Page 9 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
At this rate, they’re gonna be here until lunchtime.
Owen winks at me before heading off toward the pair, smile number five in place, and I exhale, glancing back at the snow globe and the young elf that reminds me of Hot Blake, who waits for me in the cellar.
Ah, if only things were as easy as Owen paints them.
‘Show him what you’re good at’ bounces around in my mind, because, yeah, I’m already planning our date. I want him to get to know me, to see I’m more than just the Christmas Killer. And since he’s so keen on true-crime stories, I’m sure he’d appreciate a glimpse behind the curtain. Wouldn’t he like to know what I do with my murder souvenirs?
One step at a time, Nico.
First a nice dinner,thenthe snow globe filled with teeth shavings.
Chapter 5
Nico
I shouldn’t be thisnervous.
I’m a man of twenty-seven, with my own business and several notches on my bedpost, but somehow this young man, whose life I’m holding in my hands makes me jittery as if I’m about to embark on my first-ever date.
There’s something about him. Something special, and it’s not just his pretty face and hot body. And while I do feel responsible for his life now, that’s not it either. I suppose after listening to every single episode of his podcast, being an active fan for three years now, pre-ordering his merch twice, and jerking off to his hot voice while imagining what he might look like spread out naked on the same desk he records at, I am a bit starstruck.
I don’t want to give him that impression though and make things weird. He’s stayed anonymous for a reason, and I don’t want to cause him discomfort by using theknowledge I’ve already gained from the podcast. I prepare a nice hot dinner for us. Turkey, mashed potatoes, veggies, an indulgent gravy, and red wine to go with it, plus hot chocolate, in case he doesn’t like alcohol. I put on a dark green shirt this time, and after half an hour of testing the look, I settle on two buttons open, showcasing my snowflake tattoos. I get a new one for every kill, and I kind of want him to ask about the ink. I put on a nice watch and use my favorite cologne with notes of pine, cedar, and pomegranate. A gift from Owen, who claimed it’s gonna get me laid. Let’s hope he’s right.
And yeah, I discreetly pack some lube and condoms in case I do get lucky. I will be the perfect gentleman, but Blake has been through lots of stress in the past twenty-four hours, and adrenaline makes people horny. It’s science.
I glance at the reindeer-shaped clock on my wall. The turkey’s just come out of the oven, so it will be fine resting under aluminum foil, which should give me more than enough time to get my date ready. I grab the clothes I prepared for Blake earlier, my best, softest towel, and walk downstairs, all the way to the basement that serves as the main stockroom. There are three rooms down here, all overflowing with Christmas decorations and gadgets, and at the very end of the one that at first glance appears to be of least interest, as it contains many of my personal belongings, is the narrow staircase leading to the lowest level of the property, which is cleverly hidden inside an old wardrobe.
My stomach tightens as I prepare myself to see Blake again after a whole day of longing and questioning whether Owen’s idea can pan out in my favor. I reach between the coats inside the wardrobe and pull on the lever disguised as an empty clothing hook. The mechanisminstalled by my grandfather many years ago is still functional due to regular maintenance, and it clicks as the back of the wardrobe opens like a door and reveals steep stairs.
Last night, after I hit the wall in my quest to find out who might have hired Blake’s abductor, I came down again, but Blake was already sleeping. I took some time with impromptu decorating, so he could wake up to a more cheerful space. I even brought down a pink Christmas tree and hung some lights in the room containing the cell.
Blake slept right through it all, and it made me feel like a Christmas elf, just working through the night to provide a surprise. Every now and then I’d glance at Blake’s serene features. He was adorable. I wish I’d been there to see his reaction when he woke up to all the magic around him.
I could have set up a camera to capture it, of course, but it would be impolite to violate his privacy like that.
“Good evening,” I call out on my way downstairs. The rooms here are very old, and my grandpa theorized the original owners of the house must have used them to store illegal cargo, maybe even booze during the prohibition era. The walls are whitewashed with something that looks like lime rather than modern paint, but I never cared whether it was aesthetically pleasing before.
It’s quite exciting to share this family secret with Blake.
I hear no answer, so I speed up, walking past the secret craft room where I create festive mementos of my kills. There’s two more chambers down here, but I head straight for Blake’s and knock on the open door as I stare at the Christmas tree I left for him last night.
My worries ease when I hear him shift. “Hello?”
“Hey there, Cookie Monster,” I say with a smile when I notice he went through all ten cookies I left him. Myheart beats faster as soon as our eyes meet. “Oh look at this! You’ve been busy.” I point out the long paper chain wrapped around a few of the bars like a snake. “I can’t wait to hang it.”
He offers me a smile and gestures at the tree. “Thank you for the decorations. They’re very nice. They make this place feel… less lonely. Were you at work?”
“Yes, I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you company. But I made us dinner, and I have more time for you tonight.”
Blake stands between the cot and the bars, tightly wrapped in the blanket. His hair is messy, as if he spent all day resting, but the number of links in the paper chain and the scraps creating a pile in the corner of the cell tell me he’s been busy. The book I left for him, an illustrated edition of Charles Dickens’sA Christmas Carolis resting by the pillow, indicating Blake spent some of his day reading.
“What are we having? More cookies and milk?” my guest asks, licking his lips as his elegant fingers curl around the bars. I lean forward and, in a moment of daring, slide my own over his. He has such soft, beautiful hands!
“No, a whole feast. Turkey, potatoes, veggies, homemade gravy. Do you like wine? I got some red.” I’m aware that he might intend to hurt me. We’re not out of the woods yet, but I’m hoping we can come to an understanding once I convince him that my basement is the safest place for him to be.
He swallows, watching our interlocked hands. “Thank you. That sounds amazing! But I think I might need to freshen up before dinner. You know, shower, use a normal bathroom,” he says, nodding toward the camping toilet I provided for him.
“Yes, of course.” I reluctantly let go of him. Kissing every one of his knuckles has to wait until he’s ready for it. “I don’t usually keep anyone here. That’s why I’m so unprepared. But I brought you some clothes that will hopefully be your size, some toiletries, and I can take you to the shower. You do have to promise to be nice though. Naughty boys don’t get gifts.” I wink at him.
