SWNOVELS Sinful: Chapter 7
“Why are we out here?” I asked while we made our way through the thick, snowy forest. My concern over the guys not having themselves stocked for the winter was eating at me. And Stitches. Fuck, he looked so sad. When Stitches was sad, bad shit happened. The last thing I wanted was for him to take another nosedive. The fact I wasn’t there to stop him from it made me sick to my stomach. I could only hope Ashes and Church would be there for him. Knowing Sirena was a determining factor in all of this and was safely tucked away with the guys brought me a little hope that Stitches could hold his shit together. If not for himself, then for her.
“Why not? You love staring at the same four walls of that shithole we call home?” Asylum cast me a quick look.
“Beats being cold.”
“You won’t be cold. We have hot sandwiches to eat.”
“Real fucking picnic,” I muttered, clutching my bag of food tighter. I grunted as a bunch of snow went into my boot. Asylum and his weird-as-shit plans.
We walked in silence for what felt like forever before we took to a large hill. I watched as he practically slid down it in his long, black jacket, his hood filling with snow on the way down.
“Come on, Sinclair. The water’s fine,” he shouted up to me.
For fuck’s sake.
I followed him down the hill, getting even more snow down my boots. I landed with a grumble at the bottom, dropping my baggie of food. Asylum was quick to scoop it up and hand it back to me.
“What the fuck are we doing, psycho?” I asked.
“This.” He nodded for me to follow him along the hill. A large pile of brush and pine limbs stood in front of us and against the large mound. I watched as he continued forward before disappearing behind them.
Sighing, I followed him and was surprised to find the opening to a small cave. I ducked low and was able to still walk inside. The small hall opened up to a large chamber.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, spinning in a circle as he went around and lit several lanterns.
“I call it the bear den,” he said, grinning at me before moving to a small propane heater and lighting it. “It’s our home away from home.”
I took in the furnishings he had in here. An old couch and a few old overstuffed chairs. A bed, complete with blankets. A small table. Random barrels of who knew what. Wood for a fire for when his fuel ran out.
“How long have you had this?” I asked, going to the chair he gestured for me to sit in. I flopped down on it, grateful for the heat the heater was putting off.
He shrugged. “Oh, since I arrived.”
“I’m surprised Church doesn’t know it’s here.”
“It doesn’t run along his normal hunting trails. It’s why I chose it.” He bit into his sandwich and took a seat on the old couch. “It’s pretty hidden. No one has been here. Ever. It’s how I like it.”
“No one?” I raised a brow at him.
“Well, except for us.” He tapped his head before going back to his sandwich.
He didn’t elaborate. Not that I needed him to. I knew the basic rundown of shit.
We ate in silence for a long time. When I finished, I tossed my wrapper into the small garbage bin by the door and sat down in the chair again. The place was warm now, so I removed my jacket and slipped my boots off before placing them in front of the heater to dry.
“I have a door,” Asylum said, nodding to the old wooden door that he clearly wedged against the opening when he needed to be closed off. “There are some openings above us so that I can have fires in here too. I don’t typically light them and opt for the propane route, but in a pinch, the fires work well.”
I said nothing as I stared at the glowing red top of the heater.
“Come here. I’ll show you my supply room.” He got up, and I followed him, curious about what else he had hidden.
I’d completely missed a small room off to the side near the back of the cave. It wasn’t much for its size, but inside there were all sorts of canned foods, water, pots, pans, dishes, blankets, pillows, and random other things, like a first aid kit and snacks.
“I don’t completely depend on Chapel Crest,” he said, leaning against the doorway and smirking at me. “I’m prepared.”
“I’m surprised,” I murmured, stepping out of the small room. He walked with me back to the seating area, where we sat again.
“Why are you showing this to me?”
“Well, there may come a time when we need a place to go. So now we have one. If I ever tell you bear den, then get here. Pretty simple. About half a mile north, I have a truck parked. There’s a tree outside marked with a slash. Follow the slashes through the trees, and that’s how you will become free.” His blue eyes sparkled at his off-rhyme.
“Good to know,” I muttered.
“Keys are under the floor mat. Full tank of gas and some supplies inside the cab.”
I nodded, intrigued and a little impressed with the care he’d taken to having so many things in place. But it was Asylum. The weird prick probably had a vision he’d need this shit, so he’d put it all together.
“Now. Let’s talk.” He sat forward. “Firefly. My forever girl.”
“What about her?” I swallowed thickly and looked back to the heater.
“She wants revenge. She wants to kill the one who hurt her.”
I nodded. I wanted that too. Maybe not her killing him, but I wanted him dead.
“Did she tell you that?”
“Yes.” He sat back. I could feel his piercing blue eyes on me. “I agreed. I spoke to the watchers. They’re all for it. So now, we have to get her to come out of her shell a little more, and hopefully, we’ll have answers. Then. . .” He pulled a fork out of his jacket. “We fuck him up.”
I looked over at him.
“With a. . . fork?”
“This isn’t just any fork, Sinclair. This fork has been forking amazing at removing eyeballs from motherfuckers’ heads.” He did an elaborate twirl of the fork over his fingers, a big grin on his face.
