20. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Hydessa

I 'm contemplating calling Seanna as I walk back to the house. Typically we call each other every other day, but she is really good at helping me organize the information in my head.

My keys are in my hand when I notice a package sitting on my doorstep, beautifully gift-wrapped and about the size of a tissue box. A small card is tucked under the ribbon. I glance around but don't see anyone lingering nearby. Stepping closer, I tentatively pick up the box, narrowing my eyes at the blank card. I unlock the door and walk directly to the office, setting the small box down on the desk.

I pull the tiny card from beneath the ribbon. It's a simple gold color to match the ribbon. Turning it over, I see gold writing in an almost feminine script: "Welcome to the Island." Nothing else is written, and there are no distinguishing marks on the box. A gut feeling tells me to be wary, but I can't be sure if that's just my ingrained caution from childhood. Maybe it is a genuine gift from someone on the island like Maddie or Allegra.

Opening the box, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of cherries. My breath catches as I move the tissue paper aside to reveal cherry cookies. I faintly remember loving these as a child, but I haven't had them in forever. Setting the box aside on the desk, I stare at it for a few moments. It's probably a strange coincidence, but I decide not to trust them anyway.

With a sigh, I make my way to the kitchen. I have another long night ahead of me, so I prepare a pot of coffee and take a large cup back to the office, sipping it slowly before setting it on the desk.

I create additional notes to stick to the wall, reorganizing it so that I have one section for the victims with a separate section for the suspects on my list. It paints a picture that everyone thinks they know everyone, yet they all have secrets, and don't really know anything beyond the surface level.

With no details on the victims, I have no idea how they would even connect to any of the suspects. How do they come into contact with the tourists? Why are those tourists in particular selected?

I'm sure there are a lot of tourists that come to this island with no real prospects or home, but something tells me these tourists are specific. And what was the trigger that started the killings? Was there a specific event that flipped a switch?

I get myself another cup of coffee and when I return to the office, I glance at my phone on the desk as I lean back against it, my mind racing. Picking it up, I go to the message from the unknown number and taking a deep breath, I type out a response.

Do you kill for a reason?

A moment later, my phone buzzes with a response.

UNKNOWN

Hmmmm, I didn't realize we were playing twenty questions... careful, answers come at a price. Are you willing to pay it?

My heart pounds in my chest. This is not the kind of response I was hoping for but it's clear I'm talking to a psychopath so this is actually something I can work with. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. My fingers are trembling slightly as I type out another message.

What sort of price?

UNKNOWN

We will want something in exchange for each answer, it could be as simple as an answer from you… or it could be something bigger… you won't know until we ask for it or simply take it…

…

UNKNOWN

How much are answers worth to you?

With how little I know in order to solve this mystery, I would be willing to pay a lot for some simple answers. But am I really about to play the equivalent of Russian roulette with some killers? There is a part of me, deep inside, that is buzzing with excitement. The part that reminds me that I've killed people too. My reasons were always justified of course, but it's still a part of me that feels more connected to murderers than the victims.

Yes I'll pay the price.

UNKNOWN

Let's test your willingness then shall we? You want to know if we kill for a reason? Yes we do, we always have a reason behind why we kill.

And this is the issue with playing this game with them, they can give me an answer without giving me any details to go with it if I don't ask the right question. And now simply because they responded to the question I owe them something.

The seconds drag as I wait for what will be my payment. I can feel my heart starting to beat faster in my chest. Finally, my phone buzzes again, and I quickly read the message.

UNKNOWN

Your first payment is simple. Tell us something personal. Something no one else knows about you.

I take a deep breath, my mind racing through possible answers. I need to be careful with what I reveal. Giving away too much could be dangerous, but giving too little might not satisfy them. I decide on something that is personal, yet not too revealing.

I sometimes wish I could be more like my sister.

I hit send and wait, my anxiety building with each passing second. The response comes quickly.

UNKNOWN

Interesting. A small payment, but it will do for now. Keep asking, little shadow. Every question brings you closer to the truth, but also deeper into our game.

I need to be strategic here. I think carefully, trying to phrase the next question in a way that might yield more useful information.

How do you choose your victims?

I hit send and take a large drink of my coffee, the warmth doing little to calm my nerves. My phone buzzes again, and I quickly read the reply.

UNKNOWN

The people we kill are chosen carefully. They are not random. There is always a reason behind each of our kills and a lot of research goes into selecting them. But that's all you'll get for now.

Tell us about your biggest regret.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of the question. My biggest regret is something I've never shared with anyone. It's deeply personal and painful. But I need to keep them talking, to get more information.

Not admitting my feelings for someone before I lost him.

I hit send, feeling a pang of sadness wash over me. The response comes quickly.

UNKNOWN

Regret is a powerful emotion. It shapes us in ways we often don't realize. You're doing well, little shadow.

So far, their answers are just vague enough to keep me guessing, yet they hint at a deeper, more intricate plan. I need to dig deeper.

Was there a specific event that made you start killing people?

The response is almost immediate, as if they were expecting the question.

UNKNOWN

There was a catalyst, yes. A significant event that set everything into motion. But what that event was... you'll need to earn that answer, little shadow.

Why do you call me ‘little shadow'?

Wait, that wasn't one of my questions.

UNKNOWN

Too late. We call you little shadow because you are living in the shadow of those around you. Your parents, your sister, both organizations you work for… We want you to see that. We want you to embrace that darkness you run away from and become its queen. Become our queen.

I'm speechless. Their words send a shiver down my spine. The thought of embracing darkness, of becoming the queen of it, is both terrifying and strangely alluring. But I can't let them manipulate me. I need to stay focused on uncovering the truth. If my darkness is so much like theirs as they claim, then I need to be doing everything I can to keep it at bay.

UNKNOWN

What are you most afraid of?

My nerves suddenly make me jittery, my heart rate speeds up. I reach over and grab a cookie, shoving it into my mouth to calm my nerves. The flavor of the cherries bursts inside my mouth, and I moan at the taste. My heart rate calms a little as I wash the cookie down with some coffee before typing out my response, my fingers still trembling as I hit send.

I'm afraid no one will love me for who I really am.

I'm still on edge and I reach for another cherry cookie, its sweetness offering a brief distraction from the intensity of the situation.

Picking up the coffee cup from the desk, I take another deep drink. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washes over me. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but the room starts to blur. My heart races, not from anxiety but from something more insidious. I feel my limbs growing heavy, my head becoming foggy.

My phone buzzes, but I can barely focus on the screen. The words swim before my eyes as I struggle against whatever is in my system.

UNKNOWN

You're doing so well, little shadow. But sometimes, the darkness needs a little help.

Panic sets in as I realize what's happening. I stagger against the desk, but my legs are weak and unsteady. The room tilts and spins around me. I grasp at the edge of the desk for support, knocking over the coffee cup in the process.

Holy shit, they drugged me.

I need to call for help, but my phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. With one last, desperate effort, I step toward the door, but my legs give out completely, and I collapse to the ground.

My mind races, trying to stay alert despite the overwhelming dizziness. Whatever they drugged me with hasn't rendered me completely unconscious, but I can't bring myself to move. It's like it wasn't a full dose, just enough to incapacitate me. My mind remains aware, trapped in a body that won't respond.

I see the moment they enter the room, their neon masks casting red and green glows as they walk straight toward me. My heart is hammering inside me as Cain kneels in front of me, his mask glowing a sinister red.

"The cookies," I manage to grind out, my voice barely a whisper.

Cain tilts his head, studying me for a moment. "It wasn't in the cookies," he says before reaching for me, picking me up like my weight means nothing and throwing me over his shoulder.