel if we saw each other again. A part of me had been scared and worried that seeing Jason would make me realize I was still in love with him.
But now that it had finally happened, and Hadrian just happened to make up our threesome?
All I could do was try my damnedest to keep my face straight as I watched the two men face each other.
I've been with Jason long enough to gauge his moods, and right now the only way to describe it was pissed.
Jason had always been the type to categorize people in neat little boxes: people who were overweight were automatically lazy, people who cared more about their passions than money were stupid, and so forth. He was convinced that every person matched a certain stereotype, and in his book, guys who still wore hoodies in their thirties or forties were ugly dorks who still lived in their parents' spare bedrooms. Unfortunately for him, Hadrian was the exact opposite. Not only was Hadrian delectably gorgeous, but he was taller and bigger, too (in every way, if you know what I mean), and the fact that Hadrian's ride also happened to be a lot pricier than Jason's years-old Porsche was just the cherry on the top.
Hadrian was the first one to offer hand. "Hadrian."
"Jason."
They shook hands, and I had to fight back another smile. Judging by Jason's grimace, Hadrian's grip wasn't the weak and friendly type he had probably been hoping for.
"Saoirse and I used to date," Jason commented as soon as their handshake-slash-pissing-contest ended.
"She did mention you, yes." The dismissiveness in Hadrian's tone had me fighting back another smile, and the urge to keep my face expressionless became a greater challenge when I saw the livid expression on Jason's face, with the way Hadrian didn't even seem to regard his as competition in any way.
Hadrian turned to me then, asking, "I'll pick you up tonight?"
"Yes, please."
An arm went around my waist, and Hadrian pulled me close. "Take care, love." He gently brushed his mouth over mine, gave Jason another courteous nod, and then he was driving away.
Way to go, Man in Black. I had never seen someone handle Jason so with such diabolical ease, and it almost had me worrying. Diabolical was a little too close to demonic—-
"New boyfriend then?"
The curt sound of Jason's voice interrupted my musings, and I reluctantly turned to face him again. "He is."
"And is he also the reason why you haven't been answering my texts?"
"Uh...no. That's all on you." I made sure to speak lightly, not wanting Jason to have even the slightest reason to think that I was still bitter over his actions.
"Saoirse—-"
The heavy note in his voice warned me off, and I hurriedly interrupted him, asking, "Are you a client of Dr. Harris?"
Jason frowned. "You know him?"
"I work for him."
Jason's lips tightened. "I see."
"I don't recall having your name listed down for today, though." If memory served me right, Dr. Harris would currently be in session with a patient whose secretary I had spoken to, and whose name was listed as—-
"Alicia is Ms. Melons?" I gasped, and the sudden flush that darkened Jason's cheeks was answer enough.
According to her old records on file, Alicia had undergone breast augmentation to upgrade her B cups to double Ds. I was dying to ask Jason whose idea it was to use Ms. Melons as Alicia's fake name, but I swallowed the words back in time. Too snide, I thought, even for a bitch like me.
"Anyway..." I cleared my throat. "My shift's about to start soon—-"
"I'd appreciate if you'd keep her visits confidential," Jason said stiffly.
"Of course. You didn't have to ask. It's part of my job to keep my mouth shut."
"Thank you."
I nodded. "Nice seeing you." I turned away right after, wanting to end the conversation. I could feel Jason's gaze following me as I entered the clinic, and the tiniest ache squeezed my heart. I now had my answer to the question that I had been unconsciously afraid to ask.
For better or for worse, it was over between us, irrevocably.
Chapter Ten
Work that day was mostly spent overseeing deliveries, all of which were to be taken straight to the huge storage room at the back. Completely bare but well-ventilated, it was now home to a new industrial-sized freezer, an operating bed, and several equipment and machines that seemed to have something to do with cosmetic surgery. It made me wonder if Dr. Harris had decided to start practicing as a cosmetic surgeon again, and if he were - did that mean I was going to see Alicia and Jason more often?
The thought was a little depressing, but I told myself off for being shallow about it. There were more important things to trouble myself with, like tracking down a serial killer whose victims were now ghosts that demanded justice for their murders.
This was what I had decided on earlier. I was going to find a way to contact those ghosts and hopefully be able to prove that Hadrian as the Man in Black had nothing to do with their murders.
While having dinner, I decided to pull out my Notes app and type down everything I could think of related to the murders. I hit Google to read everything I could on the six corpses that had been so far recovered, and I made profile charts for each victim.
Tongues cut out, body parts seemingly torn off by hand, and corpses disposed of in various parts of the city.
I then moved on to write everything I could remember about the ghostly side of it.
Shadows.
It all boiled down to shadows.
That time in the bus, where I felt a shadow was stalking me.
The shadows from my nightmares.
And the shadowy figure of the Man in Black.
