Chapter 22
The Man Behind The Darkness
It had been a little while ago that a day in this summer had started out like this, but seeing how the temperature had reached sweltering heights during these past days, it would only make sense, and there were plenty of people out there who would even see this as a welcome break from the heat they had found hard to enjoy without a tall glass of cold water within reach or the air conditioner on full blast; right after Darby Allin had opened his eyes around ten o'clock on that morning, he saw that the sun had been effectively obscured by nothing else but thick, grey clouds, blocking out the tiniest ray of sunshine or warmth, heavily indicating that today was going to be one of those rainy days that may be seen as a huge bother to those who were planning to go out today, but was nothing short of delightful to others. Not that he minded this, oh no, not in the slightest. Starting the day off like this was much more preferable than waking up drenched from heat to toe in sweat and his throat feeling as dry as the Sahara Desert.
Remembering one of the main reasons why he and his companion had decided to stay at the Cedar Hills Motel for the night, the blonde ghost hunter had hopped out of the bed as quietly as possible, had connected his laptop that had been resting on his nightstand ever since last night to its charger, and he had briefly looked over his shoulder before entering the bathroom to make sure he hadn't somehow woken up Cora after all. Lucky for him, she was still vast asleep by the time he had reached the bathroom door. Yeah, that was right; they had slept in the same bed not long after they had wrapped up their late-night skateboarding session, and now that the last bit of sleepiness had worn off, Darby could clearly remember the awkwardness that arose when they had come to the conclusion that there was truly no other option but for them to sleep in the same bed for that night, given that only queen-sized beds were available on this floor, and the same went for the other two floors as well. It had been him who had come to the conclusion that it had been safe enough for them to spend the night at the formerly haunted motel, he could also remember that. Darby had been absolutely certain that they had taken care of every single brainwashed, mutated ghost that had been unleashed upon them like a pack of ravenous hounds on two helpless rabbits, which was supported by the fact that he hadn't felt even a fraction of the freezing chill of death that always lingered around a ghost after they had survived the attack, not even during the hours afterwards when they had gone back to their motel room; but even if it turned out that one sole spirit, be it a Wanderer or Restless who had somehow managed to hide away well enough to avoid being turned into a brainless monstrosity like their unfortunate brethren, or an Infected ordered to wait in the shadows for the perfect opportunity to strike under Malakai's command, Darby sure as hell would have dealt with him in a matter of seconds, since this wouldn't have been the first time a seriously pissed off ghost had tried to end his life while he was asleep. But what if it wouldn't be the sole purpose of this hypothetical Infected to rip his head clean off while it had the chance, the blonde ghost hunter couldn't help but wonder later on in the bathroom. If he truly was this damn important to Malakai, important enough to be considered as the 'key' for fulfilling this mission he was talking about… then it was likely that he needed him alive for this, right?
The fact that the Cedar Hills Motel was now completely void of any supernatural activity hadn't been the sole reason of why the decision to sleep here for one night was made. Even though Darby Allin had spent a good portion of his life on the road in his aged but trusty van, he never passed on the opportunity to sleep in a motel room for one night and one night only if he just so happened to be near a motel during a mission. The blonde ghost hunter found it safe to consider himself as being skilled enough to tinker underneath the van's hood to fix whatever problem may arise while driving, be it some suspicious, dark smoke sneaking its way through the hood's slits and swirling into the air or a strange rumbling noise that wouldn't let up after he had switched on the engine. He could do all of that, he was convinced about that. What he couldn't do however was installing a functional shower and an outlet or two in the back of his vehicle, which was definitely a big downside of living in a van. It wasn't exactly rocket science to figure out that motels were the perfect answer for these two issues, given how relatively cheap it was in most cases to rent a room for only one night. He would only need to stay for a hot shower and an outlet to fully charge his laptop, that was all; sleeping in a relatively proper bed was a nice, added bonus. And to be honest, spending a sole night in a motel room was all that Darby could take. He was bound to wake up in one hell of a foul mood the following day if he had been kept awake by hours on end by an arguing couple staying in the room above his accompanied by the crashing sounds of furniture and suitcases being thrown across the room, disgusting suggestive noises coming from down the corridor, toilets loudly running at all hours past midnight or sheets that would cause his body to itch all over. Being freshly washed and returning the key at the desk in the morning with a fully charged laptop pinned beneath his arm and body made it all worth it, but in the very end, his van was a much more preferable place to stay in.
