A/N: (Updated November 20, 2019) Shoutout to the awesome Zevoros, Guest, and Number Ten for reviewing! You rock, my friends! ;) \m/

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Zevoros ––– Why yes, I am ;) I'm really gonna fuck with your mind now! Mwahaha! XD

No, she hasn't brought up Fernald…yet…? ;)

Lol, no, my friend, I'm not the least bit offended ^_^ In fact, I'm quite honored that anybody would take the time out of their busy schedule to actually help me get better at writing. And for that, I can't thank you enough. I really appreciate your help. I wanna do the story right, not quick, and sometimes, I can't tell what I'm doing right and wrong if nobody gives me feedback.

Although, I have a theory as to why everybody "got over it so fast", as you put it. When my Grammy died a couple years ago, I walked in to find her dead with my own eyes. A fresh corpse, not like at a funeral home with makeup and everything. Horrific sights, smells, everything. Now this woman was verrrrry dear to me, I had a big bond with her, so it weighed even more on my sanity. Just like Klaus with Violet. I may have cried hysterically that night, but for months afterward, I was numb. I still functioned, went about my days after that moment, going through the motions if you will, but ultimately I was extremely numb inside. I didn't know what to feel. When I should've been mourning, according to the outside looking in, turns out, I was actually traumatized to the point where my mind had disconnected me from all emotions and feeling. A coping mechanism, if you will. The body is known for doing that, especially with physical trauma as well, where adrenaline skyrockets to the point where the victim can't feel a thing where they were hurt or dismembered. Or because of so much shock they can't feel anything. Either way, it's a coping mechanism.

Even though everybody copes with trauma differently, I think I kinda based everyone off of what happened to me. It's not a hundred percent realistic, but still pretty realistic. And that's where your criticism comes in. You're right–––I should've expanded on all different types of coping, not just one type. And that's my bad.

And as for the volunteers in the North Wing who could just sleep through that chaos? Maybe they're accomplices of the killer perhaps? Maybe they are the killer perhaps? Maybe the killer promised they'd live if they kept quiet about it? And for that, I'll leave you to your guessing. ;) Thanks again for your feedback, and I hope this story isn't predictable. I hope it actually makes you think.

Guest ––– That's exactly what Zevoros was saying, too. But, just like I told them, I have a theory as to why everybody was "too casual" about everything, as you put it. When my Grammy died a couple years ago, I walked in to find her dead with my own eyes. A fresh corpse, not like at a funeral home with makeup and everything. Horrific sights, smells, everything. Now this woman was verrrrry dear to me, I had a big bond with her, so it weighed even more on my sanity. Just like Klaus with Violet. I may have cried hysterically that night, but for months afterward, I was numb. I still functioned, went about my days after that moment, going through the motions if you will, but ultimately I was extremely numb inside. I didn't know what to feel. When I should've been mourning, according to the outside looking in, turns out, I was actually traumatized to the point where my mind had disconnected me from all emotions and feeling. A coping mechanism, if you will. The body is known for doing that, especially with physical trauma as well, where adrenaline skyrockets to the point where the victim can't feel a thing where they were hurt or dismembered. Or because of so much shock they can't feel anything. Either way, it's a coping mechanism.

I think some other reasons for some "loose ends" is, 1.) (pertaining to the extra volunteers here) they weren't crucial to the plot, so I didn't really go in depth with them for that reason. And 2.) this is my first horror/mystery/suspense fic, so I'm not an expert at this genre. It ain't really my cup of tea.

No excuse for either of those two above, I'm just guessing as to what I can do better for next time. But you're both right: I need to make it a bit more realistic in behavior, both for the main characters and the extras.

Oh, and about your question: I'm not entirely sure, but it will be under 20. I want it to be 15 or under, to be honest. But no exact amount at the moment.

Like always, I'll leave you to your guessing. ;) Thanks again for helping me get better at writing. ^_^ I hope this story isn't predictable. I hope it actually makes you think.

Number Ten ––– Thanks! :) Ironically, I didn't even plan that. I just used the lighthouse on a dark sea reference because I liked it–––I didn't even see that Violet and lavender were actually in the same color vein 'til you said something! Good eye! I didn't even see that! XD As for Sunny and Beatrice Jr., they're not with them at Maidenly Manor, but they are alive. Pun intended with the pregnancy gut punch? lol XD Yeah, Edison does remind you a bit of Baymax, don't he? I love Baymax. He's so fucking adorable ^_^ And that's the plan–––make everybody look guilty so you won't know who did it ;) I like to fuck with people's minds, make them think. I hope it's not easy to figure out who it is, the killer. Let's see if you're right, or very, very wrong. ;)

And yes, jealousy is a verrrrrry ugly emotion. As for the others, maybe they'll show up, maybe not…let's find out ;)

.

