Darkness Rising
A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie
Disclaimer: I own Jeffrey, Roland, Julian, Susannah, Emily, pretty much every character *but* SJ. Wanna trade?
Cast: Sands/Jeffrey-Johnny Depp Roland Rivers-Julian Sands Emily Brisbane-Nicole Kidman Susannah Cartwright-Ashley Judd Julian Manchester-Jude Law
Author's Note: I'm so glad you guys like this!! Thanks so much!! It's a load of fun to write, I assure you! Thanks to Mss B as always for a wonderful betaing job. And to Halia and Sara who nudged me on every step of the way with their lovely comments. You ladies rock!!
Rating: R for naughty language, and graphic violent imagery. Enjoy! ;-)
Chapter Eleven: Continued Masquerade
"Whose idea was this again? I feel ridiculous," Susannah muttered, trying to pull up the front of her dress so it wouldn't reveal quite as much cleavage. Emily seemed to be having no such problems with her own dress, and almost seemed to be flaunting her chest for the world to see. Susannah strongly suspected that was the case.
"Take a wild guess," Emily said with a cold glance in Roland's direction. He was hassling with one of the party's security guards to get their weapons in to the ballroom. "That man's ego is going to bite him in the ass one day, mark my words. Rivers, Roland Rivers," she imitated his impression when he had first shown them the black tuxedo.
Susannah couldn't hold back a laugh at that before her face turned serious. "Do you really think he's here? Sands, I mean? Do you really think we'll catch him tonight?
"Oh believe me; the sexy psychotic bastard is here. And don't start doubting yourself now. Agents who begin to doubt themselves get themselves killed. And you're much too smart for that. Understand?" Emily asked her directly.
"I understand," Susannah said without hesitation, her determination returning.
"But trust me, a snob like him couldn't keep himself away from this party," she turned to see Roland coming over to them, a smile on his face. "It looks like Rivers was successful."
"Good evening, my two lovely ladies," he addressed the two Agents dressed like Bond women. "I have gifts for you," he said with a smirk.
"Oh whatever can it be, Agent Rivers?" Emily said in a mocking high-pitched voice.
"You have absolutely no sense of humor, you know that, Agent Brisbane? None at all," he said with a sigh, handing her one of the two guns he carried behind his back, his own already in the holster at his waist under his jacket
"That's not true. I have a wonderful sense of humor. You're just not funny," she said with a smile, sticking her gun in the red purse to match her bright red dress.
"And you, Agent Cartwright? Do you think I'm not funny as well?" he asked, handing Susannah her weapon as well.
"Oh no, you're not dragging me into this. I don't think either of you are funny," Susannah said, a smile lighting up her whole face. She stuck her own gun in own dress, tastefully black, but clinging to her body like a second skin which made her more than little uncomfortable.
Emily burst out laughing at that, while Roland just stood and stared at her, a bright grin of his own clear on his face. "Shall we, ladies? The party awaits," he said, holding out his arms on either side of him, Susannah on his right, and Emily on his left. Emily took a moment to catch her breath and grudgingly took Roland's arm, Susannah having already taken his right, and together the three of them walked into the ballroom.
***
Julian hadn't seen hide nor hair of Sands in over an hour, and he was beginning to worry. It wasn't *that* big of a ball room. He couldn't have just disappeared. That meant that he had gone somewhere where he didn't want to be found for awhile, and Julian didn't like the images that notion put into his head. Just what had he released upon these people by bringing Sands to the party? Had someone already lost their lives to his psychotic whims? Julian was startled out of his thoughts with a gasp as a hand was clapped on his shoulder.
"Hello, Julian old chum. We told you we'd find you again," Sands said with a broad grin. In fact, he seemed near bursting with cheerful energy. Something had happened to him to put him in such a good mood, but what?
"What's put you in such a good mood tonight?" Julian asked, his eyes narrowing.
"What can I say? I'm just a happy camper," Sands said with a broad grin.
"No you're not. Jeffrey's the perpetually cheerful one, and you're not cursing enough to be him. So unless you've developed another personality in your head while you've been gone, you're Sands."
"And what makes you think that you know us, you British bastard?" Jeffrey asked, equally as cheerful sounding as Sands was, if not more so.
"Because the changes in you two aren't exactly...subtle, Jeffrey. And you didn't answer my question," he reminded him.
"Technically, you asked Sands the question, not me. Therefore I don't have to answer, Julian buddy," Jeffrey said with a grin.
Julian rolled his eyes at that. "Would one of you just answer the bloody question before I go as completely starkers are you two are?" He was starting to get annoyed. It was irritating how easily Sands and Jeffrey both could push his buttons so effectively.
"Fine, do you really want to know? I mean really, really, really want to know?" Jeffrey asked him with a smirk.
"Yes, bloody get on with it already!" Julian shouted, causing more than one pair of eyes to turn to him.
Jeffrey leant in close over Julian's shoulder to whisper into his ear, but it was Sands who in fact spoke. "There's a dead woman in the coat room. I fucked her, and then I killed her," he whispered before pulling away from him again. "How about I buy you a drink, Julian? You look like you could use one."
"Yes, a drink would be nice," Julian said absently, allowing Sands to lead him by the arm in the direction of the bar. Once there, he sat Julian down on one of the barstools, took a seat next to him, and hailed the bartender over.
"Well look who's back. Did you get lucky with that chick, or what?" the bartender asked, recognizing Sands from before.
"You could say that," Jeffrey said with a smirk. The bartender laughed.
"Good for you man, now what can I get you? Another double?" the bartender asked, having remembered what drink Sands had preferred like all good bartenders do.
"Sure, but make it scotch this time. My friend'll have the same," he said referring to Julian who still looked more than little shocked.
"I don't know about your friend man, I think he's had enough tonight already," the bartender said, misinterpreting Julian's daze as drunkenness.
"Oh, don't worry about him. He's not drunk; he's just a little in shock. I just told him something that he probably didn't want to hear," Sands said with a smirk.
The bartender didn't look as if he believed that, but went to get Sands' and Julian's drinks. Once the bartender had left, Julian turned to Sands. "You psychotic bastard. You couldn't keep from killing someone for one night, could you? I should turn you into the authorities."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sands whispered coldly, his dark eyes turning almost black in restrained rage.
"Oh sod your threats too. You've been making them all night. I'm bloody tired of it. Just get the hell out of my life," Julian said with a glare, stopping his rant when the bartender returned with their drinks.
"Whoa, it looks as if someone has snapped out of his shock. What's wrong man," the bartender asked Julian after setting the drinks down in front of them.
"You want to know what's wrong, I'll tell you. Try having a, let's see if I can get this right; a psychotic sociopathic schizophrenic as an unwanted house guest? You think you'd bee a little bloody stressed wouldn't you?" Julian said, throwing back the double single-malt scotch back with a quick motion.
"Good scotch is supposed to be savored you know, Julian. Not thrown back like cheap whiskey," Sands said coldly.
"Oh fuck you, Sands," Julian seethed, turning on the barstool to face him, the bartender forgotten like they oftentimes are, "I'm fucking tired of this. I'm tired of your little games. I'm tired of your threats. I'm tired of you fucking killing people!" Julian hissed, not quite shouting, but not quite whispering as he should have been when talking about such things with someone more than willing to end his life here and now either.
"From all of this, one would think that you didn't like me, Julian. That hurts, really," Sands said with a mocking frown. He didn't bother acknowledging the bartender either. He merely put his face to memory as another someone he would have to kill before the night was through. If Julian wasn't careful, he'd lose his temper and he'd make it on that list as well.
Julian seemed to notice he was going a bit too far and used every ounce of his tattered self-control to calm himself down. For Sands wouldn't give a second thought to killing him, even in front of an audience; he had to keep that in mind.
A part of Sands was relieved to see that Julian was calming a down a little because it allowed him to calm down a little. If he had gone even one step further...well Jeffrey had dutifully reminded him of the knife at his waist while he sat there listening to Julian rant.
