Chapter Six (Interlude) | Rune
The room reeks.
If he didn't know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it had been used as a murder chamber, the bloody handprints on the walls would have clued him in.
And oh, what a story they tell!
He'd surprised Finch-Fletchley waxing his car. After Justin's initial shock wore off, he'd been proud to tell his former compatriot all about how fast it went. It's sad how proud the Hufflepuff fucker was to show off his auto and his motorbike. The poor bastard was definitely overcompensating.
As if after thirteen months of torture and privation he cared about a McLaren F1. Fastest car in the world? Right. That's fine, for Muggles maybe. But he's a wizard, and in the end, that car didn't save Finch-Fletchley's ass like a broomstick would.
He is strangely proud of his work. That's why he's come back, to study it for further reference, to enjoy the heady rush. There is truly nothing like the sensation of stabbing a man to death.
A year ago, he would have been disgusted with the realization that torture arouses him like nothing else, but now it is a sensation he delights in, even craves. No wonder Alecto and Amycus liked practicing their art on him much. After they were done hurting him, they would often take turns "comforting" him. The memory of it brings a rush of giddiness, followed immediately after by a sickening nausea.
Too bad about that Muggle. He really does feel for the dumb fuck. But if Finch-Fletchley had locked the door properly, they wouldn't have been disturbed halfway through. Then again, it served as a reminder to be more careful, next time.
For there will be a next time, and it will be better.
Practice makes perfect, doesn't it? He can feel the Old Powers stirring within him already, emboldened by sacrifice. He has killed five already. Only four to go, and then he will be ready to bring such a reckoning, that all the Wizarding world will kneel before what he has wrought into being.
The air shimmers, and he ducks under his cloak as a tall, broad-shouldered auror Apparates into the room with a sense of purpose.
Just what in the fucking name of Taranis is that piece of shit Rowle doing here, of all places?
He'd have thought that bastard dead, long ago.
•••
The room reeks. If Thorfinn didn't already know it had been used as a murder chamber, the bloody handprints on the wall would have clued him in. And what a story they tell...
He turns around in a circle, studying what little evidence is left. He wishes the Dark Lord had not sent him here, but he understands why. He clenches his fists.
"By Merlin's balls, you're one sick fuck," Thorfinn says. He has the uncomfortable crawling sensation of something watching, but when he turns, wand held out before him, nothing is there.
Yet the room echoes. The walls tell a story, yes - a story that Thorfinn has already witnessed the ending of, back in the Pensieve of Malfoy Manor. He thinks he might vomit, just as the Malfoy heir did. Instead, he kicks the motorbike, and it falls over with a tremendous crash that's sure to bring every Muggle within a hundred yard radius rushing to the scene.
He isn't in the mood for this shit. Get in and get out, that's Thorfinn's M.O. And yet...
"What in the actual fuck?" He looks at the motorbike again. Lying on top of one of the tires is a gold coin. It must have been hidden under the frame, Thorfinn realizes. He bends down to pick it up, and the sensation of eyes on the back of his neck grows stronger. He whips around, but there is nothing there.
In the silence, there is a scratching. Upon the walls, in a wide, untidy scrawl, a handful of words begins to appear.
Thorfinn Rowle... I see you...
"Show yourself, you coward!"
I've been waiting for this for a long, long time... Oh, yes.
Thorfinn Disapparates so fast he doesn't care where he ends up, as long as he's away from that horrid little room.
Fifteen minutes later, standing in a lonely wood that peals with the sound of church bells from some far-off spire and looking up at two corpses that might have once belonged to a witch and a wizard, he regrets that sentiment.
But it's too late.
xXx
a/n: Two chapters this week because this one is short.