Disclaimer: Me no own ASOUE.

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Chapter 8
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Isadora's eyes fluttered open. What happened? Last she knew she was looking at a mutilated dead body with her circle of friends, but now she was in her room, all tucked in bed. What time was it? How long had she been out? What was going on? With a wince, she sat up and looked around.

"Hey sleepyhead," a voice greeted.

Isadora jumped and looked over at her desk to find Duncan standing up from the chair with a relieved smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, walking up to her.

"Sore," Isadora moaned, rubbing the back of her head. With another wince, she'd found a clue as to what happened. A big, tender lump was throbbing at the top of it, as if someone had clubbed her. Hard. "Ugh…what happened?"

"Easy," Duncan told her, sitting down on her bed. "You hit your head pretty hard when you fainted."

Isadora tipped her head, then looked down off to the side, trying to think back. She didn't remember a thing, but she had to take her brother's word for happened. He always told the truth… "So what happened after I fainted?" she asked finally, looking back at him.

Duncan looked up at the ceiling, searching for the right words to explain the events that followed. "Well…" he started. "After you fainted, Klaus picked you up off the floor and we all headed upstairs to find body parts and blood everywhere. Except the whole mansion had come to see what happened, and while everybody was panicking about what to do, somebody suggested we get the volunteers who majored in combat to patrol the mansion and try to capture the killer."

"And?" Isadora said, her eyebrows rising.

Looking off to the side, Duncan snorted with an amused crooked smile. "All of those people who were slain last night, were the combat majors."

Isadora's heart tightened. "You mean…we have no defense against this killer?" she asked quietly, terrified.

"Nope." Duncan looked back at her, that smile still on his face. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Isadora stared at him. "Yeah…" she said slowly. "Will you…quit looking at me like that?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. It's just kinda funny. First the engineering and inventing majors, then the defense majors. This killer isn't just killing randomly. He's smart. Impeccable at his work."

"Uh-huh…" Isadora nodded slowly, shivering. She desperately wished he'd get off the topic, but her questions still weren't entirely answered. So she took a deep breath and continued her inquiry. "So how did I wind up here?"

"Well, after Tadrey realized all the combat majors were the ones killed, he said he'd put cameras up before nightfall. So everybody dispersed, Fiona got fed-up of Klaus holding you, and after another heated argument between them about cheating, she told me to carry you back to your room to rest while she and Klaus went off a different way."

Isadora nodded. Finally, all the puzzle pieces were put together. Now they could get off the topic. "What time is it?"

"Nine," Duncan answered.

"Oh, I wasn't out that long," Isadora said, flinging back the covers and getting up.

"At night," Duncan added.

"At night?" Isadora cried, gaping at him. "I was out the whole day?"

"Yeah," Duncan nodded. He stood up, walked over to her, and put his hand on her shoulder, looking her deep in the eye. "Do me a favor tonight, alright?"

"What?" Isadora asked.

"Stay in here. Don't leave." He turned and headed for the door.

"Wait! What about dinner?" Isadora asked. "I didn't eat since breakfast."

"I brought you some." Duncan nodded at her desk. "Is there anything else you need? I'll go get it for you."

Isadora shook her head. "No."

"Alright." Duncan nodded, opened the door, and walked out. But before he closed it, he peeked his head back in. "Oh and uh, lock the door," he added.

Isadora blinked at him, confused. After he shut the door, she shuddered. God, he was being downright creepy. Guess it was a good thing she slept all day, because she didn't think she could fall asleep after watching his behavior just now. Under her oldest brother's command, she was to stay in here for the remainder of the night, but unfortunately, that limited her options as to how to keep occupied. Isadora looked around for something to fill the time. Well, the lights were back on. This could've been because of her head injury that she realized this so late, but at least she didn't have a concussion. And for that, she was grateful. Now if only Tadrey could get the phones working again, they'd be all set. Her eyes landed on her bookshelf. Maybe reading some poetry could help pass the time.

Isadora walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thick volume off the top of it, where Duncan had set it after she'd thrown it across the room last night. She carried it over to her desk and dropped it next to her dinner with a loud, deep thud!. Taking a seat, she dug in to the plateful of spaghetti, mashed potatoes, and corn Duncan had fetched for her. What should she read tonight? Romance? Philosophy? Should she just open it to a random page and start reading because she couldn't make up her mind? She thought for a moment. Yes…the third choice would be the best option.

