A Bedtime Story (27 page)

Hours passed, she longed to see her brother again, wondered if he’d
be waiting for her when freedom finally came. Wondered if he’d ever forgive her. She
thought of Kayne. She recounted their story to herself, her eyes closed. She
pictured a young Laura listening enraptured, sometimes terrified, somewhat
hypnotized by the twisted tale that would become her life. A serene smile softened
her features; she wouldn’t change a thing. Not all fairy tales were meant to end
well. She felt the cold penetrating her clothes, her body, down to her bones. She
didn’t fight the slumber that had already invaded her limbs. As she drifted to the
realm of the wise and silent, she wondered if Kayne would ever find her, if his kiss
held the sorcery to wake her.

***

Kayne had abandoned the Audi on the side of the road. With Lucas on
the phone directing him, he made his way into the foreboding woods. He could barely
hear him under the vehement thunder. He called out to her, screaming her name
repeatedly as he beat away the sinister-looking branches blocking his path. In the
dark of the night, the beast helplessly sought his redemption.

***

It seemed as if it came from another world. She tried to ignore the
sound, the incessant call pushing away the peaceful shore awaiting her. She thought
she recognized her name, saw the glow retreat back into the void, felt the warmth
dissipate. She heard her name, louder and louder, closer and closer, recognized the
strained voice that had brought her back.

By the time she blinked her eyes awake, she felt the warmth of his
hand against her cheek, could see the beloved features facing hers. He seemed tired,
his face was dripping, his hair unruly. He looked wild, scary, and comforting at the
same time. Her Kayne, he was there, his eyes boring into hers.

“How did you find me?” She was still dazed, struggling to force a
sound out of her hibernating body.

He lowered his head, bringing their foreheads together. He exhaled
deeply as relief softened his features.

“Oh, Laura…” His smile was brittle as he reached for her sleeve and
crooked the bracelet with his finger.

“I don’t understand…” Her voice was soft. She feared she was
dreaming.

He turned the bracelet around, showing her the engraving. “For as
long as I’m your Monster, I will always find you.”

He brought her to her feet, removed his jacket, and draped it
around her shoulders.

“Let’s go home.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply took her
hand and started walking away. The little hand slipped away, and he turned around to
find Laura standing still.

“Laura. We have to go,” he commanded irritated, apprehension in his
voice as he looked to the angry skies.

She shook her head. She looked at him and felt the strings on her
limbs pull her to him. Never had a man or beast looked so terrifyingly beautiful.
She knew this for certain as she watched his wet shirt cling to his body, his eyes
glowing with emotion, his clenched jaw warning of its deadly bite. She didn’t want
to return
to the ivory tower. She would cast away its safety and
solitude, would rather perish in the dark forest, devoured by her beast.

“We’re going to die out here! Is this what you want?” he yelled,
his eyes narrow.

“YES!” Her scream was long and pained.

Looking at her face, he knew not all the drops came from the rain.
His body relaxed, he considered her for a moment. “So be it,” he said with
finality.

His walk determined, he took the few steps leading him back to her
and, in one fluid movement, grabbed hold of her.

He captured her in his arms, his elusive prey. His lips met hers
with ferocious lust. The world growled around them, lightning illuminated the sky.
He didn’t care. Their story had claimed too much blood. The Monster and his captive,
their happy ending awaited them in the underworld. Side by side, they would laugh at
the all the happily ever afters agonizing in the routine of the mundane.

He lowered her to the ground and pulled her wet clothes off as she
struggled to rip off his shirt. He left the bundled hoodie around her wrists and
held her down with one hand, while the other pulled her pants down to her knees. He
unzipped his jeans, didn’t take the time to tease and seduce. This fuck wasn’t for
her. It was a selfish fuck, meant to appease his own desperate needs. He took her
savagely on the ground, sliding himself in and out roughly, though he found her
entrance wet and ready, her body willing, intuitively opening up to its true
master.

“No more, Laura,” he half growled in her ears. “No more bullshit.
I’ll mind fuck you until you get it.”

Laura gasped, knowing the threat to be true, fear and desire,
almost impossible to dissociate. She felt her muscles clamp around his hardness,
felt the buildup rising deep inside of her. She had surrendered her body long ago.
That wouldn’t be enough to appease the beast’s hunger. He wanted more, he wanted her
total submission. He
could
mind fuck her into insanity, into becoming
an obedient rag doll he could exercise his complete control over,
she realized with a pang.

