Page 79 of Shadowface

Talia raises her eyebrows at me. Her dark eye makeup accentuates her eyelids, and her hair is tied back. It remains a glossy black, except for the single gray streak at the front.

“It’s not what you think,” I state before she can start lecturing me. She used to lecture me all the time, and I hated it.

It’s exactly what it looks like, and Lincoln is slowly regaining consciousness. I have little time before he takes back control.

“My goodness,” she says, keeping her gaze on the dark hallway beyond. “That girl is a spitting image of her grandmother. Her beauty is just—” She pauses, her eyes reflective on what once was, focusing on the woman who single-handedly turned this town into darkness.

Summer’s grandmother, the one who spawned the Shadowface we know and love.

Talia’s attention is now wholly directed at me. “That must make you happy. She’s very pretty. Our dark one loves the pretty ones. He will favor you.”

My throat tightens, and her attention moves to the vein throbbing in my neck. Her head twitches. “Lincoln, be cautious around her. Avoid raising suspicion before the ceremony. I’ve worked tirelessly to keep our group undisclosed. You grasp the significance of what you’re involved in and your role in it. Everything will soon be yours, but be patient.”

One fluid motion and I could kill her. Snapping her delicate neck would rid me of one less person to worry about. Going on a rampage seems much simpler than hiding in my own skin.

I opt for silence, fearing that if I speak, I won’t be able to control myself.

A creeping dread settles upon Dr. Garcia as she stares into the eyes of the monster—the one she believed to be gone forever. Her deep brown eyes, eyes that used to reduce men to their knees, now gaze at me with a hint of piteousness.

Recognition finally settles in. “Mikael…” she gasps, “is that really you?”

I cross my arms, a twisted smile forming on my face. “Hello, doctor.”

I’m her patient. A delicate, dark, and disturbed patient, and also her adopted son. A son she gave up on and failed at fixing.

The clarity is palatable.

Her eyes betray a hint of terror, her frail hand trembling as her eyes dilate like they do before death. The silky blackness is so serene, it makes me envious. She darts her gaze to the door and the voices echoing from beyond.

“Mikael,” she breathes. “One step closer, and I’ll make sure everyone in this office knows what you’re about to do. You will spend the rest of your miserable life in the asylum. I’ll put you back in that white room.”

I lower my gaze, raise my arms to the back of my head, staying perfectly still and comfortable in my chair.

She knows my style. I watch, I wait, then I pounce before they can blink.

“You have no idea what my plans are, doctor,” I say sardonically.

She barks out a laugh. “I can guess, boy.” Any fear has now melted away, leaving her cold and cruel exterior. “Do you remember how scared you used to be of that white room as a child?”

She always threatened me with a white room. That I would live a colorless existence if I behaved badly in public. I ended up there, anyway.

I started to equate white with evil…and when I first saw Summer and her white hair, I was fixated on it. That is one of the reasons I will, one day soon, kill her. It’s also the same reason I am obsessed with her.

Dr. Garcia takes a careful seat in front of me, inches away from where Summer and I just fucked.

She pulls out her notebook. “The last time we spoke, you threatened to tear my eyes out,” she says matter-of-factually. “Do you still wish to do that?”

I snicker as that memory vividly plays out in my mind. I had said that to her after I killed my last victim. If it weren’t for Lincoln, she’d be dead. In fact, if it weren’t for Lincoln, many people would be dead.

I rise from my chair and step around her, clicking the door shut and locking it before moving to the edge of the desk and leaning back next to her. “Yes, doctor,” I say with arched brows, “I would very much still like to cut your eyes out.”

When she first discovered Lincoln, she used her power and manipulation to draw him out. When she discovered his level of brilliance, she fell in love with him. She decided I didn’t matter anymore.

She steps toward me, the familiar scent of her designer perfume wafting in my face. She must have put it on the spot between her collarbone and neck before she arrived.

I stand still as a statue as she rises on her tippy toes and runs her fingers along my cheekbone. “Mikael…” she whispers in awe. “I can’t believe it’s really you. It’s simply remarkable; I thought you were gone for good.”

She lies. I can taste her fear, see it shining through her devious eyes. Heat rolls through my entire body as I imagine finishing her like I promised myself I would.