Cora could take a shower as well if she wanted, Darby figured. But for now, she would have to wait. And on top of that, the blonde ghost hunter hoped that she would be okay with standing in a bathtub stained with some pretty damn questionable stains on the sides for a few minutes, but he figured that as long as his bare legs wouldn't touch them, they would soon leave the Cedar Hills far away in the rearview mirror of the van without contracting a fatal disease that hadn't been discovered before, but then again, Darby was convinced that there were bathtubs in the other rooms that were in a far worse state. And so, after he had taken a moment to look for a clean towel and washcloth (he had instantly dismissed the idea of finding a bottle of shower gel, seeing no point in looking for one at a shithole like the Cedar Hills Motel, because haunted or not, it was still an absolute shithole, and he sure as fuck would not let that thin, gross-looking, brownish piece of cheap soap that had been left on one of the bathtub's edges touch his body) he took off his shirt and boxers and stepped inside, twisting open the tap for hot water. The blonde demon hunter slightly jolted and uttered a four-letter word when the first drops that came flying out of the showerhead and touched his skin turned out to be unpleasantly cold, but thankfully after two seconds, hot water flowed through the bathtub and into the drain. Darby took his time standing underneath the stream of delightfully warm water, cleaning himself as good as possible, knowing that it might be a while before they would come across a motel again. Man, when had been the last time he had started a morning like this? It had been a while ago, that was for sure…
While standing underneath the shower, Darby thought about what he had told Cora last night at the abandoned pool. He had meant every word of it and he was still determined as all hell about it. It was impossible to ignore it after everything that had happened to them. The likes of Malakai Black shouldn't be dismissed like this, he was someone who was worth looking more into. There was a reason why he sent those Infected after them, and Darby was convinced that the 'mission' he had mentioned had something to do with that. Those ghosts been infected by that black mist because of him, they must have been ordered by Malakai to incapacitate him. And it was beyond a doubt that those two ghosts back in the woods had been Infected as well, meaning that he had been following them back then already. Hiding in the shadows, like he had done last night... fuck, why hadn't he noticed his presence before? But then again, the cold air that had lingered around him would have perfectly blended in with the air around the other ghosts, and combined with the shadows of the night, it would have been impossible to sense him in any way. Why was Darby this damn important to him? What the hell did he want from him? The blonde ghost hunter knew that it wouldn't instantly give him all the answers he wanted, but if he would find the smallest bit of information about Mr. Black, it could at least give him a clue, hopefully more. No matter how big or small it would be, it wouldn't stop him from looking for him and put an end to whatever he was planning to do to him, with the memory of the half ghost's promise of them meeting again sooner than he might expect still fresh in the back of his head. He wasn't done with Darby, not by a long shot. One flamethrower to his goddamn face wasn't going to make him abandon those plans he had in mind for Darby, he was absolutely convinced about that. He would be back with a fucking vengeance. And if Malakai wouldn't come to them… well, then they would come to him instead.
That fucker wouldn't know what would hit him.
That's when Darby noticed that he had been standing here for so long that the hot water had run out. So he quickly got out without touching the bathtub's walls and dried himself off, putting his shirt and boxers back on for the time being, planning on retrieving some clean clothes in the room before sneaking back into the bathroom the get changed. He and Cora had gone back to the van after their skateboarding session to pick out the clothes they would wear the following day, also taking his laptop and its charger while they did this. The blonde ghost hunter remembered the device's battery being pretty low the last time had used it, so arriving at Cedar Hills Motel was nothing short of perfect timing; it was more than likely that it had been charged to the point where it was half-full by now, maybe a little more than that.
