Vince watched Estill from across the ballroom as the man raised his hands and cleared his throat.
"I am grateful to all those that came to stay! To each and every one of you will and matter with me! Important always, always, always!" said Estill.
He pointed to the band. "They will play and we will dance until our hearts are pleased! And please, don't leave."
The crowd fell silent. The band struck up a tune and couples slid into the floor to dance. Vince grabbed a chair at the edge of the room and sat, trying to steady his breathing. His mind was jittering mess his body felt like thin glass.
Estill remained on the platform, a small smirk on his face. What was he planning? When would Adam and the others move? "Make a disease that will spread," Vince thought. It sounded insane.
The music swelled; Vince's ears buzzed like static. Then he heard steps deliberate, measured.
Step. Step. Step.
Estill descended the staircase. Vince rose and began to push through the crowd, weaving past bodies and bumping shoulders until he reached the man. Standing beside him, Vince felt small.
Estill looked down at him and smiled, mild and practiced. "Do you need something, young man?" His voice was smooth, pleasant.
Vince's throat tightened. "S-sir… can I ask you to tell me what is the point of this party?"
Estill tapped his cane. "Oh, nothing in particular! I have been brought up here I just want to demonstrate that I love this city.
Love for the city, huh? Vince tried to believe it. Estill seemed benign a civic patron, not a villain. Why did Adam want him dead?
Vince was tapped on the shoulder by Estill. "Enjoy yourself, please", he said, and passed by his guests.
Vince took his eyes off him, and held up his glove in which he observed the mark on his hand. Doubt crawled up his spine.
I already agreed to this. I'm supposed to kill him. Why am I hesitating now?
His thoughts scrambled What if I miss? What if the shot bounces and I'm the one who dies, in front of all these people? The room blurred, and Vince felt the weight of every decision pressing on his chest.
He had to do it. He had to. But every second was an ordeal of what ifs. Vince looked at Estill, who stood in another part of the ball room and cleared his throat.
Vince's hand, like it had a mind of its own, lifted toward his mouth. His lips hovered just above the marking.
Then a voice echoed from the back of his mind deeper, colder, and all too familiar.
Think about your father. Your home back on Earth. What that priest left you as. This false world what's with that? What you've become. Did you go through all that pain for nothing? Did you become a Stacker for fun?
The voice pressed harder.
Your room at the church was a hellhole. Your name dragged through dirt. No school. No family. What happened to your siblings? They never talked to you, did they? THEY NEVER DID! Nobody ever cared about you since Oeus rejected you!
Vince's head throbbed. He clutched his hair and pulled. "Stop," he whispered through his teeth. "No, I can't… I can't take another life. Not with all these people here."
But the voice dug in deeper. Death? Why are you so afraid of death, Vince? Who did you kill? What family did you destroy? You're always at fault. That stench of guilt will never leave you. You know what you have to do, Vince… or Roe… or Salomon. Whoever you pretend to be. You're full of lies.
After you kill Estill.
"Kill again…" Vince mumbled, his head pounding. "I can't do it. I can't fucking do it! "His voice broke through the music, drawing stares from the crowd. The voice quieted then came back lower, darker.
Go to sleep.
"Sleep… right," Vince muttered. "I need to go to bed. Maybe I can… do it then."
His body trembled as he backed away from the ballroom. Just before he turned the corner, he glanced back, Estill was smiling, a devilish grin stretched across his face as he slipped into a room near the back wall.
The voice still murmured. Go to sleep… go to sleep…
Vince could barely think. He felt drained, his mind fraying under the weight of fear and shame.
Why couldn't I do it? he thought bitterly. Why can't I ever follow through? He reached his room and pulled out a silver key. It gleamed faintly as he slid it into the keyhole.
Creak…
The small room was quiet. One door led to a bathroom, and a simple bed and desk filled the space. Vince stumbled toward the bed, dizzy, collapsing without a second thought.
But before his eyes could close, a sharp pain tore through his body, a surge from head to toe, electric and consuming.
This time, it was different. It wasn't his mind tormenting him. The pain was familiar.
Something supernatural was happening.