4. Chapter 4- Nyx

The insolent fools scurry around like insects in the bright afternoon that just became a lot gloomier. They finally smell the decaying body, but they can't quite seem to locate it. They scramble from door to door, knocking to see who answers and who doesn't.

I help them with a false sense of urgency, blending into the crowd of hysterics and keeping my mirth internal. They are spouting nonsense of hope that it is just an animal this time: ‘How this is all getting ridiculously out of hand. ‘The King needs to do something.' ‘Where are the Royals when we need them most?'

Home. In their castle, being useless like always, bathing in their luxuries and treating everyone below them worse than vermin. They won't help anyone. So, these evil fuckers are left at my mercy.

"Here! Master Tormond isn't answering!" a man shrieks.

That took them longer than expected. I follow the crowd into the house and watch them tear everything apart, looking for the cause. I even search a few bedrooms myself, throwing things around and enjoying the sound of his possessions shattering against the walls.

"Clear," I confirm, just like everyone else.

"The smell is stronger here," another man yells.

The crowd assembles around him, watching with rapt attention as he tries to break the lock open. I scream with the other women and internally giggle at the sight of the men gagging on the smell of decay when the door is finally thrown open.

They hesitate, frightened to lay eyes upon the source. But I…after weeks of waiting, I am nearly jumping up and down to see what is left. To see what the monster transformed into.

Carefully, I keep my mask of fear and uncertainty in place as I follow them down the creaky stairs. A loud buzz echoes in the dim room that's lit by the light of the small window I used to enter. But it's enough light to see the dark cloud that moves and buzzes around him, consuming his gelatinous body that is melting away from the bones and leaving a puddle of organs and tissue on the floor.

His blood is a thick, dried layer that extends out further from the melting corpse. Nothing disturbed it. The only sign of movement is beside him, where he fought for his last breaths.

"There are too many people. Evidence will be ruined," the man who opened the door yells above the ominous buzz.

"What evidence? It is just like all the others. No signs of exit or entry. It's like a ghost is killing people."

I like that—being thought of as a ghost. It is familiar and a perfect name for what I feel like. And if I stopped adding ink to my hair…

"Everyone out! It is another murder," someone bellows.

I look back at my handy work one more time and wonder how much of it he endured before his unfortunate life finally ended. Was he still alive when the insects started to devour him? Did he whine and call out as he felt his soul leave his disgusting body? Oh, to be one of those insects watching and waiting for it to happen. I would give anything—

"Miss, you need to leave," one man says while gently guiding me toward the door. I nod and even conjure a tear to complete the deception. His expression is empathetic, and I fight back a smirk at his gullibility.

Following the crowd out of the house, I listen to the hum of their fear. A small part of me wishes I could tell them the killer is keeping them safe. Well, safe unless they also start stealing people, too. But any other average citizen has absolutely nothing to worry about from me.

Every dark part of my soul and heart light up when I spot the woman I saved from this house. She stands tall beside her husband and children with a bright smile. Her relaxed shoulders give her a sense of peace.

This, right here, is the reason I let the memories resurface. Let the agony take over for that small moment and call my need for the kill. It's all for THEM. So that they never have to face or bear the scars that I do.

Someone bumps into my shoulder hard and murmurs something about losing another one. Her being dressed in all brown makes it easy to follow her, but I at a safe distance. Waiting to see what she does and watching as she pushes her way through the growing crowd and down toward the Reckless part of the city.

I become a shadow lurking around every corner until she finally stops at a door. She softly raps her knuckles four times in quick succession and then waits for someone to answer.

"What are you doing here when the suns are up?" a woman's voice comes from the doorway.

"Tormond is dead."

The woman I followed lowers her brown scarf to reveal gray hair and a smooth face. Her lips are a perfect pink, and her body is plump and healthy. She is not Reckless, but maybe a Dutiful or even a Keryth. I am willing to bet on the latter, simply from the look of youth still on her face.

"The ghost?"

There is that nickname again.

"Yes. That fucking monster. I need my source tonight," the female in brown says so vehemently that I nearly step into a defensive stance.

"You can't have him yet. He still needs to recover from the last time you fed on him."

"Have him delivered to my house this evening, or I will feed from you!" she says through clenched teeth.

"You cannot feed from your own kind!"

"There is always a first time for everything!" She storms off down the alley without looking back.

I wait until the door slams before following her again. I even duck under the windows to make sure that if anyone looks, they won't see me.

She weaves through people, smiling and waving like she isn't evil incarnate. Her mask of innocence and indifference is a work of art, perfected over who knows how many years. Little does she know I will be removing it for her tonight.