Born, Darkly (Darkly, Madly 1)

I tear a hand through my hair. “What did he do?” I shout. “What is his disorder?”

“I’m innocent!” the man cries.

“Shut up!” I look to the keys. “Tell me, Grayson, or I won’t know how to help him.”

I wait, the cold air prickling my skin, before his voice returns. “Roger’s particular paraphilia is pedophilic disorder, though I’m sure you’ll unearth a multitude of others beneath his rotten flesh.”

I nod to myself. Although pedophilia isn’t my specialty, I’ve had two patients diagnosed as such. My stomach pitches. There are few paraphilias that sicken me as much. Grayson chose wisely. I can’t do this.

“At least seven children have suffered due to Roger’s illness,” Grayson says. “And four were murdered, taken from this world by Roger’s hands. Their remains dissolved and buried. He was brought up on charges for only one—his nephew—but the court failed to prosecute due to insufficient evidence.”

Legs weak and trembling, I step onto the first stone. “Why didn’t you just give the authorities the evidence?”

“Because this man had no mercy for his innocent victims, he deserves to be shown none.”

Right. I’m trying to reason with a psychopath. “I can’t do this. You know I can’t do this—”

“One last thing,” Grayson interrupts. “You should know that Roger’s most recent victim, a boy by the name of Michael, has not yet been recovered.”

I look up at the man dangling over the container of acid. Oh, God.

The speaker system clicks off with a screech as I balance on the rock, gaining equilibrium.

A wail rips through the canopy, and I can feel the agony in the gutturalness of it. A scream wrenched from an abyss of never-ending pain. It forces my hand into the air.

I teeter on the rock, bare feet gripping the serrated edge of stone, as I reach for the first key.

Forgive me.

The tips of my fingers graze the keys before I latch on to one. I close my eyes and yank down.

A grinding noise echoes through the clearing, and then Rodger’s body jerks and drops. He cries out, a sloppy wail that rattles my teeth. “Stop—stop! Don’t do it. You’re going to kill me.”

I breathe through the sickness coating my stomach. “If I don’t try, he’ll kill you regardless.” I move to the next stone and stretch onto my toes, my hand wavering beneath the suspended keys. Flames lick my lower back. There’s no logic to Grayson’s game. One of the keys could free this man, or they could all doom him.

I grab ahold of a bronze skeleton key and pull.

Roger drops another inch.

Shit. Panicked, I forego the next stone and charge the tank. It’s taller than me. Maybe six-feet high and looks like a vertical fish tank.

Christ. Grayson has taken every aspect of me to design my tests. Now he’s turned something I used for tranquility into a deathtrap.

Ignoring the man’s pleas, I inspect the rest. A mounted wooden beam holds Roger aloft, thick metal cables support his weight, his torso cradled by a leather harness. “It’s a hangman’s gallows.” A simple structure, but built solid and sturdy. I walk the perimeter, studying Grayson’s trap. Looking for a way to release Roger without dropping him straight into the vat of acid.

“Please, help me,” he pleads.

Even if I was strong enough to shimmy the scaffold and pull him away from the tank, Grayson wouldn’t allow it. As if he’s reading my thoughts, a gear on the trap grinds, and Roger lowers closer to the surface.

“God—fuck—” He sobs, his flabby, milky body jiggling with his wretched cries.

“Christ. Shut up. Just shut up.” I push my hair out of my face. “Why don’t you walk me through this, Roger,” I say, deciding to follow my path back to the third stone. “Tell me about yourself. You’re here for a reason, just as I am. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” he concedes.

As he talks about his job at a local supermarket as a meat packer, I count the stones ahead of me: three. I gauge how many more inches Roger has until his feet hit the sulfuric acid. Maybe five…I can’t be sure.

There are more keys draped along the string canopy, outside my reach of the rocks. Follow the rules. But Grayson doesn’t abide by rules. He breaks them. He defies society’s laws. Everything with Grayson is a test.