"Oh come on, you know you want to use it," Jeffrey whispered aloud just loud enough to Julian to hear.
"Shut the fuck up, Jeffrey," he said spinning back to the bar, picking up his drink and toasting the somewhat horrified bartender with it before taking a long drink.
"You guys weren't being serious, were you?" the bartender asked shakily, clearly believing that they were but asking anyway.
"What do you think?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk, leaning in over the bar.
"Leave him alone, Jeffrey. Please?" Julian asked him, slumping back against the bar. "He needs to get me another drink."
The frightened bartender practically wrenched the empty glass out of Julian's hand, happy for an excuse to leave, if only for a moment. There was just something about the man in the red and black suit that freaked the hell out of him.
"Aww, what did you have to go and do that for? I was having fun," Jeffrey pouted. "It's not as if we're not going to kill him later, fuckmook. He knows too much about us."
"God, how I wished I could believe you were just joking. Have you any notion, at all, of how completely mad you've gone? I'm not trying to offend you or anything, certainly not, I just want to know," he hastened to add.
Sands hesitated for a long minute, long enough for the bartender to bring Julian a new drink before responding. "I suppose I do, in a vague way. I simply don't care. Or perhaps I've gone too far to be able to care any longer. I don't really know," he admitted at last.
"What's it like? Being schizophrenic, I mean?" Julian couldn't stop himself from asking.
"I threatened your life not two minutes ago and now you want a little insider info?" Sands asked incredulously, not believing his ears.
Julian shrugged. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't really want to know. And you'll threaten my life again."
"He has got a point, I'll have to give him that," Jeffrey acknowledged. "So, you want to know what it's like having such a pathetic loser bugging you constantly like Sands is? I'll tell you; it's pure hell," Jeffrey said with a smirk.
"He wasn't asking you, asshole," Sands said with a glare. "And why should I tell you? So you try and cure me? Is that it, Julian? So you can find out just what it's like in the mind of a...help me out here, Jeffrey."
"A psychotic, sociopathic schizophrenic," Jeffrey supplied cheerfully.
"Thank you. Because I truly am all of those. I no longer have any regard whatsoever for human life. Does that shock you? Does it shock you know that I really did just kill a woman with my own two hands not 10 minutes ago and I can't be made to feel sorry for it? That I can't imagine caring for her life or her death at all? Because I don't. But you didn't ask about the sociopathy or the psychopathy did you? You want to know what it's like to be a schizophrenic, right?"
Julian was beginning to regret ever asking, but it was too late to turn back now. "Yes," he said with finality, hoping that his curiosity wouldn't get him killed.
"Curiosity killed the cat you know," Sands said with a smirk. "Well then, let's see..." Sands said, placing a hand to his chin absently in thought. An idea occurred to him, and he smirked. "This shouldn't be too hard for you, I'm sure. Imagine having a houseguest. An irritable, annoying, unwanted and clearly psychotic houseguest. Get where I'm going with this, kitty?"
Julian nodded, knowing all too well that Sands was referring to himself.
"Well the only thing is, this houseguest lives inside your head. And he can read your thoughts with ease, argues with you constantly, oh and did I forget to mention? He can take over your body any time you're distracted enough to let him. Does that begin to answer your question, you curious bastard?"
'Actually, that's Dissociative Identity Disorder, or Multiple Personality Disorder, you idiot. I thought you had a Master's fucking Degree in Psychology? But I suppose it doesn't fucking matter. Julian's certainly not going to pick up on it,' Jeffrey muttered in Sands' head.
Julian nodded. "Thank you," he said at last.
"Yeah well, fuck you," he said absently staring off into the room. "Well golly, I think I see someone I know."
Julian turned to gaze in Sands' direction. "Really, who?" he asked.
"Guy who just walked in with the two women at his side. CIA Agent by the name of Rivers. He's been trailing me ever since I killed his lover. She was the dead woman I woke up in bed next to with her blood covering my body yesterday morning, savvy?"
"Savvy," Julian said absently, not wanting to think about that. His eyes were focused on the white-blond haired man in the black tuxedo. If only he could talk to him alone. He felt the hairs of his neck sticking up and he turned to the side. Sands was staring at him intensely.
"If you even think about talking to Rivers alone, I won't kill you. No, I'll make you wish you were dead, and make sure you live out the rest of your days in agony. Do you comprehend what I'm telling you, you bastard?" Sands asked, his eyes cold and unflinching.
Julian felt his throat go dry with fear. Not necessarily a fear of Sands' words, although he was bloody frightened, but of the fact that he couldn't tell Sands and Jeffrey apart from one another anymore. The threat sounded like something Jeffrey would say, but it was Sands' cold eyes that were staring back at him, he just knew it. "I understand," he said at last.
"Good. Now let's go on over and talk to them, shall we?" Sands said with a smirk.
"Oh yeah, let's go fuck with them, that'll be fun," Jeffrey agreed, his eyes sparking with mischief.
"Are you two serious? I thought you said he was after you? Aren't you at all worried about what he might do upon seeing you here?" Julian asked with a frown.
"You know what, I'm really not," Sands told him after taking a moment's hesitation to think about it. "How about that?" He smirked and started walking toward the trio of CIA agents.
"Oh God," Julian murmured, but followed after him.
***
Emily and Roland were finally kind of getting along when a man in a black and red tuxedo approached them. "Good evening, Agent Rivers. Fancy meeting you here. Oh, and it's lovely to see you two ladies again as well. I didn't know you and Agent Rivers were associates. Are you CIA as well?"
"Sands," Emily gasped, her hand reaching for the gun she carried in her purse.
"Oh well that's not very nice, Emily, was it? You wouldn't want to shoot me in front of a crowd of people, now would you? Oh, and not to mention, Mr. Manchester here. I don't believe you've met."
The three of them looked to see Julian come up hesitantly at Sands' side. "Good evening everyone. I'm Julian Manchester, at your service."
"If you were really at our service, you wouldn't be helping this bastard," Roland muttered darkly.
"Well that's not very nice, Agent Rivers. You better be careful or you'll hurt our feelings," Sands said with a wicked smirk.
"I really don't give a rat's ass if I hurt yours or Mr. Manchester's feelings. You're a murdering psychopathic bastard and he's helping you," Roland said with a heated glare in Julian's direction.
"Oh I wasn't talking about Julian," Sands said, a broad grin on his face.
"What were you talking about then?" Susannah ventured to ask, being a little more cool-headed than her colleagues.
"Oh, I think we'll let Julian here answer that one. He's the one who's had the most experience 'dealing' with us, as it were. And it was his idea to pick out this costume," he said glancing down at his two-toned tuxedo. "So he might as well tell you why. Go ahead, Julian. They're not going to bite."
"What is he talking about?" Roland asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Julian cast a glance at Sands who only smirked, before speaking. "Sands is a schizophrenic," he said at last.
"Bullshit," Roland said immediately. "And if you think I'm going to buy some story about how you were insane when you killed all of those people, you can fucking forget about it."
"Oh I wasn't trying to, I assure you Agent Rivers. I'm fully aware of what I've done and who I've killed. But Julian wasn't lying either. I am a schizophrenic, and I can tell you what, it's a pain in the ass."
"Oh shut the fuck up, you wuss," Jeffrey spoke up. "Hello you fuckers, I'm Jeffrey. Sands' better half. Well, his more psychotic half anyway. And I just wanted to say, that if I get the chance, I'll kill every single one of you," Jeffrey said with a cheerful smirk.
"You're asking me to believe that he's really schizophrenic? Give me a fucking break. How do I know he's not just putting on an act?" The moment Roland asked the question however, he knew that Sands was putting on no act. He really was talking to another person. "Fuck me," he whispered.
"You really are schizophrenic?" Susannah asked him with a curious expression on her face.
"You betcha, sugarbutt. I remember you. It's shame I wasn't the one who got to kiss your hand. Although, I suppose if I had been there I would have done a hell of a lot more than that," Jeffrey said with a lecherous grin.
