The Vampire Obsession

Chapter 11

Evelyn

Immediately I grabbed the first knife I found in the cutlery drawer and turned to face him, ready to confront him.

"Wow, a kitchen knife." He changed the tone of his voice, as if he were an actor performing in a cheap play. And not a killer invading the home of a potential victim. "You are scary, I am shaking with fear. Come closer so I can see."

"There is a patrol car right at my door. If I scream, they will know you are here."

However, his smile only widened, as if the idea of hearing me scream was somehow exciting to him.

"Scream as loud as you want." The killer shrugged, spreading his legs, moving into a more comfortable position in the armchair where he was. Showing that he had no intention of leaving there anytime soon. "But when I imagined making you scream, it was in a very different circumstance from the one we find ourselves in now."

I clenched my teeth, holding back the fearful shiver that threatened to run down my spine upon hearing those words. Or how my mind felt tempted to wander to what circumstances those would be.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not lowering the knife.

"I came to leave something that you forgot with me in our last encounter." He pulled an object from the back of his pants and placed it on the coffee table. It was my gun. "I am not here to hurt you, only to talk."

Was that an attempt to appease me?

"Funny words coming from the man who stabbed me and invaded my lodging."

"Do not speak as if you had not also hurt me, my dear. Tooth for tooth, eye for eye and stab for stab." I imagined whether he was throwing me a wink behind the mask. "Tell me, Evelyn, would you invite me in if I appeared at your door?"

"Obviously not." I snorted at the insanity of that question.

"Then I did not have much choice, did I?"

Again, I caught myself imagining what his expressions would be behind the mask. Would he be arching an eyebrow ironically at that exact moment? Curiosity took possession of me when I wondered if he would be as expressive with his emotions as he was with his words.

What would his appearance be behind the mask? He always acted with the irritating confidence of someone who knew how attractive he was, and used that to his advantage.

"Now you can leave the kitchen and sit on the couch. Your current position seems kind of uncomfortable."

I did not move a step from where I was. If anything, I became even more distrustful at his speech.

"What guarantees me that you only came here to talk to me? That you will not try to do anything similar to last time?"

He threw his arms up dramatically, like a bandit surrendering to the police.

"You are the only armed one in this room," he said. "You can keep your butter-spreading knife if that makes you feel safer, you can even grab your pistol. I do not care."

His arrogance and self-confidence truly left me stupefied. I even looked down to check if I was really holding a butter knife. I was not. That was not exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen, but it was the first one I found, and it had potential to cause damage if necessary.

I decided to leave where I was and went to the living room, without fear. The soles of my boots crushed the shards of the broken wine bottle on the floor.

"You are so sure of yourself that you think you are not a match for me, even if I am armed with a pistol and a knife?" I arched an eyebrow, intrigued by his statement.

I sat on the couch in front of him, on the other side of the small table in the center of the room. I did not touch the gun left on it, however, I also did not release the knife from my hand.

"On the contrary. I, more than anyone, know what you are capable of." His timbre became low and deep. "I know that there is a darkness behind your eyes, inhabiting your mind, threatening to emerge at any moment. Something that you tried to hide from everyone around you all these years. It must be excessively tiring. Know that you would never need to hide your true nature from me."

"I do not hide anything from anyone. I am an open book," I clarified. "But yes, it is difficult to work in my field area and not come out a little f****d in the head. My reward for needing to enter the mind of a psychopathic killer like you."

He smiled upon hearing the names I called him, as if they were the most beautiful compliments to his ears.

"Sociopath," he clarified.

"What?"

"I prefer the term sociopath. I was not born bad, the severe circumstances of life made me this way. Although it must be difficult for you to believe that."

And it was.

Believing that one day he had been normal made him someone who felt emotions, pain, empathy. Someone… human, worthy of redemption. And the more distant I thought he was from me, the easier it would be to deal with him, to demonize him.

To feel nothing in his presence besides anger and fear.

"You spend a good part of your time thinking about death, don’t you?" he continued when I remained in reflective silence. His voice dropped an octave, assuming a seductive tone. "Tell me, my dear, how would you kill me?"

Only a killer could make that question sound like flirting.

If it was a game he wanted, then I would give him something to play with.

"I would kill you the same way you murder your victims, slitting your throat," I said, unconsciously leaning further forward. "I would make a precise and deep cut in your main arteries, but not enough to give you a quick death. No. I would tie you to the armchair where you are sitting, place a mirror in front of you and make you watch while you bleed to death." I paused to recover my breath, without realizing that I had lost it. My vivid imagination made me dive headfirst into the scenario I narrated to him. My heart pumped fiercely in my chest. "But if I wanted to kill you without being caught, I would strangle you during sleep or apply an air injection between your toes. That way, it would look like a heart attack."

"Is that so?" His voice sounded rougher than usual, half breathless. He seemed agitated, especially when he leaned back against the armchair and shoved his gloved hands into his pockets. Was that an erection I was seeing at the front of his pants? "I bet you have imagined killing me many times during all these years. Tell me, darling, was I in your fantasies?"

He had no shame, but unfortunately for him, neither did I.

"You have no idea."

"You speak like someone who has killed before. Have you already killed someone, Evelyn?"

Always throwing bait, waiting for me to catch it so then he could strike his mortal blow.

"I speak like someone who is good at what she does. Because I am." I shrugged, not with arrogance, but knowledge.

A smile full of violent promises crossed his lips.

"I bet you are," he purred.

"So you know how easy it would be for me to kill you right now and claim self-defense. You are a wanted killer and invaded my lodging. With a good lawyer, everything would be easily resolved. And I have one."

"You are not going to kill me."

"What makes you so sure of that?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"You like me a lot."

"That is a pretty weak and refutable argument, you know?"

"How about this?" He leaned forward, legs open, resting his elbows on his knees. Coming as close as he could get to me from his place. "If you really wanted to kill me, you would not have gotten upset when I pointed a gun at my head, you would have finished me in the forest. I put a knife in your hand and you did nothing, Evelyn."

"Maybe I do not want your death," I declared, raising my eyebrows. "If I kill you, I will never unravel why you do what you do. Like, for example, what was your trick to knock out the officer and take him to the forest or what the f**k kind of mark is that you carve on the chests of your victims."

The corner of his mouth curved upward. I felt immensely tempted to run to him and pull the mask from his face.

"You couldn’t find an answer in any of your research, could you?" he asked.

I neither confirmed nor denied, I shot another question back, just as he reacted to my questions:

"Did you invent that mark?"

"Not me."

"Then who?"

"That is where you come in with your work, Investigator Cross," he said, making a point of emphasizing my newest title. How the hell did he already know? "What would be the fun if I handed you all the answers on a platter? Find out for yourself."

I watched him in silence for a moment, biting my lower lip, thoughtful. Looking for answers where I could not visibly find them. Patterns and connections.