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A man stood under the glow of a porchlight, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the door. The security system had been hacked into and turned off an hour ago by the same hands that now turned the knob and pushed the door open, and the silence that came with the movement of the large door was deafening. Inside, the room was shadowed in darkness, all traces of light gone.
The man stepped inside, leaving the door open to shed a bit of light into the dark room. The glow from the porchlight did not do much to illuminate the large room, but it managed to catch on the crystal pieces of the chandelier that hung down from the high ceiling. It also managed to reveal a staircase to the right, which is what the man needed, and he took the stairs at a brisk yet silent pace.
Upon reaching the top, he began to walk down the halls of the mansion, his confident movements giving away that he knew the layout of the house, the lack of light not bothering him. He past room after room, none containing what he was after. It was not until the last room at the end of a long hallway where he stopped and put his hand on a door, feeling the intricate carvings in the wood beneath his fingers. After a moment, he opened the door. Unlike the first, this one squeaked slightly.
A man lay in a bed fit for a king but sat up at the sound of the door. The light shining through the window revealed a wrinkled face and a body that was becoming frail. The man in the bed was far past his youth, and life had not been kind in helping him appear younger, but his voice was strong as he spoke. “What are ye doing in here?”
The man who stood in the doorway walked into the room, his footsteps muted by the plush carpet, and stopped next to the old man, letting the old one take in his appearance. He was in his mid to late thirties, and what could be seen of his body, including his face, was covered in tattooed feathers, the black ink standing out against his pale skin. He was dressed in a gothic victorian outfit, the sleeves rolled up, while his grey eyes were cold with a only a hint of life in their depths.
Sitting down, he took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through it for a moment, and set it on the nightstand once he found what he was looking for. Reaching into his pocket again, he pulled out a knife and flipped it open. He then reached over and touched the screen of his phone. The sound of a harp filled the room, the vibration of the strings forming the tune of Lux Aeterna. “You have until the end of this song.”
The old man stared at the younger man, resigned to his fate. Fighting would only lead to the end of his life without any of the answers he was seeking. “Who are ye?”
“Most call me Providence, but you know me by a different name. Look closer.” He watched the old man lean forward. Hidden underneath his tattoos were hundreds of tiny scars. Like the tattoos, the scars covered his whole body, the tattoos being both a way to forget and a means to remember what was done to him years ago.
A spark of recognition lit in the eyes of the old man. “Ye are one of them. One of me experiments..the crow boy.”
“Yes. The only one who didn’t escape right away. The one with the skills you wanted. The one you decided to torture so I would hopefully give in and do your bidding. I didn’t give in, and now here I am. I could have forgiven you for taking me away from my home. The slate could have been wiped clean if all you had done was torture and experiment. What I could not forgive was you giving the order to have my parents executed and having to watch them die.”
The old man stayed silent, so the scarred male continued. “The death of your youngest son was the first tragedy in your life. His death happened before we ever met, and he was an unfortunate victim of a hate crime. Next was the death of your ex-wife, drowned in the lake outside of her home. Then came the facility where you performed experimentation on children. It was burned to the ground, and what could not be burned was blown to pieces.” He paused, making sure all of the old man’s focus was on him before continuing. “I hired someone to drown your ex-wife. The fire to the buildings were because of me, and I hit the button that caused the bombs to detonate.”
The old man’s hands shook as he clutched the edge of the bed sheets. It had taken him all but the last few years of his life to realize how important his family had been to him. It wasn’t until he had been forced into a life of loneliness that he realized he did not want to be alone, and by then it was too late.
The scarred male gave him a moment before continuing. “I think you are beginning to see the pattern. Your men were the next to go. Anyone who had ever worked for you, murdered one by one and left on your doorstep. By the time the last was dead, you only had three things left, one of them being your other son. The only problem with that is you have not seen him for years. You still haven’t the slightest clue where he is. He too, is dead.”
Choking back a sob, the old man could not stop a few tears from rolling down his face. While he was now breaking, the other man hadn’t even given a twitch of change from his cold features.
“I had nothing to do with his death, and while I could tell you where his remains are, that information will soon be of no use to you.” He grew silent, waiting to see if the old man would speak, but the seconds trickled down without so much as a word.
When enough time had passed, the scarred male spoke. “You have two things left: life and fortune, and in a moment, you won’t even have that.” Gripping the knife tightly, he pressed it against the old man’s throat, and the music stopped.