She could resist in vain, hold on to her reeling pride, to her
wavering individuality. She could stand on her own and fight a losing battle. She
didn’t have the strength left; more so, she didn’t have the desire to. How tempting
the sweet surrender to her Monster seemed. He would fight all her fights, would
vanquish any and all threats. He would keep her safe. He would keep her happy. Her
pride could have pushed her to fight nonetheless, screaming that the price was too
high. But Laura knew, in the end, he would have her, just as he wanted her,
submissive, forsaking her pride for the sweet oblivion of his touch, for the
intoxicating comfort of belonging to her Monster.

Her voice raspy, her lids half closed, she allowed herself the
truth she long felt, and even longer, resisted. “I’m yours. Do as you want with
me.”

I
t was nearing dawn when Kayne led Laura
back to the car. The storm had ceded to clear blue skies, birds could be overheard
in the distance. They hadn’t said anything else to each other. On the ride home, he
left his hand on her thigh. Every now and then, he turned and offered her a knowing
smile below tired eyes. This was as close to a normal couple as they would ever get,
Laura thought. When they reached the house, he dragged her to his bedroom, removed
her wet clothes, and prepared a bath for the both of them. Obediently she followed
him and sat in between his legs as silently instructed. She let him bathe her body
and brush her hair. She felt at peace, felt the release of being utterly under his
care and control. After he dried her, he took her hand and led her to bed. He caged
her body with his legs and wrapped his arms around her. She felt his kiss on her
temple before she drifted off. In this moment, she didn’t understand why it couldn’t
always be that way. In her last waking thought, she murmured a
thank you
, to
whatever had her lying in his arms again, feeling his chest against her back,
building a home within his arms.

She dreamt of a warm summer day, picnicking out in the fields. She
was dressed elegantly as they did in the fifties, in a black dress, complete with
the long matching gloves and veiled hat. She was sitting on a blanket, looking up at
the clear blue sky with her legs folded together on her side, resting her weight on
her left arm. She felt light, very light.

She turned her head back to the blanket and noticed a black crow
had just landed. It was standing still, just watching her, its clear blue eyes
strangely human. It sent shivers down her spine.

Laura woke up with a start, sweaty and feeling uneasy. It was well
into the afternoon and the setting sun drew its pinkish hue
behind.
She let her fingers trail along the empty space by her side, yearning for the body
still indented in the folds.

***

Louis had been going mad as the silent hours passed by. He called
Genevieve’s cellphone nonstop, filled her voice mail with unanswered messages. He
reached out to all their acquaintances, hoping to find her, though apprehensive that
she might have found refuge elsewhere. He refused to believe she would turn her back
on him. For all her fickleness, he was the one constant in her life. Not out of
love, but out of mere selfishness, he knew she would never abandon such a faithful
companion.

No one had heard a word. He lowered himself further and began
calling all her part-time lovers. If she lay in their bed, they remained silent
about it, some even laughed in his face before hanging up on him. In only two days,
Genevieve Roy seemed to have vanished into thin air. For the second day in a row, he
went to the nearest bar and got as drunk as his wallet allowed.

He replayed the discussion he had with the master of the house. He
had demanded to see him and did not lower his gaze when formulating accusatory
questions. Kayne Malkin had remained calm, even showed some concern, was patient and
tolerant facing the inflamed young man. Louis hadn’t fallen for it. He knew
something bad had happened to Genevieve. He could feel it in the eerie calm and
peacefulness her absence left. He was convinced the Malkins were behind it.

It was in this bar that he ran into Carlyle, the beat-up thug who
recommended the job to Genevieve. He was tall and beastly looking. Genevieve hadn’t
picked him for his looks, Louis suspected. It was the air of danger that followed
him everywhere, his connections with the Mafia that had lured her to him.

With a height of five foot seven and all of one hundred and fifty
pounds, Louis marched with the determination and courage found at the bottom of a
whiskey bottle to confront the gold-toothed sneer of the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound
mass awaiting him.

“Have you seen her?” he spat at him as he still
walked closer.

“Gen? That your girl, isn’t it?” Carlyle responded with a
malevolent calm.

“Just answer me.”

“Nah, man… . Haven’t seen her face in a month… saw her back though…
last week in the backseat of my car…” He broke off snickering. A few thug attired
look-alikes snickered along, their eyes looking to one another for cues.

Louis reddened. Further words were exchanged. He was not even sure
who threw the first punch. He only remembered being pulled away and dragged out of
the club. He remembered the blonde policewoman being rude and aggressive. The
policeman with her was a tad more civil as he pushed him into the backseat of the
cruiser.

