Page 59 of The Villains of Winter

Then, he measured his breath, and performed.

–

Vulgar hope swelled in James’s chest as he ran out of the amphitheater into the cold, icy dark. Elliott’s body hadn’t been brought in for the grand conclusion and while an ocean of murmurs of confusion and whispers of perplexity arose, the show had to go on. James made certain the performance recommenced by starting his dramatic monologue and entering towards his spike mark, forcing the other actors to leap into their roles, and coercing the lighting crew to dim the lights as though the body was brought in.

Quick on their feet, the stage managers instructed the running crew to hurry to the costume storage, dress a mannequin in beauteous robes, douse the mannequin with blood, and haul it out as though it were Elliott’s dead body.

By 6:35 AM, after fiercely shaking hands and accepting mountains of florals and banquets, bowing for fifteen minutes straight to rabid, tearful applause, James was sprinting through the pines of Eisenhower Woods.

Everyone else decompressed and they took their breaks after the physically intensive play.

While it worked to James’s advantage that he was outside in a canopy of darkness, it was also a disadvantage that the woodlands were unlit by the sun. The only ounce of visibility was the lightening sky and a few sparse flashlights abandoned on the path of the sacred ground.

James trampled over the memorial flowers, he didn’t care to see who they’d been left for, or what kind of flowers they were. Even though he briskly showered after the recitation, and he’d dressed into new clothes, he was sweating through the material already.

Swearing beneath his breath, he couldn’t hear anything.

He picked up one of the flashlights, roaming the beam of light over the woods.

Ahead of him, he saw a streak of blood on the snow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

A WHOLESOME YOUNG MAN WITH pure love inside of him. His natural innocence almost makes you want to corrupt him, doesn’t it? He makes you want to commit acts on him that are wretched. Taint his soul to see if there’s a wolf inside of him, like the rest of us.

James didn’t realize then that the illegal act Lucien intended to commit on Elliott was suffocating him underwater, choking him to death. Drowning him alive.

A malicious drowning did not keep the corpse ‘anatomically intact.’ It would deluge the organs with water, damage the arteries, bloat the skin, but Lucien didn’t care.

There were fractures of the ice smeared with blood, uneven boot prints in the snow, one set of prints messier than the other, faster than the other, that indicated there had at least been a scuffle near the water. The snow was freshly fallen and smooth, except for the mayhem of boot prints.

6:41 AM. Damn it. He’d wasted almost ten precious minutes of Elliott’s life running around senselessly. He needed to track Elliott down before all he found was a body.

However, ten more minutes eclipsed. He altered his strategy.

James followed the trail of the frozen water deeper into Eisenhower Woods. Someone like Lucien wouldn’t be satisfied unless he executed his plan. He would attempt to drown Elliott again.

Perhaps, James thought, perhaps Elliott tried to swim away frantically, and Lucien hauled him back onto the snow. Elliott is a fast swimmer, even if he’s not a stronger swimmer than Lucien.

That’s when he heard Elliott’s shouting.

His struggle.

His helpless cries.

James bolted through the firs. He shoved aside timber and overgrowth, following the chaotic footsteps again, because it was confirmed to be Elliott. He knew his voice by heart. Every decibel of it.

He raced through the trees.

Breathless, soaked with perspiration, James propelled his limbs to their breaking point. Adrenalized by fear, he hunted down Elliott’s sound.

To James’s horror, he found Lucien straddling himself on top of Elliott. Elliott pinned beneath him.

Elliott’s wrists were bound together tightly by the huntsmen’s ropes. His head was entirely submersed in water, gargling, his flailing body kicking out uselessly, until he found enough purchase to right himself. He barely managed to reverse himself.

However, Lucien remained firmly anchored on top of him. He seated himself on Elliott’s abdomen.

His truculent hands choked Elliott and James didn’t hesitate, he didn’t think–he gripped the hunting knife that he’d brought with him.