Roland let out a little growl at that. "I still don't believe it. You're just putting on an act," he said, not really believing his own words.
"Oh come on, Roland old buddy. You don't really believe that, do you? As if anyone could think that me and that pathetic bastard Sands were the same person," Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "Oh, and I thought I should mention, it was me who killed your lover, not Sands. And I must say she was a great piece of ass, even dead; especially dead, in fact. You should have seen her when I was through with her," Jeffrey said with a wicked smirk. Roland lunged at him and had to be forcibly restrained by Emily and Susannah. "Although, Sands didn't really like the look of her either. He prefers to simply kill people, not like me. You two have no appreciation for great art," Jeffrey said with a deep sigh.
"You call that fucking art? You mutilated her, you psychotic bastard," Sands muttered before smirking to the trio of CIA agents in front of him. "Although you probably don't want to hear about any of this at all. How about I buy the three of you a drink? We might as well enjoy ourselves if we're going to have a little chat. So, shall we?" he asked, holding out his right hand in invitation toward the bar while Jeffrey gave Roland the finger with his left.
Roland noticed the gesture but held his temper. If Sands was willing to talk to them, then they couldn't give up that chance."Fine, but you and Manchester are going first," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Of course, Agent Rivers," Julian said amicably, turning to walk back to the bar.
"I don't fucking like this, Sands," Jeffrey muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes fixed on Roland and his fellow agents.
"Oh come on. Who's the wuss now? Where's your sense of adventure? And you don't really believe that they've caught us, do you? We came to them, remember? Not the other way around," Sands said with a final smirk in the CIA agents' direction before following Julian back to the bar.
"Fascinating," Emily couldn't help but say as she watched Sands watch away. The look she gave him was intense, but not in a sexual way. Her interest in him had changed from lust to scientific interest in the blink of an eye. "I've never had the opportunity to interview a schizophrenic before," she said absently.
"I don't care how interesting this bastard may seem now, or how charming he may act around you. He's the psychopath who murdered Yvette, Mrs. Sprout, that old woman in the restaurant, the bartender, Ryan Merced, and God know's how many other people by now. Keep that in mind," Roland cautioned with a stern look.
"Don't tell me how to fucking do my job, Rivers," Emily said with a glare before making her own way over to the bar.
Roland just sighed and watched her go. He really hadn't been trying to push Emily's buttons that time, as much fun as it would have been. He had been genuinely concerned that her fascination might lead to distraction that could get her killed.
"We're all a just a little edgy right now, Roland. And having the guy were chasing show up right in front our faces with a smile and an invitation for drinks certainly isn't helping matters. Now let's go show this guy that it was a big mistake to ever mess with the CIA," Susannah said with a confident smirk.
Roland grinned wide at that, and together the two of them made their way over to the bar.
***
"So, did you know Yvette long? Before I killed her, that is?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk, waving the now timid bartender over.
Emily's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to play games with you, Sands. Get that straight right now," she said coldly.
"Well, technically you weren't talking to Sands just then, but since you're new at this, I'll let it slide. And of course you're going to play games with me. What do you think you and your fellow agents are doing right now by having a drink with me and Sands?" he asked with a smirk. "Isn't that right, Julian?" he turned to ask. "That's right," he said before Julian had a chance to answer for himself.
The bartender came forward as Roland and Susannah joined them at the bar, clearly nervous in Sands' presence. "What can I get for you?" he said with a bit of a stutter in his voice.
"Well, I'd like another scotch double, but you'll have to ask the other people sitting next to me what they'd like. Oh, and all of their drinks are on me," Sands said with a smile.
"I'll have the same," Julian said with a sigh.
"I'll have a martini," Emily said.
"I'll have a single shot of scotch," Susannah requested not looking at Sands or Julian.
"Oh, woman after our own heart," Sands muttered with a smirk after hearing Susannah's order.
"I'll have a double bourbon on the rocks," Roland asked for at last. The bartender nodded and quickly scurried off to get their orders.
"Shall the six of us move to a table? It will be easier to have our conversation there. I'm sure the bartender can bring our drinks over," Sands said, getting up to move to a vacant table before anyone could say otherwise.
"Did he just say six?" Emily asked with a frown, mentally counting in her head. It then occurred to her that Sands had counted himself twice. How interesting.
They all moved to sit at the round six-person table Sands had chosen, and Emily couldn't help but wonder if he had chosen it because of the six settings, or simply that a four-person table wouldn't fit them all comfortably as they had five people. She purposely left the seat between her and Sands, the seat on his left empty. She wasn't stupid enough to sit that close to a psychotic, especially when their conversation might upset him. She wasn't an idiot, no matter what Rivers thought. "What is it like being schizophrenic, and when did it first develop?" Emily couldn't help herself from asking once every one was seated, Susannah on her right, Roland next to her, and Mr. Manchester, who looked even more sexy in person, in between Roland and Sands.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "Fuck, first Julian here and now you. What is it with you people that you want to know what it's like? Wouldn't you like to ask me something else? Like where I put you're dead friend's corpse?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk.
"You better fucking tell us, you bastard," Roland seethed from across the table.
"Or what?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk. "You'll arrest me and either send me into prison for the rest of my life or just have me executed by the state? That is if we don't wind up in a fucking mental institution," Jeffrey said with a barely restrained shudder. "You're already planning to do all of that. So there's absolutely nothing you can say or do to me to frighten me, Roland, dear chum. So you might as well save your fucking breath."
"Please tell us, Sands. You wouldn't have brought it up if you weren't already planning on telling anyway, would you?" Susannah rationed.
For a second, Sands' eyes went cold, and Susannah held her breath. But then he smiled brightly as if the previous look had never existed. "I like you. You've got balls, I'll give you that," Jeffrey said with a smirk. "In fact, I like Emily too. However did you end up with such a pathetic fucking loser as Rivers here?" Jeffrey asked, intentionally trying to bait Roland into reacting. To his annoyance, Roland just sat there as still as stone, with even a little smirk of his own crossing his face. "You're no fun. And you have absolutely no fucking sense of humour, you know that?" Jeffrey asked with a slight pout as if he were a child whose best playmate decided he didn't want to play any longer.
The location of the body...Jeffrey, was it?" Susannah asked before a thought occurred to her. "Jeffrey Sands, so that's why you put down that name at the train station. It was you who boarded the train."
"That's right, sugarbutt. It was my idea to come here in the first place," Jeffrey said with a grin.
"But I digress, you want to know where the location of your friend is, correct?" Sands asked. "Fine, she's lying in a bathtub in a seedy motel in downtown DC. I won't tell you which one unless you behave yourself. Now where is that fucking bartender with our drinks?" he asked, looking up at the bar where the bartender was nowhere to be seen.
The bartender appeared as if he had been waiting for Sands to say that very line with a tray of their drinks which he set in front of each of them. "If there's anything else," he started, praying that Sands wouldn't ask anything else of him. He just wanted to get the hell away from him.
"Not right now, but I'm sure I'll see you later," Sand said with a smirk and a wink, handing the frightened bartender a couple of bills; more than enough to pay for the drinks a few times over.
"You really don't care at all that you've killed all of those people do you?" Emily asked, watching Sands cheerfully interact with the bartender. "You feel no remorse at all."
"Why should I?" Sands asked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "People live, people die. What should it matter whether or not I'm the one to cause that death?" Sands asked with a genuine frown.
Julian, Roland and Susannah just shook their heads in disgust at that, but Emily looked intrigued. "You really don't care at all," she said, amazed. "A true psychopath."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment, sugar?" Jeffrey asked with a leer. "Because I'd be more than willing to allow you to *examine* me further," he said grinning.
As cool and calculated as Emily was trying to be, her body didn't care about any of that, and betrayed her as she felt a rush of blood go to her cheeks. She was very glad she hadn't sat next to him now, or she might be tempted to do something that would be entirely improper with a complete stranger, let alone a total psychopath. "As much as the offer might appeal to me, Mr. Sands, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline," she said breathily, her conscience both congratulating her for making the right decision and cursing her as an idiot.
