Page 3 of The House of Whispers

“And now, you owe me three.”

He left as swiftly as he appeared, leaving me completely lost in what had transpired before me. The next night I remained inside, nervous about running into the masked man. As I laid bed and began drifting off to sleep, he suddenly appeared in my room. He stood next to me at the head of my bed, looking down. His presence rattled me. I rushed to my pillow for my knife only to find it missing.

“You need to be smarter.” His voice was low and sensual as he spoke. My eyes remained glued to his hands as he toyed with my knife. I slowly moved away from him, shifting to the foot of my bed, tangled in the thick sheets.

“Who are you? What do you want?”How did you get in here?

“You owe me three,” he said as he examined my knife, “and I’ve come to collect.” Fear and confusion mixed as my hands clenched the sheets closer.

He raised the knife, playfully tossing it in my direction. Instinctively, my hand caught the knife before it could meet its mark. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as my eyes shot to him, the blade between my fingers.

“Who the hell are you?” Anger ignited in my chest.

He remained silent. Only watching me.

I’d had enough.

My hand burned violet as I angrily shot the knife back in his direction. The blade glowing as it soared. His hand raised, engulfed in a similar fire as my knife halted inches from the eyehole of his mask. He snapped his fingers as it fell to the floor. He was a Dwimmer.

“You owe me three.”

Did he honestly expect me to pay him back in some way for what he did?

“Look,” I slowly rose from my bed, “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I didn’t ask for your help. So please,” I quickly snatched the knife from the floor, “leave me be.” My eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. My hand shot to the level of his chest, the blade firm in my grip and a mere inch from him. He didn’t stop, approaching me as the blade pierced through his vest deep into his skin.

“Who are you?” The question quivered from my lips as he stopped, blood trailing down his vest from my knife.

“Jakkal, but you may know me as The Ripper.” He spoke, unbothered by his pierced chest. It was unnatural.

My eyes widened in fear.The Ripper.He was the elusive murderer haunting the district of Bedeville. More and more of his victims had begun appearing throughout the years; the amount of brutality and mutilation of his victims was disturbing. Somehow, it all clicked and I understood what he was asking of me.

“I won’t kill for you.”

He grabbed my hand, his dark leather gloves gripping my wrist as he pulled the blade back from his chest. His blood glistened in the glow of the candles.

“Yes, you will, Casper.”

I gasped at the sound of my name.

“And you’re going to enjoy doing so.”

He lifted his other hand, a small pile of red glittery dust in his palm. It resembled the silver fairy dust Whisps used in the brothel house—only something was off. It seemed oddly familiar. My brows furrowed in confusion as he blew the powder into my face. I coughed and gagged on the thick, dry, red powder. My head began to spin as my eyes widened. My body fell limp as his grip on my hands tightened.

“Time to play.”

I gasped, shooting from the bed. My eyes frantically scanned the room. I was alone. Warm, autumn sunlight beamed through the old windows at the head of my bed. It was late morning. I groaned, rolling from my bed convinced it was all a dream… Little did I know I had walked into an on-going nightmare.

As I dragged my feet past the standing mirror, something caught my attention. I turned and glanced at my reflection in horror. Staring back at me in that dusty, old mirror was a woman engulfed in dried, crackling blood. I looked down at my hands, shaking as I stared at my red palms, turning them over. I tried to wipe the deep red stains from my skin as I began to hyperventilate. I became frantic, rushing to the sink, scrubbing away at the old blood.How is this possible? What happened?!

It took me hours to rid myself of the thick layer of blood. I scrubbed myself clean, rubbing my skin raw until there was so sign of what had happened.

I refused to leave my room, traumatized and frightened of what I had done to end up in such a state.Who did I kill? How did I not remember? What happened?!Those thoughts and questions circled in my mind as the hours turned to days. I isolated myself from reality.

As I stepped from a warm bath, I heard a creak from my bedroom.No. I discreetly peeked around the door frame and saw him, lifting the knife from beneath my pillow.

“I told you to be smarter.” He tossed it aside, turning his head to me. His fox mask sent a chill down my spine as I clutched the towel close to my chest.

“No, you need to leave. I will not kill for you. Not again!” I tried to run to the door that led to the hall, but he was too fast, pulling me back before I could grab the doorknob. He tossed me onto the floor before blocking the door.

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