Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Eight

Hans stirred in his armchair, listening to Ellen's heavy breathing as she continued to sleep close by. His nap was dreamless, much to his satisfaction. He twisted his neck to ward off the stiffness, and tried to get a sense of the time. It was nearing lunchtime meaning that he was asleep for longer than he thought. He rubbed his eyes and shifted in his armchair so he was now upright. He quickly came to realise that Ellen's parents were unaware of what had happened the previous night. They were probably worried, sick with fright, as to what happened with their daughter; their daughter whom was now missing from the family household. Deciding it best to scout the home before letting Ellen return and to determine the state of it, he refreshed himself in the side bathroom and prepared himself for the departure. Giving the girl a parting glance, he left through the door and alerted the young Guardian assigned to her that he will be away for a short stint of time. The young man nodded and wished him good luck on his travels.

Arriving in the main foyer, he closed his eyes and painted the destination in his mind. The white painted, double-storey home with flower beds framing the sweeping, gravel driveway. Having this planted firmly in his imagination, he took a purposeful step in front of him and felt himself suddenly weightless. Within a split second, his feet landed on the hard earth underneath him and he opened his eyes to the home from his visualisation towering over him. Hans concentrated, trying to detect any unusual movement or sounds coming from within the walls. Nothing.

He took long, sweeping strides to the doorway and let himself into the immaculately kept entrance hallway. It was as silent as a crypt; no noise, no footsteps or anything apart from the giant grandfather clock the family owned that was ticking away. He found this awkward. If someone's child had suddenly disappeared at the dead of night without your knowledge and disappeared the following morning, surely you'd call the police.

Right?

He craned his head around the doorway that led to the kitchen. Empty. The stainless steel appliances glimmered in the lunchtime sunshine that shone through the windows. It looked like it hadn't had breakfast cooked in it. The dish drying rack was empty, the tea towels hanging neatly from the handle of the oven. A lump got caught in his throat as his alertness began to rise. He fled the entrance hall and leaped up the stairway, two stairs at a time. His heart was heavy, and his blood pumping fast. He was familiar which was Ellen's bedroom and headed in the opposite direction, breaking into a run. The door was ajar to what he suspect was her parents' bedroom. Pushing it open with the lightest push from the tip of his fingers, his gut instincts were confirmed although he wished they were wrong.

He lost control of his body and fell to his knees in a ragdoll-like heap. It was yet another blow to him. Lucien had struck once again, beating the once-great Hans Grey and turning Ellen into an orphan. He robbed her of the mere couple of years of innocent childhood she had left with her parents before turning eighteen. Hans already knew that Lucien had undertaken this deed himself, his traditional hallmarks all present. The mess of the execution and the appearance of struggling. Both of their bodies lay side by side and were barely distinguishable.

Hans stared onwards at the scene, feeling hollow, something small and white catching his eye. A folded piece of paper stood on a nightstand, appearing like it was purposefully placed there. He picked it up and opened it, only being met by a few words written in a flowy, cursive font: You can't protect everyone. He scrunched it up in his palm, the piece of paper now just a small, jagged ball. The note - those few words - seemed to act like a warning to Hans; an unspoken warning telling him to watch his steps. Those that knew Lucien were very familiar that he was a ruthless killer and wasn't an aficionado for taking prisoners.

With nothing else to keep him there and unknowing if he was being watched, Hans rushed out of the bedroom and down the staircase into the entrance hallway. He surged through the front door without a second glance and erupted onto the veranda of the large house. In a blink of an eye, he was gone.