by Adalynn Rafe
“That’s enough, girls,” says another voice. Aaron looks in that direction.
I use his distraction to my advantage and kick him hard in the shins.
Aaron backs away, cursing at me.
“Enough!” Leison yells, though he is still on the ground. “Get a hold of yourself, Aaron!”
A third goon passes by us in the shadows and the fourth comes up from behind Aaron. Two more follow in. I wonder how many goons haunt this mine . . . hidden in the shadows, learning from their master.
This man holds authority—he is in no way one of the mindless cult followers. He exudes a power stronger than Leison’s. I can see that he has dark features, but aside from that, it’s too dark to tell much more. He glances down at me, dark eyes glinting in the dim light.
Something glints on his breast pocket. Tan shirt . . . black pants . . . black holster. Deputy badge. My mouth gapes open and I have to hold back a terrified scream.
Eyes and ears everywhere . . . but I saw Leison that night at the precinct. I swear by it. I start to panic even more. Who is this stranger?
“Dust yourself off!” I’d never expect to see anyone speak to Leison with such annoyance, such authority. Right when I thought it couldn’t get worse. The man barked again. “I will not repeat myself.”
I get a good look at one of the goon’s faces. I don’t recognize him, but he has the same sickly handsome face, the same conniving look as all the other cult followers. He and Aaron take Sabrina and Stacy by the arms and hold them still in the middle of the space. The lanterns stand upright on the black ground, glowing like hollow apparitions. The girls try to fight, but it is short-lived.
Leison stands up and dusts himself off. There is just enough light on him to catch the glint of darkness in his eye and the curve of his sharp jaw line. He wears a black pullover hoodie and dark jeans, both of which are rumpled and dirty from his fight on the ground. “Next time—” he sneers, such an ugly sight “—just let them kill me, will you? That way you can take all the time in the world for yourself.”
“Enough,” the deputy says. Another lantern illuminates between them, burning my eyes for a moment. I see the resemblance between the two. Both tall and dark, with the same creepy eyes… They’re brothers, they have to be! “I’m sick of your crap, James. I’m sick of cleaning up after you.”
They both look at me. “You’re the little tattletale, aren’t you?” The deputy rips me up from the ground. A small yelp sounds from me. I can feel the mark forming on my arm where he yanked me. “You are brave, aren’t you? Skipped the local authorities and shot straight to the FBI. Right, Cecily?”
I refuse to make eye contact. Instead I stared at the claw marks on the dark walls beyond him. “What did you do—do to Sheriff Copper?”
“He’s knocked out cold. Maybe even dead.” Leison snickers. “Oops.”
Frozen completely, I can’t even lift my head to look at my offender. All I can think of is Sheriff Copper being dead—in his office, sprawled on the floor, blood staining his tan sheriff’s shirt. It can’t be true; I refuse to believe it.
Finally, I turn a furious stare on the deputy. In this lighting, I honestly can’t tell the difference between the two. Was he the man at the school, stalking the hallway, or was it Leison dressed as a cop?
“You’re Deputy Paxson!!!” Sabrina yells suddenly, so loud that even Leison jumps a little. He glares at her as she keeps screaming. “I know who you are!!!”
Deputy Paxson smiles darkly. “Ah, yes, hello, Sabrina. Your father and I are associates—friends, even. He’s confided quite a bit in me, actually. He’s said a rather lot about you. Even asked for advice on what to do with his troubled teenage daughter. How he thought you were being assaulted—raped.” Dark eyes flash, catching the light of the lantern, and he smirks. “If only he knew.”
Sabrina’s face pales, and in an instant, silver streams of tears are running down her cheeks. She collapses back into the enemy, unable to hold herself up. Her father betrayed her without even knowing it.
The deputy releases my arm to pull a gun from his holster. “If Gordon had trusted his daughter before he trusted a stranger impersonating a deputy, our fun would have ended long ago.”
Sabrina lets out a growl, and then yelps, as the goon holding her does something.
Mr. Deputy turns toward Leison. “Copper caught on to us this morning. I guess the FBI finally made contact with him. He called you a serial killer.”
