Allan listened in on their conversation about the remains of the King Erik Klipping. He himself had been wondering about that story as well. It had taken all too much space in the media, taking space from the abduction of Princess Amalie and her friend, from his story, his masterpiece. Allan growled thinking about it. At this time of year the media normally had nothing to tell, so a story like his would fill everything, would be everywhere, but he hadn't counted on competition from a dead king. Allan got why they liked the story. There was some fascination about that specific person in the country's history, since he was assassinated, stabbed to death and the murder was never solved. But other than that, Allan couldn't see what the fuss was about. Who cared about some old dead king, when there were so many lives to take, so many living that could be killed in so many fascinating ways. Over the years Allan had done many killings, so many he no longer counted them, but to him the fascinating part wasn't why he killed them, but more how. The art of creating a horrific death for someone, and creating it to perfection was his passion.
With Princess Amalie it was slightly different than his earlier works. With her it was both. It was both the why and the how that was interesting. It was personal. She was chosen for a reason, but that was the first time for him, maybe not the last, since he had quite enjoyed himself so far. It gave the kill an extra touch to it, an extra thrill.
Normally it didn't matter who she was, as long as she served her purpose. And the girl Camilla? Well she was just there as a way of tormenting the Princess. Seeing her suffer was an extra plus, a bonus. He knew Camilla was one of the very few that the Princess actually cared about. He even knew they had shared a kiss once. He had seen it, when he was watching the Princess, preparing his plan for her death. She had pretended to not like it, but Allan knew she did. He knew she liked Camilla much more than she would care to admit. Allan shook his head while watching the man cough after smoking. All those deceits and lies, he mumbled to himself. Why couldn't they ever just tell the truth? Why had Amalie's parents pretended to be a family even after her mother left? he asked himself. Amalie's mother and father had pretended towards the world to be this happy couple. Whenever they went to anything official, whether it was the opening of a museum that they had to cut the red velvet cord, or if it was gala at the queen's castle, they went together, smiling at the cameras, waving at the people, pretending that everything was alright. But it wasn't. Allan knew it wasn't. The mother had moved to Spain and lived with another man. Why did they insist on deceiving the world like that? Why all the lies?
Allan growled and shook his head heavily in anger. He was so tired of all the lies! He clenched his fist while staring at the woman he desired so badly. He wanted to kill, he thought. He needed to kill tonight. The voices in his head wouldn't stop demanding, wouldn't stop yelling at him.
Kill, kill, kill.
He clenched his fist harder and harder. Soon his nails were penetrating the skin of his palm, but he hardly noticed. Not until he saw the man kiss the woman and he lifted his hand and realized he was bleeding. Blood was running down his arm from his hand and dripping on his new black shoes made from expensive Italian leather.
CHAPTER 39
"I THINK YOU should leave," I whispered.
Peter's lips had just left mine and he was breathing heavily. I closed my eyes feeling the guilt and condemnation growing inside of me. What was I doing? "I need you to leave," I repeated.
"But, Rebekka ..."
"Peter. I'm serious here. I'm with someone, remember? I need time. I need space." I closed my eyes trying hard to fight my urge to just let go, to just give in to Peter.
"Rebekka," he moaned under his breath.
Then he kissed me again and held me tight. I didn't stop him. He looked me in my eyes as our lips parted. I felt helpless in his hands, powerless. He always had that affect on me. He held my head between his hands while looking into my eyes, like he was searching, scrutinizing my soul.
"Peter," I said. "This is not something we should be doing."
"But I want to. I want to be with you. I want to touch you, I want to be close to you. I want you so badly."
I grabbed his hands and removed them. "I know ... But it's just ... not ..." I didn't finish the sentence. Instead I leaned over and kissed him. His lips felt soft and gentle. I was greedy, demanding, longing to feel his touches. "Oh my god," I moaned while he kissed my neck. "This is so wrong. This is so, so wrong."
"I know," he moaned while kissing behind my ear. "But I can't stop."
"But ... but Peter, we have to."
"Shh," he said and put a finger over my lips. "Don't speak."
The wine made the yard spin while Peter was all over my body, touching, kissing. I was moaning, enjoying every little bit of it, pushing all the guilt far, far away, pushing thoughts about Sune, the two abducted girls, even Julie, far away. I closed my eyes and let him pull up my dress. Then he pulled off his shirt. I sighed at the sight. He was still so handsome, so well trained. I touched his muscles and pulled him close to me. His lips were everywhere on my body, then he lifted me up and put me up against the table. He entered me with a deep moan.
My head was still spinning when we were sitting on the table, smoking a cigarette afterwards. But now I was beginning to get a headache too. Peter smiled and kissed me on the lips. I felt my stomach twist. I hid my face in my hands. What had I done? How was I ever going to explain this to Sune? I had completely destroyed everything we had together, just for what? For pleasure? In order to get laid without thinking about babies and pregnancy? I inhaled and blew out smoke while looking at Peter. Or could it be something else? Was I not done with him? Was it possible for us to start over? Was that what I wanted?