Louis hated the police. He had been part of too many peaceful
protests ending in indiscriminate pepper spraying and mass arrests to see them as
anything else but government lapdogs. He suspected a good 70 percent of them were
incompetent, arrogant, and on a power trip. They seemed more like glorified bouncers
than officers sworn to serve and protect. The other 29 percent were corrupt; those
he actually preferred, the Mafia dogs tended to leave you alone. He didn’t like to
generalize, so he allowed for a

He had learned an invaluable lesson from his years of protesting
and public pot smoking: dodge the female cops and the short male ones. They were
always the worst. They reminded him of little Chihuahuas barking away excitedly,
asserting their authority
. He cackled alone in the backseat at the
thought.

Louis was still drunk when the officers interrogated him. He was
barely coherent. He managed to shout out his indignation.
The Malkins! It was
them! They did it! The Malkins!

He was ushered out with eye rolling and more force than necessary.
After, he was placed in the holding cell and forced to share it for the night with a
homeless man. The man’s teeth were completely rotted, but he managed to present
reassurance through his kind
smile. He insisted on offering him the
same suspicious-looking banana every now and then. Louis graciously declined the
offer and considered his strange bedmate. He didn’t seem much older than himself.
His mind went back to Genevieve. They could have ended up the same way. He wondered
where she was. He knew it was all linked to the Malkins somehow. He hadn’t expected
the cops to take his plea seriously. If the Malkins were behind it, there would be
nowhere to turn to for help. If the Malkins had hurt her, they would pay, he would
make them pay. With sweet thoughts of revenge, sweeter thoughts even of Genevieve’s
miraculous return and their passionate reunion, Louis fell asleep with a pleasant
smile on his face.

K
ayne was with Dimitri. He had spent the
night at their mansion revising shipment strategies. Dimitri was a man of vision.
When he had inherited the leadership, the Quebec branch was disorganized, with big
tempers, bigger egos, and little result. With Kayne’s father by his side, they
expanded, united separate fractions, and diversified. Kayne remembered only one
occasion of raised voices between the two. Lev Malkin preferred the cautious money
in his pocket, while Dimitri only saw the money to be grabbed. True to his nature,
Dimitri was still unsatisfied, they were losing out on big operations, and he wanted
in.

It was almost supper time when he headed home and his cellphone
rang. Upon seeing Maxwell’s name blink on the screen, he ground his teeth.

“Maxwell,” he called out, his voice already impatient.

“Kayne.”

Maxwell’s grave voice, the lack of insincere joviality surprised
Kayne.

“Louis Lavallé. He’s one of yours, isn’t he?”

Kayne exhaled. “What about him?”

“He’s a problem.”

“I’m aware.”

“Really? Are you also aware that he spent the night in holdup? That
Riley got hold of the report? That your name was in it? Something about a missing
girl?”

Maxwell had his attention now. Maxwell and Kayne’s mutual dislike
for each other was almost instant. He reminded Kayne of something reptilian. Maxwell
had shown up at his promotion, even at his wedding with his wife and young boy. He
had shaken
his hand with a venomous smile. He knew he would relish
any opportunity to make him look bad, especially since his promotion. Once again,
Thomas Riley had proved to be a worthy investment. He had been bought and his
loyalty secured for a long time. He reported to Maxwell, however; it was his man,
his contact. Riley was a man of values, forged in an unyielding character guarding a
kind heart. He had never looked down on anyone from his towering height and massive
build. He entered the police force as women joined the convent long ago, with the
humility of the faithful. He believed he could make a difference. With unconditional
devotion he served to make the world a better place, for his better half. For the
way she held her growing belly every morning as she sent him off with loving kisses
and hot coffee. Late at night, after all his coworkers left, he stayed behind,
looked at the framed pictures in his cubicle, and knew he was fighting the good
fight.

Fifteen years later, the only difference he had made was to ruin
his marriage and alienate his beloved daughter. To this day he constantly reached
out to his ex-wife, badgering her with angry calls placed during lonely nights,
pleading with her in apologetic ones stemming from shameful mornings.

His daughter wouldn’t show him her mother’s forgiveness. She
already resented him as a child. As a teenager from a broken home, she resented the
entire world and blamed him for it all. She held him responsible for her mother’s
heartbreak. She hated him for all the nights he wasn’t there for them, all the
nights he spent saving others. Upon the divorce, she took her mother’s name, avoided
his calls, and missed all their appointments.

In the past five years, he’d gotten one call from her. His elation
was short-lived. She was in the bad kind of trouble, with the worst kind of people.
He had run to her side, fixed the problem, and paid off her debt with money he
didn’t have. For the first time, he’d seen gratitude, even love in her eyes. She
didn’t see a corrupt cop, a failed missionary; she only saw the father she always
needed and never had. He traded his soul for it but never regretted it. Ever since,
he’d been Maxwell’s man.