“If the shoe fits . . .” Leison takes one step back. Something is going on to create the tension between them, something that no one else can see.
“That would mean that I’m your accomplice.”
Leison doesn’t say anything.
“Or was it the other way around?”
Leison turns to run, but a shot rings through the air before he can even take one step. I cover my ears, gasping; I swear that my ears are bleeding.
The body of Mr. Leison crumples to the ground. I thought I’d rejoice in seeing him lifeless, but after meeting Paxson, there was no feeling of safety in his death.
“I believe it was the other way around.” Paxson nudges the body with his foot. “I’ve been cleaning up his messes for too long.”
Taking my chance, I quickly back away from him, stumbling backward until I’m pressed against the cold wall of the tunnel. My eyes widen when I realize I’m stuck here.
“Where could you possibly be going, young lady?” One loud step after the other, he comes closer to me. “Consequences are in store for you, Cecily Wolf.”
“I––I––” I grip the uneven edges of the wall tightly, as if to seek some comfort, but it just scrapes my fingers and juts angrily into my back.
Paxson reaches me and grabs my throat, already sore from Leison’s earlier attack. His hands are just as rough—just as greedy. “You’re untouched, pure . . . unlike the other victims.” His eyes fill with an evil desire. “A rare commodity.”
As he moves his face toward mine, I move my head away from him. “Don’t,” I plead, tears filling my eyes.
His eyes fill with a sick satisfaction. Pleased with himself for making me tremble under his hand, he smiles widely.
But I recognize that sickly smile.
No wonder that rage had seemed unusual.
I start to shake. Leison had a temper, but it was always smooth and controlled—not like the dead brother on the ground. This had to be . . .
“Mr. Leison?” I whisper.
Surprise fills his dark eyes and he loosens his grasp for just a moment. Someone coughs in the darkness . . . an unseen goon.
“You are so smart, Cecily Wolf.” Paxson—Leison—smirks. “There was another as smart as you . . .”
“You’re Leison?” Sabrina yells and her mouth is quickly covered.
“You see, ladies, the dead man on the floor is my twin. Now, after I tell you this story, you will die. Just so you know what to expect.” He flashes a cruel smile. “James Longhorn is my name, my brother is Edward Jeers. He’s the cop; I’m the detective . . . if you get my analogy.”
Is this why Reinhardt hasn’t been able to tag him? Because he has a brother who covers his trail? Is that why he never mentioned running into me at the diner before now? Because it wasn’t him who was there?
I can already smell the metallic scent of the spilled blood on the ground.
I watch him, paralyzed. The shadows of his thin face are deepened in the dim light of the lanterns, making him look like a skeleton. The red tint gives him a demonic look—highlighting the devil he has turned out to be.
“Cops do the street work,” he says, his voice sharp. “Detectives are the thinkers, the solvers. That’s how it always was with us. Then he decided he wanted a piece of the action. He wanted to be the killer, and me the accomplice. So he started walking around, making ruthless threats… not my style.”
“What is your style?” I ask quietly. “Rape them then throw them into a cave to starve?”
“You forget the p
art about me being conniving and handsome, Cecily. The three girls here…” His eyes quickly dart to spot were the girls are huddled. They barely whimper. “Why didn’t anyone go looking for them? Why didn’t anyone care that they were missing until the FBI put their foot in it? Everyone assumed they’d gone off to college. My timing was perfect.” He shot a derisive look at his dead brother. “That’s why I’m the planner, and he is dead.”
“Was it you or him that worked at the school?” Stacy asks.
“Both. It worked fine until my idiot brother had to start touching the girls I had set aside. Girls like you, Stacy.” He’s thrilled by the horror that fills her face. “We shared Sabrina,” he adds, shooting her a slimy grin, and she gives a disgusted look. I am sure that one stings a little for her. “I was there to tag each of you girls. My idiot brother just had to touch you and pollute you and ruin my plans . . .” He turns to me, a vicious hunger filling his disgusting face. “Except for you, Cecily. He never got his hands on you.”
