PART TEN
Pushing up the sleeve of her short-sleeved pajama top, Chloe pealed back the bandage on her right forearm. The sword slash from this afternoon's training session was already gone.
"Thought so," she muttered. As she rubbed the smooth skin where the scar should have been, it occurred to her that she'd never have a scar again. There'd be no scabs on her knee she could point to and say, See that? I got that running from Mrs. Becker's deranged Chihuahua. She'd never again wake up in the morning, look at the paper cuts on her fingers, and feel satisfaction because she got them working on the The Torch the night before.
Shaking her head, she tossed the bloodied bandage into the kitchen's trashcan. "God, what a thing to miss."
As she poured coffee into a mug, she glanced at the microwave clock. Hard to believe it wasn't even 11 o'clock yet. As tired as she was, with everything that had happened the last few hours, it felt like it should be much later.
Still, exhausted or not, she knew she wouldn't be able to go to sleep. Not now.
Chloe returned to her bedroom, hoping she hadn't made enough noise to wake her dad. Sitting down at her desk, she squinted at the screen of her laptop. On it was another article about the Metropolis U. Murders.
The press seemed so…excited about this new serial killer. Even as they talked about how terrible it all was, they were eating it up. And, she hated to admit it but, if she were one of the reporters on the story, she'd probably be reacting exactly the same way.
The Inquisitor was the worst. They'd sensationalized the hell out of this thing. There graphic dramatizations of each murder (a mix between actual police reports, and a woman-in-jeopardy movie on Lifetime) seemed pretty popular with the public. So were the pictures splashed across the front page of every issue, which featured a dark, shadowy figure, stalking some beautiful blond with wide, frightened eyes.
The Daily Planet and The Smallville Ledger were going a classier route, mostly sticking to the facts. But even they were fascinated by the Twilight Strangler.
Chloe glanced down at her notepad. On it, she'd scribbled the dates and approximate times of all four murders. If she could find out where Merrick was on just one those nights, if she could prove it couldn't be him…
"I mean, what do I really have?" she muttered. "A name in an old book that he probably bought at a second-hand shop? Sometimes, a coincidence is just a coincidence, Chloe."
But that didn't get rid of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It couldn't be him. He'd helped her through one of the hardest periods of her life. He'd put his own life on hold to teach her how to survive. He'd moved to Smallville for her.
He made her laugh.
Sighing, Chloe closed her eyes. It couldn't be him.
A soft knock interrupted her chaotic thoughts.
Surprised, Chloe stiffened in her seat. "Yeah?"
The door opened to reveal Lana Lang. "Hey. You're still up."
Chloe forced a smile. "So are you."
"I just got home, actually. We had a disaster at the Talon." She rolled her eyes ruefully. "It wasn't too bad, just inconvenient. Anyway, I saw the light under your door and decided to see what was up."
"Just working on a story."
Lana waited for a second, obviously expecting Chloe to fill her in on the details, the way she usually did. But, this time, an awkward silence stretched between them.
"Well, then," Lana finally said. "I, uh, guess I'll turn in. Goodnight." And the other girl started to close the door.
"Lana, wait!" Chloe said, surprising herself as much as her housemate.
Lana turned back into the room. "Yeah?"
For a moment, Chloe stared at her friend. It was just…she so needed someone to talk to. Someone to tell her she was overreacting to absolutely nothing, so why didn't she just let it go already.
But she couldn't even imagine how to start that particular conversation.
Hey, Lana. There's this guy I've been spending a lot of time with. You've never met him. Anyway, this girl named Amanda Beardsley was murdered in Metropolis a few days ago, and Merrick just so happened to have her copy of Wuthering Heights in his bedroom. What do you think it means?
Yeah, that would work.
"Chloe?" Sounding worried, Lana came further into the room. "Is something wrong?"
Chloe shook her head. "No. I just…was wondering if you'd seen my sweater. You know, the aqua blue with the scooped neck. I wanted to wear it tomorrow."
Lana gave her one of those long, Lana-looks, like she doubted that was what Chloe really meant to say. Finally, she shook her head. "Your sweater might have gotten mixed up with my stuff in the wash. I'll take a look."
Chloe waved the idea away. "Nah, it's no big deal. I was just…wondering."
"Okay. Well, good night."
"'Night."
As Lana left the room, Chloe took a deep breath. As she stared at the list of victims, each name seemed to stare back accusingly. Like she was doing something wrong. Or she wasn't doing enough.
Chloe glanced at her cell 'phone. Maybe she should call Clark after all. He knew about her Immortality, and Merrick, and everything. Talking to him made perfect sense.
"Not yet," she said, shaking her head. "Not until I have more to go on than a name in a book."
____________________
A glimmer of gold caught Merrick's eye.
