Page 8 of Vicious Knight
“Is that all you do? Stare?” He tilts his head, gives me a lopsided grin, and blows out a ring of smoke that surrounds him in a misty haze.
I swallow the discomfort and strange fascination slithering up my throat, then take a breath to clear my head so I can speak. “You scared me.”
Most people would give some form of apology or something along those lines, but the full-blown wicked smile that spreads across his face tells me that this guy isn’t like most people.
Puffing on the cigarette, he comes closer. So close we’re almost sharing the same airspace, and I have to admit I’m not ready to be that close to someone so striking they don’t look real.
He towers over me and I peg him to be about six foot four because he seems to be the same height as Levgen.
His lips part but another bout of seconds passes before he speaks again. “What are you doing in the Hollows out here by yourself, Bambi?”
Bambi?
And Hollows?
That sounds like the Knights’ prison, the Hallows. The place where my father rots.
“I’m lost. Is this place off-limits, too? I didn’t see a sign.” I look around again, just in case I missed something.
He laughs, deep and smoky, as if the smoke from the cigarette obeys his command to amplify the power behind his amusement.
Since I’m not sure what part of what I said is funny, I remain silent and hope he’ll tell me.
“There is no sign. We call it the Hollows because a student was murdered here many years ago. The killer remains a ghost. No one comes here at night, and certainly not by themselves.”
Goosebumps rush over my skin and my body heats like I’ve just broken out in a fever. “They were murdered?”
“Yes.”
“And no one found the killer?”
“You weren’t listening to me, little deer.” His grin becomes more animated. “I said the killer remains a ghost. Urban legend has it that the killer matched the description of the caretaker who died a year before the murder in the same spot you’re standing now.”
While my stomach plummets past my feet he takes another lazy drag on his cigarette, looking pleased that he’s managed to scare the absolute shit out of me.
Then something happens. I’m not sure what it is exactly. A shift in the air. A shift in the tension between us. A shift in my being.
It’s not clear but whatever it is changes the way he’s looking at me.
The look he’s giving me now is more predatory, animalistic and hellish.
“People and their urban legends.” I speak only because he’s looking at me like he expects an answer.
“Had to come from somewhere, though, right? There’s always some truth to these urban legends.”
“Maybe.”
“The moral of the story is you never can tell when someone crazy might decide to rip your little body to pieces. Bad things happen to the lost on this campus.” He smiles as if captivated by the idea of watching me being ripped apart. “Some guy with a fucked-up mind and a bad attitude might get the wrong idea.”
My breath stalls in the cage of my chest, turning to ice, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
The ounce of my brain that’s working presents me with two options.
Run like hell. Or tolerate this…creep for a little longer to get some directions to my dorm.
Running from a guy who's giving predatory vibes when I don’t know where I’m going might not be the smartest idea. After all, what do all predators do when you run?
Chase until they catch you.