Stacy speaks quietly. “Why did you switch off?”
He looks toward her. “My brother wanted a chance to play big boy serial killer. I was stupid enough to think he could pull it off. I’d give him a chance, he’d prove his incompetence. Repeat after repeat.” There was no emotion at all in the man as he stared down at the lifeless body of his brother. “Now, he’s dead. And I’ve learned a valuable lesson.”
“It had to help to have an in with the authorities, right?” I say quietly. “Deputy Paxson.”
“You saw me that night. What a smart girl to keep her mouth shut.” He almost seems proud. I remember seeing him talking to Sherriff on that cold, dark night at the precinct . . . I hadn’t realized he had seen me. “Had you reported your assault, this all could have ended.”
Mocking laughter echoes through the mine. I can’t tell if there are tens of men or if it is just the acoustics of the tunnel. Either way, it sends disgusted chills down my spine.
Disappointment washes over me, but I refuse to cry. The entire time I could have said something to end this . . . . What do the other girls think of my cowardice now?
“Your brother spilled your secret, Edward.” Sabrina spits. “Cecily saw the coordinates on the map. You will be caught and killed—”
She cried out and the goon behind her told her to shut up, clearly hurting her.
“No, no. That was me.” Leison waves his hand down, ordering the goon to back off. “Did you know that the map has never left its place on that wall? Not since I scribbled those coordinates on it? I put it there once and haven’t touched it since.”
“Why?” whispers Stacy. She’s scared she’ll be hurt also for speaking up.
“A good killer knows when they’ve gotten away with it. You see, in all of the classrooms I’ve teach in, I leave coordinates of where the girls are hidden on the back of the maps. If someone was smart enough to take a black light to the maps, they’d find the remains of all my victims––all thirty six. But, no one is smart enough, unfortunately. Except, apparently, you girls: the Slut, the Brain, and the Victim,” Leison stares at me as he says the last word.
I look away from his piercing gaze. “Why did keep these girls alive for so long?”
Leison looks down at his dead brother. “Another one of his mistakes. It turned out perfect. When I told each of you girls that I had victims hidden and dying, it made you fear me. You were scared of being one of them, so you did as I said.”
Scared of you? Clearly not enough. I bit my tongue to keep from saying it out loud.
“There were other things to it, though.” He looks at me “I made friends everywhere . . . created a band of followers. You’d be surprised at how many sick and twisted young men reside in your little town.” Again, deep chuckles echo. “It was too easy to make you think that I was spreading malicious rumors when I actually wasn’t. Not a word about you came from my lips, even though I told you it had.” A laugh of amusement sounds from him. “And your family members . . . I had no intention of touching them.”
My stomach pangs as Sabrina hisses at him. We were played, like little dolls in his sickly twisted game. We ate from the palm of his hand willingly.
“Let’s see; we had Gordon, Adie, and Billy.” Billy must have been Stacy’s person. “No one would believe Cecily because everyone thought she was a suicidal brat that sought attention. Sabrina was the common slut that slept around, so it wouldn’t surprise anyone if she slept with a teacher. Stacy couldn’t risk losing her image of good girl, unscathed by the hands of evil. And the three girls here were held hostage, killed if any of you told.”
It was a wonder that the girls were still alive. It was obvious that we’d told. It was his way of getting his hands on us, his last hurrah of manipulative mind games. He knew we’d come to save the girls. That meant he set up the diversion with the broken machine and the caved in roof of the other crime scene. I had a feeling that he was behind it.
Stacy’s voice sounds shaky. “What would you to do with us after the school year was up?”
“Hide you in another mine and starve you to death. I’d unfortunately have to leave after that. Two seasons in one place is too risky.” Leison bent his body back to look around the jut in the tunnel where the three whimpering girls laid on the ground. “I really should take care of them. The idiot has let them live for too long.”
“Has anyone come close to finding you?” I ignore the pitying look he gives me.
“We all know Special Agent Reinhardt, don’t we?” Mockery fills his voice.
My eyes widen at the mention of the name. When I’d mentioned the possibility of her being an accomplice to Kelly, it had been a wild accusation—but she is working with him? Really?
