Page 47 of Blood & Kisses

“It’s a lot to take in,” Cormac says smoothly.

“And you’re part of it too?” I ask him as he watches me closely like he always does.

He nods as the corners of his mouth lift into an almost smile.

“But…it’s so gory. What are you doing to those people you take down there? Who are they?” I feel like I’m screeching, but I can’t get my head around it.

Smiler and his lackeys are seriously dangerous killers, like the worst of the worst, yet the part of me that revels in blood lust is utterly fascinated and always has been with this mysterious enigma that Z and I named Smiler. It’s such a strange concept to grasp that these butchers have been right under my nose the entire time.

“They’re not nice people in the first place,” Blake tells me casually. “And we make the world a better place when we remove them off the face of the earth. In many cases, we have to…” he dithers a little to choose his words carefully, “use certain measures to siphon information out of them about other abusers and the victims.”

“Abusers? They’re rapists?” I already suspected this, but I need to hear him say it.

“Paedos, rapists, scum that brutalize the elderly, men who perform gang warfare that terrorizes the good, decent folk of Torres Island, the usual suspects,” he says with a charming smile as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. “We are why Torres Island has a low crime rate compared to other cities of this size.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” I exclaim with a sense of pride that I’ve been sleeping with vigilantes, and if I weren’t feeling crap from being in the house fire, I would grow horny because that’s how much of a debase psychopath I’ve become. “Did Gabe always know that it was me cleaning up the mess he made?”

Cormac cocks his eyebrows into a yes. “He wasn’t overly happy about it when Zara recruited you, but we watched you every step of the way to ensure you didn’t stumble into trouble.”

“So, it was a mere coincidence that Z hired me?” I ask, wondering if there’s another secret hidden beneath layers of fabrication.

“Yeah,” Cormac chimes in now. “Pure coincidence, but we liked the look of you regardless and wondered if you’d be a good addition to our business.”

“Until we realized that you already had your own little murderous activities planned,” Blake added proudly. “Which proved that you needed more training if we were to bring you into our syndicate.”

“So, here we are,” Cormac resolves, tilting his head to the side, as he needs to look at me differently. “You’re living under the roof of one of the most prolific serial killers ever known in this state. Expect the fact that no one knows there is a serial killer rampant in Torres because we’re too damn good at covering our tracks and have an insider to fiddle with police records.”

Blake adds dispassionately, “Bad people have a tendency to attract trouble anyway, and if a bad person happens to go missing, police reports will conclude that it was a suicide or that they moved to state or something else. And who’s going to worry if a known paedo is found with a bullet hole in his head? It’ll be recorded as self-inflicted. Case closed.”

“Come on now, boys,” I chide, “there’s enough blood to fill the lake. That’s hardly from a single bullet wound.”

Blake opens the cupboard and takes out three coffee mugs and a packet of drinking chocolate powder. “Like I said,” he says with all the charm in the world, “Sometimes we need to get some information out of them, so I have to use a few little techniques to persuade them.” He pours milk into a saucepan. “And really, it’s their fault if they don’t comply in the first place. No one to blame but them for fucking laying their filthy fucking hands on a little girl or boy or organizing a grooming gang.”

I glance at Cormac, whose eyes watch me closely, waiting for a reaction to this quite upsetting news. Except, I’m not as perturbed by it as I should be. I feel part of something for the first time: our little exclusive club with a large No Entry stamped on the door unless you’re a special member like me. It’s all starting to make sense now how Blake and Cormac would appear at places, as if they happened to be nearby and stumbled across me. No, they were following me, not only following me but covering my bloody tracks.

I suspect the following weeks are going to be fun. Now, I’m willing to join this newfound murder club of vigilantes. Bit by bit, the weight of the past few weeks slides off my back, releasing a new sense of freedom and vigor. With these men by my side, I can achieve anything.

“Hot chocolate?” Blake asks, holding up the milk container.

“Sure,” I reply casually. What else could quench my thirst more than hot chocolate after a conversation on slashing paedos and rapists to death? “Are you going to tell me who you suspect tried to burn us alive?”

Cormac chews the inside of his mouth while relaxing back in his chair. “I’ll give you two guesses.”

I chuckle because I don’t need two guesses. I place the teaspoon in my mouth to suck off the cough mixture residue while all eyes are on me, waiting expectantly to say something. But I think I have known all along who sent those men to jump me in the garage and break into my apartment. Oh yes, I’ve known all along, and perhaps I knowingly lured him to the killing house where one day I would end his life.

“Does his name start with B?” I ask, drilling them in the eyes while I continue to suck on that spoon with pouted lips, while I’m sure they’re imagining that spoon is their cocks.

24

I had a resoundingly peaceful sleep, considering the conversation before I went to bed and the trauma from the fire. Even though I went to bed with Cormac, I woke up alone. The time on my phone is after 8 AM, and he would’ve gone to swim training early. We didn’t fuck last night because I felt too unwell after the fire; my throat is still raspy and sore and my eyes gritty, and still, my skin feels scorched even though I can’t find any burn marks.

He held me in his arms and stroked my back, whispering sweet nothings, before I nodded off to sleep. Cormac is a good man; even though he has dubious tendencies, no one is perfect. He never admitted if he was hands-on as far as paedo-killing traits were concerned. Still, when I think back to times he had to dash off unexpectedly after a secretive phone call, then I wonder if he was there participating in the slaying in the basement, too. They were there the whole time. Watching me. And I love it.

As per normal, as if I have a permanent crick in my neck, I turn to look at Gabe’s bedroom door to find that it closed, unsurprisingly. My curiosity urges me to walk there and try the handle to find it locked, like usual. I shouldn’t be disenchanted, but I am.

Downstairs is empty, so it looks like I’m here alone but probably being watched by their hidden cameras dotted about the house. Blackadder will be disappointed that he didn’t burn us alive in the killing house, so he’s likely to keep trying until I’m toast to shut me up. I guess he didn’t bargain on me having protectors that could give Spiderman a run for his money.

I flick on the coffee machine and water the houseplants that Gabe hasn’t noticed while the machine warms up. My throat feels slightly better, but I consume more cough medicine to soothe it. Then, I search the cupboards for throat lozenges, but they come up empty.

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