Even if the hinges of the bathroom door had made any noise, it still wouldn't have made Cora Jade look up from the laptop's screen. The charger was still plugged in. Quietly leaning in the doorway, Darby saw that she must have woken up at some point while he had been in here, having found the right chance to put on a pair of clean clothes, which consisted of a black tank top and a pair of denim shorts. She had crossed her bare, sun-kissed legs and placed the laptop right in front of her, her dark brown eyes entirely focused on the screen and occasionally darting from left to right over and over again when she found something interesting enough to read. Her mouth had the shape of a flat line, adding to the focus that was present on her face. Every now and then, her fingertips would dance over the keys and press on the left side of the touch pad that acted as the device's mouse. The same strip of fabric was still wrapped around her healing hand; maybe Darby could rip off another piece of that sheet later on to replace it. Staring at his traveling companion, Darby finally seemed to notice something. Now that she was clad in a pair of shorts and had no jacket to cover her arms with, he could clearly see the results of the horrific ordeal she had suffered at the hands of her former fiancé. He could count a total of five thin, white lines on her right arm, some of them narrowly missing the tattoos of a pair of praying hands bound together with a snake and decorated with flowers and the two mandalas on her lower arm, some larger in size compared than the others. Then there was this white line on her left arm that was long enough to permanently ruin the tattoo of a hand making the shake gesture in half, having sliced through all five fingers. The blonde ghost hunter didn't have to question what could have caused these scars to form on her skin, remembering what his traveling companion had told him a while ago. Jesus fuck… that bastard had slashed and stabbed into her body like a goddamn animal, he realized. The scar that was sure to form on her hand was going to be the newest addition to ones she was already forced to live with, marking her even more.
The mere sight of the lines on her arms that have marked her for life had been enough to lit up an ember of anger inside of Darby, but when he laid eyes upon the scar near her heart, he found himself wishing to drive all the way back to Driggs and destroy Trevor Marsh's ghost once more, though this time not by simply ripping him into pieces.
Thankfully Darby managed to shift his sight from the scars on his companion's body to the bed itself, replacing the rising anger with the memory of the awkwardness that dawned upon them in this motel room when they found out that there were no rooms available with separate beds, or even a couch to sleep on. It was almost something out of those extremely cheesy romantic comedies of which the mere thought made Darby feverishly grab something to throw up in; that cliché trope of two friends with underlying romantic tensions somehow ended up in a hotel or other place where they have to spend the night at, only to find out that they would have to share a queen-sized bed, and of course, awkward shenanigans would ensue that made the two main characters realize that oh my goodness, they have loved each other all along but had been denying it all along because God forbid you should fall in love with the person you've known ever since you were a dumbass kid, and end up passionately smooching before the next morning came rolling around. Barf.
And yes, it was as awkward as it could possibly get, and right after that little moment when they both realized they had been staring each for a little too long after that wipe out at the pool, no less. Darby could just exactly tell what was going through Cora's head when they had come to this conclusion, seeing her cheeks coloring bright red just seconds after it had fully sunk into her. And because he could have easily guessed what she was thinking, some annoyance was sparked within Darby, which made him wryly reassure her that he wasn't going to sleep naked next to her or do any other weird shit to her while she slept, all while he rolled with his eyes. Cora had let him know that she appreciated all of that, but couldn't help but warn him not to roll onto her side of the bed whilst sleeping. And so, after they had gathered whatever stuff they needed from the van and switched off all the lights in their motel room, they got into the same bed, both of them trying to lie as close to the opposing edges as possible. None of them had to look over their shoulder to know that they were wide awake for the first hour, kept awake by the awkwardness of this whole situation. But then, strangely enough, they began to get used to it. They began to get used to their bodies being this close to each other, and not long after that, it felt… okay. Natural, even, as if they had done this many times before. It kind of surprised Darby, really. To feel comfortable enough for some girl he knew for a couple of days sleep this close to him… He assumed that Cora had perhaps grown comfortable to some degree as well, judging by the sound of her rhythmic, calmly paced breathing that perfectly fit with someone who was sound asleep. Listening to her breathing made him follow soon after.
Was it time for him to start looking for a mattress that was big enough for the both of them to stuff into the back of the van after last night? Maybe so… As he folded his arms and curled his mouth into a small smirk, the blonde ghost hunter let out a barely audible, slightly amused hum; he would be absolutely fine with it, because he considered Cora Jade to be a pretty damn special person. So yeah… maybe so.
At the exact same moment when his traveling companion finally looked up from behind the laptop to shift her sight to Darby, a drop of water fell from the grey heavens and landed on the neglected concrete of the Cedar Hill's parking lot; mere seconds later, countless more drops followed, turning into the rain shower many weather broadcasts had been reporting since yesterday to everyone who lived around this area.
'Hey, what's up?' Cora asked, and Darby could clearly hear a tiny hint of cheerfulness in her voice. 'Didn't know you were done showering already.'
'Yeah well, I figured I was pretty much done when the hot water ran out… Did you sleep well? And how's that hand of yours? You should replace the bandage later on, unless you want to get that wound infected.'
'It's still a bit sore, but I will manage. My ribs are actually hurting me more… man, I'm sure that bastard would have broken them if he had kicked me any harder.'
