Cellar Door (5 page)

Liam

I canceled today’s surgeries to visit Lance at Our Lady of Tranquility and find out what the hell is going on. If I’m right, Lance will revel in the fact that he has a groupie. He’ll be so smug that he won’t be able to hide it from me. He’ll want to rub it in my face and make me suffer. Any hold he can have on me – perceived or otherwise -- is gratifying to him. The sick son of a bitch has a morbid need to lure me into his chaos and he’ll use any means at his disposal.

I go through the tedious process of emptying my pockets and signing in. The receptionist barely looks up from her work when I’m cleared to proceed. I step through the metal detector and am led to a small room where my brother is already seated at a table in shackles. The guard leaves, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. I remain standing.

Lance assures me that the guards are paid off to ensure our privacy; nonetheless, I am always careful during our visits. I have more to lose than he does, but today I’m so pissed off that I couldn’t care less if we’re being taped. It’s taking all I have to not throttle the son of a bitch. I waste no time lighting into him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Lance?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, brother dear,” he murmurs benignly, sniffing delicately. He makes a show of brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder as the chains clank and rattle
.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I seethe. “Why are you having Madonna Mathews followed?”

I don’t give him time to answer as I stomp across the room and turn to glare at him, leaning back against the wall with a foot braced against it and my arms crossed over my chest. “Explain this to me, then. What the hell is up with some guy dressing like you while he follows her around? And don’t even bother trying to lie to me, I know you’re somehow behind this.”

“Madonna. A pretty name for a pretty girl. She has no idea, does she, of your sexual depravity?”

As usual, my brother’s deflecting. Everything’s always a mind fuck with him and not the good kind.

“My liaisons have always been consensual. I never touch any woman sexually unless I have her explicit agreement. Don’t try to turn this shit around on me. We’re discussing you here, not me.”

“Hmm, willingly unwilling, is that it? Yes, that is a special kind of kink, isn’t it? Oh, dear brother,” he shakes his head for emphasis, “we both know you’re just as dark and fucked up as I am. Does she know about your penchant for, hmm… let’s just say, the
darker side
of sex? I mean, really, kidnapping and abduction? And all that yummy, rough sex, too. How would such an innocent flower react if she ever found out how much you enjoy
taking
women? In the literal sense, of course,” he concludes in a deceptively silky tone of voice.

“You have no idea who I am or what I like. There are plenty of women who enjoy the same things I do. I was born with this bent, but you…you had a choice. You chose to kill those women. Now stop changing the subject and answer me! Who is this sick fuck you’ve got following her?”

“Well, to hear him tell it, he’s my ‘number one fan’,” he chuckles as he raises his shackled hands to make clangy air quotes. “I guess he’s taking it upon himself to finish the job I wasn’t able to. Quite sweet, really.”

“Wait, what-- He’s going to kill her? You son of a
bitch
!” I push off the wall and yell for the guard. I need to work quickly.

Lance calls out gaily as I run down the hall to the exit, “You can’t save her, Liam. No one can.”

I mutter under my breath, “We’ll see about that, Lance, we’ll see.”

Once again my brother has forced me into a corner, and once again I will come out swinging. Gone are any hopes I had entertained of eventually pursuing her in a more traditional way: dinner and a movie, and the possibility of sex later on. There’s no way in hell she’ll believe me if I try to explain that she’s become the target of a madman. The bastard’s given me no choice but to take my Madonna – kidnap her -- for real.

This will be the first time I’ve ever taken a woman without her prior consent, the first time I’ve ever ventured beyond fantasy roleplay. An adrenalin rush like I haven’t felt in years floods my veins as I visualize all that lies ahead. And the emptiness that abides deep within me shatters, cascading around me like a thousand glittering shards of glass.

Madonna

I love the way books smell, especially old ones like this. There is nothing better than spending a lazy Saturday afternoon curled up in a chair in a second-hand bookstore. But if not a bookstore, a library will do just fine. That’s where I am today. As far as I’m concerned, libraries are downright magical places. I hate the thought of libraries eventually becoming defunct as everything goes digital.

I must admit, my new messenger bag makes carrying my books a lot easier. I woke up wanting to spend the morning at the library, so I packed up my books and brought my laptop along to write as time allows. I found a lovely spot by the window in the newly expanded Special Collections wing of the library.

I mosey down an aisle between two long, heavily laden bookshelves. My fingers are passing lovingly over several weathered, hardback book spines when the hair on the back of my neck practically sizzles. I’m not alone. I turn and see a hooded figure at the far end of the aisle. His dead eyes seem to take my measure and he smirks. This time I can see his face and I recognize him as the man in the hooded sweatshirt from the hospital. His eyes roam over me with recognition and lust and…loathing? He remembers me, too. This can’t possibly be a coincidence. Did he follow me?

I always feel safe in the library, but being alone with him is creeping me out. Panic tingles along my spine as he approaches me, muttering to himself. I step to the side to give him room to pass when he abruptly stops in front of me.

I press my back against a bookshelf, dislodging several books on the other side. I jerk as they clatter to the floor. The stranger leans in toward me and slowly tilts his head from side to side, ogling me curiously like I’m an exhibit at the goddamn zoo.

His raspy whisper drifts across the space between us. It sounds like he’s…shit, is he
singing
to me?! “I’m going to kill you, just wait and see. You don’t stand a chance of escaping me.”

With that, he turns and, with a last backward glance, slinks back down the aisle to the stairwell.

What. The. Hell. Was. That?

I have no idea who this guy is, but he knows me, and he’s following me…and threatening to kill me. If he’s bold enough to confront me just for kicks, then he’s probably crazy enough to commit the crime. I frown and close my eyes as I try to place him from anywhere other than the hospital the other day; no luck.

I hurry to the end of the aisle and peer out the window to the street below. My stalker lopes down the library steps and strolls nonchalantly down the sidewalk, seemingly without a care in the world. I’ve just let out the breath I’ve been holding when he stops. He turns slowly, deliberately, and glares up at me, as if he knew all along that I’d be there watching him. Malevolence rolls off him in harsh waves. I back away from the window and find a seat as I struggle to catch my breath.

Why would someone want to kill me? And how the hell am I supposed to deal with this? If I call the cops they won’t do anything until and unless he harms me or breaks into my home. By then it would be too late. I don’t like guns so I don’t have any protection to speak of. Hell, I don’t even have a dog. For the first time in my life, I feel truly alone in the world. Vulnerable.

I grimace as I think of the one person that I could consider calling for advice or help…or, God help me, a cup of coffee. Dr. Liam Sheldon Chambers. How pathetic that, in my hour of need, the only person I can think of to call is practically a stranger.

Well, as they say, it is what it is.

I gather my things, swallow my pride, and make a beeline for home to make that call.

Liam

I finger the ominous manila envelope that was waiting for me when I arrived at work this morning. No return address, but my name is neatly typed in sparse, block letters. I open it and a glossy 8x10 photo slides out. And there’s a note, no doubt penned by Lance’s hooded protégé.

How dare you try and take her from me?
She’ll never be safe as long as she’s free.

Madonna’s blue eyes dominate the photo. Her gaze seduces me, guilelessly captivating and vulnerable, in much the same way as when I encountered her at the hospital that first, fateful day.

He’s coming for her. Her life as she knows has already ground to a staggeringly abrupt halt and she has no idea. I’ll never forgive myself if her stalker and, by association, Liam, get to her because I didn’t act.

I wish I could shield her from the events that are about to unfold, but I can’t. No one else can protect her, no one else knows how. I can only hope my dark addiction will save her – and that I don’t lose myself as I bring my perverse fantasy to life.