She finished eating, pushed her plate back, and slid the book in front of her. Letting fate decide where she should begin, Isadora flipped it open to a random page three-quarters the way through. Her eyebrows rose in amusement. The selection that lie before her wasn't poetry, but a short story rather. One by Edgar Allan Poe, of all writers. And after the events of last night, this was a very appropriate time for any of his works, but primarily this one. Isadora read the first line:

TRUE!–––nervous–––very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?

Chills raced down her spine. She'd read this story before, multiple times in fact. And boy was it messed up. The killer in Poe's story, however, wasn't evil. He had no problems with the one he'd killed, he was just demented. Twisted. But the killer in Maidenly Manor was different. Yes, they were obviously a madman like Poe's killer, but unlike Poe's killer, Maidenly Manor's killer didn't hide what they'd done. Lacked remorse for what they'd done. They had their victims on display for the whole mansion to see. Almost as if they were proud of it. Void of a moral compass. But as for their motive for killing those volunteers, she could only guess. What prompted them? Fear? Anger? Pain? A random snap in their psyche? Whatever it was, she prayed she'd live long enough to find out. Isadora continued reading the piece, but as she did, she couldn't help but realize something…

The heavens had a remarkable sense of humor.

/

Duncan shut Isadora's door and turned to walk down the hall–––

"Gah!" he shrieked, jumping in surprise.

Mere inches from his face was Quigley, his hood still up and that demented smile still on his face.

"Quigley!" Duncan hissed. "Don't do that! You scared me!"

Quigley stared at him eerily for what felt like forever. "How's Isadora?" he asked finally, unmoved by his brother's near heart attack.

"She's fine," Duncan reported with a scowl. "She just woke up."

Quigley nodded, acknowledging his words. "Can I go see her?" he asked.

"No, because her door's locked," Duncan told him.

"No it isn't. You just came out. And I didn't hear her lock it."

"Yeah, well, I told her to lock it."

Quigley looked at him, puzzled. "Why would you tell her to lock it? And tell her to stay in her room all night?"

"You were eavesdropping on us?!" Duncan shouted, looking more than just violated.

"I came to see how Isadora was doing," Quigley replied. "I was about to come in her room when I heard you coming to the door. So, I waited…and wound up hearing some of your conversation."

Duncan blinked at him, fishing for what to say next. "Yeah, well, don't get in my face like that again. You're creeping me out." He began storming down the hall.

"Are you ready?"

Duncan stopped and looked around at his younger brother. "Ready for what?" he asked.

Quigley smiled again, a demonic gleam in his eyes. "Later tonight," he said simply.

Duncan's face scrunched in wonder. "What's later tonight?"

"You'll see." Quigley kept smiling.

Duncan stared at him. Now Quigley was just being crazy. Violet's death had clearly affected him, no doubt about it, but he never imagined it'd be to this degree. Duncan shook the thought out of his head and resumed walking again. He had to get to the other side of the mansion as soon as possible. He just had to. Quigley distracting him would only delay his next objective, and he would not have that.

"Hey, guys!"

Duncan and Quigley looked to find Katey strutting up to them, looking like the cat who'd eaten the canary.

"Hey, Katey," Quigley said quietly, lowering his head.

"Hey, sexy." Katey greeted him back with a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks again for a little bit ago. You were amazing."

Duncan's eyes bulged, gaping. Did she just–––?! What?! He stomped back over to where they were standing.

"I'll see you later," Katey said with a wink. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Immediately, Quigley's face lit up, practically drooling at what she'd said. When she finished, she kissed Quigley again, this time on the lips, then turned around to face Duncan.

Aghast, Duncan looked at Quigley, who'd walked over to Isadora's door and knocked. Katey looked around at Quigley, watching with Duncan as Isadora opened the door and invited him in. His jealousy flaring, Duncan looked back at Katey, his eyes narrowed. "What was that?" he asked tightly.

"What was what?" Katey replied innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me, you know what," Duncan growled.

"Oh, Quigley? No, he just helped me out with something that I couldn't do on my own," Katey said with a sly smile. "And he was amazing at how he did it."

"Help you with what, I wonder?" Duncan asked in a snarl, though it sounded more like a statement.

"He just helped me with something out of reach and he had a cool way of climbing up to–––"

"You slept with him, didn't you?" Duncan seethed, practically foaming at the mouth. "Don't lie to me!"

