Page 7 of Malevolent Hearts
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
My gaze snaps back towards the lighthouse, or more importantly, the gallery balcony. It’s hard to see anything from my vantage point, but then another whip of wind billows east, carrying more fragments of tarnished paper through the sky. Red-hot fury laces my veins. I bite down, clamping my teeth together with the force. I’ll fucking kill her.
Within seconds, I catapult myself over the wall and barrel towards the entrance door like a pack of hounds are biting at my heels. I take the stairs two at a time, giving each floor a quick sweep of my gaze before continuing my pursuit. Finally, I reach the living quarters, but there’s still no sign of Princess Devereux. Needing a second to catch my breath, I survey the room, making sure she didn’t damage anything else. Several books that I had stacked beside my bed are now missing, and the anger building inside me threatens to burst out at the seams.
“BEIBHINN!” Her name rips from my lips on a roar. After no reply, my attention snaps towards the glass ceiling separating my bedroom from the galley. From the corner of my eye, I spy a flash of white-blonde hair through the wall of windows. I don’t hesitate. I head for the ladder on the far side of the circular room with one thing on my mind—murdering my future wife for touching my books.
Once I reach the deck, I round the balcony like a bat flying straight from the gates of hell. The distinct smell of burning paper hits my nose, making my blood boil. Next, the culprit comes into view, elbows leaning on the guard-rail as she tears yet another page from my leather-bound first edition. I watch in horror as she lifts a silver Zippo. She flicks the flint, and the flame catches the edge of the page; blue and orange waves turn the words to ash. My body reacts sooner than I can calm myself, then before I know it, I tug at her shoulder and spin her in place.
“Oh, hey …”
My free hand darts out, and my fingers wrap around her throat, cutting off whatever she was about to say. My pressure increases, “What the fuck are you doing? Have you any idea how much that book is worth, you fucking pyromaniac?”
Her fingers claw at my wrist as she tries to free herself from my hold, spluttering for breath. When that doesn’t work, she lifts her knee, doing the last thing I’d expect her to do—the bitch clocks me straight in the bollocks, knocking the air from my lungs.
The move has me bending forward. I cup the crown jewels with my free hand, trying to ease the incessant throbbing. Unfortunately, my reaction forces me to loosen my grasp enough for her to slip free. And then, within a few milliseconds, she draws a gun from the waistband of her distressed jeans and presses the barrel to the side of my head.
How did my dad ever think I’d marry this chick? She is certifiably insane.
“Listen here, you pompous prince… next time you put your hands on me without my permission, I will blow your brains out through your ears, understood?”
Four
Beibhinn
The Present
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
—Edgar Allan Poe
I’ve tried freeing myself for most of the afternoon… but it’s proving impossible. Cadden wasn’t taking any chances when he secured the binds around my wrists with an overlapping clove hitch knot that was impossible to undo.
Not only are my wrists raw from overexerting myself, but if the insistent throbbing is anything to go by, I’m pretty sure I’ve broken through the skin on my left ankle.
The more time goes by, the more enraged I become. Hours have passed since Cadden retreated to his library with nothing but a backward glance accompanied by the three words I’m sure left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I already have.”
Who the fuck does he think he is? He said he lied, but about which part? Was there any truth to his words? Is there any truth in any part of our… relationship? How can I believe anything he’s ever said to me? Simple answer… I can’t.
My mind races as I focus my gaze on the wall of windows that give a panoramic view of the daylight fading to dusk.
Time for a new tactic.
“Yo, prince of darkness,” I call out, knowing full well he can hear me, considering he’s left the trap door open. “What’s your play here? Starve me to death?”
After a few minutes of silence, I try again. “Yoo-hoo, dickface. I’m fucking hungry, and I need to pee.”
Still nothing. Maybe he left me here. No, he wouldn’t risk it, not with the number of times I’ve Houdinied my way in and out of this lighthouse. Cadden is way too fucking intelligent to leave me unattended, even if the chances of me freeing myself are slim to shady. He’s here, and if I know him as well as I think I do, he’s listening to every word.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to starve your hostages?”
Just when I think I’ll be spending the night without any food, I hear movement from the old dumb waiter. The old chains could use some grease, but somehow, I find comfort in the melodic creak. A few minutes later, the top of Cadden’s head appears through the hole in the floor, showcasing the natural blond highlights that bleach his hair.
Keeping my eyes on him, I watch as he ascends the ladder. I follow his movements, my glare hardened. Ignoring my attention on him, he crosses the room and heads towards the food service hatch. Within minutes, the smell of stone-baked pizza fills the space, making my mouth water. Well played, motherfucker. He knows it’s my favourite.
The whole food thing was meant to be a ploy to get him up here, but now that the aroma of pepperoni and cheese fills my nose, it makes me realise a very harsh truth—I’m fucking famished.