When Cassandra's doorbell rang that evening, she jumped. She'd done nothing but wait for it for hours, yet the sound still startled her. Taking a deep, calming breath, Cassandra smoothed out her already wrinkle free black slacks and pulled her grey cardigan tighter over her chest. The house had always been drafty, but she seemed to be unable to shake the chill. With her hand on the doorknob, she swung it open and put on a smile. "Cassandra," Phineas greeted warmly.
"Phineas, you haven't changed a bit," she enthused, hoping her clenched teeth weren't noticeable. She was so on edge she felt that she was very nearly vibrating. How she was going to get through dinner was a notion she couldn't fathom. Somehow she was going to have to manage, so she could keep in control of the situation tonight. She couldn't let him know something was off. He had to think she was still oblivious.
Cassandra silently showed him to the dining room, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Dinner should only be a minute more. Just have to check that everything cooked thoroughly. I didn't know exactly what time you'd be here, so I've just had it on a low simmer." She felt ridiculous explaining this to him. So, before she said anything else that made her seem like a madwoman, she excused herself to the kitchen without another word.
Standing next to the stove, she clutched the edges of the countertop, turning her knuckles white. She took a couple of deep breaths, hoping to stave off a full blown panic attack. She had to get through this. Forcing herself to move, she dished up the meal, giving herself a rather small portion. She didn't trust that she was going to be able to stomach much of anything at all. Simon acknowledged her with a concerned meow as she glanced at the cupboard under the sink. She knew there was rat poison in there, she'd used it when she first moved in. She shook her head. When Simon was the voice of reason in the house, she knew things were bad. She could hardly believe she'd even considered it. She picked up the plates and went back to the dining room before she changed her mind.
She sat down to dinner with Phineas and tried her hardest not to stare. She was so caught up in wondering how she could have worked with him day in and day out and never seen his true nature. If he had really...done what he'd done, how could she not have seen it in his eyes? Was she that blind? Her answer had been right before her eyes the whole time, and for years she couldn't fucking see it.
The anger built up within her. She was angry at him, most definitely, but some of that anger was directed towards herself. She'd trusted him, admired him, and this was what she got for it. "So, Cassandra, I heard you met with Benjamin Norrange," Phineas prompted, interrupting Cassandra's muddled thoughts.
"I did," she confirmed. "He was very nice. He pointed me in a whole new direction," she told him, hoping to strike a nerve.
"He did, did he," Phineas asked, seeming only the least bit surprised. She'd have to try harder to get him to let something slip. "Any good leads," he followed up, dabbing his chin with his napkin.
"Nothing too promising. He just informed me that in his professional opinion, it couldn't have possibly been a demon. He didn't offer any sure alternatives, but he gave me something to rule out."
"Progress then," he stated in a satisfied tone. It almost sounded arrogant to Cassandra's ears, which only infuriated her more. She wasn't going to get anything out of him this way, and if she had to make small talk much longer, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Her patience was wearing dangerously thin.
Abruptly, Cassandra shoved her chair back and got up from the table. "I've completely forgotten to feed Simon! You will excuse me, won't you?"
"Of course. Can't let you allow the poor kitty to starve." He grinned, and his smile was sickening to her now. She was glad she hadn't ate any more than a few bites off her plate. Waking off to the kitchen, again in attempt to regain her composure, Cassandra ignored the cat's food bowl. She'd already fed him, it had only been an excuse to catch a breath of air. The idea of the poison popped back into her mind, but she quickly shoved it away again. There had to be a way to get him to admit it. She needed to hear it from his own smug mouth. Only then could she accept it and truly begin to heal.
Five whole minutes passed and Phineas was beginning to wonder about Cassandra. She had seemed so unlike herself tonight. So tense. And now, well she hadn't yet come back. Could something be amiss? He couldn't hear anything from the kitchen. He decided to go look for her. Wandering into the kitchen, he found it empty. There was no sign of her here at all. No hint to where she disappeared to in this grand old haunted house of hers.
Cassandra had retreated to the basement as if it was calling her. Maybe she sought the peace of the dark, near empty and completely silent space. She couldn't really get that anywhere else. But, as she descended the stairs, her thoughts started becoming more clear, getting the better of her. She wasn't in the basement for peace, she was there for a purpose. She'd seen it the first time she went down those stairs, and she hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now it was the only thing she could think about. She reached out, slowly, as if part of her was still trying to fight the urge, but her fingers finally wrapped around a long, wooden handle.
