Three played a 'Wicked Game.' Now, it's time for round two.
One will fight. One will meet The Maker. And one will try to keep them all safe.
The world may be black and white but to win this game, they'll have to play in the gray.
Isabeth's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the man carefully prick his dermis with the sharp tip of the needle. He didn't flinch, grit his teeth or suck in his breath from the puncture. She knew he'd know this before—lodge a needle in his vein and siphon someone else's blood to power his frame but this was all new to her.
Nausea swam up to her throat as she stood against the wall with her arms folded, wanting to meld with the sheetrock and be as far away from the horrid, duplicitous act as possible. She ticked her eyes up the foldable, metal pole he pulled from his bag and landed on the engorged bag suffused with Gidget's life force. He was on bag one and on the other side of it was bag two—still being filled.
"Hmm," He sighed with contentment as she relaxed in the bedside chair, a chair Gidget probably sat into lotion her body down after steamy showers. "Feeling more alive by the second. She's a good pick. You did well." He winked at Isabeth.
She scowled at him and then snapped her eyes back to Gidget's languid body in the body. Her eyes had frozen behind her lids, the pinkness that always kissed her olive cheeks had dissipated and her breathing was fainter than when he slipped the needle in her arm. She wasn't a biology major nor was science her strongest subject but she knew something wasn't right.
"She can't do two." She inched away from the wall. "It's time to stop."
He huffed with humor, "I know how much blood to take." He peered at her with subtle arrogance, "I've been doing this longer than you've been alive."
"Then maybe you should pull the card and surrender to death." She glared back at him. "I'm not letting her die for you. Take it out her arm." She snapped.
The authority in her voice made his eyes narrow then a sly smirk kicked up the corner of his mouth. "Fire. That's what it is." He shook his finger at her. "That's why the Maker's likes you. You remain courageous even though you're in the company of a monster."
"You're not a monster. You're a twisted individual that believes you have true power."
"I am twisted." He sat back comfortably in the armchair and crossed his spindly leg over the other. "And I never said I had power. I'm not powerful. Do I stoke fear in people? Yes. But let me guess...you aren't afraid of me?"
Isabeth inhaled a deep breath. Was she afraid of the dark-haired, pale blue-eyed man sitting across the room hooked to an IV? The short answer was hell yes. He had a body count in the double digits. She knew his back story. She did the research, and read through all of Fulton's files—the newspaper clippings, police reports, and psychiatry notes. He was a bonafide killer, draining women dry like a legion of leeches and leaving their empty, cold corpses in their beds for one of their loved ones to discover.
She was more than scared. She was terrified. But was she going to admit it? No. You never admit fear in the face of danger. Don't give it the satisfaction. Make 'em work for it.
"Afraid of you" She squared her shoulders, tapping into her acting skills, swallowing her fright, and placed a delicate smile upon her glossed lips. Confidence was key. "For what? I gave you your freedom. I'm the reason you're here...in this room...out and about and not in that hold, sick and decrepit. Remember?"
"I do." He gave her a tentative nod. "You freed me, that is true. But you didn't do it on your own accord so you should fear me. Because right now I'm on a lease. I do as I'm told and not what I please. So, don't get cocky and think you have power. It could easily be you on this bed."
"I'm not your type." She shot back with a grin. "But then again. Do it and die. The world would be grateful."
"You'd sacrifice yourself like that."
"If it means I take you with me. Then yes." She shrugged like it was an easy decision. "One less monster in the world."
"Hmm..." He sounded looking down at the blood pumping into his arm. "Now, I see what's going on here. You're the Conscience. The moral, do-gooder. The one the Maker has to corrupt."
"What are you talking about?"
He slid his eyes up and watched the second bag fill. "It's not my place." He tapped the air with his foot, housed in a lavish leather shoe that went well with the French-tailored blue suit. "And I don't speak on business that doesn't mind but..." He let out a sigh that left a gleeful smile in its wake. "It's so special to see the Maker at work. I've never been privy to it. After the Maker helped me hone my craft the wretched man sent me on sabbatical so I've never got to witness the recreating."
She blinked at his words. He said that before and she didn't know what he meant. "Recreating what?"
"Who? Recreating who?" He pulled the needle from his arm and delicately covered a bandaid over the area. He closed the valve on the second bag and tenderly withdrew the needle from Gidget's arm. "Told you I'll get two bags."
She watched him apply pressure to Gidget's arm thinking and piecing it together. The Maker. Psychopath Maker. "Into one of you."
"Don't say it like that." He chuckled stroking Gidget's face. "We're not all bad. And with you three it's more about retribution."
"Retribution for what?"
He gathered up his things and tucked them away in his black bag, "That's for the Manipulator to find out." He produced a small black box from his bag and handed it to her. "Your reward."
Isabeth hesitated then took the box from him. She quickly opened it and then frowned at its contents, "A bracelet." She held up the gold link, "A charm bracelet."
"A puzzle." He said. "If you want your friend you must solve it and I need to get this on ice." He moved to the door and then stopped. "Have fun, Ms. Ovien." He snickered and then ambled out of the room.
"I hate puzzles," She scoffed under her breath studying the piece of jewelry with two charms. "This is a bird. I know that but what is this." She peered at the mysterious symbol made up of lines, curves, and circles. "I need a computer. No, I need..."
She placed a blanket over Gidget, turned off all the lights and dashed to her car. She needed to find the smartest person she knew, "...Malachi."
What do you think the bracelet means? Will Malachi be able to help her solve the puzzle?
What do you think The Maker wants retribution for?
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