Jeffrey shrugged. "Your loss, sugar butt," he said with a grin. So is there anything else you'd like to talk about why I'm still here?"
"Did you really kill your parents like everyone thought you did?" Roland asked. Jeffrey went still and Roland felt a bit of a victorious feeling surge through him. 'So, I struck a nerve with that one,' he thought to himself, filing the information away in his memory. "You didn't answer my question, you psychotic bastard," he reminded him.
"Fuck you, Rivers," Jeffrey said with a heated glare. "As for whether or not Sands killed his parents, yeah so what if he did?" Jeffrey admitted at last, not really caring if they knew. Sands felt differently, but he ignored him and went on. "He burnt them alive, did you know that? He tied the both of them up on their bed, drenched them in gasoline, and threw the match on their bodies. He then stood outside of their bedroom listening to them scream. Did you know that? That's why he had to be rescued from the house. He wanted to hear them both. He stood outside of their bedroom door listening to their screams until he passed out from smoke inhalation and had to be rescued by one of the firefighters. He doesn't really remember it though, so it's useless to ask him about it, but I do. I remember everything."
"Fuck," Roland whispered, the implications of what he had just heard setting in. Sands had murdered his parents; at 17. And he didn't just murder them, he had let them die slowly in one of the most horrible ways known to man. If this story got out, a jury would have no trouble buying an insanity plea that Roland wouldn't stand for. He wanted to see the bastard dead, not living it up in some cushy asylum somewhere.
"Don't ask questions you're not ready to know the answers to, Agent Rivers," Jeffrey said coldly before standing up. "Well, this has been a delightful evening, but I think it's about time Julian and I make our way home. What do you say, Julian?"
"If you think we're just going to let you walk out of here, you really are insane," Roland seethed, rising to his feet as well.
"Oh we are, and we are," Jeffrey paused, laughed a bit at how that sounded, and turned to Julian who had risen to his feet as well. "Let's get the hell out of here, Julian. This party's no fun anymore."
Julian and Sands turned to walk out of the ballroom, heading to the coat room to get their hats and cloaks, before Sands felt Roland's hand on his arm. "You're not getting away this time you fucking psychotic bastard."
Before Roland had time to react, he found a six-inch blade pressed up against his neck. "And what makes you think you can stop us?" Sands hissed. "And don't think I won't kill you. You may be getting better at the game, but I've still got time to bring new players in," Jeffrey said with a smirk.
"You kill me, and they'll kill you," Roland said, referring to Emily and Susannah who stood behind him.
Sands didn't even bother looking at them. "You know what, I don't think they will. You would, maybe. But I think they'd be too worried that they'd harm innocent people by firing their guns in a crowded public place. Not to mention, we seem to be drawing a bit of a crowd," Jeffrey said with a smirk. He could hear the gasps of party goers around them, and he knew it would only be a matter of a few seconds before they had drawn the entire party. Gossip would spread like wildfire in this group, and every one of them would want to see just what was going on between the two men at the bar. Roland seemed to have realized that and looked over his shoulder with a frown.
Before either of them had time to act, however, a loud blood-curdling scream cut through the crowd and Sands took advantage of the distraction and slit Roland's throat before running off and disappearing into the crowd of frenzied party goers.
Emily and Susannah immediately ran to his side as they saw him slump to the ground. There was a long straight cut across his neck, and it was slowly gushing blood onto the collar of his suit. "Oh God, Roland!" Susannah said upon seeing him. Emily just gasped.
"That bastard could have killed me," he said, holding a hand up to his bleeding neck. The cut had actually been just shallow enough not to kill him, but it still bled enough to colour his pristine white tux shirt a dark red. "Why didn't he kill me? We better get the fuck after him!" he said, rising to his feet.
"Look around Rivers, he's already fucking gone. And so is Manchester," Emily said, pulling a handkerchief out of her purse and handing it to him. "Here, clean yourself up. I'm glad you're ok," she admitted before walking off in the direction the screams had come from.
"We'd better get after her," Susannah said before taking the handkerchief out of Roland's hand and wiping at his neck. "Are you sure you're ok?" she asked softly, before taking his hand in hers and placing it against the handkerchief. They held eye contact for a long moment before he nodded. "Then let's go find out what the hell just happened."
***
They left the ballroom to find Emily arguing with a security guard outside of the coat room. They came up her side and Susannah asked, "What's going on here?"
"This little prick won't let me inside. He says there's been a murder, but won't let me through," Emily said with a glare in the security guard's direction.
"A murder? Fuck, I'll give you one guess who probably did it," Roland muttered, still pressing the cloth to his bloodied throat.
Emily just pursed her lips and nodded. "And this fucker won't believe that I'm CIA and let me in."
Roland rolled his eyes at that and pulled his badge out from his tux coat with one hand. "Roland Rivers, CIA. These are my associates Agent Cartwright and Agent Brisbane. If you don't let us into that room right now I'll have you arrested for interfering in an officer's investigation. Now move aside," he said, pushing himself forward and into the coat room. What he saw in front of him made him pause. There was a woman lying on a bed of crumpled fur coats, clearly dead, and clearly having been re-dressed in her long red dress. No matter how natural a killer tried to make someone they had re-dressed after death look, it wasn't natural enough. A good forensic scientist could always tell.
He knelt over her body and looked closely down at her neck. "She's been strangled, and judging by the look on her face, she was happy when it happened," Roland said with a frown before looking at two women for answers.
"She's got the look of someone who's just been fucked, and fucked good," Emily said bluntly, causing Roland to wince.
"Thank you for that...colorful explanation, Agent Brisbane," Roland said before turning back to the body.
"No problem," she said absently, leaning over the body next to him after pulling on a pair of latex gloves she had pulled from her purse. She moved the woman's hair back to look at her neck. "It looks as if she was strangled with someone's bare hands. Do you see the places where the fingers pressed into the skin of her neck?" She placed her own hand carefully over the hand prints, measuring. "Someone with definitely bigger hands than me. No doubt a man. If it was Sands who did this, and none of us doubt that it was. Violent psychopaths are known to climax at the point their victim dies, so once we get a forensic team in here, we should have her checked for-"
Emily was cut off as a heavily panting young man in a lion's mask came to the door of the coat room and said, "You guys are like cops, right? Well there's been another murder," he said frantically.
Emily cursed as she was interrupted, but Roland spoke up. "Where?"
"Just outside the front door. I think the guy had his throat cut! There's so much blood!" the man moaned.
"Alright, we're coming. Emily, you stay here. Call in the forensic team. Susannah and I will be outside looking over the second body," he turned to the lion-faced young man. "You, are going to stay with her, do you understand?" he asked coldly. "If anything happens to her, I'm going to hold you personally responsible. Got it?" The young man nodded and Roland and Emily made their way out of the mansion and outside to the body.
"I should have grabbed my coat, but I didn't want to disturb the crime scene," Susannah said, rubbing her shoulders against the October cold.
Roland took of his jacket and handed it to her. "Here," he said softly, making his way down to the circle of people that were no doubt surrounding the dead body.
Susannah said thank you to Roland's back as he walked down the front steps to the body before pulling on the jacket and following him. "It looks like the young man was right," she said upon seeing the body. The man lay on the ground, his throat slit in a clean cut angling downward from the left, indicative that the killer had been right-handed. She took a closer look at the man's face and frowned. "Isn't that-"
"Yeah, our bartender from tonight. Sands said he'd be seeing him later this evening," he banged a hand against the ground angrily. "Fuck!" he shouted, causing the group of gathered around them to gasp.
"Don't worry, Roland. We'll catch him. We have to. This has got to end," Susannah said with a frown towards the dead body.
TBC
A/N: Well, that was fun!! :-D And dear me, I'm not quite sure how long this got, but I'm pretty sure it was a long one. I hope you liked it!! Next chapter, what happens to Sands, Jeffrey and Julian after fleeing. It should be fun!