Phineas continued on his meandering path through the house, passing through hall, checking for her in the library he'd caught sight of when they'd passed to get to the dining room. He figured of all places, she'd most likely be there. She always did have her nose buried in books. Poor girl, couldn't see anything that was happening around her if it wasn't printed on paper in front of her.
He smirked to himself as made the first move to leave the library, having turned up nothing in that room either. As he stepped foot out of the room that was packed with all of her silly paranormal tomes, and he spotted her. Looking through the door of the hall, he saw her standing there. She must have just come up the stairs from the basement. And she had an axe.
He darted through the hall and to the foyer. "You're not going anywhere, Phineas," Cassandra shouted after him, following at a brisk pace, slowed only a little by the weight of the long handled axe. She'd equipped the door with three deadbolts when she'd found out it was him who'd murdered her family. She was scared that he would somehow know that she'd figured it out.
"Hands off the locks," she commanded. He obeyed and spun around to face her, back pressed against the door. "It wasn't supposed to go this way," she said, her eyes now bloodshot from the rage that flowed through her. He didn't budge, he only listened. "We were supposed to have dinner and you were supposed to confess, but you're too arrogant for that, aren't you?" He opened his mouth to reply. "Don't answer that," she interrupted. He clenched his jaw shut. "I want you to say it, Phineas. Confess to what you've done."
It was unavoidable now, he knew. She'd finally figured out his little puzzle. Cocky of him to have left her the answer in plain sight. Though he must admit, it took her long enough to see it. He smirked to himself, just shadowed enough to escape Cassandra's notice. He'd only one deadbolt left. He could unlock it and run. She wouldn't come after him. She didn't have it in her. He turned and his fingers fumbled for the lock. All he had to do was get a grip and turn. His hand was on the cool metal, but before the lock had turned, his world went black.
Cassandra had hit him over the head with the blunt part of the axe. She warned him not to touch the locks. Now, Cassandra now stood over her family's killer, and she felt no fear, no sympathy. What she felt was far more primal. She'd spent years of her life blaming herself for not being able to save her family from this monster, years looking into what could have done this to her parents, her sister, and here he was, in the flesh. The only one with any real blame was him. How she'd believed him, trusted him when he was her mentor. How she'd let him lead her to believe that her parents were murdered by some creature, some animal, when all along it had only been him. She didn't just feel anger, she felt pure, unfiltered rage. It was like a boiling in her blood, her whole body was hot to the touch, she was nearly sweating. He'd pay for what he'd done.
Phineas began to wake several minutes later. Cassandra stomped her foot onto his chest, knocking the wind from him and holding him in place. "Say it," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Say it," she repeated, though now it was unmistakably a clear, concise command. She'd taken her foot off of him, but did not back away.
Phineas looked up at her, eyes unfocused from the blow to the back of his head, but still they held a conceited spark behind them. Cassandra lifted the axe, and held it steady over her head. "I killed your family, and I enjoyed every second I spent ripping them apart," Phineas gloated, laughing darkly as he lorded his one last victory over her.
Cassandra still clutched the long handled axe in both of her hands and now she swung, embedding the blade deep in his neck and shoulder. Hearing him gasp and gurgle, she then ripped the axe from his throat. Blood gushed and covered the floor. He instinctively reached for the wound, but it was too deep and he was bleeding out too fast to stop the flow even a little. His eyes remained open in the grip of terror, but he'd gone slack. He was dead. "I guess all monsters really are human," Cassandra said, setting the bloody axe down, propping it against the staircase.
She sat herself down on the steps as well. Her thoughts and feelings all floated around within her until she wasn't sure which was which anymore. She couldn't think, she didn't feel anything, or perhaps she was just feeling too much at once. Disgust, shame, satisfaction, relief. All of them were present, but she couldn't really decipher one from another. She felt like herself again, however. That pull that called to her had let her go. It was the house, she supposed. Constance had said something about what the house did to people shortly after she'd moved in, though she couldn't recall her exact words at the moment.
She cast a glance over at Phineas's body, and her stomach turned. The blood still pooled around and under him, slower now, but still it flowed. Her eyes fixed on him, Cassandra pulled her phone out from the pocket of her blood splattered cardigan. She made the only call she felt she could make. "Constance, can you help me hide a body?"