The Devil's Bride (Book 1)

Chapter 3- Heart Attack

REYNA

Focus. You need to write this column, Reyna. You need to make a good first impression. Here I am, at 2:25 in the morning, furiously typing on my laptop, just to produce something, anything. The first day wasn't anything too emotional or hard to deal with, but I kept get side-tracked talking to the other employees, so here I am, writing the article so it wouldn't seem as if I had forgotten about it. I just want to look professional. I'm half awake, the coffee I just had isn't waking me up any further, and this headache I'm harbouring isn't docking anytime soon. Focus. I flicked my phone on, staring down at the time. Jeez, it's nearly 2:30. I need to sleep unless I want to look like I just got into a fight, tomorrow. I stood up to and began to walk towards the staircase to my left when I thought I saw someone by the doorway, peeking through the window. Might as well check it out.

Walking towards the front door, my heart was beating. I didn't want to be attacked, and this seemed just like that, as if I had seen someone. The blood was pulsing through my body. I could feel it beat in my chest. I didn't like the feeling of this, but as I opened the door, nobody was there. I thought I was alone, until I closed the door. He peeked through the window once more, and my heart raced inside my chest. It was Brady. He was staring directly at me. I stepped backwards and began to run for the staircase, tripping on the second step. He continued to stare at me, until he raised his hands to the windows.

They were covered in blood.

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THE NEXT MORNING

I woke up at the bottom of the staircase. My head felt a lot better, but I couldn't entirely remember the night before. Brady was there, at the door, and he was covered in blood. What had he done? Why was he here at my window? Should I be afraid? Will he come after me? I stood up, pacing up the stairs. It was 5:00, work starts at 7:00. I have two hours, but I suppose I can sleep for another hour. I take my phone out of my pocket. One missed call. Shit. It was Peter, we had exchanged numbers during the short lunch break I had working at the magazine. I called him back, hoping he'd pick up. God, why'd I have to fall asleep on the stairs, my back kills. He picked up after the third ring.

"Reyna! You finally got my message! There's something I need to talk to you about." He was frantically talking, using his breaths wisely to get the best out of each sentence. I let him continue to speak. "So, the police claim to have found a body, the woman had been stabbed in the heart multiple times, as if one stab to the heart wasn't enough. I get that we're not officers or investigators or anything, but I'm interested in the story. My heart goes out to the victim's family, but I know there's a connection here. The same incident happened last year, last autumn. She's back."

"Who's back?" I replied, intent on understanding what he was on about. I'd never heard of her.

"The devil's bride. Last year, in the last week of autumn, a woman was found on the side off the road with multiple stab wounds to the heart. The police searched endlessly for the killer, but nothing was ever found. It was as if...somehow.... she got away with it."

"Who got away with it? The devil's bride? How did she get that name?"

"Some officers called her that, because they claimed she was married to the devil. There was another incident at the end of winter, but they never truly linked the two, because they only shared one similarity: both women were married. The woman they found today was engaged, so close enough. I say she's definitely back."

"You act like that's a good thing. By the sounds of it, she's a murderer. She doesn't deserve to be free." My voice was shaking, my hands were trembling and the phone was slipping from my grasp. I was afraid of her. I couldn't stand the possibility of a murderer in this town, even if she only went after married women. I'm still an emotional wreck anyway. "Tell me someone knows something that could catch her."

"No, they're clueless. She leaves no clues. She's elusive. The police have no murder weapon, no fingerprints, nothing. Not one clue. I was hoping you'd come with me to the site."

"What the hell, Peter?! I don't want to visit some woman's death ground! I need to get ready for work soon, I was thinking of going in earlier than usual." I stepped upstairs and into my bedroom, pulling the door closed. "I'll call you later." I didn't wait for him to say a word, and hung up. I'll regret that later. I won't go with him to that site of murder, I won't. I'm an author, not a journalist. I threw the dirty clothes off and changed into something fresh, then raced downstairs.

"Holy shit. What now?" Standing by the door, leaning against the wood finishing, was my uncle, Grant.

"I didn't know you hated me that much. Hi, Rey, how's things? I thought you'd stop by when you arrived." Right, I just remembered there was a reason my parents recommended Crontill. My uncle lived here, and for a matter of fact, just happened to be a police officer.

"Hello, may I help you, officer?" He laughed, walking further into the house.

"You left your door unlocked. Just wanted to check you knew that." I sarcastically smiled, walking towards the front door, passing him on the way. I pointed to the door.

"I'm getting ready to head to work, and so should you, officer. We can talk later; I promise we can have dinner sometime. Right now, I'm in no mood to joke and laugh." He moved towards the door, smiling and holding onto his belt. Typical. He leaned down to kiss my forehead, and being the doting niece I am, I let him. Better not rid him of all his uncle duties. He kissed my forehead and made his way towards his car. I waved goodbye and shut the door behind me. Now I understand why they pushed so hard for this place, and I thought it was for the beauty.

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20 MINUTES LATER

I walked into the office and noticed Peter was missing. Guess he went without me after all? I flicked the button to the elevator, waiting for the lift to come to a halt on the ground floor. I heard a scatter of voices coming from outside the building, and it wasn't until I stepped into the elevator that I realized what they were chatting about. Written on the glass walls, in red paint, were the words 'Will you break my heart?'  Will who break whose heart? The lift sprung into its usual routine as I pressed the button for the third floor, the doors halting open to a hectic whirl of motion. People were rushing around the cubicles frantically. I must have missed the email to come in early. Helena met my eyes, and stopped. She walked over to me, grabbing my hand.

"Come on, you need to see something." She dragged me to a wall close to my cubical that was entirely glass. Staring out the window, I saw nothing. Nothing until she told me to look down. Sprawled in the middle of the road was a body. A man's body.

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THIRD PERSON

She smiled into the mirror of her car, parked in the car park of the office of Crontill Weekly. Many of the townsfolk had gathered around her master plan. She had a name, and she had a catchphrase, she could have been a super villain.

"My name is Persephone, and I will spend these 6 months in hell cleaning the city." She smiled, taking the lipstick for her purse and applying an extra coat. She heaved the car door open with her gloved fingers, stepping out in the cool autumn breeze. Some of the townsfolk had gathered around the entrance of the magazine firm, demanding entrance to the building to blame the magazine for all of the outrage. She moved to the side of the building, towards the man's body at the rear of the building. A group of policeman had gathered around the scene, but she continued to step closer. One of the policeman caught her, and turned her away from the scene.

"Ma'am, we've sectioned this off for a reason. Please refrain from walking through the crime scene." She smiled, and walked away from him back towards the barricade. She slid her hand into her pocket and drew a glove from her pocket, dropping it onto the crime scene.

"Point this to me now, pigs."