Page 111 of An Oath at Midnight

“You tell me?”

That smirk was still front and center, and my fingers curled into a fist at my side. I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just want to ask you a couple questions.”

“Then ask,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

The tips of my fingers felt a little tingly. “How long have you worked for the Hazarks, Chase Golden and Maria Watson?” I shook my hand out, trying to get the blood flowing again.

“Seven months, and I work for Dark Star.”

“So you work for Isaac as well?”

“Yes,” he said.

A dull thump started behind my temples. “What do you do for them?”

He sat forward. “Anything they ask of me. I’m their assistant. I’m there to assist in any way they see fit.”

A cold sweat coated my skin, and my hands felt kind of numb. “Do you know Thomas Alway?”

“Yes.”

“How?” My head spun.

He took his wallet from his pocket, pulled out his license, and slid it to me. “Thomas Ryan Alway” was printed on it. “I dropped Thomas years ago. It’s kind of old and stodgy sounding.”

He was Thomas Alway. One of the kids the prom committee relentlessly bullied.

My head did another loop. Something was seriously wrong. I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. Fuck.

Ryan leaned in and slid his fingers under my chin, tilting my head back. “I also use Ryan because I didn’t want anyone to know who I was, not right away. I’m a lot hotter now than I was in high school, you know. I’ve lost a lot of weight. No one guessed I was the sad boy from the poetry group that no one would look twice at…unless they were about to spit on me, that is—or kick the shit out of me.”

My eyes grew heavy, and Ryan stood, laughing like I’d told some amazing joke. He pulled me out of my chair and tucked me under his arm. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, honey.”

I tried to open my mouth, to call for help, to tell him to back the fuck off, but he was already leading me through the bar and out the back, and no matter how hard I fought, my limbs were utterly useless. His hand delved into my pocket, and he took out my phone, switched it off and tossed it in the dumpster, then looked down at me. “You’re wondering how I knew you’d switch drinks? I didn’t, but I added a little insurance just in case you did,” he said and smiled. “I’m immune to it. I’m sure you’re wondering that as well. I ingested small quantities, slowly over time, increasing the amount until I built a tolerance to it.”

He was completely insane.

He all but carried me out the back and through an alleyway, then back out onto the street behind the bar and lifted his hand. A cab pulled up beside us, and Ryan stuffed me in, got in beside me, and rattled off an address I didn’t recognize.

“The wife and I…celebrated our anniversary a little too hard,” he said, slurring his words, pretending to be drunk. I guess so that the driver didn’t think he was taking advantage of some poor drunk girl. So he didn’t try to help me or ask if I was okay.

“Ready to have a little fun, Magnolia? I know I am,” he said low against my ear.

Inside I was screaming, but the words wouldn’t come. My entire body was paralyzed. I could hear everything, feel everything, but my body wouldn’t work. I was in serious trouble. Asher wouldn’t know where I was, and with my phone back there, she had no way of tracking me.

We didn’t drive for very long, and when the car pulled over, I willed my limbs to move and my mouth to work, but nothing. Ryan lifted me from the car, laughing and pretending we were having a grand old time as he dragged me away.

There was a big for sale sign at the front of the house, with a picture of Chloe Chan’s face on it. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door to the house. A new build, like he’d taken Margot.

He unlocked the door. “Chloe’s a decent fuck, but she really is as dumb as a post,” he said and slid the key in his pocket.

It was big and empty. There was plastic sheeting still on the floor, cans of paint, tools scattered here and there. He was using Chloe’s real estate business to help find places he could take his kills. I tried to talk again, and all I managed was a moan.

Ryan set me on the floor, but I couldn’t hold my head up. He crouched in front of me, taking my chin in his hand, and shoved my head back roughly before swiping the drool from my chin. “Messy girl. Look at the state of you.” He tutted. “Not so tough now, are you, Magnolia?” He laughed. “Are you cursing me out in your head? Attempting some gruesome spell? I like to think so, better than pleading for your life, that’d just be pathetic. Now, I’m going to set up, so you wait right here, okay?”

He released me and stood, and I fell to my side, hitting the ground hard.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before he was back, yanking me off the floor and dragging my limp body to the wall in someone’s freshly painted living room. He’d drilled a hole through the wall, into one of the studs, and attached a piece of thick wire, then using his body, he pressed me against the wall, gripped my wrists tight in one hand, and twisted the wire around both of them, so tightly it cut in. Agony shot through my forearms when he released me, the wire the only thing supporting the dead weight of my body. The wire cut deeper, and warm blood trickled down my arms.