Chapter 3
672 Words
SILAS BLACKWELL'S POINT OF VIEW!
Silas walked down the long hallway without making a sound.
The lights above him bounced off the floor beneath his feet.
Every step echoed, slowly and calmly.
To his right, a mirror was hanging on the wall.
He paused for a moment to look at it.
Not to praise himself.
Just to make sure everything was in order.
His lips were at ease.
His jaw was steady.
His eyes were dark and hard to read.
It's cold enough to freeze thoughts.
The kind of eyes that made men forget how to breathe.
He walked away from the mirror and kept going.
The doors to the dining room were open.
Voices stopped as soon as he walked in.
When all the men inside stood up at once, the chairs made a loud noise.
No one needed to be told.
Fear moved faster than words could say.
Silas stopped at the door.
He let the quiet go on.
Let it choke.
Let it go up in flames.
Sweat ran down the temples.
Hands shook.
Someone ate too loudly.
Silas smiled a little.
He finally walked forward.
There were a lot of people at the long table.
All of the seats were full.
Every face was pale.
These guys knew why they were there.
Their leader had done something wrong.
One that killed.
Silas got to the front of the table.
The chair moved back without any problems.
The Hellion stood next to him, quiet and sharp.
Silas sat down without rushing.
He only looked up then.
He said calmly, "You can sit."
The order hit like a whip.
Chairs moved right away.
Nobody looked up.
Silas took up his glass of wine.
Very red.
Still.
He slowly spun it around.
Saw their hands shake.
Saw their mouths get dry.
"Take it easy," he said in a soft voice.
No one did.
Servants came in quietly.
They put plates in front of each man.
Only one dish.
A pie.
Golden crust.
Steam that is warm.
The smell filled the whole room.
Fear spread more slowly than confusion.
A man at the end spoke.
His voice broke.
He asked, "What is this?"
Silas leaned back.
"Eat," he said.
No one moved.
Silas's smile got bigger.
He also said, "I heard your boss liked pie."
The word liked hung heavy.
A few men jumped.
Someone let go of a fork.
Silas drank some wine.
Slow.
Enjoyed.
He said softly, "You are not refusing me."
Hands reached for forks.
The first bite was unsure.
Then one more.
They were surprised by the taste.
Rich.
Full.
Too good.
A man swallowed hard.
"This is," he began.
Then it happened.
A loud crunch.
A scream rang out in the room.
The fork fell with a clang on the plate.
The man threw up and spit into his hand.
Something white rolled over the table.
A tooth.
Man.
Silas laughed.
The sound filled the space.
Very loud.
Warm.
Living.
He said, "That's rude."
"Don't waste food."
He bent over.
He went on, "I made it myself."
"From him."
The men stopped moving.
Some people screamed.
Others vomited.
Silas watched without getting upset.
Took a sip of his wine.
"He screamed," Silas said lightly.
"A lot."
"He begged," he said.
"That got old."
He got up.
He straightened his coat.
He said, "You should finish."
There were gunshots behind him.
The bodies fell to the ground with dull thuds.
Silas did not look back.
He walked down the hall like nothing had happened.
The Hellion was right behind.
They stopped next to a big window.
There were city lights outside.
Silas put his hands behind his back.
He asked, "Where is Elowen Ash?"
"The Hellion said, "She is being brought home."
Slowly, Silas smiled.
"Do you think she knows?" he asked.
"That she is already mine?"
The Hellion didn't say anything.
Silas turned his head.
He said softly, "When she walks through that door."
"Will she scream?" he asked.
Or will she finally get who I am?
- Writer