A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie
Disclaimer: I own Jeffrey, Roland, Julian, Susannah, Emily, pretty much every character *but* SJ. Wanna trade?
Cast: Sands/Jeffrey-Johnny Depp Roland Rivers-Julian Sands Emily Brisbane-Nicole Kidman Susannah Cartwright-Ashley Judd Julian Manchester-Jude Law
Author's Note: I'm so glad you guys like this!! Thanks so much!! It's a load of fun to write, I assure you! Thanks to Mss B as always for a wonderful betaing job. And to Halia and Sara who nudged me on every step of the way with their lovely comments. You ladies rock!!
Rating: R for naughty language, and graphic violent imagery. Enjoy! ;-)
Chapter Eleven: Continued Masquerade
"Whose idea was this again? I feel ridiculous," Susannah muttered, trying to pull up the front of her dress so it wouldn't reveal quite as much cleavage. Emily seemed to be having no such problems with her own dress, and almost seemed to be flaunting her chest for the world to see. Susannah strongly suspected that was the case.
"Take a wild guess," Emily said with a cold glance in Roland's direction. He was hassling with one of the party's security guards to get their weapons in to the ballroom. "That man's ego is going to bite him in the ass one day, mark my words. Rivers, Roland Rivers," she imitated his impression when he had first shown them the black tuxedo.
Susannah couldn't hold back a laugh at that before her face turned serious. "Do you really think he's here? Sands, I mean? Do you really think we'll catch him tonight?
"Oh believe me; the sexy psychotic bastard is here. And don't start doubting yourself now. Agents who begin to doubt themselves get themselves killed. And you're much too smart for that. Understand?" Emily asked her directly.
"I understand," Susannah said without hesitation, her determination returning.
"But trust me, a snob like him couldn't keep himself away from this party," she turned to see Roland coming over to them, a smile on his face. "It looks like Rivers was successful."
"Good evening, my two lovely ladies," he addressed the two Agents dressed like Bond women. "I have gifts for you," he said with a smirk.
"Oh whatever can it be, Agent Rivers?" Emily said in a mocking high-pitched voice.
"You have absolutely no sense of humor, you know that, Agent Brisbane? None at all," he said with a sigh, handing her one of the two guns he carried behind his back, his own already in the holster at his waist under his jacket
"That's not true. I have a wonderful sense of humor. You're just not funny," she said with a smile, sticking her gun in the red purse to match her bright red dress.
"And you, Agent Cartwright? Do you think I'm not funny as well?" he asked, handing Susannah her weapon as well.
"Oh no, you're not dragging me into this. I don't think either of you are funny," Susannah said, a smile lighting up her whole face. She stuck her own gun in own dress, tastefully black, but clinging to her body like a second skin which made her more than little uncomfortable.
Emily burst out laughing at that, while Roland just stood and stared at her, a bright grin of his own clear on his face. "Shall we, ladies? The party awaits," he said, holding out his arms on either side of him, Susannah on his right, and Emily on his left. Emily took a moment to catch her breath and grudgingly took Roland's arm, Susannah having already taken his right, and together the three of them walked into the ballroom.
***
Julian hadn't seen hide nor hair of Sands in over an hour, and he was beginning to worry. It wasn't *that* big of a ball room. He couldn't have just disappeared. That meant that he had gone somewhere where he didn't want to be found for awhile, and Julian didn't like the images that notion put into his head. Just what had he released upon these people by bringing Sands to the party? Had someone already lost their lives to his psychotic whims? Julian was startled out of his thoughts with a gasp as a hand was clapped on his shoulder.
"Hello, Julian old chum. We told you we'd find you again," Sands said with a broad grin. In fact, he seemed near bursting with cheerful energy. Something had happened to him to put him in such a good mood, but what?
"What's put you in such a good mood tonight?" Julian asked, his eyes narrowing.
"What can I say? I'm just a happy camper," Sands said with a broad grin.
"No you're not. Jeffrey's the perpetually cheerful one, and you're not cursing enough to be him. So unless you've developed another personality in your head while you've been gone, you're Sands."
"And what makes you think that you know us, you British bastard?" Jeffrey asked, equally as cheerful sounding as Sands was, if not more so.
"Because the changes in you two aren't exactly...subtle, Jeffrey. And you didn't answer my question," he reminded him.
"Technically, you asked Sands the question, not me. Therefore I don't have to answer, Julian buddy," Jeffrey said with a grin.
Julian rolled his eyes at that. "Would one of you just answer the bloody question before I go as completely starkers are you two are?" He was starting to get annoyed. It was irritating how easily Sands and Jeffrey both could push his buttons so effectively.
"Fine, do you really want to know? I mean really, really, really want to know?" Jeffrey asked him with a smirk.
"Yes, bloody get on with it already!" Julian shouted, causing more than one pair of eyes to turn to him.
Jeffrey leant in close over Julian's shoulder to whisper into his ear, but it was Sands who in fact spoke. "There's a dead woman in the coat room. I fucked her, and then I killed her," he whispered before pulling away from him again. "How about I buy you a drink, Julian? You look like you could use one."
"Yes, a drink would be nice," Julian said absently, allowing Sands to lead him by the arm in the direction of the bar. Once there, he sat Julian down on one of the barstools, took a seat next to him, and hailed the bartender over.
"Well look who's back. Did you get lucky with that chick, or what?" the bartender asked, recognizing Sands from before.
"You could say that," Jeffrey said with a smirk. The bartender laughed.
"Good for you man, now what can I get you? Another double?" the bartender asked, having remembered what drink Sands had preferred like all good bartenders do.
"Sure, but make it scotch this time. My friend'll have the same," he said referring to Julian who still looked more than little shocked.
"I don't know about your friend man, I think he's had enough tonight already," the bartender said, misinterpreting Julian's daze as drunkenness.
"Oh, don't worry about him. He's not drunk; he's just a little in shock. I just told him something that he probably didn't want to hear," Sands said with a smirk.
The bartender didn't look as if he believed that, but went to get Sands' and Julian's drinks. Once the bartender had left, Julian turned to Sands. "You psychotic bastard. You couldn't keep from killing someone for one night, could you? I should turn you into the authorities."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sands whispered coldly, his dark eyes turning almost black in restrained rage.
"Oh sod your threats too. You've been making them all night. I'm bloody tired of it. Just get the hell out of my life," Julian said with a glare, stopping his rant when the bartender returned with their drinks.
"Whoa, it looks as if someone has snapped out of his shock. What's wrong man," the bartender asked Julian after setting the drinks down in front of them.
"You want to know what's wrong, I'll tell you. Try having a, let's see if I can get this right; a psychotic sociopathic schizophrenic as an unwanted house guest? You think you'd bee a little bloody stressed wouldn't you?" Julian said, throwing back the double single-malt scotch back with a quick motion.
"Good scotch is supposed to be savored you know, Julian. Not thrown back like cheap whiskey," Sands said coldly.
"Oh fuck you, Sands," Julian seethed, turning on the barstool to face him, the bartender forgotten like they oftentimes are, "I'm fucking tired of this. I'm tired of your little games. I'm tired of your threats. I'm tired of you fucking killing people!" Julian hissed, not quite shouting, but not quite whispering as he should have been when talking about such things with someone more than willing to end his life here and now either.
"From all of this, one would think that you didn't like me, Julian. That hurts, really," Sands said with a mocking frown. He didn't bother acknowledging the bartender either. He merely put his face to memory as another someone he would have to kill before the night was through. If Julian wasn't careful, he'd lose his temper and he'd make it on that list as well.
Julian seemed to notice he was going a bit too far and used every ounce of his tattered self-control to calm himself down. For Sands wouldn't give a second thought to killing him, even in front of an audience; he had to keep that in mind.
A part of Sands was relieved to see that Julian was calming a down a little because it allowed him to calm down a little. If he had gone even one step further...well Jeffrey had dutifully reminded him of the knife at his waist while he sat there listening to Julian rant.
