Fleur Di Lis

Chapter Thirteen

I froze.

The journal sat opened in front of me, the cursive words blurring.  Every inch of my body screamed to run as fast and as far away from this place as I could.  Leave the words behind and hide.  Let the world move without me; curl up in some dark corner where nobody could see me.  Be alone, be safe.

But, I couldn't move.

Reading that journal entry of the 1920's, the pieces of the puzzle that had bothered me since this whole investigation started fell into place with terrifying precision.  Those girls -- those poor, helpless, innocent girls weren't just killed in cold blood.  Their lives weren't just taken for the sake of it, for the killer's pleasure. 

They were sacrificed to give life to something else that belonged in Hell, or wherever the hell souls were placed after they left a body.  The heart and throat were removed to give the other soul a voice, a beating heart.  A life.  But, nothing had worked.  

So far.

Dana would've come pretty close to giving Bax what he wanted, if what her mother and Nate had told me about her was anything to go by.  She'd probably managed to get through the throat and heart, but her body wouldn't have taken much more than that in order to complete it.  

She'd been a lost cause.  

Bax needed someone stronger.  Killing her would've brought him satisfaction in knowing he'd broken his brother's heart.  'You were focusing too much on her to care about anything else' - unbidden, Bax's words from the nightclub came back to me.  Nate was protecting her from him and he was frustrated at the fact that he couldn't get near her, so he killed her and left her in Central Park for Nate -- and everyone else -- to find her.

And, I was next on the list. 

That was why Nate was so intent on keeping me hidden away.  He knew what Bax was up to; he knew what he really wanted me for.  It wasn't for his next feast, that was for damn sure.  Though, right now, I would've preferred it if it had been as simple as that.

"Nicki?"

I looked up and saw Nate standing at the door of his study, his suit as impeccable as when he left in it this morning.  His face was carefully shuttered blank, but his eyes gave away the panic, the concern that he felt for me, realizing that everything was now coming together nicely.

I watched him as he slowly moved to the side, closing the study door over with a soft click that seemed to vibrate through my body.  He made his way over to me, measuring each step like he was walking his way around a ferocious, wounded animal.  

Which, honestly, I guess it applied to me in this case.  

He stopped at my side, and I stared as his arm reached out and closed the journal over with a snap full of finality, his hand resting over it.

"I thought I hid them pretty good," he said quietly.

"Not good enough."  My voice was trembling.  I sounded so vulnerable, so scared, so...  Pathetic.  I gulped, taking a moment to recollect myself.  "Kudos for the hiding place, though."

He let out a soft chuckle.  "Figured it was appropriate."  He lowered himself down to a squat and placed his hand over mine.  I tensed, turning to face him.  His expression had changed to one of concern, the way a guy would look at his girlfriend when he knew something was troubling her.  It was so sweet of him to be so concerned for me, but I felt trapped.  I was suffocating in this study, so much so that my body was itching to get out, to free myself from the horrors that those damned journals had opened to me.

I had to go.

"Nicki, I..."

"I gotta get outta here," I interjected quickly.