The Immortal bent down to study the object that sparkled in the weak security. It was an earring, lying there next to a streak of blood that stained the warehouse floor.
"Chloe," he muttered, and picked up the gold stud. She'd probably lost it during their sparring session this afternoon.
Merrick smiled as he remembered their conversation that first day.
"You should take off all of your jewelry before we start training," he'd said.
"Yeah, that makes sense," Chloe had snarked. "Because the first headhunter that challenges me is going to give me plenty of time to take off my bracelets, my watch, my rings, my…"
Eventually, she'd complied, taking off everything but a simple pair of stud earrings.
Except for a few minor disagreements, Chloe was an obedient pupil. That, and a fast learner. She was determined to absorb as much as she could as fast as she could. Her strength and resilience, continued to amaze him. She took every blow without a single…
Well, she did complain. Quite often, in fact. But she never quit. That afternoon, as much pain as she'd been in, as tired as she was, she would've kept going if he'd pressed the issue. She would've gritted her teeth, ignored her slashed arm and twisted ankle, and kept sparring.
Merrick placed the earring on the card table, where his student would see it when she arrived Saturday afternoon. Then, whistling softly, he jogged up the stairs to the second level.
He really hadn't been sure how this arrangement would work out. Coming here, to a small town in the middle of nowhere. Training a teen-aged girl who knew little about self-defense, let alone sword fighting. But he'd actually enjoyed himself this past month. He liked Chloe more than he would've imagined. She was smart, funny, older than her years.
She made him laugh.
True, being around her could be difficult. In the beginning, looking at her made the memories so strong, it was hard to focus on the present. But things got easier the more he came to know her. When she stopped being what she looked like, who she reminded him of, and became a person in her own right.
As Merrick stepped into the office he used as a bedroom, he stripped off his shirt. After Chloe left, he'd gone out, as he often did. Things actually did happen in Smallville, and the surrounding towns, after dark. In the past four weeks, he'd made quite new friends, frequented bars, attended parties, even gone on a few dates.
And, if there wasn't anything interesting to do around here, Metropolis wasn't that far away.
He was about to toss his shirt onto the chair when he noticed something he hadn't before. The time-worn, well-read, dime store copy of Wuthering Heights, which he remembered being under the towel, was now on top of it.
A frown crinkling his brow, Merrick picked up the book. Opening the cover, he saw a blemish on the first page. It was an oval-shaped spot, about the size of a thumbprint, darker than the rest of the page, and slightly warped. As if someone with wet hands had handled the novel.
The thumbprint could have been there all along. But he knew it hadn't been.
"Chloe," he said, remembering she'd come up here to 'freshen up.' Expressionless, he ran his finger across Amanda Beardsley's name. Of course, the name probably hadn't meant a thing to his pupil.
Then again…
____________________
"Thank God it's Friday!" Pete exclaimed as he sauntered into the Torch office. "No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers'…"
"Um, Pete," Clark interrupted as he followed Pete inside. "You really want to finish that?"
Pete had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry. Lost my head for a second there."
Watching them from behind her desk, Chloe forced herself to smile. "You seem to be in a good mood."
"What's not to be good-moody about?" Pete asked. "I have a date tonight with one of the finest sophomores in the place."
"Really?" Chloe's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Not Venessa Dawson, the girl you've been mooning over for, like, ever." She shook her head. "When did this happen?"
"Just now," Clark answered. His grin was filled with chagrin. "Pete was gushing over how hot Venessa Dawson is, and how sweet, and how perfect." He rolled his eyes. "And how it's so unfair that she only dates upperclassmen. And I might have said something about him being too wussy to ask her out, and if he wasn't such a chicken..."
"So, Pete has a date with his dream girl because you questioned his manliness?"
"Pretty much," Pete acknowledged. He gave Clark a sincere smile. "Thanks, man. I owe you one.."
"No problem." Pushing his fingertips into his pockets, Clark turned to Chloe. "So, what are you up to tonight?"
"I'm up to working on the paper," Chloe said. "These last few weeks, I haven't been giving it the attention it deserved." Yeah, she'd gotten every issue out on time. But she knew they hadn't been up to her usual standards.
Which was why she'd told Merrick she'd have to miss today's training session to work on The Torch. And, now, she was doubly glad he'd agreed. She couldn't face today. Not with the doubts nibbling away at her peace of mind.
"Do you want some help?" Clark asked. "I'll be happy to stick around."
"No, thanks. I think me and my baby need some alone time."
After the guys left, Chloe threw herself into work. It was guaranteed to take her mind off of whatever was bothering her. Usually. But, this time, her mind kept going back to her suspicions about her mentor. And the murders themselves.
Something about them just didn't fit.
