Obsession (A Jeff the Killer Fanfic)

Chapter 15: Rescue Mission

(Grace)

Pull it together. C'mon. Jeff NEEDS you. He could be hurt, or...

No. I won't think about that. I'd know if he was dead. And not just because I love him, or some sappy b.s. like that. This is reality, not The Notebook. He was the one who made me a Killer, and that meant we were mentally linked. If he was dead, I'd have felt the connection break. Simple as that. There's no way he's dead.

The thought that he's still alive gives me the strength I need. Shakily, I get to my feet, clutching the note in my hand. I need to find him, and the quickest way to do that is to trace his scent. See, everyone has a unique scent, and that makes them fairly easy to track down. First, I need to imprint his scent in my brain. I stride over to his bed and pluck up a pillow, holding it to my nose and inhaling sharply. I can smell him on it, that unique smell of danger, musk, and soap. Most people would wonder how something can smell like danger. It's hard to explain the scent. Yes, I can smell the danger on him; it practically rolls off of him. He's deadly. Maybe that's what makes him so damn hot.

Focus. Now that his scent is fresh in my mind and my nose, I need to prepare. I run into my room and quickly dress in tight black jeans, biker boots, and a sheer black t-shirt. Dark clothes will help me blend into the shadows, and these ones allow easy movement. Not to mention, they make me look pretty badass. I slip my favorite knife into the secret pocket of my boots. It's the same knife I used on Rianne and my countless other victims. I keep it so sharp that the shiny blade could cut through skin as effortlessly as butter. It's something of a good-luck charm, and I'm going to need all the luck I can get. After all, this is a person capable of kidnapping (and most likely killing) a ruthless Killer. That means that they'd probably be more than capable of taking me out.

I'm ready to go. I slip out of the door, glancing at our little house one last time. Who knows if I'll be back. Sniffing the wind for traces of Jeff, I run out into the night.

**********

After over two hours of tracking his scent, I'm led here. It appears to be an empty field, but I know better.

Directly in front of my feet, a secret door pushes out through the dirt, partially hidden by grass. To humans, it would appear that nothing was there but a patch of dirt. But my vision is much better, and I see it for what it is: an underground hideout.

How clever. This person would never have to move, because humans would never find them. If Jeff and I come out of this alive, we may have to look into getting a hidey-hole like this. Or just taking this one.

I yank the door open, and it yields with a quiet scraping noise. Seeing that the dirt floor isn't but ten or so feet down, instead of taking the ladder, I jump in. I stand up, brush myself off, and walk down the little corridor. There are torches on the walls, keeping the place brightly lit. The effect is actually really cozy.

When I reach the end of the hall, a smooth tan door looms in front of me. I hesitate. I know Jeff and his kidnapper are behind the door. I can sense them. I take my knife from my boot, and quickly open the door.

Only to be knocked down.

Gasping, I reach out desperately for my knife, which was knocked out of my hand during the fall. A heavy boot comes down on my hand. I cry out when I feel the bones in my hand twist and snap. I look up to see face of the boot's owner.

Nico grins down at me horribly. If I hadn't known him for my whole life, I wouldn't recognize him. He looks so different.

Gone is the cute, lanky blonde boy with glasses and emerald eyes. In his place stands a tall man with no awkward teenage proportions. He's powerfully built; lean, but with wiry muscles running through his arms. His hair is darker now, the color of burnt caramel. His usual tan complexion has become paler, like white sand on a beach. His eyes are still green, but now they're darker and more intense. As he scans my face, they burn like green fire. He isn't wearing his glasses, because Killers don't need them.