8. Theo Glass

Chapter 8

Theo Glass

The blood was what made me nervous.

There was always so much of it. So difficult to control. Slick. Red. Soaked through sheets, through the floor. The jet of it surprised me. The absolute pressure that it flew from the victim’s neck.

Tonight was no different. There’d been so much blood.

She struggled more than the other two had. She had realized something was wrong nearly from the second I stepped into her apartment. It wasn’t a clean kill. Not by a long shot. I had to hit her over the head with a vase. Thankfully, the neighbor was having a loud birthday party. No one heard her shout for help over the thumping sound of reggaeton vibrating the thin walls.

It was messy. It had made me panic. My lungs felt like they were being constricted by a python. I couldn’t get a full breath into them .

Even when I left her apartment. Even when I had to dodge a downstairs neighbor who was getting home from a late shift working a fast-food joint. I smelled the grease before I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. I lurched back into the hallway and pretended like I was heading to another apartment. The woman barely even registered me. She looked up from her phone for a second, her exhausted eyes clearly only caring about getting into bed.

The python grew tighter, even as I stepped outside into the crisp night air. The apartment was in a beat-up ten-story building in Harlem. A construction crew worked to dig into the concrete, the sound of their drills clattering in my brain.

I couldn’t breathe. It was getting more difficult to breathe.

Tonight had been far messier than any others. And all I could think about was Jace. He knew my name. He had my number.

Jace.

Jace, Jace, Jace.

Messy.

Fucking hell.

To make everything more complicated, the media had picked up on the story. They’d given me a name. Nevermore. A smart name, but a name nonetheless. Interest would skyrocket. More eyeballs on me meant more chances that this twisted little game I played would be over. Would I be the winner or the loser?

I couldn’t keep making mistakes.

I leaned against the cracked glass of a bus stop. Blue and black graffiti letters covered the face of a model trying to sell an expensive gold wristwatch. It was a Movado, from the Heritage series. Nice blue face with a classic brown leather strap.

I wasn’t sure exactly when my obsession with wristwatches began. Likely when my father started locking me in the bathroom for days at a time. I remember having just my watch in there. I’d take it off and dismantle it, just to try and keep entertained. But it turned into an appreciation for how complex and beautiful they were. How they weren’t only functional but could also tell a story about the person wearing it. Were they flashy? Did they have a cracked face and didn’t care much about their possessions? Were they collectors? Were they annoying Apple Watch fanatics?

That one I didn’t understand. They were literally wearing tiny phones on their wrists, not actual wristwatches. It took away from the magic of a good timepiece.

I adjusted the Shinola on my wrist. It was one of my preferred watches. I’d picked it up on a vacation to Italy shortly before Em passed away. Back when life felt like it was slowly beginning to get itself in order, all before it came crashing back down again.

That’s when I noticed a scratch on my forearm.

Shit.

The woman tonight had fought. It wasn’t like the previous two. For those two, I had been able to act as though I was there to fuck them. I had caught them both by surprise. Everyone was vulnerable when they had their heads stuffed in a pillow and their asses aimed up in the air. It wasn’t hard to reach over and slit their throats. All it took was the correct amount of pressure, and the life would drain out in less than a minute. They likely didn’t even register any pain.

Not tonight. She figured it out. She fought.

But I fought harder. Had to.

Oh, Marielle.

The fight had me rush through the ritual. My hands were shaking when I reached for the backpack I had brought. They shook as I hooked the raven feathers into the woman’s back. They shook as I pushed the wire through her skin. As I folded the wings to make it appear as if she took flight.

They shook when I grabbed the camera. Deleted all the footage. Left it with a single photo, back where it had originally been placed.

“Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore?—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’ Tis the wind and nothing more!”

My hands still shook as I walked down the street, trying to keep my pace controlled. I wanted to run. To fucking fly. Panic made a noxious mixture with adrenaline. Toxic. It clouded my thoughts. Made me feel like I was high on cocaine, numb with novocaine, and drunk off a handle of tequila.

It meant my judgment was clouded. Maybe that’s what made me walk down into a subway station, go through the turnstile, follow the signs for the A train, hop on, and sit down for the thirty-four-minute ride it would take me to get to Lower Manhattan. It wasn’t home I was headed to. If it were, then I would have stayed on that train for another twenty minutes, riding it into Brooklyn.