"Oh come on, you know you want to use it," Jeffrey whispered aloud just loud enough to Julian to hear.
"Shut the fuck up, Jeffrey," he said spinning back to the bar, picking up his drink and toasting the somewhat horrified bartender with it before taking a long drink.
"You guys weren't being serious, were you?" the bartender asked shakily, clearly believing that they were but asking anyway.
"What do you think?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk, leaning in over the bar.
"Leave him alone, Jeffrey. Please?" Julian asked him, slumping back against the bar. "He needs to get me another drink."
The frightened bartender practically wrenched the empty glass out of Julian's hand, happy for an excuse to leave, if only for a moment. There was just something about the man in the red and black suit that freaked the hell out of him.
"Aww, what did you have to go and do that for? I was having fun," Jeffrey pouted. "It's not as if we're not going to kill him later, fuckmook. He knows too much about us."
"God, how I wished I could believe you were just joking. Have you any notion, at all, of how completely mad you've gone? I'm not trying to offend you or anything, certainly not, I just want to know," he hastened to add.
Sands hesitated for a long minute, long enough for the bartender to bring Julian a new drink before responding. "I suppose I do, in a vague way. I simply don't care. Or perhaps I've gone too far to be able to care any longer. I don't really know," he admitted at last.
"What's it like? Being schizophrenic, I mean?" Julian couldn't stop himself from asking.
"I threatened your life not two minutes ago and now you want a little insider info?" Sands asked incredulously, not believing his ears.
Julian shrugged. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't really want to know. And you'll threaten my life again."
"He has got a point, I'll have to give him that," Jeffrey acknowledged. "So, you want to know what it's like having such a pathetic loser bugging you constantly like Sands is? I'll tell you; it's pure hell," Jeffrey said with a smirk.
"He wasn't asking you, asshole," Sands said with a glare. "And why should I tell you? So you try and cure me? Is that it, Julian? So you can find out just what it's like in the mind of a...help me out here, Jeffrey."
"A psychotic, sociopathic schizophrenic," Jeffrey supplied cheerfully.
"Thank you. Because I truly am all of those. I no longer have any regard whatsoever for human life. Does that shock you? Does it shock you know that I really did just kill a woman with my own two hands not 10 minutes ago and I can't be made to feel sorry for it? That I can't imagine caring for her life or her death at all? Because I don't. But you didn't ask about the sociopathy or the psychopathy did you? You want to know what it's like to be a schizophrenic, right?"
Julian was beginning to regret ever asking, but it was too late to turn back now. "Yes," he said with finality, hoping that his curiosity wouldn't get him killed.
"Curiosity killed the cat you know," Sands said with a smirk. "Well then, let's see..." Sands said, placing a hand to his chin absently in thought. An idea occurred to him, and he smirked. "This shouldn't be too hard for you, I'm sure. Imagine having a houseguest. An irritable, annoying, unwanted and clearly psychotic houseguest. Get where I'm going with this, kitty?"
Julian nodded, knowing all too well that Sands was referring to himself.
"Well the only thing is, this houseguest lives inside your head. And he can read your thoughts with ease, argues with you constantly, oh and did I forget to mention? He can take over your body any time you're distracted enough to let him. Does that begin to answer your question, you curious bastard?"
'Actually, that's Dissociative Identity Disorder, or Multiple Personality Disorder, you idiot. I thought you had a Master's fucking Degree in Psychology? But I suppose it doesn't fucking matter. Julian's certainly not going to pick up on it,' Jeffrey muttered in Sands' head.
Julian nodded. "Thank you," he said at last.
"Yeah well, fuck you," he said absently staring off into the room. "Well golly, I think I see someone I know."
Julian turned to gaze in Sands' direction. "Really, who?" he asked.
"Guy who just walked in with the two women at his side. CIA Agent by the name of Rivers. He's been trailing me ever since I killed his lover. She was the dead woman I woke up in bed next to with her blood covering my body yesterday morning, savvy?"
"Savvy," Julian said absently, not wanting to think about that. His eyes were focused on the white-blond haired man in the black tuxedo. If only he could talk to him alone. He felt the hairs of his neck sticking up and he turned to the side. Sands was staring at him intensely.
"If you even think about talking to Rivers alone, I won't kill you. No, I'll make you wish you were dead, and make sure you live out the rest of your days in agony. Do you comprehend what I'm telling you, you bastard?" Sands asked, his eyes cold and unflinching.
Julian felt his throat go dry with fear. Not necessarily a fear of Sands' words, although he was bloody frightened, but of the fact that he couldn't tell Sands and Jeffrey apart from one another anymore. The threat sounded like something Jeffrey would say, but it was Sands' cold eyes that were staring back at him, he just knew it. "I understand," he said at last.
"Good. Now let's go on over and talk to them, shall we?" Sands said with a smirk.
"Oh yeah, let's go fuck with them, that'll be fun," Jeffrey agreed, his eyes sparking with mischief.
"Are you two serious? I thought you said he was after you? Aren't you at all worried about what he might do upon seeing you here?" Julian asked with a frown.
"You know what, I'm really not," Sands told him after taking a moment's hesitation to think about it. "How about that?" He smirked and started walking toward the trio of CIA agents.
"Oh God," Julian murmured, but followed after him.
***
Emily and Roland were finally kind of getting along when a man in a black and red tuxedo approached them. "Good evening, Agent Rivers. Fancy meeting you here. Oh, and it's lovely to see you two ladies again as well. I didn't know you and Agent Rivers were associates. Are you CIA as well?"
"Sands," Emily gasped, her hand reaching for the gun she carried in her purse.
"Oh well that's not very nice, Emily, was it? You wouldn't want to shoot me in front of a crowd of people, now would you? Oh, and not to mention, Mr. Manchester here. I don't believe you've met."
The three of them looked to see Julian come up hesitantly at Sands' side. "Good evening everyone. I'm Julian Manchester, at your service."
"If you were really at our service, you wouldn't be helping this bastard," Roland muttered darkly.
"Well that's not very nice, Agent Rivers. You better be careful or you'll hurt our feelings," Sands said with a wicked smirk.
"I really don't give a rat's ass if I hurt yours or Mr. Manchester's feelings. You're a murdering psychopathic bastard and he's helping you," Roland said with a heated glare in Julian's direction.
"Oh I wasn't talking about Julian," Sands said, a broad grin on his face.
"What were you talking about then?" Susannah ventured to ask, being a little more cool-headed than her colleagues.
"Oh, I think we'll let Julian here answer that one. He's the one who's had the most experience 'dealing' with us, as it were. And it was his idea to pick out this costume," he said glancing down at his two-toned tuxedo. "So he might as well tell you why. Go ahead, Julian. They're not going to bite."
"What is he talking about?" Roland asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Julian cast a glance at Sands who only smirked, before speaking. "Sands is a schizophrenic," he said at last.
"Bullshit," Roland said immediately. "And if you think I'm going to buy some story about how you were insane when you killed all of those people, you can fucking forget about it."
"Oh I wasn't trying to, I assure you Agent Rivers. I'm fully aware of what I've done and who I've killed. But Julian wasn't lying either. I am a schizophrenic, and I can tell you what, it's a pain in the ass."
"Oh shut the fuck up, you wuss," Jeffrey spoke up. "Hello you fuckers, I'm Jeffrey. Sands' better half. Well, his more psychotic half anyway. And I just wanted to say, that if I get the chance, I'll kill every single one of you," Jeffrey said with a cheerful smirk.
"You're asking me to believe that he's really schizophrenic? Give me a fucking break. How do I know he's not just putting on an act?" The moment Roland asked the question however, he knew that Sands was putting on no act. He really was talking to another person. "Fuck me," he whispered.
"You really are schizophrenic?" Susannah asked him with a curious expression on her face.
"You betcha, sugarbutt. I remember you. It's shame I wasn't the one who got to kiss your hand. Although, I suppose if I had been there I would have done a hell of a lot more than that," Jeffrey said with a lecherous grin.