Katey flinched. "What is your problem?"

Duncan made a bark-like snort in disbelief, shaking his head as he looked off to the side, his heart shattering at the truth. "I go to check on my sister for one minute and you–––"

"You took more than a minute, and I really needed your help," Katey told him seriously, hands now on her hips. She looked over her shoulder at Isadora's door, then back at Duncan. "I didn't sleep with him," she said. "He really did help me with what you were supposed to help me with."

The tightness in Duncan's chest dissipated as he stared deep into her eyes. She was telling the truth. "You mean…you didn't actually…?" he asked, his heart beginning to soar again.

"No," Katey shook her head. "He did your job, and I told him I'd "reward" him in the foyer tonight for helping me. When really, he was playing right into our trap." She was quiet as her clarification sunk deep into his mind. To her delight, he was stunned, trying to process what just happened. "Oh, Duncan, you have so much to learn about manipulation," she added with a sneaky smile. She reached forward and grabbed ahold of his crotch, and Duncan stifled a gasp. "What did I tell you yesterday after Violet left to go fix the plane?"

"Uhh…" Duncan choked, his face flushing a bright red. Those green eyes of hers had him in such a hypnotic state that it was hard to speak, let alone formulate a thought. "That…I had the rest of my life to win her over?" he guessed.

"Yeah…but why, though?"

Duncan thought hard. It wasn't easy, though, as most of his blood had went south rather than north to give his brain enough oxygen to think clearly. "Uhh…I don't know."

"It's because you're the better brother," Katey replied. "Now why would I sleep with less than the best?" She adjusted her fingers to where she had all of his genitals cupped in her hand, then gave them a little squeeze.

Duncan grunted hungrily, his eyes drooping in lust. Now it was his turn to drool. "Uhh…" he drawled, his mind now elsewhere.

He was powerless, and Katey soaked up every minute of her handiwork. "Now…do you remember what you have to do? Where to stand, what to pull?"

A bit of Duncan's logic managed to take back the control center. "I thought it was something I had to–––"

"Change of plans," Katey said, letting go of his crotch. "The other way would be too obvious. I mean, Quigley's dumb, but he's not that dumb."

"Yeah," Duncan nodded. Quigley was an idiot, but she was right: he wasn't that dumb. …Although, he did wonder sometimes…

"So. What you're gonna do, is pull the drape next to the front doors–––"

"But there's two windows."

"The drape closest to the front doors, but the window closest to the dining room."

Duncan nodded. "Okay…go on."

"Make sure he's right in front of the stairs," Katey advised. "Otherwise, it'll miss him. When he's there, pull the drape and hide behind the huge vase there. That'll trigger a long blade to cut the rope holding the trap back and send it flying down to get him."

"What about you?" Duncan asked, tipping his head. Nowhere in the plan was she mentioned.

"I'll be in the closet by the front doors, don't worry about me," Katey assured him. "I told him to meet me by the stairs at one and that it'll just be the two of us, so don't get caught. Otherwise, he'll know something's up." She paused. "You get all that?"

"Uh-huh," Duncan nodded.

"Good. Now…be a good boy and be in your position in the foyer a couple minutes before one. We'll watch Cupid's Arrow do the rest." Katey smiled sneakily again, and the throbbing resumed in Duncan's pants.

"O…Okay…" Duncan grinned sheepishly. Numbly, he watched her strut past him down the hall, her walk begging him to follow. Just then, the sheepishness of his grin morphed into dark, twisted glee. "Let's show him how impeccable my work really is…" he added under his breath, then followed after her.

/

At last. Quarter to one. He thought it'd never get here. Duncan sprung up from his bed and hurried over to the door, his heart beginning to pound. Everybody was sure to be in bed by now, especially with the killer on the loose, so now was the time to strike…get even. No witnesses, no distractions. Just him and Quigley. Round two. Only this time, he was going to win.

Duncan opened the door as slowly as possible, ensuring no creaks would give him away, then he peeked out, checking the hallway for any sign of volunteers. He breathed a sigh of relief. No one. Not a soul made its way down the hall except for uncomfortable silence. Silence that made his bones chatter with trepidation, but also with excitement. Tonight was going to be fun.

He crept out of his room and down the hall, keeping his eyes peeled at his surroundings. It would be difficult to sneak downstairs with the lights still on, but he was up to the challenge. He wasn't going to go another day with that bastard still breathing. No. His heart stops now. Tonight.