Kayne considered the new revelation, the
implication it carried. He recognized Maxwell’s honeyed tone he despised so much,
could only presume the pleasure this incident triggered in him, to have one up on
him. He remembered seeing Louis pacing around the house like a lost puppy dog; he’d
barely paid him any attention. His mind was on the sleeping body that unconsciously
resisted when he carefully removed his embrace. His mind was on Dimitri who had
summoned him.

“Yes. Thank you, Maxwell. He’ll be taken care of.” It was all the
gratitude and information Kayne would impart.

“Kayne, I will be at the cabin with Carlo. Some other business… You
already have enough on your mind with the shipments and all. Not to mention your
beautiful bride…”

Kayne’s hands tightened around the wheel. How he hated hearing her
mentioned from his mouth, he could picture his toothy smile. “Just get him here.
I’ll take care of him for you. Tell him we have his girl. He’ll believe you. He so
desperately wants to,” Maxwell added with gleeful cynicism.

In another circumstance, he might have considered it. He knew
Maxwell too well to ever accept any resemblance of favor. He knew him too well to
expect him to handle a duty and not prolong his twisted pleasures indefinitely.

The boy needed to be dealt with. He understood his life was moot
the moment the word
police
was uttered. Once upon a time, he might not have
cared for innocent blood to be shed, and yet he felt his gut twist. He sympathized
with the boy. Not long ago, he himself stood against Dimitri for Laura, for her
safety, then to have her, and finally, to keep her.

Kayne found himself in the villain’s shoes once again. He could not
spare the boy’s life. He would at least ensure him a quick death.

“I’ll bring the boy. I’ll handle him myself. You can take care of
the cleanup,” he commanded dismissively, asserting his authority while reminding
Maxwell of the established hierarchy. He would not let him come off as the savior,
merely an errand boy.

It was Kayne’s turn to showcase his malevolent
smile. He could imagine Maxwell’s face turning burgundy, his pursed lips on a
strained face as he muttered, “Very well,” before hanging up.

***

Louis returned to the Malkin residence and avoided Mrs. Malkin’s
inquisitive stares. He kept mostly to himself, his head low, his movements
agitated.

Laura saw him checking his phone constantly, realizing with a
guilty conscience the futility of it. He would not get the call he was pacing around
for. His presence became intolerable to her, his anxiousness, a constant thorn in
her side. She hoped to linger around until Kayne came home, but her shame vanquished
her desires. With bitterness, she acknowledged her own cowardice as she flew the
scene of her crime.

***

Louis fidgeted nervously on the couch in the reception hall.
Obediently he awaited Mr. Malkin, as instructed by Lucas. It seemed to him like
hours had passed until the door finally swayed open. Kayne, followed by Lucas,
walked in, their mood somber. “Louis. Thank you for waiting.” Kayne approached
him.

Louis jumped to his feet and nodded his head as he offered a clammy
hand to shake Kayne’s.

“It’s about Genevieve.” Kayne paused.

“Yes.” Louis’s face was apprehensive. It was evident from Kayne’s
grave tone that this story would not have a happy ending. Louis’s mouth twitched
unconsciously.

“I know where she is.”

“Where?” Louis almost screamed, his voice rough with emotion, his
energy aggressive.

Kayne nodded his head, somewhat compassionate. “I’ll take you to
her.” He didn’t want to see the relief in the boy’s eyes, the calm returning to his
body. The words carefully chosen only alluded
to the boy’s death
sentence. It was his one ethical code. Through this one trait he had built a
reputation, had bought himself some resemblance of morality. Covered in blood,
surrounded by dirty money, he had held on to this one truth. He was not a liar.

“Is she okay?” Louis asked without conviction, the pain in his eyes
reflecting his awareness of the grim answer awaiting.

“No.”

Louis’s eyes moistened. He defensively lowered his head and blinked
his eyes dry. When he looked back up, his eyes were hateful, filled with unspoken
accusation.

“Let’s go,” Kayne commanded, his eyes boring into the hostile face.
He maintained eye contact until Louis folded and brought his eyes to the floor. His
head bowed, he followed Kayne silently to meet his fate.

***

The trap was set. Maxwell would be awaiting him at the cabin with
Carlo. Kayne would proceed with the interrogation alone, retrace all the different
paths the boys’ inflammatory words could have taken. He would be shot in the temple
using an unmarked firearm and his body placed in a manner to suggest suicide. The
case would be overseen and ultimately signed off by Riley.

