GARGOYLE
Part II: The Specimen

Chapter 4

Jonathan Sicari couldn’t take his eyes off the golden handle of his office’s entryway. Behind these great oak doors, he knew, rested what he had been waiting for. All he had to do now was open them. It was so easy. Just open the door.

Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t do it.

He was alone, except for Bade, who stood silently behind him, the hypnotized and blank-faced boy he had arrived with gripping his hand. Bade’s expression was one of mild disappointment, as if he felt Jonathan shouldn’t be doing this but didn’t dare verbalize his thoughts. Good, Jonathan thought. Not only did he not care, he was in no mood to tolerate such an attitude. He had already allowed Bade to keep his pitiful little human boy and he should be damn grateful for it. The boy could still be banked and taken as meat. Bade probably knew that, and he was wise to respect it.

His reflection stared back up at him, upside down and stretched over the horizontal shape of the handle. Was this excitement he felt? Anxiety? He hadn’t been able to slow down his flighty heartbeat.

This whole operation had been quite short; Bade was hours earlier than Jonathan’s schedule had predicted. Of course he was pleased, but the reality of the situation had quickly taken hold of him at the announcement of Bade’s return. He had immediately ordered that the girl be locked in his office, requesting that the lights be turned off and the room unguarded. As he said them, Jonathan realized his orders sounded bizarre. But he was a character who spoiled himself, and he loved theatrics. Who in their right mind could resist a treat like this? So he had swept up to his office without any delay.

Now he stood, taking a moment to let his mind wrap itself around this electrifying sense of fulfillment.

But he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to go in. He had to see her.

There was no creak of the door, no sound of his footsteps. There was not even a snap of the doorknob as Jonathan stepped inside closed the door behind him.

At first glance the room was empty. The only illumination came from the purple city lights bouncing off the murky clouds and in through the uncovered window. Any other view the window offered was distorted by the pouring rain that slithered down the glass. Jonathan’s maroon eyes swept through the darkness, adjusting. But then a flash of lightning, and the silhouette of his prey was clear, standing still and alone in the center of the room.

She was looking out the window, her back to him. He had seen her picture several times before when staring at her file, had practically memorized every detail and could recite it to anyone. But the real Hannah Wallstone stood before him and Jonathan found all of those memories had at once vanished. He desperately needed to see her true face to get them back. What he could glimpse from his current position wasn’t enough. He could feel saliva building up in his throat, an involuntary act of desperation. His vision flitted around in darkness as he clung to reality, realizing that this was no dream, no hallucination as it had always been before. I can get closer. Closer, closer…

As he silently approached, all of Jonathan’s senses tingled. His nose wrinkled from the scent of blood on her, eyes picking up the flecks of red on her frame. Every goose bump on her bare arms stood out against the small standing hairs. Her white spaghetti strapped nightgown only went as far as her knees, and her toes were curled and taut. His ears perked, anticipating whatever sounds he thought he would hear. Jonathan had this part all planned out: he would laugh when she screamed, would moan when she cried, would whisper when she was silent... Remembering what he had previously envisioned made every muscle in his body constrict, and his smile felt other-worldly as it formed on his lips.

And then suddenly he was directly behind her. Senses overwhelmed, Jonathan melted, letting his head fall to her back. He had to bend forward to match her teenage figure, but he hardly noticed his own movements; he was too busy relishing every bit of her.

Hannah jumped at his touch, startled, and instantly stiffened. Jonathan’s smile widened. She was holding her breath, trying to be brave. How adorable.

He was careful to keep his hands at his side and under control as his head lifted to her neck. His lips grazed her, and he heard her exhale with a quiver. She was cracking. It was too soon. He painfully withdrew and stepped around to the front of her.

He leaned idly against the front of his mountainous wooden desk, regaining his composure. His hands pulled back his jacket and slid into the pockets of his slacks, and Jonathan Sicari stared into the eyes of the human girl he had been obsessed with for the last year.