“Agent Reinhardt was the only girl I left alive. She was eighteen. Just a baby. She was one of my first. You see, Reinhardt had spirit—she was a feisty little thing—I knew without a doubt that she’d hunt me down for the rest of her life. I also knew that I would have the pleasure of tracking her and haunting her. She really is a pathetic creature, isn’t she? That was twelve years ago and––” His eyes fill with some hidden emotion and he looks toward the entrance of the tunnel. “She’s still the temptress she was when we were kids.”
“The slut, the brain, and the victim.” My eyes slowly meet his and I try not to flinch away from such darkness. “Which one is Reinhardt?”
Leison’s eyes light with dark fire. “The one I let live. The one I’ll torture forever.”
He stares almost wistfully up the tunnel for a moment, but then he turns back to face me. His face splits into a demonic grin, and I know.
The foreplay is done. It’s time for the main event.
Judging by the hooting and hollering of men . . . we have a crowd.
He lunges for me, and I try to shove past him—get away, somehow—but he is too fast. His cold hands grip me roughly and slam me face first against the wall. Through the pain, I notice something pressing against my hip. I cry out, thinking it might be his hand, too close to the zipper of my jeans, but then I remember—the Exacto knife!
Leison flips me around and moves his lean body closer to mine, heavy with the scent of rose oil. Tears stream down my face as I hold back an instinctual sob. I can’t just give up. I shake my head and beg him with my eyes to not do what he is going to do.
Smiling wickedly, he strokes my cheek and moves his mouth close to my ear. “You have the fight in you, Cecily, like Reinhardt. I want to see it.”
He moves his mouth lower, and I can feel his hot, moist breath on the cold skin of my neck. I slowly start to reach down into the pocket of my jeans for the knife. Leison grabs my hands before I reach it and pins my arms against the wall.
A cry of despair sounds from me and I move my head away from his. “Don’t touch me!” I scream, my voice echoing down the tunnel.
He pauses the game of torture for a moment and smiles up at me. An enthralled look fills his face, as if I am feeding into his sick fantasy. “Are you scared, Cecily
?”
Refusing to answer him, I turn my head even further. I close my eyes and plead silently to any power that can hear me.
Warm breath is on my neck once again. Within a flash, his teeth sink into my skin, pinching the tender spot beneath my jaw. I scream out first in shock—and then in pain as he bites down. I am hardly able to control the tears that stream down my face. In the back I hear the girls screaming my name, but they are silenced quickly.
Laughing loudly, he grabs my head in his hands, staring at me maniacally. “That’s only the beginning,” he promises. His hands find my collar and rip it open with disturbing ease, and he begins to grope at me with slow but determined hands, tracing the contours of my body. His eyes move downward, eagerly soaking in what little of me he can see in this semi-darkness.
As I fight to suppress the bile rising in my throat, I focus on how to get that knife. I need to stun him first—get him away from me.
I take advantage of his being distracted and slam my head into his. It hurts, but it catches him off guard—I claw at his face viciously, leaving gashes down his forehead and cheek.
“Don’t touch me!” The sound of my voice sound echoes all around me. It’s silent for once; the cat calls have paused and all are shocked that I injured their boss.
My heart is pounding as my hands reach for my pockets, but it’s no use.
Angry as ever, Leison yanks my shoulders to him. Glaring deeply into my eyes, he smashes me against the wall. I whack my already throbbing head against the jagged edge and my vision is blurred. “Cecily.” He says it mockingly, but I hear a cold fury behind his voice. He begins to move—
And then, suddenly, he’s yanked from me!
“Don’t you dare touch her!” Kelly punches him in the face.
I shake my head and blink my eyes to regain focus. Kelly, my savior, is now wrestling with the devil. I hear the scuttling of feet—the goons are coming to aid Leison.
While that’s happening, I reach for the knife, desperately trying to free it from my pocket. It’s stuck on something and won’t budge. How can it be stuck? It’s just a pocket! A loud cry of frustration escapes me and tears blur my vision.
