“But…,” London adds, “Grayson did talk about her once during a session. He said the way she disposed of her victims was the most telling of all about her. Instead of falsifying their death record, hiding the evidence of her malpractice and allowing the families to have closure by burying their loved ones, she relocated them to a remote location and disposed of them herself. She simply made them disappear, their lives of no more consequence to her than a dead animal.”
My skin prickles, the hairs at the nape of my neck lift away. I know where Mary buried her victims, because I’ve seen the graveyard. I’ve felt the bones. I assumed they were Alex’s victims, and maybe some of them are, but I know intrinsically that his sister was the first to dig up that earth.
The question now becomes if whether or not Alex was aware of his sister’s disposal practices, if that’s why he ultimately chose her cabin, or if it was a sick coincidence.
Like sister, like brother.
“She sounded ruthless, heartless,” I say, trying to mask the anxiousness in my voice. I’m omitting a lot of details from this conversation, but it’s necessary to keep London in the dark for my own sake. Maybe one day, when this horrible nightmare is over, I’ll tell her more. I’ll let her analyze me and try to help. Then, maybe she can.
But this is my sickness. Alex is my sickness. And I greedily want him all to myself.
“Did Grayson ever say anything about Mary’s ties to her brother?” I ask.
London inclines her head. “If Grayson knew of Alex’s existence, he didn’t factor him into his plans for his sister. That’s all I can offer.” Her gaze drills into me, unnerving. “What I’ve said here is rather unethical, but I feel for your plight, so I trust it will remain between us, an informational quid pro quo.”
There is some threat there, a vague demand for me to give her a secret she can hold against me so we’re on equal ground.
“Of course,” I say. “This conversation never happened.”
“Thank you.”
“Alex made it seem like he and his sister were close…” I trail off, searching my memories of our conversations. “I wish I knew a way to draw him out.”
The watch feels heavy in my pocket all of a sudden, its secrets burning to be told.
“You’re looking for an Achilles’ heel, a weak spot. Something to use as leverage. But I think you’ve failed to see that you’ve already found the biggest leverage of all.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to worry about tracking him down or drawing him out. You’re his creation, his masterpiece. If he truly believes he cured you, that he achieved his greatness through you, he’ll come for you, Blakely.”
My breath stalls in my lungs.
Her words feel ominous.
When I didn’t recover his remains at the cabin, that only confirmed what my instincts already knew: Alex has been watching me. He’s likely been in my apartment, where he could’ve copied my black notebook—and used the names listed there for his own nefarious purpose.
Two of my revenge targets have already wound up dead.
No—not wound up. Murdered. Caleb Foster and Christopher Monroe were murdered.
Revealing that to London would tip the quid pro quo scales, however.
“I hope you’re right,” I say to her. “I want him to come for me. I’m not afraid of him.” I conceal the tremble of my knee by crossing my legs. It’s not Alex I fear, the trepidation of what he may do to me.
It’s the fear of what I’m capable of. If I continue on this course, I could become just like him.
A flash of Ericson’s pained face. The switchblade in my hand. The red covering my palms.
“No. I don’t believe you’re fearful of him,” London says, breaking into my thoughts. “But fear, true fear you’ve never experienced before, felt on such a visceral level… Well, it can make you unpredictable. And for a person who has only ever experienced shallow affect, who has always been in control of their low range emotions, I think that unpredictability frightens you more than you may admit to yourself.”
I’m silent for a long moment, the sounds of the city drifting in through the cracked terrace doors. There’s a whole world out there full of emotion and sensation and it feels overwhelming. If I don’t confront Alex, if he doesn’t correct what he’s done…
“I’m scared I’ll lock myself away,” I blurt. “That if I go on like this, I won’t be able to cope, that it will continue to become too much. That I’ll just go mad.”
“However it came to be, you’re a different creature now. You have to learn to embrace your emotions. That’s the only way.”
I reach for my wine and take a lingering sip. “Dulling them helps a little.”
Her smile is genuine. “As does masking them with one of the easiest feelings to master. Hatred.”
At her intense stare, I set the glass down and fold my hands in my lap. “I do hate him,” I say, my voice laced with steely venom. “I’ve never hated another person before in my life. Well, except for Kyle Sellars. A bully from grade school.”
“And how did you handle him?” she probes.
I cock my head. “I buried his face in an ant bed.”
London nods slowly. “A psychopath with violent tendencies,” she remarks, but it’s the curious gleam in her gaze that sets my nerves on edge. “Interesting.”
“Self-defense,” I say, in way of explanation. I’ve never felt the need to explain my actions before.
“Self-preservation is also why you’re here. It will be very interesting to see how you handle Alex.”
I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead, the wine heating my skin. “Out of curiosity, how would Grayson go about handling Alex?”
London wets her lips, and I swear there’s a spark in her golden eyes. She’s more than professionally intrigued with her patient; she’s fascinated by him. “He would subject him to his own course of treatment.” She tilts her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “But that’s only if Alex proved to be deserving of such a punishment.”
I don’t know why I say it; I’ve never sought approval from anyone in my life. But for some reason, I want this woman to understand what I have to do and why.
“He’s a killer. I wasn’t his first subject.”
“I see.” She laces her fingers together on her lap. “That is unfortunate.”
“As demented as this may come across, I wish Grayson was around to reap vigilante justice on Alex.”
“One should always be careful what they wish for.” Her eyes flash. “If Grayson was around, my patient would probably approve of your pursuit. He would find it…distasteful to interfere. As long as you were successful, he’d have no reason to hunt Dr. Chambers.”
“Once upon a time, vengeance was my ethos. I plan to be successful.”
“Then, all I can offer you is my hope that you find what you need. Oh, and this.” She stands and grabs her bag from the table, then places her business card on the sofa arm near me. “My personal line is on the back. Should you change your mind about engaging in sessions. I really am interested in working with you, Blakely.”