A part of me felt like all of these incidents could be connected together, but another part of me was worried I was only seeing what I wanted to see, just so I could absolve Hadrian from any wrongdoing.
My gaze flicked back to the top of the page, where I had listed the small number of similarities—-
Aha!
Since all of the women had their tongues cut out, could that be why the shadows in my nightmares - and even that time Melanie's ghost had tried to communicate with me through the TV - were completely incoherent?
My guts told me that I was on to something, and I could feel my heart racing as I opened a new browser tab and searched the Internet for ways to communicate with ghosts. There were suggestions aplenty, but most of them required use of objects no ordinary household or workplace would have access to. These were things like ouija boards and planchettes, pendulums and pentagrams, and even crystal balls (seriously?).
Come on, Google, don't fail me now.
It was only when I made it to the second page that I finally found something doable, and I quickly checked the time.
8:05.
Not exactly witching hour, but eight plus five equals thirteen, so that should be almost as good...hopefully.
DR. HARRIS' CLINIC only had one cloakroom, and I pushed the lock to Occupied as soon as I stepped inside. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and the face that looked back at me was apprehensive. I really hope this was going to work, and I'd end up talking to the right ghosts...instead of accidentally dial the wrong number and end up speaking to Bloody Mary.
So here goes nothing.
I flipped the main lights off, and goosebumps broke over my skin as the entire restroom was plunged into darkness.
Medit
ate.
That was Step #1, and I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax.
Me-di-tate. Me-di-tate. Me-di-tate.
I was thinking my mind should be blank by now, but it was still chaos despite the darkness behind my lids, and all I could think about was how those six corpses could have been stalking me from day one.
Me-di-tate. Me-di-tate. Me-di-tate.
But all this did was make my imagination take a gorier turn. All I could see now were tongues littering the ground, shadows merging and taking shape...until they slowly turned into...a fiery-red...demon.
AAAAAAH!
My eyes flew open—-
And that was when I saw it: six women staring back at me from the mirror, their eyes once again completely white.
The air around me turned icy cold, and as my teeth began to chatter, letters slowly appeared on the glass.
A N T H R O P O
"Ms. Sullivan?" Dr. Harris' fist rapped against the door, and the sound seemed to break some invisible connection between me and the other world, with the temperature inside the room instantly shooting back up, and the lights switching back on all by itself.
I stared blankly at the mirror.
Anthropo...what?
Why couldn't they have just spelled their killer's name—-
"Ms. Sullivan?"
Dr. Harris' voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I realized belatedly that I had yet to answer him. I hurriedly unlocked the door and stepped out of the restroom.
"Are you alright? I thought I heard you cry out."
"I...um..." Gaaaah. Why was it always so hard to lie on the spot?
Dr. Harris was looking at me with growing concern. "Did you have an upset stomach?"
It was as good an excuse as any, and I nodded right away. "I'm sorry, doc. But I don't think I'll be any good to you..." I gestured vaguely to the restroom, adding, "It's toxic inside, too..."
"Thank you for the warning," Dr. Harris said with a wince.
I clutched my stomach. "I think it's starting again..."
The speed in which Dr. Harris took a step back almost made me laugh, and when I asked him if I could take my - er - toxic business elsewhere, he said yes right away, and looked more than a little relieved to wave me off.
I felt guilty about having to deceive him like that, even if it were for a good cause, and I promised myself to make it up next time. For now, however...
My steps slowed to a stop, and I took my phone out to type those eight letters in my dictionary app. A painfully long list of possible words showed up, and I clicked on the first term that struck me as something a ghost demanding justice would write.
Anthropogenic
It referred to anything humans did that affected nature, and right away I thought about The Happening. But if that were the case, those ghosts would've been the evil ones, and nature was simply delivering justice with their deaths.
So no, it had to be something else, and I tried looking for another term.
Anthropogony
This could be it, I think. It was like anthropo and agony combined, so maybe it was some code word for human torture? I clicked on the term—-
To access this definition, please visit the App Store and purchase the full version of our app.
It was the very first time I had seen this notification pop up, and it was almost felt like the gods were having fun on my expense. I was doing my best helping those ghosts here, and I still had to pay an extra five dollars to look a word up?
No way.
I switched to my Internet browser and typed anthropogony in the search bar.
Ha!
It meant the study of human origins, and since the term obviously hadn't anything to do with my murder investigation, that would've meant five dollars wasted if I had gone ahead and downloaded the full version.
So take that, gods, fates, or whoever it was up there—-
An icy breeze blew against my skin, startling me into looking up—-
What the hell!
Six dead girls were rising out of the shadows—-
And then they were screaming.
Disjointed words that I couldn't make sense of, but underneath it all was a terrible sense of urgency—-
And I knew right away they were telling me, begging me to hurry—-
Or else.
I tried to keep my fingers from shaking as I typed the letters again and quickly scrolled up to choose another possible term.