'Are you sure they're not broken? I can take a look if you want…'
'No, I'm pretty certain it's all good. It's going to leave one big bruise though, but hey, it could have been a lot worse. And believe me, Darby…' the ghost huntress paused to let out a little chuckle. 'I want to find out more about this guy just as much as you do after all that bullshit he pulled off last night. And lucky for us, our new pal had been generous enough to drop his full name. So I thought… what if the wonderful world of the Internet has some answers for us? Surely it can tell us something about Malakai Black, right? So while you were in the shower, I thought I would go ahead and do a little bit of research.'
'Not a bad idea.' the blonde ghost hunter answered. 'After all, his name is all we know about him so far, we got nothing else. Well, asides that he's a half-dead dickhead who can turn ghosts into brainless murder machines.'
'Judging by what I've managed to dig up, I can honestly say that this is a guy with quite some history. Here, take a look at all of this.'
Cora scooted up a bit to create enough space for Darby to sit down next to her, which he did, genuinely curious about what she could have managed to find in such a short amount of time (or maybe even longer, since he had lost track of time for a little bit when the wheels in his head were rapidly turning in the shower). Whatever she would find thanks to the simple but effective method of filling in their attacker's full name in the bar of a popular searching engine, big or small, it would nonetheless give them some insight of who they were dealing with. Who exactly was Malakai? Who exactly was the man who used the shadows of the night as his cover as he watched each ambush he had set up for them unfold, like a spectator of a play? There must be more behind him, he must have a story. A history, to be more precise. Everyone had them. Malakai would be no exception to this, half ghost or not; after all, he must have been completely human at some point in his life, right? Perhaps so, if Cora had been able to dig up something about him. Both ghost hunters were now entirely fixated on the laptop's screen. Cora clicked on the opened Internet browser in the bottom left corner, where many tabs had been left open as well; much to Darby's surprise, none of them were linked to the ghost sighting forum that had been a reliable source to him for many years. His companion kicked off the revelation of Malakai Black's past (or at least a portion of it) by clicking on the tab in the upper left corner, and exactly one second later, a news report from a news station hailing from Tampa, Florida, dating all the way back to 2006. And lo and behold, the first thing that caught their eye was the article's mugshot of a face they came to recognize very, very well. Naturally, Malakai appeared much younger on that mugshot, most likely being somewhere in his early twenties when this was taken. Not a glimmer of regret about what he had done could be spotted in the cold eyes that stared straight into the camera, not giving a single flying fuck about the man who had punched and kicked into a bloody pulp outside of the Heatwave Bar in downtown Tampa moments before the cops had tracked him down and slapped the cuffs on him.
'Arrested for battery all the way back in 2006…' Cora said with a soft voice while she scrolled down. 'According to this news report, he was sentenced to three years in prison afterwards. But it doesn't end there… Check this out.'
The female ghost huntress proceeded to click on the next tab, revealing another news report from the same news station, this time dating all the way back to 2010. In this new mugshot, Malakai had aged only for a little bit and had gained a few more tattoos that peeked underneath the short sleeves of his orange prison jumpsuit, but his hardened expression remained the same like it did four years ago; one year of freedom was all he apparently needed to get himself neck-deep into trouble again, this time for the committing assault, this time after a local metal concert in one of Tampa's underground clubs had ended. Six months behind bars was his punishment. As more tabs were opened, more mugshots of Malakai followed, and with the years passing by, more tattoos were added to the growing collection on his body, sometimes with one or more bruises on his face and often a split lower lip, but the flat, emotionless line that was his mouth and the unapologetic look in his eyes hadn't changed in the slightest during the years. Right then, it could be assumed by both Cora and Darby that Malakai Black perhaps felt more at home in a prison cell than an apartment in the city.
'Looks like our new pal was a frequent flyer.' Cora said. 'Look at this, there's a barely a year between his release and his newest conviction in some cases. All of them are the same too. Battery, assault, all of them happening near bars and clubs… Either this guy has the shortest fuse mankind has ever known, or he just didn't give a damn anymore.'
Well, given the stigma ex-convicts would be forced to carry upon being released back into society, the latter assumption wouldn't really be that surprising, Darby thought, but he decided to keep this thought to himself. However, he couldn't help but let out a slightly impressed whistle upon witnessing the massive rap sheet Malakai had created throughout the years, back when he was a simple frequent flyer instead of a half-dead being with control over tormented souls.