“What did you do with the eye you took from your stepdad?”
He continued to twirl his fork. “You know the answer to that. I made him eat it. He had a taste for human flesh anyway. I didn’t really see the problem with giving him a taste of his own.”
I figured as much.
“How many people have you actually killed?” I asked.
He was quiet for a moment before he stopped twirling his fork and let out a soft laugh, glancing to his left. I watched him interact with the fucking air for a moment before he focused back on me.
“Would you believe me if I told you?”
“Try me,” I said.
He licked his lips. “Tell me how many you’ve killed first.”
I scoffed at him and looked back to the heater. “Well, there’s my old man.”
“You didn’t pull the trigger there,” Asylum said, brushing me off.
“Yeah, but if I weren’t part of the equation, he’d not have done any of the shit he’d done. He wouldn’t have shot me. Hurt my mom. Any of it.”
“He put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. That was all him.” He cocked his head to the left and hummed for a moment before a small smile turned his lips upward. “And he would have done it with or without you.”
“How do you know that?”
He tapped his head. “I just do.”
“You know that, but can’t tell us who hurt Sirena?” I looked back at him.
He sat forward again, a muscle dancing along his jaw. “It’s very fucking cloudy in regards to that. In fact, I only know what I know about your old man because I took a basic fucking psychology class. He was predisposed to violence. Depression. It was inevitable for him. With or without you, he’d have done it. Maybe even to a larger extent. End of story.”
We stared one another down for a long time before he spoke.
“How many people have you killed, Sinclair?”
I swallowed hard. “Do I count the ones I’ve helped Dante with? Or just the ones I’ve personally killed?”
“Just your count, Sinclair. I already know the level of monster Dante Church is.”
I closed my eyes, seeing Bells’s face in my mind’s eye. I heard her muffled cry. The way her body felt as she sagged against me, the life leaving her.
I shook the image away. “Three.”
Asylum raised his brows.
“What?” I looked over at him.
“Not really all that impressive as far as numbers go.” He shrugged and twirled his fork again.
“Sorry. I don’t run around murdering people for entertainment.”
“That’s too bad.” He winked at me. “It can be a hell of a stress reliever.”
“You don’t even like killing people. That’s what you’ve said.”
“I don’t hate it. I should clarify that. I really don’t. I just enjoy the torture more. Fuck, the screams.” He let out a low groan as he stared up at the cave ceiling. “Gets my dick hard.”
“Weird fuck,” I muttered.
He smirked at me. “Forty-seven.”
“What?”
“Forty-seven. That’s my number.”
“What the fuck?” I stared at him. “How?”
“Mostly with my fork—”
“No. I mean, how the fuck are you killing people like that?”
He shrugged. “I live an exciting life, Sinclair. I’m chaos. I relish it. It’s my job to kill people. I was different growing up. My mom hated that I was. She tried to keep me contained, but when that failed, she let me go. Sold me.”
“Sold you?” I blinked at him.
He nodded. “To the Underground. To Everett Church.”
“What?” I frowned at his words.
“Oh yes. Daddy Everett. He’s my daddy too.” He winked again. “He gave me what I needed when I needed it. Allowed me to work on myself. All things are possible through death, Sinclair. Once you realize you control it, your life can change. I’ve witnessed a lot of things in my life. I know things. Some of those things may have made me a little. . . crazy.” He let out a laugh. “But I would not change it.”
“Was Sirena your first?”
“Sirena Lawrence is my first. My last. My always. My forever.” His words were fierce. “I’m so glad she came back from the dead. They don’t typically do that. Mostly because I have a thing about taking their eyes, but hers were just too pretty to steal. I love her eyes,” he whispered, his hands trembling. “Or I take their hearts. I love hearts. Hands. Lips,” he murmured, running his fork along his lips. “I take what appeals to me.”
“What do you do with it?” I asked softly.
He chuckled. “Depends on my mood. Send it to their family. Give it to Everett as a gift to keep him happy and think I give a fuck about him. Stomp on it. Keep it in a box. Do you want to see my box of hearts?” He blinked at me.
“No. I’m good.” I shook my head at him.
He laughed again. “That’s probably more of a Church thing, huh?”
“Probably,” I mumbled, thinking about Church’s love of preserving the dead.
“But to further address my sweet little firefly, she is my first love. My first attempt at anything, really. She is my first survivor. That means she belongs to me forever. Those are the rules.”
I said nothing and continued to stare into the heater, watching the heat lines dance off it.
“Dante doesn’t know my secret, Sinclair. I’d like to keep it that way for now. My numbers. My…owner. I’m not really there because I want to be. Just like him, I want to be free.”
“I won’t tell,” I said softly. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good. I knew you were trustworthy, bestie.”
I sighed but didn’t say anything.
We were quiet again for a long time before I spoke.
“The box of hearts. That’s not in here, right?”
He let out a laugh. “Of course not. I keep it under my bed in our room.”
I rubbed my eyes. Of-fucking-course he did.