Moriarty's Musician

Monster in the Library, Part 2

Annabelle swung around, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to make out the figure in the shadows.

"Who's there?" she demanded, not sure she wanted to know the answer. "The library's closed. You need to leave."

She clasped the thick book in her hands, ready to use it as a weapon if she needed to. A deep, staccato-like laugh, made a shiver run down Annabelle's spine. Though she squinted in the dimmed light, she could only see his outline as he rose from a chair and began slowly sauntering towards her. He stopped just short of the table's light, the darkness still engulfing him, hiding him.

A chilling sense of foreboding tightened Annabelle's throat. She needed to run, but despite every warning bell clanging in her head, her feet refused to move.

They both stared at each other: she, unable to breathe; he, delighting in her fear.

"You're brave. I like that," he said matter of factly. With a chuckle, he stepped into the light and the corner of his lips curled into a smirk.

Annabelle's heart pounded in her ears as he continued towards her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the book with both hands, holding it a little higher. She might be small and she wasn't especially strong, but she'd still clobber him if he got too close.

Her hands shook as her eyes took in the stranger. He was taller than her, but not by much. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, the jacket of which he unbuttoned as he started walking again, closer towards her, so close she could see his features, his smiling mouth matching the confidence of his step. He kept walking and she backed right up into the end of the bookshelf. She gasped in horror as he kept coming, coming until his body was a mere step away from hers.

She sucked in her breath and raised the book even higher, trembling as dark brown eyes perused every inch of her terrified face.

His gaze lazily trailed back to her eyes and a large grin dominated his mouth. "My, how you've grown," he said, the lilt of an Irish accent filling the silence. "I've waited a long time, and you have to know, I'm terrible at waiting."

He lifted his hand, and reverently touched her cheek.

"Don't touch me!" Annabelle snapped as she whacked his hand with the edge of the book, and raised it again in the air, ready to hit him in the head if he came any closer.

Moriarty's surprise was quickly replaced with a short laugh, his eyes rounding in excitement as he studied her. "So, my little kitten does have claws—good!"

His generous mouth curved again and for a split second, Annabelle saw a flash of straight, white teeth gleaming in the dimly-lit room.

Why did she suddenly feel like she was his next meal?

"You couldn't have gone through all those years of torture without having those pretty claws sharpened, now, could you, Annabelle?"

She lowered the book slightly. What? How did he know her name? How did he know... the abuse?

"I don't know who you are, but you better leave." She held her breath again and her hands shook as her fingers tightened on the book.

"James Moriarty," he said, his name sliding almost musically off his tongue. "Now, tell me why someone as lovely and as talented as you is wasting away in such a dreary place?"

He walked over to her and firmly took hold of the book before lowering his voice into a warning purr. "Let go of the book, darlin'. I won't hurt you. Promise." He let out a laugh and shrugged. "Maybe."

Her fingers continued to grip the book as his eyes drilled into hers, demanding she let go. Long moments passed, and the power radiating from his gaze, made her look down and around, anything to not meet his eyes. Her arms were getting weak, and she was sure he could feel her trembling through the book.

How could she possibly defend herself if she let go of it?

His eyes were unblinking as he waited patiently until the long lapse of silence was too much for Annabelle to take. She let go of the book.

"There, isn't that better?" he said. He turned the book and studied the violin on the cover, his thumb slowly stroking over the image. He glanced at her downcast face, his expression thoughtful. "I don't want anything between us, darlin'. Not even a book."

Annabelle didn't lift her eyes, her gaze glued to the knot at the top of his necktie. What kind of crazy person wears a necktie? "How do you know my name? Why are you stalking me? What do you want?"

His throaty chuckle rose in the silence. "So many questions. I'll answer them in due time. But first," he pursed his lips and lifted his hands, "you must tell me why you continue to wear these? You don't need them." He took the thick frames gently from the bridge of her nose and let his gaze trickle over her face.

But now Annabelle could see herself reflected in his eyes, and the fear that tightened her chest only served to propel her feet.

Why was she just standing there? What was wrong with her? RUN!

Annabelle side-stepped around Moriarty and ran as fast as she could toward the exit door. But just as she reached out for the handle, the door opened, and a huge, blonde man filled the doorway. Annabelle slowly backed up as the man came toward her. She couldn't pull her eyes away from him as she bumped into another old book cart, and sent its contents emptying onto the floor.

She tripped on the books, trying to steady herself before she too crashed to the ground. And within seconds, the giant man was there, lifting her in his arms and carrying her back to the one she most wanted to escape.

As he put Annabelle back on her feet, she stared at Moriarty, her eyes wide with renewed terror. But there was a new light in his eyes, his voice holding none of the teasing playfulness from moments before.

"Don't ever run from me again, Annabelle. People have died for less."

His icy threat made her shake. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to breathe.

"I normally enjoy games, but not from you," he said as he stalked towards her. Moriarty leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I love a good cat and mouse game. But I don't just kill the mouse. I torture the mouse."

Moriarty motioned to the giant. The blonde man, in turn, waved to another large man at the library door who came in, dragging a black-hooded figure across the length of the floor. Only a few feet away from them, he roughly pushed the bound man down to his knees.

Moriarty sauntered over to the slumped figure and turning to her, he winked as he grasped the tip of the black hood and yanked it off his victim.

"And only then do I kill the mouse," Moriarty said with a laugh.

A sickening feeling grabbed hold of Annabelle.

"Nicky!"