The drive was long and eerily silent under a moonless sky. At last,
Kayne turned into a gravel road and drove deeper and deeper into the wilderness,
until pulling up to a cozy-looking wooden chalet. “We’re here,” he declared with
finality.

Louis looked around suspiciously but voiced no concern at the
unusual meeting point. He nodded and rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans
before reaching for the door handle.

Once out of the car, Kayne took the lead. It would have been wiser
to follow behind, and for this reason alone, he turned his back to him, suggesting a
climate of trust.

They walked straight into the kitchen area from the
back door. Maxwell was already there, his slimy features twisted in what he thought
was a smile.

Kayne walked up to him and reached out his hand. They nodded to
each other knowingly. Kayne flashed him his darkest stare. Maxwell returned it with
wolfish hunger.

“And this is Mr. Lavallé, I presume?” Maxwell bent his body
sideways to look behind Kayne at the fidgeting boy who only nodded in response.

Kayne leaned into Maxwell and in a hushed tone inquired,
“Everything is ready?”

Maxwell’s eyes burned with malevolent jubilee. His voice louder
than expected, every syllable pronounced distinctly, he responded, “Oh yes.
Everything is ready for you.”

It was in that moment, Kayne’s eyes grew round with bewilderment.
By the time he heard a gun cock behind him, he already understood, too little, way,
way too late.

Louis Lavallé, the invisible man. No one ever saw him, no one but
Genevieve. She breathed life into him. There was nothing before her; there would be
nothing after her. He’d known it from the moment she disappeared. He could sense she
was no more from the emptiness he felt in his chest. The Monster and his Babylonian
Whore were behind it. He knew this as well, without proof or hint. He knew it as a
woman recognized her rival when all others saw charming innocence, or as a mother
could hate one of her child’s friends after one look.

He wallowed in holdup, was laughed off as a conspiracy theorist. He
vowed he would not let them get away. His prayers were answered in the form of an
auspicious black Lexus waiting for him upon his release. It seemed the Monster had
made more than one enemy, even within his own organization. He was not surprised. He
was terrified.

He was to return to the Malkin residence and await the call to get
the go-ahead. The call would confirm that Maxwell had spoken with Kayne and that
Louis’s suspicions had been confirmed and
the hit set up. All day he
paced around, checking his phone a hundred times a minute under the curious stares
of Mrs. Malkin. All evening, he resisted his urge to confront the Monster. Under no
circumstance was he to show suspicion and inquire about Genevieve’s situation. He
couldn’t help asking one question, see if the Monster would lie to his face; he
hadn’t.

He got the call and received Kayne’s instructions as predicted by
Maxwell. He followed the Monster and found the gun hidden behind the flower pot as
advised. He would get his vengeance, as promised.

The moment Kayne turned around, his shaky fingers pulled the
trigger of their own.

“She’s dead! She’s dead!” Louis screamed hysterically.

Kayne looked at his chest, saw his own blood coloring his shirt.
When he looked back up, his eyes seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, a
crooked smile curving his lips.

“You killed her! She was everything! Everything! You used her as a
whore! And you killed her!” Louis yelled insanely, his sweet face distorted in that
of a manic clown.

Kayne growled at the sharp pain, felt his own blood rising in his
chest, turning on him as well, choking him. He struggled to breathe, coughing blood
with each breath, and slowly let himself fall to the ground. A part of him felt at
peace, a part of him always knew, this was the only end befitting a Monster. He felt
no resentment toward the boy. In his shoes, he would’ve done the same. Hell, he
would’ve tortured him for days and laughed when he would have begged for death. He
would have brought him back to life just so he could do it all over again.

“She was everything… .” Louis’s voice cracked, his fury
dissipating, abandoning him to his unbearable pain. He let himself cry. He was about
to speak again when another gunshot was heard. He didn’t have time to react. The
shot was precise, aimed right between his eyes. He fell instantly to the ground.

“How could I resist? Bringing the two lovebirds together… Ah! I’m
just a hopeless romantic.” Maxwell’s slithery voice concluded.
He
dragged a chair to face Kayne. With a gleeful smile and dignified air, he sat
down.

Kayne coughed again, remaining silent.

“You know…” Maxwell carried on conversationally, “I do owe sweet
little Laura a special thanks. I barely had to convince the boy. I think he was
ready to take on the both of you at your house. You have to admire youth’s fervor.
But I would have missed all this…”

Kayne’s eyes narrowed with murderous threat, his menacing air
broken as he heaved on the floor.

“Shall I get you some water?” Maxwell asked with concern in his
voice before he broke off into loud laughter.

Kayne remained silent, holding his stare.