Monster

Chapter 17 - Clerval

It had been almost three months since I'd left New York, the day after Her funeral. Three months since She had left me. It felt like only days, and it felt like a thousand years. I had almost lost hope on that bathroom floor in Copenhagen, until I remembered that no matter how much I missed my Goddess, I needed to be patient, and I needed time. More time meant I needed to remove my obstacles.

And so I walked out of JFK International Airport with determination weighting every step I took. I did not dare go home immediately, as Walt was undoubtedly monitoring the condo. So I went to my bank and the safe deposit box I had there, and dropped off my false-bottomed box. I then made a visit to Alphonse's office. I had called him before leaving Denmark, letting him know that I would be back in New York and that I'd like him to draw up some documents for me.

I had spent the last two months running, hiding, and planning and my momentum was keeping me in motion. I needed to make more plans, have more options ready in case the others failed. I needed extra precautions and extra preparations.

I was back to looking like the old Victor, although I felt hollow and disconnected, as though spending so much time as so many different people had made me lose my own identity. Was I Victor? Henry? Mark, or Justin? Jake? My head swam with unrest even as my face remained calm and friendly.

I was playing the part of myself while no longer being certain who that was.

I think Alphonse could sense my manic disquiet, but he made no mention of it and when I left his office, I felt my calm returning and my focus narrowing. I am a god, I thought. And I will be worthy of my Goddess.

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The nearly sheer drapes danced in the cool breeze of an early summer night as I edged from the trellis to the balcony. He left his emails unencrypted and his balcony door open at night. I chuckled darkly at the absolute idiocy of the man on the other side of the curtains. Who hired a hit man yet didn't take basic precautionary measures? Someone who can't see past his goal, my inner voice answered.

I stopped. Could that be me? I went over my plan but found nothing amiss. Clerval's house in the Hamptons was large and isolated by large swaths of trees blocking the view of the neighboring houses. There were no cars parked out front at this time of night, and only two in the garage. Casing the house had revealed several lit windows, but no signs of life other than in the study. Here, Clerval was poring over his computer, unaware of my presence behind him.

Hacking into Clerval's email again had told me that Walt had followed me to Copenhagen, but had not yet caught on that I was back in the States. I knew that he would by tomorrow. Everything was quiet and my plan was solid.

My hand slid to the pistol holstered at my hip. It was unregistered, unmarked, and untraceable, crafted by a small-scale gunsmith I'd met decades ago. I had removed it from my safe deposit box that afternoon.

I slipped into the room, placing the gun against the back of Clerval's head. "Turn off the light," I murmured, clicking the safety switch with my thumb.

Clerval jumped, startled, and the gun scraped across his balding head. A whimpering babble escaped his lips. "Now," I hissed. He reached over and turned off the desk lamp in front of him, and shadows washed over us, broken only by the light of his computer screen. I reached around him and shut it off with the click of a button, after taking a brief moment to study his terrified face and the sweat already beginning to bead on his forehead and pudgy neck.

As total darkness fell over us, he let out another whimper and gulped repeatedly. I waited for him to compose himself, then spoke.