Roland let out a little growl at that. "I still don't believe it. You're just putting on an act," he said, not really believing his own words.
"Oh come on, Roland old buddy. You don't really believe that, do you? As if anyone could think that me and that pathetic bastard Sands were the same person," Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "Oh, and I thought I should mention, it was me who killed your lover, not Sands. And I must say she was a great piece of ass, even dead; especially dead, in fact. You should have seen her when I was through with her," Jeffrey said with a wicked smirk. Roland lunged at him and had to be forcibly restrained by Emily and Susannah. "Although, Sands didn't really like the look of her either. He prefers to simply kill people, not like me. You two have no appreciation for great art," Jeffrey said with a deep sigh.
"You call that fucking art? You mutilated her, you psychotic bastard," Sands muttered before smirking to the trio of CIA agents in front of him. "Although you probably don't want to hear about any of this at all. How about I buy the three of you a drink? We might as well enjoy ourselves if we're going to have a little chat. So, shall we?" he asked, holding out his right hand in invitation toward the bar while Jeffrey gave Roland the finger with his left.
Roland noticed the gesture but held his temper. If Sands was willing to talk to them, then they couldn't give up that chance."Fine, but you and Manchester are going first," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Of course, Agent Rivers," Julian said amicably, turning to walk back to the bar.
"I don't fucking like this, Sands," Jeffrey muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes fixed on Roland and his fellow agents.
"Oh come on. Who's the wuss now? Where's your sense of adventure? And you don't really believe that they've caught us, do you? We came to them, remember? Not the other way around," Sands said with a final smirk in the CIA agents' direction before following Julian back to the bar.
"Fascinating," Emily couldn't help but say as she watched Sands watch away. The look she gave him was intense, but not in a sexual way. Her interest in him had changed from lust to scientific interest in the blink of an eye. "I've never had the opportunity to interview a schizophrenic before," she said absently.
"I don't care how interesting this bastard may seem now, or how charming he may act around you. He's the psychopath who murdered Yvette, Mrs. Sprout, that old woman in the restaurant, the bartender, Ryan Merced, and God know's how many other people by now. Keep that in mind," Roland cautioned with a stern look.
"Don't tell me how to fucking do my job, Rivers," Emily said with a glare before making her own way over to the bar.
Roland just sighed and watched her go. He really hadn't been trying to push Emily's buttons that time, as much fun as it would have been. He had been genuinely concerned that her fascination might lead to distraction that could get her killed.
"We're all a just a little edgy right now, Roland. And having the guy were chasing show up right in front our faces with a smile and an invitation for drinks certainly isn't helping matters. Now let's go show this guy that it was a big mistake to ever mess with the CIA," Susannah said with a confident smirk.
Roland grinned wide at that, and together the two of them made their way over to the bar.
***
"So, did you know Yvette long? Before I killed her, that is?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk, waving the now timid bartender over.
Emily's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to play games with you, Sands. Get that straight right now," she said coldly.
"Well, technically you weren't talking to Sands just then, but since you're new at this, I'll let it slide. And of course you're going to play games with me. What do you think you and your fellow agents are doing right now by having a drink with me and Sands?" he asked with a smirk. "Isn't that right, Julian?" he turned to ask. "That's right," he said before Julian had a chance to answer for himself.
The bartender came forward as Roland and Susannah joined them at the bar, clearly nervous in Sands' presence. "What can I get for you?" he said with a bit of a stutter in his voice.
"Well, I'd like another scotch double, but you'll have to ask the other people sitting next to me what they'd like. Oh, and all of their drinks are on me," Sands said with a smile.
"I'll have the same," Julian said with a sigh.
"I'll have a martini," Emily said.
"I'll have a single shot of scotch," Susannah requested not looking at Sands or Julian.
"Oh, woman after our own heart," Sands muttered with a smirk after hearing Susannah's order.
"I'll have a double bourbon on the rocks," Roland asked for at last. The bartender nodded and quickly scurried off to get their orders.
"Shall the six of us move to a table? It will be easier to have our conversation there. I'm sure the bartender can bring our drinks over," Sands said, getting up to move to a vacant table before anyone could say otherwise.
"Did he just say six?" Emily asked with a frown, mentally counting in her head. It then occurred to her that Sands had counted himself twice. How interesting.
They all moved to sit at the round six-person table Sands had chosen, and Emily couldn't help but wonder if he had chosen it because of the six settings, or simply that a four-person table wouldn't fit them all comfortably as they had five people. She purposely left the seat between her and Sands, the seat on his left empty. She wasn't stupid enough to sit that close to a psychotic, especially when their conversation might upset him. She wasn't an idiot, no matter what Rivers thought. "What is it like being schizophrenic, and when did it first develop?" Emily couldn't help herself from asking once every one was seated, Susannah on her right, Roland next to her, and Mr. Manchester, who looked even more sexy in person, in between Roland and Sands.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "Fuck, first Julian here and now you. What is it with you people that you want to know what it's like? Wouldn't you like to ask me something else? Like where I put you're dead friend's corpse?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk.
"You better fucking tell us, you bastard," Roland seethed from across the table.
"Or what?" Jeffrey asked with a smirk. "You'll arrest me and either send me into prison for the rest of my life or just have me executed by the state? That is if we don't wind up in a fucking mental institution," Jeffrey said with a barely restrained shudder. "You're already planning to do all of that. So there's absolutely nothing you can say or do to me to frighten me, Roland, dear chum. So you might as well save your fucking breath."
"Please tell us, Sands. You wouldn't have brought it up if you weren't already planning on telling anyway, would you?" Susannah rationed.
For a second, Sands' eyes went cold, and Susannah held her breath. But then he smiled brightly as if the previous look had never existed. "I like you. You've got balls, I'll give you that," Jeffrey said with a smirk. "In fact, I like Emily too. However did you end up with such a pathetic fucking loser as Rivers here?" Jeffrey asked, intentionally trying to bait Roland into reacting. To his annoyance, Roland just sat there as still as stone, with even a little smirk of his own crossing his face. "You're no fun. And you have absolutely no fucking sense of humour, you know that?" Jeffrey asked with a slight pout as if he were a child whose best playmate decided he didn't want to play any longer.
The location of the body...Jeffrey, was it?" Susannah asked before a thought occurred to her. "Jeffrey Sands, so that's why you put down that name at the train station. It was you who boarded the train."
"That's right, sugarbutt. It was my idea to come here in the first place," Jeffrey said with a grin.
"But I digress, you want to know where the location of your friend is, correct?" Sands asked. "Fine, she's lying in a bathtub in a seedy motel in downtown DC. I won't tell you which one unless you behave yourself. Now where is that fucking bartender with our drinks?" he asked, looking up at the bar where the bartender was nowhere to be seen.
The bartender appeared as if he had been waiting for Sands to say that very line with a tray of their drinks which he set in front of each of them. "If there's anything else," he started, praying that Sands wouldn't ask anything else of him. He just wanted to get the hell away from him.
"Not right now, but I'm sure I'll see you later," Sand said with a smirk and a wink, handing the frightened bartender a couple of bills; more than enough to pay for the drinks a few times over.
"You really don't care at all that you've killed all of those people do you?" Emily asked, watching Sands cheerfully interact with the bartender. "You feel no remorse at all."
"Why should I?" Sands asked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "People live, people die. What should it matter whether or not I'm the one to cause that death?" Sands asked with a genuine frown.
Julian, Roland and Susannah just shook their heads in disgust at that, but Emily looked intrigued. "You really don't care at all," she said, amazed. "A true psychopath."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment, sugar?" Jeffrey asked with a leer. "Because I'd be more than willing to allow you to *examine* me further," he said grinning.
As cool and calculated as Emily was trying to be, her body didn't care about any of that, and betrayed her as she felt a rush of blood go to her cheeks. She was very glad she hadn't sat next to him now, or she might be tempted to do something that would be entirely improper with a complete stranger, let alone a total psychopath. "As much as the offer might appeal to me, Mr. Sands, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline," she said breathily, her conscience both congratulating her for making the right decision and cursing her as an idiot.
