Moriarty's Musician

Purging the Demons, Part 9

"Annabelle, stop daydreaming and look at me!"

Annabelle's mouth tightened as she glared at Magnussen.

"Ah, now that's better!" He smirked and leaned towards her. "You hate me. Why?"

"Because I want to be left alone and you won't allow it."

"Tut-tut, you are much too special to ever be left alone, poppet." Magnussen reached out and slid his fingers over the light dusting of freckles on Annabelle's nose. "I need you. Don't you like hearing that?"

"No!" She wanted to slap his hand away from her face, but she couldn't lift her arms. "Not from you."

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "You've always been so agreeable and such a good student. What's changed?"

Annabelle remained silent. An overwhelming dislike for her father gripped her chest. What had changed? She couldn't answer.

"I want to tell you a story about Ali Baba and the forty thieves, Annabelle."

"I know the story. Ali Baba overheard a secret word. It opened a door to a cave filled with treasure. What about it?"

Magnussen chuckled. "You're a smart one, Annabelle." He leaned in closer. "All that treasure belonged to thieves. And just like the thieves, I have a secret place filled with treasure. You and I are the only ones who know where it is... and how to open it."

Annabelle stilled. "Why would you tell me?"

"Because I know you can keep a secret. Even with everything you already know, there is so much more." Magnussen's eyes gleamed. "All this information is hiding in our minds and my vault." He paused as he ran his hand thoughtfully over his beard. "I'm giving you the key to it."

"I don't want it. I don't want anything from you." 

Annabelle tried to move away from his hand that came up again to touch her face. But no matter how much she struggled, she couldn't move away.

Magnussen's eyes narrowed, his mouth sneering. "You will take it, and if you ever give it away, then I will kill you myself. Now that you know I'm your father, we have no secrets from each other. You are my blood, and your life will keep my legacy alive."

Annabelle tried to get up from her chair, but her body felt like a dead weight. All she could do was move her head slightly, but it wasn't enough to stop his hand from running up and down her face and neck.

"I hate you," she muttered, angry tears filling her eyes.

He sighed with a hint of a smile that didn't touch the blackness of his eyes. "Those are the most beautiful words to me. Hate me and everyone who stops what you want, Annabelle."

She frowned at him. She just wanted to be left alone.

Magnussen studied her face. "What you want is not wicked enough, poppet. This purity of your heart comes from your mother, certainly not from me. Like you, she was too good." He laughed. "Not anymore."

Annabelle stared at him. "What did you do to my mother?"

"The same thing I will do to you if you deny my wishes." He closed his eyes and took in a long breath. "Your music is so heavenly. They'll enjoy it at the asylum."

Magnussen grabbed Annabelle's arm. 

"Now, when I'm ready, I will summon you." He withdrew a syringe from behind his back. Bringing it up to his eyes, he squeezed the end, so a tiny drop escaped the needle. Annabelle tried to pull her arm away, but she still couldn't move. She watched in horror as he plugged it into her flesh.