I rubbed my forehead while giving the cigarette to Peter. He was still smiling happily. Of course this was exactly what he wanted. But did it mean I wanted to get back with him? It would be great for Julie, she loved Sune but she loved her daddy and being a family even more. But would it destroy her friendship with Tobias? Not being able to clearly see the consequences of all this I shook my head as the cigarette came back. I smoked. I felt so confused and that stupid yard wouldn't stand still. It kept spinning and I couldn't even think straight. Maybe I was just too drunk to make any decisions right now. Maybe it would all be better in the morning. Maybe I would be able to think clearer.
"You should go," I said to Peter. "I don't want Julie to find you here in the morning. Or my dad."
Peter looked disappointed.
"Peter, I need some space. I need to sober up and then I need time to think."
He nodded heavily. "Okay," he said and got up from the chair. "I'll leave you alone, then. I'll be back tomorrow to pick up Julie and drive her to camp."
Peter leaned over and kissed my forehead. I breathed his scent. I had missed it, I realized. I had missed him. "See you kiddo," he said and left.
As I watched him walk off, I lit another cigarette. "Last one before I quit again," I mumbled and blew out smoke. I stared at the light summer sky with its bluish light. It was almost impossible to see any stars. I lowered my eyes and looked into the neighbor's yard. I thought I spotted something in there and kept looking in that direction. I blinked my eyes a couple of times. What was that? Was someone standing behind the hedge? I felt a chill run down my spine. Had someone been watching us?
CHAPTER 40
ALLAN WATCHED THE woman through his binoculars. He still had a boner on from watching them have sex on the patio-furniture. It had excited him in a strange way. And now the woman was looking right at him. He pulled out the knife in his pocket and felt the blade. Should he go with the knife? Or simply knock her down with his binoculars? He could go with the handkerchief and chloroform like last time if he didn't want to bruise that pretty face. It would be a shame to leave a mark.
What was she doing now? he thought. Oh my god, she is coming over here. This wasn't a part of his plan. But he was already far away from his original plan, which had been to ask her to help
him find his daughter. He had prepared a story about how they had been walking in the neighborhood on their way home from the movies, when they had started a fight and she had been angry with him and run off. He was certain he had seen her run towards the woman's house, had she seen the girl? Being a mother herself, he knew she would fall for it. Plus he was wearing his expensive light blue shirt, and no one ever suspected someone this nicely dressed - and handsome - to have wrong intentions, was his experience.
Think fast, think fast, the voices yelled in his head. She was coming closer now. He had to do something. He looked at the empty street. He could run. That was always an option. He was a fast runner, she would never be able to catch up with him. He tilted his head still while staring at her. She was slowly walking closer and closer, with a curious look. Now it would be a shame to run now, wouldn't it? Her skin probably still smelled of him. Smelled of having sex with that other man. Allan would lick her body with his tongue, to get the taste. Oh the joy, he thought. So what if meant he deviated and took a chance. It was against the rules that the Master had set up for them. But Allan didn't care. He was not like the others in the group, he was better than them. He never got caught. He never left any traces behind. He didn't care about the Master and all his games anymore. He wanted the woman to himself. He wasn't going to share her.
Allan knew he risked bringing the Master's anger upon himself for messing it up, but he had to do this kill on his own.
The woman's face was now too close to be seen in the binoculars and Allan lowered them and looked directly at her.
"Hello?" she said. "Who is there?"
Allan of course didn't answer. He stared back at her and watched her come close. He remained motionless with the knife in one hand and the binoculars in the other, still undecided which one to use. He had never been in this uncontrollable situation before. Usually he had everything planned to the smallest detail. It was dangerous but it also made it so much more thrilling.
Like his first kill.
The girl's name had been Isabella. She lived on a farm close to where he had been on vacation as a child. It was just after the arrival of the baby. The people Allan had considered to be his mother and father had just told him they were sending him away. Away to boarding school and he wasn't going to come back to them, not even on vacations. They would make arrangements for him to stay at the school and once he graduated he would be sent to a business school in Switzerland. They had enjoyed having him with them, they said, but it was time to move on. There was no more room for him at the castle in Moegeltoender. That was when Allan had thought about killing for the first time. He thought about killing the parents, he thought about strangling the baby with a pillow. So he ran out without anyone noticing him, found a young girl sitting by the lake with her feet in the water, playing with a frog she had caught in her hand. She had showed it to him with such joy in her eyes. Allan had taken it, then squeezed it till it exploded in his hands. The girl screamed, but Allan hadn't cared. He knew she could scream all she wanted to, but no one could hear her out there. That was the first time he had enjoyed the thrill of having the power over someone's life and death. Of being the one to choose whether a person should live or die.
He decided she needed to die.
With his bare hands he strangled her, then thrown her in the water. He stared at her while she floated lifeless in the surface, studied her, and studied the wondrous mystery of death. Once her body filled with water and she started to sink, Allan had run back feeling like everything was going to be alright after all.