Jeffrey shrugged. "Your loss, sugar butt," he said with a grin. So is there anything else you'd like to talk about why I'm still here?"
"Did you really kill your parents like everyone thought you did?" Roland asked. Jeffrey went still and Roland felt a bit of a victorious feeling surge through him. 'So, I struck a nerve with that one,' he thought to himself, filing the information away in his memory. "You didn't answer my question, you psychotic bastard," he reminded him.
"Fuck you, Rivers," Jeffrey said with a heated glare. "As for whether or not Sands killed his parents, yeah so what if he did?" Jeffrey admitted at last, not really caring if they knew. Sands felt differently, but he ignored him and went on. "He burnt them alive, did you know that? He tied the both of them up on their bed, drenched them in gasoline, and threw the match on their bodies. He then stood outside of their bedroom listening to them scream. Did you know that? That's why he had to be rescued from the house. He wanted to hear them both. He stood outside of their bedroom door listening to their screams until he passed out from smoke inhalation and had to be rescued by one of the firefighters. He doesn't really remember it though, so it's useless to ask him about it, but I do. I remember everything."
"Fuck," Roland whispered, the implications of what he had just heard setting in. Sands had murdered his parents; at 17. And he didn't just murder them, he had let them die slowly in one of the most horrible ways known to man. If this story got out, a jury would have no trouble buying an insanity plea that Roland wouldn't stand for. He wanted to see the bastard dead, not living it up in some cushy asylum somewhere.
"Don't ask questions you're not ready to know the answers to, Agent Rivers," Jeffrey said coldly before standing up. "Well, this has been a delightful evening, but I think it's about time Julian and I make our way home. What do you say, Julian?"
"If you think we're just going to let you walk out of here, you really are insane," Roland seethed, rising to his feet as well.
"Oh we are, and we are," Jeffrey paused, laughed a bit at how that sounded, and turned to Julian who had risen to his feet as well. "Let's get the hell out of here, Julian. This party's no fun anymore."
Julian and Sands turned to walk out of the ballroom, heading to the coat room to get their hats and cloaks, before Sands felt Roland's hand on his arm. "You're not getting away this time you fucking psychotic bastard."
Before Roland had time to react, he found a six-inch blade pressed up against his neck. "And what makes you think you can stop us?" Sands hissed. "And don't think I won't kill you. You may be getting better at the game, but I've still got time to bring new players in," Jeffrey said with a smirk.
"You kill me, and they'll kill you," Roland said, referring to Emily and Susannah who stood behind him.
Sands didn't even bother looking at them. "You know what, I don't think they will. You would, maybe. But I think they'd be too worried that they'd harm innocent people by firing their guns in a crowded public place. Not to mention, we seem to be drawing a bit of a crowd," Jeffrey said with a smirk. He could hear the gasps of party goers around them, and he knew it would only be a matter of a few seconds before they had drawn the entire party. Gossip would spread like wildfire in this group, and every one of them would want to see just what was going on between the two men at the bar. Roland seemed to have realized that and looked over his shoulder with a frown.
Before either of them had time to act, however, a loud blood-curdling scream cut through the crowd and Sands took advantage of the distraction and slit Roland's throat before running off and disappearing into the crowd of frenzied party goers.
Emily and Susannah immediately ran to his side as they saw him slump to the ground. There was a long straight cut across his neck, and it was slowly gushing blood onto the collar of his suit. "Oh God, Roland!" Susannah said upon seeing him. Emily just gasped.
"That bastard could have killed me," he said, holding a hand up to his bleeding neck. The cut had actually been just shallow enough not to kill him, but it still bled enough to colour his pristine white tux shirt a dark red. "Why didn't he kill me? We better get the fuck after him!" he said, rising to his feet.
"Look around Rivers, he's already fucking gone. And so is Manchester," Emily said, pulling a handkerchief out of her purse and handing it to him. "Here, clean yourself up. I'm glad you're ok," she admitted before walking off in the direction the screams had come from.
"We'd better get after her," Susannah said before taking the handkerchief out of Roland's hand and wiping at his neck. "Are you sure you're ok?" she asked softly, before taking his hand in hers and placing it against the handkerchief. They held eye contact for a long moment before he nodded. "Then let's go find out what the hell just happened."
***
They left the ballroom to find Emily arguing with a security guard outside of the coat room. They came up her side and Susannah asked, "What's going on here?"
"This little prick won't let me inside. He says there's been a murder, but won't let me through," Emily said with a glare in the security guard's direction.
"A murder? Fuck, I'll give you one guess who probably did it," Roland muttered, still pressing the cloth to his bloodied throat.
Emily just pursed her lips and nodded. "And this fucker won't believe that I'm CIA and let me in."
Roland rolled his eyes at that and pulled his badge out from his tux coat with one hand. "Roland Rivers, CIA. These are my associates Agent Cartwright and Agent Brisbane. If you don't let us into that room right now I'll have you arrested for interfering in an officer's investigation. Now move aside," he said, pushing himself forward and into the coat room. What he saw in front of him made him pause. There was a woman lying on a bed of crumpled fur coats, clearly dead, and clearly having been re-dressed in her long red dress. No matter how natural a killer tried to make someone they had re-dressed after death look, it wasn't natural enough. A good forensic scientist could always tell.
He knelt over her body and looked closely down at her neck. "She's been strangled, and judging by the look on her face, she was happy when it happened," Roland said with a frown before looking at two women for answers.
"She's got the look of someone who's just been fucked, and fucked good," Emily said bluntly, causing Roland to wince.
"Thank you for that...colorful explanation, Agent Brisbane," Roland said before turning back to the body.
"No problem," she said absently, leaning over the body next to him after pulling on a pair of latex gloves she had pulled from her purse. She moved the woman's hair back to look at her neck. "It looks as if she was strangled with someone's bare hands. Do you see the places where the fingers pressed into the skin of her neck?" She placed her own hand carefully over the hand prints, measuring. "Someone with definitely bigger hands than me. No doubt a man. If it was Sands who did this, and none of us doubt that it was. Violent psychopaths are known to climax at the point their victim dies, so once we get a forensic team in here, we should have her checked for-"
Emily was cut off as a heavily panting young man in a lion's mask came to the door of the coat room and said, "You guys are like cops, right? Well there's been another murder," he said frantically.
Emily cursed as she was interrupted, but Roland spoke up. "Where?"
"Just outside the front door. I think the guy had his throat cut! There's so much blood!" the man moaned.
"Alright, we're coming. Emily, you stay here. Call in the forensic team. Susannah and I will be outside looking over the second body," he turned to the lion-faced young man. "You, are going to stay with her, do you understand?" he asked coldly. "If anything happens to her, I'm going to hold you personally responsible. Got it?" The young man nodded and Roland and Emily made their way out of the mansion and outside to the body.
"I should have grabbed my coat, but I didn't want to disturb the crime scene," Susannah said, rubbing her shoulders against the October cold.
Roland took of his jacket and handed it to her. "Here," he said softly, making his way down to the circle of people that were no doubt surrounding the dead body.
Susannah said thank you to Roland's back as he walked down the front steps to the body before pulling on the jacket and following him. "It looks like the young man was right," she said upon seeing the body. The man lay on the ground, his throat slit in a clean cut angling downward from the left, indicative that the killer had been right-handed. She took a closer look at the man's face and frowned. "Isn't that-"
"Yeah, our bartender from tonight. Sands said he'd be seeing him later this evening," he banged a hand against the ground angrily. "Fuck!" he shouted, causing the group of gathered around them to gasp.
"Don't worry, Roland. We'll catch him. We have to. This has got to end," Susannah said with a frown towards the dead body.
TBC
A/N: Well, that was fun!! :-D And dear me, I'm not quite sure how long this got, but I'm pretty sure it was a long one. I hope you liked it!! Next chapter, what happens to Sands, Jeffrey and Julian after fleeing. It should be fun!