Suddenly, there was a sparking sound and the whole mansion went black. He jumped in surprise, counting on the lights staying on until another hour or so, but for once, he was actually relieved that things didn't go according to plan tonight. This blanket of black was just what he needed to ensure his objective wouldn't be jeopardized. As quiet as he could possibly be, he hurriedly zigzagged through the halls to the foyer, keeping his neck on a swivel for any signs of his brother.

After some difficult navigation, Duncan finally arrived at the top of the staircase that descended into the foyer. Immediately, he crept down the stairs and over to his position by the enormous front doors, sliding behind the tall ceramic vase to wait for his target. His rapid heartbeat thundering in his ears, he listened impatiently to the deep, rhythmic ticks of the giant, elegant clock hanging high above the fireless fireplace in the living room to his left. Already he could hear Quigley's agonized scream echo throughout Maidenly Manor as Cupid's Arrow tore through his flesh, piercing his heart… Ohh, what a rush that fantasy gave him! Duncan felt a huge, demented grin spread across his face. At long last, he would have his revenge. It wouldn't be long now…

After what felt like an eternity, he decided it was time to check on his brother's progress. He couldn't afford a slip-up, even in the tiniest way. One slip-up, and it was over. Quigley would be onto him…and possibly even prove that the demonic look in his eye wasn't just because he lost his wife and child in a horrible accident. Carefully, carefully, Duncan peeked out from behind the vase at the staircase he'd come down earlier.

Nothing. Not a soul in sight.

He retreated back behind the vase with a shaky, disappointed sigh. Desperate for assurance that he was on time and Quigley was just running late, Duncan looked up at the clock in the living room. Though the lights were out, faint moonlight from outside made the room just bright enough to make out the time on the hands. It was exactly one o'clock, but there was no sign of Quigley.

Where was he? He wouldn't dream of being late for late night love with Katey. That wasn't like him at all. Late for other things? Sure. But for sex? He would've been here fifteen minutes early. …Wait… Did Katey lie to him? Was she really in cahoots with Quigley this whole time and just lied to him to make a fool out of him, possibly get him killed by the killer stalking the halls so she could be with his brother instead? Duncan's heart tightened in anxiety. She wouldn't dare! With Violet gone, she was his, and no one, including his brother, was going to take her from him. Nothing would come between him and Katey. No way. No how. He took another glance out at the stairway.

Nothing.

A few more tense minutes ticked by. Already, the uncomfortable silence was wearing on his sanity. He'd heard enough of it. He was ready to bypass Cupid's Arrow altogether and just find and gut Quigley himself. He thought for a moment. He'd give him a few more minutes, and if he wasn't in position by then, then he'd hunt the bastard down and deal with him himself. Duncan took another deep breath and continued the waiting game.

After a few more minutes, Duncan peeked out from behind the vase to do a final check on Quigley's progress. Immediately, his heart picked up the pace, his eyes widening at his discovery.

There stood a hooded silhouette in position at the bottom of the staircase, looking around the foyer for someone…or something. Katey hadn't lied to him after all. There he is! Duncan thought excitedly. Do it! Do it now! Without hesitation, he yanked the drape and quietly stepped out from behind the vase to watch the chaos unfold. As long as he was quiet, he didn't have to worry about being caught–––it was too dark in the room to make out anything. There was a muted snap, and the demonic gleam in his eyes worsened. The blade had severed the rope holding Cupid's Arrow back. Here it comes–––his brother's final stand.

With the ripping of flesh and frantic gagging, it was all over. Only…the hooded silhouette wasn't the one gagging…

It was him.

Floored and panicked at the twist, Duncan squirmed around wildly, gasping like a fish out of water for air, Cupid's Arrow lodged deep in his throat. He examined it with his fading sight, only to find that Cupid's Arrow wasn't even Cupid's Arrow. This wasn't the blade they'd planned to skewer Quigley with. It was a long blade, just like Cupid's Arrow was, yes, but this blade was different. And the more he looked at it, the more he realized that he'd seen this blade before…

With his last few breaths, Duncan looked in the direction of the staircase to find the hooded silhouette standing right next to him, their quivering hands up in front of their face, as if the preceding events weren't according to plan. But that wasn't what scared him. Other than the hooded silhouette suddenly being in close proximity to him, what had Duncan scared was who the hooded silhouette was. It wasn't Quigley. It was a figure in a long black robe with an all-white theater mask.

"N…No…!" Duncan managed to choke in a hoarse, weak whisper. And with that, he fell limp and silent.