'The last time he got locked up again was in 2018, when he was sentenced to two years for beating up a bartender at a club, which means he was released in 2020.' Cora said. 'And here's the thing… no other articles about him have popped up for three years after that. Until…'
That's when a sinking feeling began to develop itself in the pits of the ghost huntress's stomach and slowly sank in the direction of her legs, since she already knew why it had been quiet around Malakai's existence for the next three years after his latest stint in prison. After doing all the research she could have possibly done and finding whatever she could about it, this part of his past… well, it definitely had to be darkest one of them all. It was much worse than the violent brawls he had either instigated or wound up in when he would go out at night, much more… heartbreaking. Yes, that was it; heartbreaking. Cora could have guessed the reason of why Malakai had decided to lay low for those years, finally deciding to take a drastic turn in his life that appeared to be nothing more but a cycle of self-destructive behavior, wanting to change it once and for all. If he wasn't doing it for his own sake, then it had to be because of someone else.
Because of… her.
In order to get rid of the dryness that had build up in her throat, Cora briefly swallowed before she clicked on the last tab. Just like all the others, it was another news report, the most recent one at that. January 17th, 2023. The report's title didn't say anything about a local man being arrested for a violent altercation at a bar, concert or club, but about how a man responsible for a botched robbery that resulted in the death of a young woman was still on the run. Cora scrolled down and clicked on the video regarding this case that could be found in the article and enlarged it to fill up the whole screen; maybe she didn't notice it, but right now, both she and Darby were holding their breaths.
The first thing that appeared on the screen after the news station's bombastic jingle was the picture of a young woman in her early thirties who was beyond a doubt stunningly beautiful to look at. She had naturally tan skin, long black hair with bright red, dyed roots. A pair of dark brown eyes framed by long eyelashes stared back at whoever had taken this photo of her. She was happily smiling from ear to ear as she held onto the bare, tattooed arm of a man who had been cropped out, perhaps for the sake of this report. She was wearing a strapless red dress with a sweetheart top, revealing her own tattoo, which was that of a small helm on her shoulder.
'Three days have passed and no trace has been found of the man who fatally shot a Tampa woman during a robbery nearby her home.' the voice of a female broadcaster announced, professional and dead serious. The photo of the young woman was promptly replaced with the crime scene itself; different shots of a cold, hard pavement in one of the many neighborhoods of Tampa that would be considered risky to live at, let alone walking alone through said neighborhood at night as a woman, with heaps of snow here and there and yellow tape set up by the police to keep onlookers away and prevent them from doing anything that could royally screw up the investigation, fluttering in the cold winter air. 'Zelina Vega was walking alone on the night of January 14th when according to a witness, she was attacked by a man who demanded her to hand over her belongings, all while pointing a gun at her. The witness also claims that Vega had fought back against her attacker, and during the struggle, the gun's trigger was pulled and struck Vega in the heart, killing her instantly. Her killer had quickly taken off after this, running into the direction of Khan Avenue, but despite a clear description provided by the witness, he still remains at large. In the meanwhile, all that Vega's boyfriend, Malakai Black, can do, is to hope that he will be found as soon as possible.'
That's when the interview at Malakai's home came in. Cora found it almost absurd to see the complete and utter opposite between seeing this man, the same man who had tried to kill her last night by brutally kicking her off the roof in the hopes of her plunging to her death and planning to do God knows to Darby if she hadn't intervened on time, and the sinisterly calm expression that was present on Tim Young's face when interviewed about the mysterious disappearance of his pregnant wife a few days ago. The same man who had unleashed every single Infected upon her and Darby like they were nothing more but game, the same man who had racked up a rap sheet that would make many people's eyebrows arch in astonishment, appeared as a truly broken soul on the laptop's screen, sitting on the black, leather couch in the living room of his small apartment, dressed in a black T-shirt with the hardly readable logo of a black metal band printed on it and a pair of ripped, denim jeans. His skin had colored ashy grey over the past three days. Dark circles had formed underneath his eyes, which had obtained a noticeable shade of soft red, caused by either a severe lack of sleep, seemingly endless hours of crying in grief, or a combination of both. Malakai Black had died along with Zelina, Cora then realized. His physical appearance was still there, but his soul, his very being, was long gone. His reddened eyes seemed to stare at nothingness as the interview went on.
'Zelina never deserved this.' Malakai spoke, his broken voice barely above a whisper. 'She was a good woman, a loving person. One who would always be there for you when… times were getting tough. She would try her best, for you. She wouldn't… she wouldn't give up on you, ever. It should have been me to walk down that street at night. I… I should have been the one to be shot.'
