of those pale amber eyes drilling into mine as he stared down at me earlier, an infernal promise of wicked pleasures, cast a shiver down my spine. I don’t know why I find the man so darkly intriguing in a way that draws my curiosity like nothing else. The same curiosity that lures me into dreams that are as delusional as the shadows crawling about the room each time I wake, shaken and unsettled. Questioning my sanity.
Maybe that’s the reason they call him the Devil.
Because the madness that breathes within these walls is as real as the man who feeds it.
Chapter 24
Lucian
Fifteen years ago …
I find comfort in darkness. The only place they can’t see me. In the light, I’m bare, naked, exposed, but here, nothing can touch me. I’m invisible. A silent observer.
Knees bent to my chest, I sit in the corner of my room, staring through the window at the moon. Three weeks ago, I was lying strapped to a bed, with no idea whether it was day, or night. There was only light and darkness, and in the darkness, I found peace.
Where I stayed for all those weeks was no hospital. The place where my mother discarded me like a bag of old, unwanted clothes was a farce. A lie.
It looked like a hospital. Smelled like one. Was cold, and reeked like suffering. But beneath all the sterile veneer and medical equipment was something sinister and wrong. Something designed to slip inside my skull and rearrange the synaptic connections inside my head. To take what I learned to perceive as thrilling and exciting, and turn it into something I fear. Something I associate with pain and loathing. Panic.
Only problem is, none of the so-called doctors who attempted to cure me have ever really walked the line between life and death. If they had, they’d know panic and fear doesn’t exist there.
The buzz of an insect tickles my ear, and I bat it away. It flies past again, the vibrating hum louder than before, and I flinch. The hum turns to hissing. The incessant hiss of the moths in their cages. So loud. I slam my palms against my ears, screwing my eyes shut to block it out.
The squealing intensifies turning to screams. They’re screaming. High-pitched torment raking through my eardrums.
I open my mouth to call for help, but I can’t. If I do, they’ll think I’m not well again and send me back.
“Stop,” I whisper. “Please stop.”
The hisses die down inside my head as I imagine the black moths settling back to the corner of their cages. I open my eyes in search of them, certain they’re here with me, while I breathe through my nose to calm the rapid thrumming of my pulse.
There’s nothing but darkness—until the door clicks, and the light from the hallway slices into my room.
My father’s silhouette fills the space, where he stands half in and out the door. “Feeling better?”
Of course not. I’ve had things done to me that will never leave my head, all in some grand scheme to reprogram my brain. To make me forget Solange and everything she taught me.
I don’t tell my father this, just shrug and nod. “Getting better.”
“Good. I want you to come with me.”
There was a time those words terrified me, but I’ve since grown numb to things like that. Words. As many times as he’s punished and humiliated me, they can’t compare to the pain that has now become a permanent part of me. A layer of flesh on the outside that I won’t let penetrate my skin. Instead, I stay anesthetized to it all, and it’s as if it never happened.
I follow my father to the elevator, where he uses his ring as a key to access the catacombs. We arrive at the door of the same room he took me to before, only when we step inside, my guts twist on finding two men waiting for us.
One, I’ve never seen before. He lies strapped to the dentist-looking chair, his eyes blindfolded, body stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks. I guess him to be late forties, or fifties, judging by his salt-and-pepper hair.
The sight of the other man sends a tremble through my body, and every muscle tenses up when my father nudges me toward Dr. Voigt.
“I’ve told you of our study, Lucian. Now you’ve met the good doctor. He’s the leader of Schadenfreude. A highly respected expert on the topic of epigenetics.”