I got off at Canal Street.

I should have gone home.

The python wrapped tighter. My mouth was bone-dry. I swallowed what felt like a handful of glass.

The streets were slightly more populated here. There were a few bars down the corner that were popular, patrons spilling out onto the sidewalk, half stumbling as they looked around for their Ubers or headed toward the subway. A gay bar had music blasting through the windows of a second-floor building. A drag queen leaned out of the fire escape, her sequined blue dress catching the fluorescent light from the streetlamp as she lip-synced to a Lady Gaga song.

“Marry the Night,” it was called.

How romantic.

This night called for a divorce.

I continued down the street. Took a left. Then a right. Walked past a well-lit corner store where a homeless man sat on a bed of cardboard boxes. Trash bags were piled up like stinking towers of black nylon. A rat scurried into one of the towers, shuffling through the bags on the hunt for food.

There. It was Jace’s building.

I shouldn’t be here.

I should be home.

Jace…

My thoughts resembled a window that had been shot. So many threads, so many shards, not a single one making sense. None. My panic increased. I tiptoed toward a full-blown panic attack. Dread weighed on my chest like an invisible anchor, pulling me under. Drowning. This was wrong.

I continued forward past Jace’s building. I stopped at the offices next door. I looked around the street. It was empty. Not for long, though. I had to be quick. I hurried into the narrow alley that created a thin gap between the two structures. It reeked of rotten milk and mildew. There should have been… yes. There. A door.

One I had scouted out a week earlier. I had lifted the key from a maintenance worker when I was “interviewing” a few days ago. I didn’t think I’d be using it so soon.

But, well, here we were.

I took the key from my pocket and pushed it into the lock. It opened. I let go of the breath I’d been holding since this night had started. The python eased up. Only by a little bit.

I entered the office building. It was owned by an accounting firm. Everyone here worked strict hours with very little overtime. I had watched them all leave at around the same time every day. Like ants following each other in neat little rows toward the closest happy-hour spot. Sometimes a few stayed, but they were mostly located on the topmost floors.

I just had to go to the fourth.

There was no alarm, either. Not with the security stationed at the front lobby.

A lobby I didn’t have to walk past. The door in the alley led me directly into the bottom of the trash chutes. The stench of spoiled milk encased me. A cockroach ran past me as the light automatically clicked on. I walked past the trash bins and out into a narrow—and empty—hallway.

I’d made it inside.

Next was getting upstairs. I walked as if I worked here. Like I was just putting in my overtime hours. That was a secret I’d learned over the years of pretending, of acting the part. If you carried your shoulders high and kept a quick pace, people rarely asked you questions, always assuming you were someone they just hadn’t interacted with yet. That was the magic of this city. You could disappear in plain sight. Everyone else had something to worry about, something to distract them. Or they simply just didn’t care enough to think twice about a random NPC walking past them.

That’s what I tried to embody. A character in a side quest. Barely important.

No one stepped out of an office, no security bumped into me.

I reached the fourth floor and walked past empty cubicles. The main lights remained off, but ambient lighting from the outside gave me more than enough to maneuver with. I went directly to the floor-to-ceiling window that gave me a direct view into the apartment building next door.

Right into Jace’s apartment.

I’d made it. And there he was.

Jace Holloway. Sitting on his couch. The curtains were drawn open, a floor lamp casting his living room in a warm orange glow. He had his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of green boxers. He lazily scrolled through his phone with one hand, the other resting on his chest. His foot tapped to some unknown beat. The television flickered different-colored lights in front of him.

The invisible python uncoiled itself from my ribs. I could breathe normally again.

I watched him.

He was as handsome as he’d been the day I met him in the coffee shop earlier this week. Even now, when he presumed no eyes were on him. His hair was slightly messy, and he chewed on his nails. He was completely relaxed. In his element.

Fuck…

What am I doing?

The thought struck me like a stray bullet. When did I sink so low that watching him like this felt like my only comfort? I’ve killed, I’ve broken every moral code—how can someone so good ever understand what I’ve done?

Where—how—would this end?

I could leave. End this sick game.

But that would mean severing ties with the one man who made me feel alive.

I couldn’t do that.

I took out my phone. Made sure the brightness was set to a minimum. I opened a text message chain and typed his name at the top.

THEO: Can’t sleep. How’s your week been, handsome?

