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Chapter 5
He watched as she tried to console her self with weapons. Two knives and a gun, petty comfort. She couldn't protect herself from him, no matter what she bought. He was better than she was, smarter than she was, bigger than her. His alien form was bigger than her human, true, but he meant an aura, a being in existence in general. He could out fox her in any game she chose.
That's exactly what this was. A game. A diabolical game meant for only the strongest of mind. So far she past the test with an average. She never really got into the game, just played because she had to. She played because people, mere mortals, were at stake. They were useless, mortals that is. They did nothing except...multiply. No other word described them. Lazy. Careless. Useless. Okay, so maybe more words described them, but none of them were any good, except for entertainment.
She was useful in the form of entertainment. She was beautiful, yes even he knew of her beauty. She tried to hide it, tried to ignore it, but it was there, it was natural. She had guts. She probably would have the biggest balls any man could wish for, if she were born a man that is.
If she played with more vigor, he might have been talked into to letting the old hag live, but she will die. Not now of course, but only because he made a promise. A promise. A simple two word phrases those put mortals at ease. It was enough to stupefy; if he wasn't so cool headed that is. 'I promise', say those words and you were God. Even if you broke that vow over and over and over again, if you said them you held power. Most would say you held trust, but trust was power. Trust was the most powerful thing a man, or alien, could posses. This kind of power, if controlled properly, could last till time indefinite.
Promises were key in this game, only when he held nothing in his hand and she held all the aces would he pull a trick card. A lie so brilliant it would shock and amaze. Not that he needed to lie; it just made things more interesting. He could itch his nose and send earth into a black hole. Or tug his ear and light it like a fiery inferno, turning it to ash and then nothing, not even a speck worth naming.
She won't play rough though, that was the only down side to her. But she wouldn't play fair, he liked that. She would bargain, not beg. At first that's what he had wanted from her. She had hurt him, hurt his pride, and hurt his pumping organ mortals called a heart. He meant her to beg for the rest of her life, but she wouldn't.
Now they danced. She danced well, especially well under pressure. She moved like a cat and reacted with the speed of a cheetah running full throttle.
He meant to win this game, one way or another. She might die, he hadn't decided. The old lady would, defiantly. Maybe another. She wouldn't admit her love for this one. She thought he couldn't tell, but he could.
Then there was the new one. The singer. He grinned at the thought. She truly hated him. The kiss had made him curious. Would she be mad? Would she be glad? She made him happy by her reaction, except for the delay and the fact she didn't slap him like he thought she would.
He had never been able to gauge her reactions, though. That was part of the deal and it did make things more interesting. He could make her kill if he wanted. He controlled her evil, her hate. He could tap into it, if need be.
He couldn't read her thoughts that bothered him. He shouldn't have made that deal. He had tried once and she called him on it. As if she sensed him "roving about" in her head she forced herself into convolutions, knocking him from her brain and her into his world.
They had round, a couple actually. He called them a tie, but he knew she called them a win. She had, but he'd never admit it out loud. He may have lost a battle or two, but he'd win the war, no matter what she and her mortal boy toy had to say about it.
He proved that with her newest mystery. The blue eyes and the ticking. They meant so much and yet he knew she wouldn't figure them out. It would be too late. He finally came up with the perfect dream.
He had always come up with breath taking -in his opinion anyway- dreams. They were fierce, bloody, scary, entertaining. He would move it up a notch every dream when he first started. It took a while to find her weak spot, she was so strong that even though the dreams scared her, she wouldn't -for the life of him- wake up in a cold sweat, rattled to the core.
Finally, he killed her mother. That was the key. All the while he hadn't known, but in a dream he made it so vivid, so real. He grinned thinking, if only she knew it was. He licked his lips, loving the way his dreams would fold out before him. He always watched when the dreams went on in her head. He would watch both the dream and her face. Watching the twitches, the silent tears that she didn't know she cried.
Now the ticking would be key. The blue eyes were added for paranoia. But the ticking, yes, that would be key. She would question and nothing, anything would come. 'It might be his life span', Brian had suggested. How wrong he was, how wrong they both were.
He couldn't wait to see what happened when she discovered whom, how, when and why the victim was who the victim was. He had done research on this one and the Vic set this stage to a T. the Vic was perfect! She wouldn't guess in time.
"I'll beat you. You just wait and see. And then when I do, you'll come crawling back." He whispered grimly to the photo of her that appeared into his hands when he thought of it. "And after you do, I'll kill you."
He brought the photo to his lips, kissing her full on the mouth. When he drew his head away the lips on the photo away her lips were gone. Acid was burning them away.
He grinned. "Death by love making." He laughed a cackle. "There's a title for the tabloids." He shook his head, a smile on his face. "Stupid mortals, how I love to kill thee."
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