Anthropomorph
But this wasn't it either, and the ghosts around me were wailing louder and louder as I typed the letters anew.
"I'm trying, okay?" It wasn't my fault the app required me to start from scratch with every new query.
Anthropophagi
I mentally crossed my fingers as I clicked on the term.
Come on, come on, please let this be it.
And it was.
In fables, myths, and legends, a being that feeds on human flesh.
A cannibal.
But by then it was too late.
Someone had grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth with something—-
Shit.
Shit.
Shiiiiiiiiiit.
The ghosts were gone, and the night eerily and devastatingly silent as my eyelids started to droop, and my body gradually sagged against my assailant.
Chapter Eleven
"Wakey-wakey, Ms. Sullivan." My boss smiled kindly at me as I stared up at him groggily. "You have been a very nosy girl, and I'm very sorry to say I'll have to kill you for it."
The room was still spinning ever so slightly as Dr. Harris turned his back on me and started humming. He was wearing scrubs, I observed drowsily.
Why?
The throbbing in my head made it hard for me to think, but my surroundings eventually made sense, and I realized I was in the clinic's storage room—-
My gaze darted down.
And I was strapped to his newly delivered surgical bed.
Panic burst inside of me just as Dr. Harris walked back to my side, and my lips parted in silent terror when I saw the yellow-colored IV tube already connected to my wrist, which was manacled to the bed railing.
No, no, noooo—-
"Sssh..." Dr. Harris' voice was soothing, but somehow, that just made him all the more monstrously frightening, and tears tracked helplessly down my cheeks.
"It's alright," Dr. Harris comforted me. "It will be all over soon, and you won't feel a thing, I promise."
I stared up at him, wishing I could somehow find the energy to spit at his abnormally smooth face. I had sometimes wondered how it was he had kept himself wrinkle-free, and now I had my answer.
It was all because he was an anthropo...shit, what was that word again?
A squeaking sound distracted me, and I saw Dr. Harris pulling a swivel chair close so he could sit next to my bed.
"Have you ever undergone liposuction before, Ms. Sullivan?"
I forced myself to shake my head. In books and movies, the characters that tended to survive were those who had kept their would-be killers talking, and well...a girl's gotta hope, right?
Dr. Harris was nodding thoughtfully. "I did think that was the case."
"Is that what this is then?" I managed to croak out. "Forced liposuction?"
My boss chuckled. "You're looking at me like I've lost my mind, but I assure you that's not the case."
I wished I could say I begged to differ, but nah. I needed him to keep me alive for longer time, not shorter.
"I am so very rarely surprised these days, young lady, but you..." His gaze turned admiring. "I was immensely shocked when I saw what you've written on the mirror..."
So that was how he knew I knew.
"How do you know what I am?" he asked curiously.
"If I tell you, I'd have to kill you."
Dr. Harris laughed. "Priceless, my dear."
He sounded so wonderfully charmed by my quip, it was almost impossible to remember that he was also a cannibal underneat
h his immaculately polished disguise. Maybe he was related to Ted Bundy, seeing how Dr. Harris ticked all the boxes: good-looking and rich, educated and well-spoken, and a fetish for human flesh. If I remembered correctly, didn't the Boston Strangler like to bite his victims—-
"Ms. Sullivan?"
I tensed involuntarily, the politeness of his tone making me feel sick to my stomach.
"You haven't answered my question."
"It was a guess."
His lips tightened. "I don't like liars, my dear."
And I don't like killers, I thought gloomily, but we don't always get what we want, do we?
"You know what I think?"
Nope.
I didn't want to know what he was thinking.
He was a serial killer, ergo, his thoughts would be grossly—-
"I think you can see ghosts."
Perceptive.
"That's it, isn't it?"
"Nope."
"What a horrible liar you are, Ms. Sullivan."
Shit.
"It's because of people like you that I cut their tongues out, you know."
Oh God, the old man really was a psycho, to say something like that so damn easily.
"The spell was supposed to keep them from snitching, but..." Dr. Harris sighed. "I knew that Fiverr ad was too good to be true."
Spell?
Fiver?
Dr. Harris clucked his tongue. "Don't look at me like that—-"
"What are you exactly?" He made me sick, and he scared the shit out of me, but even so, I truly did want to know what kind of monster he was. "Are you like Harry Potter but raised on a diet of Texas Chainsaw Massacres and The Hills Have Eyes—-"
Dr. Harris laughed. "You are truly perfect for my experiment, my dear."
Not what I wanted to hear, but as long as it got him talking, I'd take it. Now that my shock had worn off, I finally remembered Hadrian was due to arrive any moment.
You just have to keep yourself alive until the Man in Black comes, I told myself, and Hadrian's going to kick this cannibal's ass straight to Hell.
"I am what you call an anthropophagus."
I wondered what he had in common with Aloysius Snuffleupagus and a human's esophagus.
