Maleficium: Duo (Devil's Playground 2)

A death certificate?

Was this real?

If it was, it opened yet another door to the realm of confused as fuck. How would someone of gotten this so fast? Or at all? She just died. The writing wasn’t the easiest thing to read thanks to the visibility, but I’m certain it had her cause of death listed as accidental. I didn’t see how being shot with an arrow and then mauled by Cujo constituted as an accident.

I took another look around the room, trying to count how many filing cabinets there were in total---easily over a dozen. If they all contained death certificates, that would mean hundreds of people died here.

The thought made me unsettled. I couldn’t begin to make sense of this situation. I wanted to investigate this more, see what the other files said or if ours were amongst them, but there wasn’t any time for that. Mel was far more important than whatever the hell this was. I placed the folder on top of the others and moved on.

After the second filing cabinet turned up nothing but more dead folks’ files, I rushed over to the desk. Yanking open the top drawer, I shuffled everything around and tossed some crap out. I should have asked Dion what this master key looked like. Was it big? Small? Silver? I had to be careful I didn’t somehow miss it.

I moved to the center drawer next, shoving aside some scissors and paperclips to lift out a large wall calendar. A flash of silver fell from between its pages, hitting the floor with a soft jingle.

A bundle of keys.

Dion said there’d be one specific key that would get the job done, not an entire ring.

These didn’t look any different than the kind I used to unlock my front door. As I crouched to scoop them up, the light went off in the main office. Complete darkness draped over me like a thick velvet curtain.

I ran my fingers over the carpet until I found the keys, quickly retrieving them. I jammed the ring into my back pocket so I wouldn’t lose it.

Knowing I was no longer alone, I slowly rose. I doubted whoever had arrived was on my side. Their presence brought an unmistakably sinister aura. It crept into the room and surrounded me on all sides, tainting the air with a wickedness that was both intriguing and unnerving.

The PA system clicked back on. “Five minutes.”

I had to get out of this room and back to Mel. I took a few steps forward, pausing when a familiar scent hit my nose.

Ciaran.

He was there, blending with the darkness. I took another step forward and realized he had to be standing right in the doorway.

I could feel the solidity of him without having to lay a single finger on his body. My pulse picked up—palms beginning to clam.

I wanted to see him again. Not like this, though. Not when I was at a severe disadvantage. There were a thousand questions to ask and a dozen more things I could say. But I couldn’t do any of that here or now.

Unable to see any part of his face, I rushed forward and shoved as hard as I could to get him out of my way. I felt his body shift backward, but it wasn’t enough that I could get around him and make it out of the door.

“Puppet, I expected better from you,” he chided, dragging out the nickname he’d given me.

Gloved hands closed around my wrists in a bruising grip, the cool leather rubbing against my skin as he used his body to propel me in the opposite direction.

My boots skid over the carpet as I pushed back, struggling to free my hands. The edge of the desk hit the back of my legs and wedged beneath my ass. He forced me down until I was almost lying flat, placing himself between my thighs.

“Four minutes.” Crackled over the PA.

“Get off!”

“Make me,” he taunted with a laugh.

I growled in frustration, putting all my effort into getting away from him. I managed to get my left wrist free and shoved at his face. Something that wasn’t flesh met with my palm. He knocked my hand away and grabbed hold of my throat, forcing me the rest of the way down.

“Relax,” he soothed, his voice low. “Didn’t I say I’ve got you?” His grip tightened, placing pressure on my windpipe.

An unintelligible sound flew from my mouth. I pulled at his wrists to no avail. He held me in place, not letting up.

Eyes burning with unshed tears, I reached blindly around the desk. My lungs started to ache, desperate for the air they couldn’t receive. Skimming over paperclips and post it notes, the handle of the scissors bumped against my fingertips.

I managed to get hold of it after a few attempts. Gripping as tightly as I could, I swung. They found a mark, sinking into some part of Ciaran’s body. It took him another few seconds to release his hold on my throat and he did so with a curse. The moment I was free I jerked upright, coughing as air smelling of nothing but him expanded within my chest.