Bare Her Soul (James Patrick March x reader )

Sixteen

His cutthroat glistened red in the candlelight. Your eyes were as wide as saucers.

"That's..not..."you struggled out loud, telling yourself it was a very realistic skin effect. That it was latex bone you could see in the impossible depth of the cut.

But it was too late. You knew, as soon as your stare dragged back up to meet his ghoulish eyes, that James March was dead.

"Yes dear" he purred, fixing the cravat back into place around his throat "February, nineteen-thirty I believe..."

You stood there, paralysed.

"Now, I'm sure you have a million questions, but there are only so many hours in the night, and I have a rather pressing" -his chin jutted out, teeth bared slightly -"question for you."

The room closed in on you. You could feel them all grinning, eyes burning holes into your back with their excitement.

James turned his hand up to Gacey, and the man dropped the key to your handcuffs obediently into his palm. He leaned down and around your frozen form, arms either side of you and his chin hovered at your shoulder. His aura burned your skin.

The handcuffs unlocked with a click, clunked onto the table beneath your trembling fingertips.

James withdrew, leaning back into your line of sight, but really, you saw nothing.

"How would your God explain this?"

He dipped his head to recapture your shuddering gaze. Tipped your chin up with his index finger.

"Do you think he'll save you now? Hm?"

"Why are you doing this?" you managed, too shocked even to cry.

James frowned but the theatrics were still rich in his voice "because God has forsaken you. From the moment you stepped into this hotel. He who you and your kind follow so blindly...he's left you all alone. With me. With John."

John. The Ten Commandments Killer. You were right all along.

You weren't sure if it was aplomb of your instincts being right, or anger at his venomous words but you ground your teeth together, found that shred of resolve you needed and spat "It doesn't work that way. He's with me."

James chuckled "Oh you know I think you're right. Yes. He is certainly here for you. But not in the way you believe. You see"- he twirled his finger, gesturing around the room-"in order for our souls to be together on this night, we must make an offering each year. A sacrifice if you will. Tonight, my dear, that sacrifice is you. And who do you suppose that sacrifice is for? If, as you believe, there is but one true God?"

You weren't listening because as your mind finally found some stability, you realised that your hands were free. A gleam off the steak knife, resting by James' placemat caught your eye.

You screamed at yourself internally. Move.

In a sweep of your arm, you snatched up the knife, and ducked around James. All bodies shot up from the table. John's chair kicked out, it hit your knees but you didn't fall.

You ran. Bolted for the door.

"Get her!" Aileen snarled. It would be easy.

"No!" James barked at her from behind you.

You wrenched the door of his suite open with both hands.

James made no move to follow you. Instead he raised a hand, halting his ravenous guests in their place. He spoke calmly "Ramirez..."

Ramirez nodded once, shrugged the jacket back over his shoulders and strolled leisurely to the open door.

You didn't wait for the elevator. You pushed through the doors at the end of the hall. Your feet pattered down the stairs, echoing off the dank walls of the old stairwell.

You rounded the corner to the next flight, floor five. But you froze in your tracks, catching yourself by a desperate grip on the hand rail. The momentum nearly carried you hurdling into Sally.

She glanced up from her cigarette, pushed off the railing lazily and stepped out into the middle of the stairs. She grinned and each tooth rotted black with decay. They crumbled from her mouth. Her eyes, lifeless and dull, seemed to sink back into her skull.

You let out a short, strangled cry and spun on your heels. You hurdled through the doors onto floor six. Back out into the dead corridors. The elevator at the end of it was groaning to life, the display read 'seven' and then 'six'. You ran to the door of your room, jamming in the key, you threw it open.

Your room sat in darkness, and you scrambled blindly to lock the door behind you.
You'd just found the keyhole when the door was jolted forward in your face.

The impact knocked you off your feet. You landed hard on your ass.

The silhouette of Ramirez stalked into the room, his gate was predatory as he coiled above you, ready to spring. His aura stabbed out around him, self assured and ugly.

"Don't fight it Niña" he warned as you clambered away from him across the carpet "you belong to the master now."

Your back hit the edge of the bed, and he lunged at you.

He gripped a handful of your hair, dragged you up to your feet. You gasped. Your cat ears lay long forgotten on the floor beside your feet.

You realised, with a shoot of adrenaline, that the steak knife was still clutched in your fist. Ramirez's fingers dug into your scalp, he jerked you forward.

Your vision flickered, but you could see his free hand poised. Before he had chance, you swung your arm back, and brought the knife down.
The blade disappeared into his chest with a sickening squelch.

His hand released you immediately, and you stumbled backwards. Ramirez made a choking sound.

The bedframe hit the back of your knees, and you fell onto the mattress.
There was a moment suspended in time, as his hands cupped the space around the knife, blood steaming over them, black in the moonlight. And you, trembling and wide eyed in horror.

You'd killed him.

Ramirez sunk to his knees infront of you, and your stomach wretched. You heaved, and the room span.

But he was already dead, wasn't he? Like James, like Jeffrey Dahmer and John Wayne Gacey.

Ramirez spluttered blood from his mouth, and you felt your world blacken and crumble.