Page 89 of A Wild Darkness

A short time later, he walks out of the bathroom—after knocking first—wearing jeans and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up once again. His toned arms covered in ink weaken my knees.

“Ready for more?” he asks playfully.

My face flushes. “I, uh⁠—”

He rubs his chin, licking his lips. “I mean with the Society.”

I chuckle, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “Yeah, of course. Do I have a choice?”

“Yes—and no.” Sebastian slips his hand into mine. His warm skin comforts me.

“Funny.”

After leaving the room, we only have to walk a short distance through the courtyard to get to the small building with the conference rooms. As soon as we enter, Silas is standing directly behind the door, ready to greet us.

“Hello.” He smiles wide. “Please come in and take a seat.”

Sebastian leads me into a stale meeting room, where there are three rows of chairs, most of which are already taken by the other members. But as fate would have it, two seats are empty next to Larry.

Sebastian turns back, capturing my eyes, and with a brief nonverbal exchange, we both know where we’ll be sitting. I casually slip around Sebastian, taking the chair closest to Larry as Sebastian takes my other side.

I suck in a gulp of precious air, hoping to fill my lungs with courage, then twist slightly toward our target. “Hello.”

The man grins, the wrinkles on his weathered skin kiss at the corners of his eyes. I pause at first, my instinct avoiding his gaze, but then I quickly correct it, remembering I’m supposed to capture his attention.

“Nice to see you again, Annabel.”

“You too,” I say. “How are your accommodations here at the chateau?”

He nods. “Very good. It’s a beautiful place. And oddly enough, the venue of my niece’s wedding only eight years ago.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” I reply dryly. Small talk with no meaning sucks the life out of me. It’s almost painful. That’s why I love the mortuary business—every conversation is meaningful.

“And how are you enjoying yours?”

“It’s a beautiful property.”

Larry nods in agreement once again. “We’ll be eager to be set free to roam around town tomorrow night, won’t we?”

“Tomorrow night?”

“When we get to be free,” he clarifies, his eyebrows bouncing with unnerving excitement. “You know, to do what we’re all eager to do.”

The night out…to kill.

A chill runs up my spine. I recall Silas mentioning that yesterday evening.

“Yes, I remember,” I say, glancing at Silas walking toward the front of the room, standing next to a large projector screen.

Sebastian’s hand finds mine. Our fingers slowly intertwine. It’s nice.

“Welcome. I hope you’re all enjoying your time here at the chateau,” Silas begins, interrupting my conversation with Larry. “Today, we will be discussing the history of a couple well-known serial killers.” Sounds of collective approval round the room. “As you all know, in the late 1960s and 1970s, there was little to no sharing of information between law enforcement agencies in different states. That meant communication took longer, and data gathering was more rigorous. What did that mean for serial killers like us?” He slowly paces back and forth. “We could move freely, and the risk of being caught was lower. Moreover, fingerprinting was done on a rudimentary basis and was not common practice. It wasn’t until the creation of AFIS, the automatic fingerprint identification system, and the advancements in DNA in the 1990s, did we see a decline of our kind⁠—”

“We all know things were easier back then,” Pete sneers. “Why are you telling us?”

Silas cracks his neck, sliding his narrow eyes over to Pete. “Good question. And that brings us to what we’re doing this afternoon.”

“And what exactly is it?” Pete asks. “Outside of how they had it much easier?”