Now for the first time in many years he thought about the little girl who had been his first prey as he stared into the eyes of the woman who was going to be his next.
"May I ask what you're doing out here?" the woman asked. Then she froze.
"Do I know you?"
Like he had done fifteen years ago, Allan smiled when he lifted his hand with the binoculars and slammed it hard into the woman's head and she landed on the grass, bleeding from the huge mark on the side of her head.
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said and picked her up.
CHAPTER 41
AMALIE'S THROAT WAS so sore. She felt so incredibly thirsty and was crying. Her body felt swollen, like it was about to explode. Like her internal organs were blown up, out of proportion, like there wasn't any more room for them inside of her body. Maybe she was just imagining it, but it felt like her liver was already engorged. Did it really happen this fast? Her stomach was hurting the most from being filled again and again. She wondered how many times her body would be able to sustain this treatment. And even more she wondered when the man would be back and continue the force-feeding.
She remembered seeing the man go upstairs and turn off the light as he left them. She tried to scream, but her body hadn't been able to cope with anymore. She had passed out for what she believed had to be hours. Ever since she had awoken to the horrific reality she had been sobbing in the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Camilla in the box next to her. The last she had seen of her was after the man had been done with feeding her and taking pictures. Amalie could still hear the gurgling and choking sounds coming from Camilla's box and she still had that eerie feeling that maybe her friend was dead. The man also heard it once it had started and turned to look at Camilla. Amalie had watched him while he was taking pictures of her as well. It had filled her with disgust, the way he watched Camilla drown in the water, the way he almost enjoyed himself while Amalie banged on the box, tried to scream with this infamous pipe down her throat. She is dying, she had tried to yell, but nothing but muffled sounds had emerged from her throat. Camilla is drowning, she thought while sobbing and crying quietly inside.
Camilla, my love.
Yes, she knew that Camilla was in love with her. Of course she did. They had been best friends for almost a decade, well almost all of their lives. Of course Amalie knew. And when Camilla had kissed her the first time at the party? Yes, she had enjoyed it. She had wanted her to do it for a long time. But as part of the royal family she also had a responsibility. She could never come out as a lesbian. Just like her mother and father never could be properly divorced without the Queen's acceptance, one they would never get. That was just the way things were once you were part of the royal family. They didn't get divorced and they certainly weren't gay.
Amalie sobbed. She wanted badly to wipe the tears from her face, but her hands were still tied behind her back so she wouldn’t pull out the pipe. It tasted ghastly and the metal was hurting her tongue.
Will I ever get out of here alive? she thought sobbing. And what about Camilla? Do I even want to live without her?
Amalie tried again to see through the darkness of the room and see if Camilla was moving at all. The man had pulled out a small plug at the bottom of Camilla's box and let all the water out just before he left. But it was long after Camilla had stopped making the gurgling sounds and went quiet. The only sound worse than listening to her drown was the sound of silence. Was she alive? Was she dead? Amalie hadn't heard a sound since the man left them to go only god knows where. How long did he intend to keep them there? Why hadn’t her father come for her yet? He always came. Couldn't he find her? Had he finally reached the limits to what his power could do?
She'll be back, Amalie. Don't worry. I'll make her come home. Those were the words he had used when Amalie had come into his office on that day her mother had left. She hadn't cried or in any way showed she was sad that her mother had left. She wanted to show him that. She wanted to make him proud. Yet he could tell by looking in her eyes. His words comforted her and assured her that he was right. He was going to get her back. If anyone could do that, it was her father. And he did. Amalie's mother did come back, right after Pedro had been attacked. She came back and stayed for a week. And that was when Amalie had heard them talk.
"If you want a puppet, you've got it," her mother said. "But I'll never be more to you than that. I won't talk to you, I won't make love
to you. Not after what you did. Not after knowing that you ... that you had sex with that woman and ... No, never again. That poor kid. And what about Pedro? I'm only here because you forced me to, by threatening Pedro. Your people told him that I'd better come home, or they would destroy him. They showed him a picture of his daughter and set it on fire right in front of his face! Goddamit, Christopher. Being royalty you should learn to act like one. Better hope the Queen doesn't hear about all of this."
Amalie's mother had played the best card she had in her hand. The Queen. She was the only one who could reprimand the prince, she was the only one Amalie's father had ever been afraid of.
After that conversation Amalie's father had let her mother go for good, only having her promise that she would attend all official events and making sure no one in the kingdom ever knew that she didn't live at the castle anymore. Those were the terms and to those she agreed.
Amalie cried harder now while thinking about her mother and all the things she would like to say to her now, before ... well before it was too late. When suddenly she heard the sound of someone in the room with her. It was the sound of someone groaning.
CHAPTER 42
"GOOD MORNING."
Allan opened his eyes slowly. Sebastian stood next to the bed with a tray in his hands. Among the cups and plates was a rose in a vase. Allan blinked, then sat up. Sebastian pulled the curtains apart and the sun was hurting Allan's eyes.