Page 16 of A Bloody Merry Christmas
My stomach growled, reminding me about all the yummy food I’d bought. How could I be so stupid to forget that I was allowed to eat it? Groaning to myself, I went to the kitchen and made myself a sandwich—ham, tomato, and lettuce—the kind I used to love as a teenager. I ate slowly, my stomach twisting into knots with each bite. Fifteen minutes later, my body settled around the unfamiliar feeling of fullness.
I brushed the crumbs off my hands and rose when my gaze caught the basement door. I froze, staring. Samael wouldn’t know. I could take a quick peek. Taking a deep breath, I shifted toward the door and twisted the knob. The hinges creaked as it swung open, revealing a set of stairs that led downward. One step at a time.
Down.
Down.
Down.
What happened to Samael’s privacy? Who was I kidding? He wasn’t going to keep me around. Why would he? I needed answers.
My chest clenched around my heart when my foot met the cement floor. The quietness of the room meant I could hear my own deep breathing and I hated the goose bumps that rose on my arms. All I had to do was turn around and walk back up those stairs, pretend I hadn’t come down here, but I couldn’t. Not now.
The dim room was lit by a nightlight in the corner, which cast a soft glow and gave me enough light to see the actual switch that would light up the entire room. I flipped it. The sudden brightness made me blink a few times as my eyes adjusted.
The basement was much bigger than any other room in the house, but it was almost as bare as the others. On the far wall was a metal storage cabinet that looked like it might be for tools. Beside it rested a table made out of the same metal, with a wooden peg board hanging on the bricks above it. The boardheld different sizes of knives and saws and one axe. A wide, deep sink with a tap sat beside the table, with a hose attached.
There was a washing machine, too.
Ice trickled through my veins as my gaze rested on a freezer on the right side of the room, big enough to easily fit three bodies. Another storage cabinet sat beside it, this one made of wood. Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward it and opened the rickety old doors. Inside wasn’t what I’d expected. It held freezer bags and tarp.
“Something a serial killer would need,” I muttered. I stepped in front of the freezer and grasped the lip, shoving it open to find nothing. It was empty. “What?”
Something slammed behind me, and I spun around to find Samael at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows furrowed and smile curved on his lips. He held up his notepad, shaking it at me, before he marched over and shoved it into my hands.
I stared down at it.
What did you expect to find? Dead bodies?
I licked my lips nervously and looked at him. “Isn’t that what you do with them? Chop them up and freeze them?” I sounded more confident than I felt.
“Yes,” he mouthed. His grin widened. My stomach twisted, but it wasn’t from the food this time. Samael’s breathtaking smile rendered me speechless. There was something about the way he always looked so honest, as though I knew he wouldn’t lie. It was fucked. The guy killed three men last night and I’d barely known him for twenty-four hours, yet I was nothing but putty in his hands. Samael had the same life as all the other people I hated. He lived in a nice home, the kind I dreamed of. Yet, I didn’t dislike him. I trusted him.
“What did you do with them?” I whispered, taking a step closer to hand back the notepad.
He scribbled in it before passing it back.
They’re gone.
“Don’t you trust me?” A sliver of anger worked its way through me.
He cocked his head as though he wasn’t sure what to make of my words.
“I didn’t run to the cops,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “You saved my life. I’m not gonna rat on you.”
He touched my shoulder, and I leaned into it. With a shake of his head, he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb before he turned and headed up the stairs again. I watched him, gaze sliding to his muscular ass, which his pants encased perfectly. His cheeks moved with every step he took. It was only when he reached the top of the stairs and turned to me that I moved instinctively. I was at his side in seconds, and the smile he gave me was worth it.
He guided me out the door and closed it behind him. Thesnickof the latch catching sounded almost final, like I wasn’t going to know the real him, and I hated it because as much as the thought scared me, I wanted to know his homicidal side. I desired to know everything.
“Come.” His broken voice startled me into following him into the kitchen because, apparently, my body would intuitively follow him anywhere.
I was fucked—and not in a good way.
6
SAM
I knew he’d go there eventually. He was human, and humans were curious, so I’d prepared for it. My cousin Dalton came over early this morning before the sun’s first ray of light. He’d asked some questions—Who was it this time? What did they do to deserve it?—and I’d waved them off. He’d learned when not to push, so he’d packed up the trunk of his old Ford with the bags of body parts and driven back to his farm outside of New Gothenburg where he’d then feed them to his pigs. They didn’t eat hair and teeth, though, so he buried those parts in an old field way at the back of his farm. Dalton was good like that. He had my back just like I had his.