Hannah had only just opened her eyes, having been tightly clenching them closed. But now those gorgeous blue gems fell on his blooded ones, and Jonathan was smitten. He couldn’t decide what to exploit first. Was it the natural fear the victim feels in the hunt that tempted him? His desires were so very primal that he dared not move, lest he involuntarily do something he would regret. He was determined to make this situation perfect. For him it would be beautiful. For her, it would be hideous. He needed that.

Her hands gripped the front of her nightgown and she swallowed. He caught the rapid gulp in her throat, and the rise of her chest as her lungs sucked in air. Then, words spilling out with her breath, Hannah spoke.

“Jonathan Sicari.”

Jonathan closed his eyes and bowed his head, overwhelmed by the song behind her tones. His name was spoken as a test, like she was trying it out to see if it fit, but it was so much more to him. That she knew his name, could speak it openly, told him that she had been as obsessed with him as he had been with her. How his heart fluttered with the thought! He wondered if it might burst.

But he would not let it. He would control himself, control the situation. He would control her.

“My name…” he grinned, fangs brushing his lips. “Did you hear it from Uriela?”

“Mathys” was the whispered reply, and Jonathan nodded.

“You must have been by his side for some time for him to have given you my name... A year, am I right?”

Hannah’s eyes had narrowed. “You know exactly how long,” she said with venom.

Jonathan only just hid his surprise. He was taken aback by her sudden hostility, but it was foolish not to have expected it. And he would come out on top in the end. He easily matched her mood. “Yes I do. Every day that you’ve been sneaking peeks on the Ansel I’ve returned the favor,” he shot. “And you see where it has left you? In the clutches of the most powerful Vampire alive!”

There was no denying this, and Hannah’s acceptance was obvious in the way she averted her gaze, turning her head to the side and slightly downward. Her every flinch was like art to him, and he was eager to see more.

"Why Mathys came to you, a human girl with no talent or potential, is beyond me, and quite frankly it no longer matters. You know what you have seen and done and why it’s gotten you into trouble with the Ansel.” Jonathan brought a hand to his chin with a cruel smile. “You know everything.”

Hannah’s sudden stillness did not bother him. He could sense her fear growing, despite their physical distance. It was only part of his game…No. It wasn’t a game anymore. But that did not stop Jonathan Sicari from wanting to play.

"Tell me," Jonathan whispered, "did you like what you saw tonight?"

There was hate in her eyes and tears on her long lashes, and her breath was heavy with suppressed sobs. But she did not try to defend herself or retort in anyway.

Jonathan let out a chuckle. “It’s what we do. You’ve seen it. It must have been dreadful to have let it happen to your family, though. Your father, mother, brother…even the other boy.”

His words were obviously taking their toll on Hannah. Beads of glistening sweat clung to her pores, and her tears were flowing freely. Her hands came up to tangle themselves in her matted black hair. She was losing the control that he himself had fought to hold on to. He loved it.

“You’ve still got their stain on you,” he added nastily and his hand waved in a vague gesture to her short nightgown.

“Yes!” Hannah exploded in frenzy, and Jonathan could barely contain his pleasure. “Yes I hate it! I hate thinking it was my fault! I hate that I could do nothing! And I hate you for doing this!” Her face split into a hysteric smile. “But you’ve done it and it’s over! You’ll do with me what you do to all of them! What can you do now that would hurt me any more-”

Jonathan cut her off with a laugh as he leapt joyously from his desk and marched toward her. “Oh, but you’re so stupid, little girl!”

Hannah jumped, expression changing at once to pure terror as she tried to back away from him. But Jonathan kept advancing, laughing and giggling like a child, and it was as though they were dancing a deadly tango in his dark office. “You’ve been spying on me all year and you think that was the worse I can do!? Well, I’ve kept my cunning eye on you, too! And I think I know exactly what I will do next!”

Hannah bumped into the oak doors behind her as her eyes, filled with horror, locked onto the hunger in Jonathan’s. He slammed his hands against the door on each side of her head, and she flinched with a little cry. Her reactions fueled him, drove him on. This was what he had been craving. A natural ecstasy shot through him, giving him a high that Jonathan had not experienced in years. It was because of his thirst for situations like these that he saw himself as a true Vampire, the image of the glorious Ansel. What was he but proud? The leader of the secret world? Oh, this little spy, foolish enough to think she had been beyond danger all along! She would understand what made him, and all killers, so beautiful.