The interview ended there and the news report concluded with the announcement that police were still searching for the culprit and for all viewers who lived in the area of Tampa, Florida to keep an eye out and to immediately contact the police if they thought they saw someone who matched the description.
For a few seconds, it was completely quiet in the motel room, asides from the sound of rain hitting the concrete ground outside on the parking lot.
'Darby…' Cora said, being the first one to break the silence. 'Call me crazy, but… I seriously can't help but feel sorry for him. That was just awful…'
'I don't.' Darby replied while shaking his head, the hardened demeanor he had developed throughout his life fully showing itself. 'Dead girlfriend or not, he still has to be stopped. You have seen what he is capable of, Cora. And it's probably only going to get worse if we're not going to do anything, just because you feel sorry for him. He is still dangerous as hell.'
The blonde ghost hunter then fell silent again for a few seconds, thinking about what would be the next logical step, his bent index finger pressed against his lips as he stared at the sheets of the bed. Then, as if it had suddenly struck him, he looked up again, back at his traveling companion.
'It may be a stretch, but I may know where we have to look next.' he calmly said. 'Cedar Hills had been known to be haunted for many years, even to those who aren't interested in ghost hunting. And the same goes for the Blackthrone Asylum…'
'Wait… I think I know that place, I think I have heard of it before. Isn't that…?'
'Yep. One of the most haunted asylums in all of the United States. And wouldn't you know it, it's just a few miles away from here when you drive on the highway. If there's one place where you can easily find a whole horde of ghosts to infect, like here, then I'm willing to put my money on the Blackthrone Asylum. If I'm that damn important to him, then he surely will be somewhere close. And that fucker is probably going to need a whole new army of those freakshows after we wiped out every single one of them last night. He could be there, Cora. I know it's a presumption, but still… it's worth checking out, don't you think?'
Blind presumption or not, he still got a point. A good point at that. As a response, Cora gave him a small, quiet nod.
It just so happened that at the same time where a certain young man with the ability to turn off his heart and unleash his supernatural powers that emerged during those few minutes where he would be considered dead reminded his fire-wielding traveling companion of what their enemy was capable of in a room located in a rundown motel many miles away from here, that some people who were driving down the highway with moderate speed near the hills in order to avoid any accidents caused by the pouring rain caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the figure with the shape of a man in the far distance, standing in one place in the middle of the road, not moving an inch even when he saw the vehicles approaching him. Not one single drop of rain touched his black suit, for he had created a dome-shaped shield consisting of transparent, black energy to shield him from what was going to come next.
Malakai didn't even feel the need to blink as a wave of loudly honking klaxons mixed with hysterically screeching tires rolled across the highway. His hands remained neatly folded in the front of his body as black chains emerged from the asphalt and wrapped themselves around some of the vehicles' wheels or their frames, forcing to stand still long enough for others to plow into them, forever silencing some of the screeching and honking. Collision after collision followed, some them striking hard enough to make flames erupt from underneath the hoods like a dragon's fiery breath, the sounds of chaos, destruction and shattering glass strongly overlapping the screams of some who were unfortunate enough to be driving down this very highway on this morning. To those who had missed the chains by a hair's breadth, thought they had avoided a collision by swerving out of the way in the nick of time or had done both, would be inflicted with hallucinations that instantly made them forgot about what was real or not. Traumatic experiences they thought they had overcome, demons from their past that they had tucked away in the darkest corner of their minds, their deepest fears that would haunt them to this very day; they came crawling out of the backseat or forced them to relive it all again, replacing their surroundings with the location of which the mere memory of it would make one uncontrollably tremble with anxiety. These hallucinations would only cease when everything would go dark.
The unholy smell of leaking gasoline combined with burning flesh didn't do anything either to evoke any emotion or thought from Malakai. He was going to need a vast number of ghosts to infect. There was no harm in harvesting some outside of the Blackthrone Asylum, there were no qualms in creating them on grounds that weren't haunted. There would be plenty to have reason to be unable to move on. They would all find out what their sole purpose was going to be. All those who were caught in this chaos, who ever they were before their lives would be snuffed out like candles in the wind, whatever their hopes and dreams had been, fully grown, in the prime of their lives or just starting to live it… none of them mattered to him.
They wouldn't have mattered either once he would finally get what he had wanted for so long.