I watched him read the text. He set the phone down. For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer me. Would he pretend he was already asleep? Would he give me some excuse? That he was out with friends and couldn’t talk to me?

JACE: Week’s been pretty chill. Just home watching TV. Maybe you need to have a bed time story read to you?

THEO: Is this you volunteering to come over and do that?

JACE: Haha. If I came over now I don’t think we’d be reading books.

THEO: Oh? What is it we’d be doing then?

The light from the TV reflected onto Jace’s sexy smirk. The bastard was horny. That was obvious from the way his hand slid down his slightly hairy chest, cupping his balls from the outside of his boxers. Guess that made two of us, then.

JACE: I think you’ve got a good idea.

THEO: Tell me.

JACE: I don’t think I’d get past the threshold before we start making out. I wanted to kiss you so fucking bad at the coffee shop.

THEO: You should have.

I palmed at my stiffening cock. This had turned sexual way faster than I had expected. Then again, we had met in the shadows of a fuck den. What else was going to happen?

JACE: You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt fucking you.

Jace was fully hard now. I watched the tent in his boxers twitch as he typed out another message.

JACE: Maybe I can come over now?

Shit. It was me who had to come up with an excuse.

THEO: Can’t host tonight. Friend’s in town.

JACE: Damn. How about you come over here, then?

Fuck. He really wanted my ass. I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my hard cock. I spit in my palm and rubbed it up and down my length. As if he wanted to sweeten the pot, Jace pulled off his boxers, leaving them at his ankles. His thick cock rested on his stomach. He held it by the base and took a photo. Didn’t appear to like it, so he took another. It dinged into my phone a moment later.

JACE: This could be all yours.

THEO: Fuuuck. Look at how hard you are. I’d go over but my friend leaves tomorrow. I had to sneak into the bathroom to talk to you. We’re playing a board game. Feel bad leaving her now.

Jace dropped his head back in disappointment. I continued to stroke myself. He spread his legs, cupped his balls. He was fully exposed. Oh, Jace. How was he not concerned about someone watching?

Someone like me?

Maybe he was an exhibitionist. He certainly wasn’t shy about anything while we were at Chained.

God, he was so fucking hot. I jerked off faster, tightened my grip.

THEO: Send me a video of you stroking.

Jace read my message. He lined his phone up again and started to slowly work his dick. It was a mouthwatering sight. I leaked a string of precum and used it as lube, mixing it with my spit. I leaned against the glass.

Jace turned his head. He looked out his window. I froze, completely still.

Shit, shit. Could he see me? The office was dark. I was merely a shadow. But his eyes moved directly over me.

My heart stopped.

He went back to focusing on his cock.

A video dinged into my phone.

JACE: Your turn.

Good. He hadn’t seen me. My heart continued to beat again. Another sigh of relief escaped my lungs as pleasure began to coil up inside my chest, taking the place of the python. I went through my photo album and sent him a video I had already taken months ago of myself jerking off in the bathroom mirror. In the video, I lifted my shirt and fucked my hand against the sink.

JACE: Fuck, man, I love your tattoos. And your dick. And your ass. God damn, I want you. I’m already close.

THEO: Come for me. Send me a video of your load.

I wish I could hear Jace’s moans. My balls felt full. I had to release. My toes curled inside my sneakers. My thighs tensed. Jace’s stroking became quicker. He opened his legs. Leaned forward. Aimed his camera at his hard cock. I saw his mouth tilt open as he stretched his legs.

Cum erupted from his cock, ropes of it.

It was enough to push me over the edge. I blew my load all over the office window. The sound of cum splattering against glass was loud in the empty space. I gasped for breath. Even without Jace in the room, he still managed to give me one of the best orgasms of my fucking life.

The video of him coming landed in my phone moments later with a winky face and a purple devil emoji accompanying it.

THEO: Fucking hell. I want that inside me next time.

JACE: It’s yours whenever you want it.

I smiled. My body felt relaxed, relieved. Cum dripped down the glass. Jace appeared to melt back into the couch, his swollen cock still in one hand. I could see him suck in a deep breath. I wanted to lick him clean. Maybe next time.

THEO: You’re so fucking h

The ding of an elevator door opening made me jerk my finger over the Send button. My heart dropped down past my balls. The python was back, crushing my ribs with pressure.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.