“Imagine,” Jonathan breathed with a chuckle, “that I have pinned out your worst fear. Out of all you’ve seen it’s the only thing that’s paralyzed you – even now! With your family’s corpses lined up on my silver tables, it is the one thing you truly dread!”

Hannah was shaking, and perhaps in an attempt to shield herself from him she had shut her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

“You hate us because of what we’re capable of,” he continued mercilessly, “because of how we live and how we function. But for us it is nature, destiny even! So imagine that you had to live like us too.”

Hannah stared at him fearfully through her fingers. “You can’t.”

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed, a terrible and deep cackle that echoed coldly against the walls. Hannah stared in terrified awe. When Jonathan lowered his face back to hers, his maroon eyes gleamed in his new found insanity. “The beauty of it is that I can. This is my world! I can do anything here! Don’t think that I can’t, that I haven’t been planning this every night for the last year, that I don’t know you well enough to let you off so easily –”

“You don’t know –”

“Oh, but I do.” Jonathan muttered dangerously. He wound his fingers in the hair at the back of her head, pulling her face up to his. His other hand wrapped itself around her waist and he jerked Hannah’s quavering body closer to him.

Hannah was shaking her head, struggling against him and pleading. “Please –”

“I,” Jonathan hissed in her ear, “will mold you into the monster you loathe. You will stand obediently at my side and see yourself as twisted and hideous as you see us…”

"Don't do this."

The eager trembling that had kept Jonathan so invigorated abruptly ceased and gave way to silent thrill. This was it. Preparation had paid off, setting the scene had gone successfully. His lamb was at his mercy. This was his beautiful kill. He gently kissed her exposed throat. “You will forever be my Gargoyle.”

And he plunged his fangs into her silken neck.

Jonathan heard her moan through gritted teeth as he drank from the spilling wound, drinking in the soft flow of her veins. He felt her nails dig into him, clenching wildly at his chest, his waist, and finally the back of his shoulders. Just as he believed he would melt earlier at the idea of her blissful ignorance, he could feel her energy draining as she fell weaker and weaker and finally limp in his arms. It was only when her protests were as exhausted as her pulsing heart that he drew away his bloodstained lips.

Hannah’s eyes were half-closed and a few strands of her black hair were stuck to her tear-stained face. She clung to Jonathan as if unable to stand. Blood poured from her neck, where her white nightgown soaked up the remnants of Jonathan’s passion.

His job done, Jonathan wiped clean the puncture wounds and pulled away, lightly laughing when she could not stand. She fell to her knees as her half-closed eyes traveled upward, gazing lifelessly at him. Jonathan knelt and wrapped his arms around her fragile body in a loving embrace. It was obvious that she was going to be easy to manipulate in the future. He simply had to wait for her transformation into the “monster” to be complete, and then she would truly be his.

Hannah’s hands reached up and gripped Jonathan’s collar tightly with a renewed kind of strength that caught Jonathan off guard. His smile faded away as she lifted her eyes to him, and he saw that they were suddenly a bloodshot shade that matched his. But there was more than that. There was an unfamiliar tone to them. It was a tone that went beyond the beauty he had wished to see in them. Their core was darkness, an evil that stunned him. And Jonathan, for a reason he would never really comprehend, was afraid.

He hardly knew what was happening. The monster in front of him held him too securely; he could not run away. She had pulled her arm back, her lips curling into a snarl, and suddenly a pain erupted in his chest as, with no weapon but her hands, she pierced him. His skin tore with ease as her thrust forced its way through his gut, and he felt the pain fly all the way through to his spine.

His blood was spilling everywhere. What was happening? He saw her eyes… Not Hannah Wallstone’s. This was not his prey, not his lovely obsession. This was a true threat, a true monster before him.

Jonathan Sicari felt himself falling. There was the sound of a distant crashing.

Then all was black.