The first victim was Natalie Baer. Then, a little over a week later, Rachel Halliday's body was found. Less than a week after that, Debra Switz was killed.
Then, an entire month passed before Amanda Beardsley was murdered.
Pausing in the middle of rearranging the layout for the front page, Chloe frowned. It wasn't unusual for serial killers to take long 'breaks' between killings. But what if there was a reason for it in this case?
Like, say, the killer being out of town.
Feeling a strange combination of excitement and dread, Chloe hurried to the computer.
"Okay," she muttered, squinting at the screen. As she typed, she thought out loud. "Unsolved murders committed in towns close to Smallville, say a 15 to 30 minute drive, in the last month."
And it didn't take long to find two. One in Chaseton, the other in Hicks.
Both victims fit the profile of the Metropolis murders, from their coloring, to their ages, to their size. The only real difference was that neither girl was a student at Metropolis U.
"And that's what's throwing everybody off," she whispered. Everyone was so focused on the fact that the Twilight Strangler's known victims attended college in the city, they didn't even think two killings in two small towns hours away could be connected.
But, to Chloe, it made perfect sense.
"Dammit," Chloe cursed, heart sinking in her chest. Maybe it wasn't proof. But it certainly added fuel to the fire of her suspicions.
As she started to print the article about the Hicks murder, she felt it. Pain so sharp and sudden, it made her eyes water. An electric hum, like a thousand voices whispering in each ear.
The Buzz that meant another Immortal was nearby.
Gasping, Chloe stood up. As the Buzz got stronger, her heart started to pound. All she could think of was locking the door, keeping whoever was out there from getting inside.
Chloe almost tripped over her chair in her rush to round the desk. She'd only taken a few steps towards the door when it opened.
As Chloe stumbled to a halt, her sinking heart began to pound. Her mentor stood in the doorway, his long overcoat draped over his broad shoulders. There was a smile on his lips. But his eyes were cold and hard.
"Merrick!" Chloe exclaimed, and hoped he'd mistake her look of wide-eyed panic for surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Merrick didn't answer. Eyes narrowed, he studied her, head tilted to one side. Finally, he nodded. "You know."
Chloe put on her best confused expression. "K-know what?" she croaked. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat. "What do you mean?"
He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. "I shouldn't have kept the book," he began casually. "It's what I told myself, even as I slipped it into my pocket. But I knew someone"—his flinch was almost imperceptible—"a long time ago, who loved it as much as Amanda seemed to. Keeping it somehow seemed…fitting."
Chloe couldn't breath. She gasped once, then couldn't seem to take in anymore air. The sound of her blood racing was like thunder in her ears. Yes, she'd suspected. But to hear him say it…
"I suppose I should have torn out the page with her name on it at the very least," he continued. "But leaving it in somehow seemed fitting too."
"You're a killer!" Chloe blurted, unable to keep the word from spilling out.
Merrick considered the accusation. "I am," he agreed. "My story is rather clichéd, actually. Monstrously unpleasant childhood. Then betrayed by the woman I loved in the worst possible way. She stabbed me in the back. Literally." He grinned. "Luckily for me, death didn't take." Pushing away from the doorframe, he stepped into the room.
Chloe took a quick step back. "Stay the hell away from me," she hissed, a spark of anger finding it's way into the fear.
He stopped, gray eyes boring into her like lasers. "I've seen plenty of women who reminded me of her. But never an Immortal. Not until you."
"Well, goody for you," Chloe snapped. She glanced from one door to the other, wondering if she could make it to either one without him stopping her.
"But even though you remind me of her, you were never like the others." His frown was thoughtful. "You see, I never talked to any of them. Never got to know them. To me, they were her. Well, substitutes for her. But you…"
Spinning around suddenly, Chloe lunged towards her desk. And the long, sharp pair of scissors lying next to her computer.
Merrick slammed into her from behind, sending her flying forward. Chloe crashed into the desk, her momentum carrying her forward. As she slid across the desk, she took half of the stuff on top of it with her.
Tumbling over the edge, she dropped to the floor, landing in an ungainly heap.
"But that first day, in the diner," Merrick continued, as if there hadn't been any interruption. "I actually started to like you." He chuckled a little, as if unable to believe it himself.
Chloe lay still for a second, too stunned to move. Then, panting for breath, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at her mentor. He loomed over her, casting her in his shadow.
"I liked teaching you. I liked that you trusted me. In fact, soon after I arrived in Smallville, I realized I didn't want to hurt you." Then, his face went blank. All traces of humor vanished. "But we don't always get what we want, do we?"
Chloe cringed. Yes, his eyes were still hard. Still cold. But what chilled her was the sincere regret she saw in them.
"I'm sorry, Chloe," he said. Then, he reached for her.
(TO BE CONTINUED)