Chapter 17

Sam

I looked at Donovan with worry as he held his head low, looking away from everyone. An awkward silence lingered longer than necessary and I wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the right words to say. I can feel an incredible amount of guilt radiating off him right now. Everyone staring in their sick twisted interest doesn’t help the situation either. Finally, Mr. Plague takes it upon himself to say something.

“Oh my, you must have made a deal just now Donovan. What could you have possibly settled for?” I see Donovan’s head rise slightly up towards Mr. Plague; he had an extremely sour face towards him. One that says I’m going to kill you when I get a chance kind of look. Mr. Plague clearly notices it and counters with a somewhat rhetorical question. “Do you hate me?”

He responds. “I definitely hate you. I pieced together what you did.”

“Oh…do tell?”

“You cured that guy’s writer’s block in exchange for ending Sebastian’s life. You’re planning to get him killed.”

I regularly forget Donovan is a detective. Tracing back steps and finding clues is natural for him. I can see why Mr. Plague found him so interesting, but…I couldn’t imagine him not seeing his skills be used against him. He may have a hunch on his talent, but not his motivations. If he knew us on a psychological level, he would have us all killed just from sheer paranoia…or maybe he does know and is getting a kick out of toying with us. Mr. Plague shifted his attention towards something else. “Oh my dear friend,” He said. “I didn’t see you all night!” Donovan and I shifted our heads to whatever or whoever he was looking at. It was The Interrogator. Another high profiled man revered for his, well…skill in interrogation. If Donovan can find clues, he can extract them from people.

“Now how’re you doin’ tonight?” The first thing to notice from him is his ghostly appearance. He wears an all-white suit with an extremely wide brim top hat and carries an elaborately decorated oak-brown cane. His skin somehow matched his equally bleached clothing as well. He also had a long goatee that, of course, blended in with his haunting skin tone as well. The only thing to really show any sign of color on him were his eyes. They were a bloodshot crimson red that definitely didn’t give off any friendly vibes. He also kept himself relatively poised and respectful at any manner. His thick southern accent always makes him inviting and can tend to make you lower your guard, but that’s his trick. He wants you to feel at ease anytime he speaks to you, just so he can win over your trust and subtly squeeze any information out of you. It’s a trick I’ve fallen victim to in the past, but have since learned my lesson from. I wish I could tell Donovan his style of play beforehand, but I don’t think I’ll get that chance now. The interrogator turns his attention towards Donovan and places his gloved hand over his shoulder and speaks to him directly. “How are you doin’ tonight sah?”

I could see Donovan look at him in fear, or confusion. Either one were correct for the situation he put himself in. “I’m…I’m doing alright, how about you?”

Mr. Plague alternated his focus between them both as if they were animals in the wild. He generally seemed to get really giddy over small interactions like these. Assessing the situation and then figuring out how to control it later. The interrogator responds. “Ooooh, I was doin’ just fine until my dear ol’ subordinate became a heap of tar over here. Now…I don’ suppose you had anythin’ to do with it…righ’ mister Donovan?” At this point in time, the entire party had stopped and focused their attention on us the entire time. They wanted to see how this will play out. I can’t imagine how he feels right now. The amount of pressure to tread lightly and not upset anyone in here because you don’t know what they’re capable of can be physiologically destructive on him. I’ve been in this game for too long to not know how dangerous these people can get. Donovan, it’s now or never on how you to decide to maneuver in this situation…I just don’t think the one you made was a careful one.

“Yeah, I did actually.” He said it with such confidence. Is he trying to commit suicide? That’s a pretty direct way to do it. No…he must have a plan or something.

The Interrogator responds with an intensive look. “…You seem to be quite proud of what ya’ did. I guess mama and papa never told to respect otha’s property, huh?”

“Property?!” He said with a rising voice. “All of you look at us as some sort of property? If that’s the case then, I did him a favor.”

“Killin’ someone is doin’ them a favor?” He replied condescendingly.

“No, putting him out of their misery is.”

The room just became tense. Donovan definitely didn’t plan on wavering. I don’t know if standing his ground towards this guy can be seen as brave or stupid, but my guess is that it won’t end well with him regardless the outcome.

The Interrogator slowly takes his hand away from Donovan and turns towards Mr. Plague while tilting his hat down. He looks up at him, and assumes a stern position with his cane, completely paying no mind to anyone else watching. “I suppose ya’ know what’s to happen now?”

“Of course,” Mr. Plague replied. “Do as you must.”

A faint breeze brushed over my face as he finished his sentence. I turn towards Donovan to see if he’s showing signs of regret or not. Instead, what I see is The Interrogator’s bodyguard towering over him. His name is Syboo, he stood somewhere around 9 feet tall, and also has the same appearance as his contractor, albeit without hair and actually weighing well over 700lbs of just pure muscle by itself. His hat always cast a menacing shadow over his face, with only his left eye to give off a tiny white glow. He picked him up with one of his enormous hands and held out his left arm with the other. He snapped his arm with tremendous ease as if it were a twig. Donovan let out a searing yell that could make anyone sympathize with his pain, but no one in here did. They instead looked on with their vacant eyes in intrigue. This is possibly the worst situation you had to put yourself in right now. Damn it, didn’t Sebastian tell you not to mess with these guys?

Syboo drops him on the floor like a broken toy. The Interrogator looks at him, and turns back to Mr. Plague. “I’m sure with ya’ expertise, you could fix the youngin’ up in no time.”

“I most certainly can. This is all a learning experience for him. Next time he will know not to tamper with other’s clients.”

“But…you know one broken arm will not be enough…right?”

“I am fully aware. No need to work your skills on me. We can discuss it in full sometime soon.”

While they were busy sizing each other up, Donovan continued to roll on the floor gripping his arm in agony. I rushed over to provide comfort, but anything I say won’t get past his painful sputtering. I don’t really know what to do right now. All I can do is hover over him to block everyone else’s gaze. I looked up to see grinning faces and malicious intent, only to be interrupted by one concerning face. It was Malcolm. He looked worried, and he was right to have that feeling. I stared back to let him know that I’m aware of the situation too.

Mr. Plague walks over with loud thuds of his boots. “It is time for us to go now.” He said. “We have made enough of a scene here, and I would not like to over stay our welcome as is.” He raised his hands and let out two loud claps. Everything started to fade into darkness. He was transporting us back to the cabin. Shit, Donovan is out cold now. I haven’t heard him make a single noise. Chances are when we get back to the cabin; I’m going straight behind that damn mirror again. I won’t be able to talk to him unless he walks in, and I know Mr. Plague won't allow that. I guess I’ll have to rely on Sebastian to better steer this ordeal when he has a chance. I just hope he lives long enough to do so, now that Mr. Plague had fully ended his contract.