Moriarty's Musician

Spider's Play, Part 3

"This is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

Annabelle turned her head to look at the man who was the sole reason her life was in tatters.

"Get out of my dreams."

"I'm not in your dreams. I'm in your head."

Her eyes flared in the darkness of the room as she studied her father's shadowy form on the edge of the bed. She would have kicked him had she known it would do any good to purge him from her mind. But as she now knew he was dead at the hands of Sherlock Holmes, she turned her shoulders toward the wall instead.

Her arm still suspended by the handcuff chaffed her wrist with each movement, but the blood had long ago drained from her arm, leaving a blessed numbness in its place. Time dragged on. She wasn't sure how long she'd been handcuffed to the bed frame, but she knew the hours slowly ticked away as darkness settled on the room.

Nicholas had left her, maybe for good. What if he wasn't coming back? Who would find here in the middle of an Irish nowhere? Certainly not James.

"So how are you going to get away from this Byron bastard?"

"Please shut up." Annabelle's despondency grew with each passing second she thought she was going to die. But maybe that was the best route to go? Wouldn't that end this horrible game she was in the middle of?

"I thought I'd taught you to have more respect for me. I've given you the keys to eternal life, and all you can think about is dying? You're pathetic, Annabelle. I should have known you were more like your mother than me."

She could feel the bed shift as Magnussen crossed his legs. But even without looking over at him, Annabelle knew he wasn't leaving. Not as long as she was alone with her thoughts.

"You've told me that already." As she reclined on the bed, Annabelle leaned her face against her dangling arm and sighed in defeat. "Why does it matter who I'm like? What if he doesn't come back?"

Magnussen's laughter filled the room, making Annabelle cringe. Not only was she going to die, but being left alone with her thoughts... with her father... was torture.

"How can I get you to leave my mind?"

"You can't."

Annabelle squeezed her eyes together. "I'm going to die in this stink-hole. Can't you just go to hell where you belong? At least you owe me that after destroying any life I could have had."

In the darkness, Annabelle knew her father's mouth set in a hard line. She could feel it.

"What makes you so sure you're going to die? That Byron bastard is enamoured with you. He's coming back. Psychopaths always come back."

Annabelle turned her body to glance at the shadow. "Why are you saying he's a psychopath? He's obsessive-compulsive, and I'm his latest obsession." Annabelle gritted her teeth as hatred flooded her mind. "And he likes to use slams to the face to get his point across. Does that sound like anyone you know, father?"

She knew Magnussen's steel grey eyes narrowed as they both remembered when he had carried out the same punishment, sending her flying from her chair the one time she challenged him.

"Let's not rehash your time of learning, child. Maintaining your focus on the material was necessary. I couldn't have you daydreaming of trivial nonsense." His words were silky smooth as she saw him incline his head and through the darkness capture her eyes with his own.

"You've not come this far to die, Annabelle. You are more powerful than that simpleton. The information I've implanted in that head of yours will be your salvation. Byron is a psychopath. He's not this doctor student you thought him to be. He's not that smart. But he is ruthless for what he wants. Byron's killed a half dozen women already. Have you heard the stories of Jack the Ripper? Your refusal to give him what he wants has kept you alive. You fascinate him. For now anyway."

Annabelle let this new revelation, drawn out from the hidden valleys of her desperate mind sink in. Nicholas had killed? She couldn't throw a retort back at her father as the truth in his words started filling her with terror. How did she not know this before?

"It's your fight to survive that's bringing back your lessons, child. This is called survival of the fittest. And I promise you are the fittest!"

Annabelle's heart pounded in her chest. She laid back on the pillow and looked up at the window. The light of day was almost gone. Soon the entire room would be flooded in darkness. But what drew her eyes was the cobweb that stretched from one side of the window frame across to the other. The last hint of light glinted off the silken threads of the web, and as she squinted, she saw the dark form of the spider watching... and waiting.

"It took you long enough to notice we're not alone. Who is the spider, Annabelle?"

Annabelle was tired of his questions. But what choice did she have? There was no other distraction to make her forget her father.

"I don't know... Nicholas?"

She could feel Magnussen roll his eyes. "No. Try again. Concentrate on what I've taught you."

Annabelle watched a small fly land on the fibers of the web, but she was surprised to see the spider didn't move. But the fly did. It struggled to get out of the web and the more it struggled, the more entangled it became in the sticky silk. And yet, the spider remained in place, almost as if it took pleasure in watching the fly squirm.

"James is the spider then and I'm his fly, controlling me like he controls everyone around him."

"You're half right. Yes, Moriarty is a spider of the most dangerous kind. He's able to dispense of anyone who poses a threat to him. But you, Annabelle, are anything but his fly."

"I had a gun pressed to his chest, and I couldn't pull the trigger. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't!"

"Oh, but you're his property now. Or that's what he believes anyway. Didn't you listen to anything that pony-tailed bimbo said? If Moriarty finds you, he'll lock you away for good in that castle of his. The secrets I've given you are more powerful than any bomb, and he knows it."

Annabelle grimaced. "So I'm his weapon then, nothing more? That's comforting."

Magnussen's jolt of laughter grated on her tenuous nerves.

"You care for Moriarty... Don't. Holmes pulled the trigger to remove me, didn't he? Everyone's perfect little detective thought he was erasing his adversary for good. Well, he didn't know that even unto death, I'll still torment him." Magnussen paused and fixed his eyes on her. "Moriarty will find you. He always does. And he'll destroy you too unless you remove him first."

Annabelle sat up so quickly the handcuff clanged against the bed frame. "I told you I can't kill anyone! I'm not you!"

A deep rage filled her mind as she glared at her father. But to her horror, his eyes gleamed in the darkness and a satisfied chuckle resonated from his chest.

"I was wrong," he said, the snicker punctuating his words. "You are like me after all." He leaned forward, his arms straddling her legs as steely grey eyes looked into ones so like his own. "But kill? Who said anything about kill? Death is too easy. Where's the fun in that?"

Annabelle would have cried had she any tears left. Instead, she glanced back up at the spider as darkness flooded not only the room but her once naïve soul. Her father's words reverberated in her mind, making a new light flicker in her eyes.

"But you... you are the spider of all spiders, child. You are the black widow, Annabelle. And the only way to be free and left alone now... is to exterminate the other spiders."

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Author's Note: Ah, let's keep on with this story, shall we? Traumatic events can do a lot to rouse the memories a gentle mind has long since buried. Survival has a way of doing that.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you liked the chapter can you give it a star? Many blessings to you and thanks so much for reading. :D