Love In Vein: Book Two - Chapter 39

Quentin walked slowly through the hallways of the Council headquarters, quietly humming a tune as he kept his hands locked behind his back.

He nodded at one of the staff as they passed him by, hurrying to the main boardroom so they would be on time for the meeting--a meeting he’d called. All the staff that were currently in the building would be there, all waiting to see what he had to say.

All waiting.

He smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth forming crease lines in his cheeks that betrayed his age. The tune on his lips continued as he stepped calmly into the room, his eyes scanning the people gathered there and checking that everyone was present so he could begin.

They were.

So he did.

Closing the door behind him, Quentin casually picked up one of the double-headed battle-axes off the display. He idly tested the blade, the smile remaining frozen on his face as he saw the thin line of red appear on his thumb, telling him that it was sharp.

Turning to face his members of staff, he didn’t stop humming the tune even as he lashed out at the person nearest him, cleanly lopping their head off.

Screams erupted in the room as everyone panicked, immediately running for the doors only to find them locked. Quentin turned slowly to face his next chosen target, watching as they struggled with the door, desperately trying to get it open.

He smiled as he reached a crescendo in the tune going round in his head and brought the axe down hard on their arms, chopping them off at the elbow and then slicing upwards with zeal, removing their head to stop their incessant screams.

Glancing out the corner of his eye, he listened to the sound of someone creeping up behind him and shifted his axe into his left hand. Bringing it down in a fast arc behind him, his smile twisted into a grin as he felt the momentary resistance as the axe passed through bone. He cocked his head to one side and turned sharply as the body fell to the floor.

Being careful to avoid getting the blood that was leaking from the wounds on his shoes, Quentin moved forward, still humming as he looked into the eyes of the man lying on the floor.

He watched emotionlessly as the man’s eyes silently pleaded with him and then brought the axe down hard on his head, cleaving it in two at a forty-five degree angle.

Turning back around, he slowly scanned the room, counting the number of people that were left as they frantically tried to escape.

Three down, twelve to go.

Moving across the room, he relished the way they bunched together, shifting backward in order to keep a steady distance between them and himself. Like they were going to escape? Like there was really safety in numbers?

He frowned for a moment as he tried to think of another tune to hum. He smiled again as he found one and began to stalk toward the group, the tune playing on his lips.

Herding them toward the corner of the room, he grinned as the ladders leading up to the balcony split the group in two, forcing them apart. He moved swiftly, dashing forward and hacking an arm off the woman nearest him. As she fell to the floor clutching her shoulder, he chopped into her ribcage, watching her blood spill out and drench her smooth white shirt. He almost laughed as he sliced into her again, dismembering her leg before hitting her hard in the face with the flat of the axe.

Quentin took a moment to look down at her where she lay, her face smashed in, blood seeping from her wounds.

He frowned.

There was blood on his shoes.

Anger rising up inside him, he went directly over the boardroom table and jumped off the other side, bringing the axe down in a wide arc as he cut into the group. He grit his teeth as he hacked and slashed at the injured people while the others ran screaming to the other side of the room. No longer caring about keeping himself clean, he butchered the three people in front of him, cutting into them deeply with each sweep of his axe and smiling as their blood splattered across the walls.

He grinned fiendishly as he continued to bash one of his victims face in with the axe, battering it beyond recognition as he told himself over and over it was what they deserved.

What they all deserved.

Turning toward the remaining eight, he lowered his head slightly as he looked at them and then wiped his palm across his face. He frowned as he saw the blood coating his hand and realised it was all over him. Reaching into his pocket, he continued to hum as he pulled out a white handkerchief and decorously wiped away the crimson liquid that was staining his face.

His head twitched to follow a lone man as he made a break for the door and with a flick of his wrist he buried the axe in the man’s side. He smiled as he walked over to the fallen man, extricating his axe and then holding it in two hands as he repeatedly chopped into him.

His face was a stony mask as he straightened up and regarded the final seven.

He didn’t show any emotion as the group silently split, all of them dashing toward a different escape route, all of them hoping they would make it out of this place.

He grinned.

No one would make it out alive, not even him.

Calculating his next move, he raised a brow as he looked down at the mess surrounding him, dismembered body parts laying close to their previous owners, sticky blood seeping into the carpet.

They were never going to get it clean.

He moved slowly toward his chosen victim, humming a tune to himself as he smiled broadly and swung the axe idly in his hand. As he came up behind her, he brought the axe up hard between her legs, slicing deeply into her and then watching the blood as it flooded out of her like a waterfall. He turned away as she fell lifeless to the floor and set his sight on the next person.

