Ruin (Rhodes #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,3

Morbidly so. It gives my monsters reasons to stir and plan an ugly end.

Still walking backwards, the girl picks up her pace, turns, and dashes in the opposite direction.

‘Follow her.’

‘You already denied us a kill.’

‘Can you afford to disobey us twice in one night?’

‘Madness will be waiting.’

Father and Aunt speak at the same time, their voices intertwining, rising, rambling. I hate it when they do that. If I don’t give them what they want, I’ll be denied of sleep tonight.

Fuck it.

I inspect my surroundings before scurrying to the path the girl took. With composed steps, I sneak through shadows and catch up with her in a few minutes.

Her heels slow her escape. Their clanks interrupt the calm night and mask my already hushed footsteps.

The girl stumbles a few times, but not once does she look sideways or behind her.

A few streets later, she stops in front of a two-storey house in an elegant street lit by two yellow lamps.

Chest heaving, one of her hands clutches the dog and the other fumbles in her pocket. A key falls from her trembling hand, twice, before she jiggles it into the lock.

So, this is where she lives. It’s like a house out of ‘Cosy Family Homes’ program.

Interesting.

No. Not interesting. None of this is supposed to be bloody interesting. She’s by no means a target, nor someone I can use in my plans. Therefore, she’s of no value. Full stop.

And yet, my feet are glued to the ground behind the corner, opposing her house. Close enough to see the tremor in her fingers, but too dark for her to perceive me.

A middle-aged woman emerges at the doorway. The girl jumps.

“Mae! Where have you been?”

A faint smiled appears on the girl’s plump lips. She leans to press a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Mum. I got caught with Sydney. You know how she gets.”

“Your father and I were worried about you. We called you several times but...” I stop paying attention to the woman’s words and follow the girl’s field of vision. Her squinted gaze falls on the spot where I lurk. She stares at my hideout as if she could see me. Or right through me for that matter.

After several long seconds, the girl frowns and follows her mother inside.

I stand rooted for a minute, picturing blood flowing out of that pale skin of hers. So red. So metallic. I can almost smell it.

“Mae...” I whisper to the dark walls surrounding me.

A girl who would never fit as a target, which makes her even more tempting.

The poor, poor girl. She should never have stirred my attention.

Tonight, Mae has invited monsters to play.

Chapter Two

Mae

My gaze plunges into the darkness of what I painted.

The sombre faceless figure with a broken wing stares back at me. No eyes. No features. Just blackness. Deep, swallowing atrocity invites me to his grim, lawless world.

I did it again. That suppressed part of my soul took over my hand and plummeted my art into the tunnel of no return.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I paint the usual? Horses. Landscapes. Anything normal. Why do I keep sinking in the forbidden territory?

My delinquent painting habits became worse since that night a week ago. After I met that stranger in the alley, none of my paintings can be categorised as normal. As if being triggered, all what my fingers orchestrate are patches of darkness.

The brush falls from my trembling hand, leaving a black splash on the ground. The university’s art studio seems to close in on me. The scent of oil paint constricts my throat. I calm my breathing in order to pick up the brush.

I retrieve Turpentine from the shelves and clean the brush and the floor before wiping the painting equipment with pages from a newspaper.

My fingers itch to spill the bottle of Turpentine on the canvas. To erase the terrifying side of me.

“That’s brilliant, Mae.”

My head cranes to Professor Turell. He walks through other students’ work-shopped paintings before stopping by my side. His eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, travel the length of my ‘mythical creature’ as his hand strokes his short beard.

“Although you’ve done dark pieces before, this must be the grittiest amongst them all.” His soft blue eyes fixate me. “What’s the inspiration?”

A real life