The man nearest him grabbed a girl and shoved her toward Quentin. He bashed her around the head with the flat of the axe and continued to stalk toward the man. Bringing his axe around in a fluid arc, he chopped off the man’s left hand as he raised it in an act of surrender and then lopped off his right as it remained hovering in the air. He watched as the man stood frozen to the spot, silently accepting his death. Quentin turned away from him, unwilling to give him what he wanted.

He would have to wait until last.

Walking past the man, he ran his tongue over his lips as he tracked down the last of the girls. He shook his head slightly as she tried to run and sliced into her ankles, causing her to fall to the floor. Standing over her, he smiled as he chopped up her legs, listening to her scream in pain before she slumped into unconsciousness. He hummed to himself as he hacked off her limbs, the axe blade now growing dull from use.

Feeling something sharp pierce his side and white hot pain erupt, Quentin frowned down at the sword sticking into him and let his eyes run up the length of it to discover the owner of the weapon. He kept his face impassive as he caught hold of the blade and drove it further into himself, delighting in the horror that flitted across the man’s face as he did so.

Pulling the sword from his side, he hit the man squarely across the face with the handle of his axe and then took up the fallen sword. He regarded it for a moment before thrusting the blade deep into the man’s chest and leaving him for dead.

He smiled as he met the eyes of the last man left unharmed. Stalking toward him, he continued to hum as he watched him frantically tugging at the heavy doors, muttering desperate pleas as he struggled to escape. The axe swung happily at waist height, the blade still sharp enough to slice into his side and sever his spine, coming cleanly out the other side.

Quentin smiled as he watched the two halves as they toppled to the floor, blood gushing from him as his intestines spilled out.

Turning slowly, he looked pensive as he saw the handless man still standing there, silently awaiting his death. Moving unhurriedly toward him, Quentin let the smile remain on his lips. He waited until he was a few feet past the man before stopping and turning quickly, chopping the man’s head off.

Bring the axe back around, he looked down at it, testing the blade again and looking impressed that it had managed to slice its way through fifteen people without losing much of its sharpness.

He pulled out his bloodstained handkerchief and casually wiped the blades clean as he sighed.

Fifteen down, one to go.

He froze as he heard a creak and turned to see the girl he’d hit around the head with the axe stumbling out the opened door.

Make that two to go.

As he turned to face the door, black swirled where his eyes once were and a twisted smile touched his lips.

This was going to be fun.

Walking slowly down the hall with the axe held limply at his side, Quentin listened for signs of the girl. She couldn’t have gotten far, not with the concussion she probably had from being hit hard over the head. He looked down at the floor, smiling at the small spots of blood that marred the perfectly polished wooden boards.

Shifting the weight of the axe in his hands, he followed the trail and began to hum again. He walked down endless corridors that twisted and turned, intersecting each other as they spread out like a maze all around him. He didn’t need to guess where she was, he could just settle back and follow the spots of blood, eventually she’d slow down or take a wrong turn and he’d have her.

He paused as his head span, his vision blurring for a moment as he tried to steady himself. The pain in his side reminded him that the girl wasn’t the only one injured. He pressed his hand against his tweed jacket, frowning as it stuck to him as he tried to pull his hand away again. The amount of blood on his hand told him that he didn’t have long to find the girl. He had to find her before he succumbed to the injury.

Picking up the pace, he tried to concentrate on the trail as it continued to lead him toward the girl, but his vision kept shifting and wavering, making it hard to see the tiny dots on the floor.

Walking briskly up the stairs, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor as he turned the corner in the stairs and then stumbled backward as pain erupted in the side of his head. Collapsing in a heap against the back wall, he glared up at girl as she stood with a large candlestick held firmly in her grasp.

She didn’t wait for him to move, she just turned and bolted as quickly as she could up the stairs and down the corridor.

Quentin pushed himself up from the wall and stalked up the stairs, his knuckles white as he gripped the axe handle tightly.

She was going to pay for that.

Swinging the axe hard at the wall just above the light switches, he cut the power and smiled as the entire floor was plunged into darkness. He walked in the direction she had run, silence hanging in the air as he listened for sign of movement in the dark.

Turning a corner, he headed down the long gallery, passing through the broad beams of moonlight as it flooded in through the windows. He toyed with the axe as he moved from light to dark and back again, letting the blade reflect the moonlight as he hunted down the girl.

He froze as his head span again and looked up at the wall, frowning as he tried to make out what was wrong with the shield and sword arrangement.

His brows rose as he figured it out.

There was only one sword, instead of two.

By the time the information sank in and he heard the noise in the darkness to his right, it was too late. Quentin felt the veil of evil over his eyes lift just as the pain in his chest registered, and as he fell to the floor, he found a girl looking at him with triumph in her eyes.

He frowned, confused as to what was happening.

The world faded to black.

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