The maid led me to Marcel's room as I wasn't familiar with this building and didn't know where Marcel's room or chamber was as she called it.
"Here. This is Senor Marcel's chamber," she said pointing at a brown painted wooden door that had some sculptural imprints on them.
"Thank you," I responded and then she smiled before taking her leave.
I stood staring at the door for some lengthy seconds without knocking. The reason was not that I was observing or admiring the designs on the door frame. Far from that. The truth is that I was trying to compose and prepare myself to face Marcel after last night's weird, strange dream as I feared he would be able read my thoughts just by looking at my face.
Gosh so embarrassing!
After I had gotten a measure of composure I slowly knocked on the door and a few seconds went by before I got a response.
"Come on in."
No mistaking that was Marcel's voice and just the sound of it was making me nervous. Taking in deep breaths I opened the door and walked in...
Strangely Marcel's room back in the state and this one right here has a lot of similarities. The furniture is almost the same if not the same and the arrangements of the furniture were identical. It almost felt like I was back in the other mansion.
Marcel was standing by one of the couches and he was fully dressed like he was heading out. I don't know why he loves putting on black every time as right now he is dressed in a black suit with a dark shade of blue undershirt. But why then did I dream of him wearing a white shirt?
That doesn't matter
Marcel didn't pay any attention to me when I got in but I guess it's because he was actually on a call and from what I could eavesdrop from their conversation I could tell he was talking to someone back at the mansion. My best guess?
Eden.
"..Yes you should check it out. I don't want any complications…Tell me how is Kyle doing? Is he still in the mansion? Good. I want you to keep making his stay comfortable. Hope that's clear? Don't fail me," Marcel spoke into his cellphone.
Why is he acting like he cares about the boy? If he cares about him in the first place he won't hold him hostage in his home. He needs to set him free if he really cares about him.
When Marcel was done speaking on the phone he finally paid attention to me.
"How are you?" His question was simple but it felt really complicated in my head.
Why is he asking how I am? What does he mean by that question? Don't I look well or am I looking sick or unkept?
I had so many questions running through my head and that made me anxious.
"W.. What? I don't understand," I replied and he gave me a strange look.
"You don't know how you are?" He raised his brow. "Or do you need a doctor to come check you up?" He further stated.
"Doctor?? No I am fine," I replied but he kept staring at me awkwardly like he was examining me.
His piercing eyes on me made me nervous as flashes of last night's dream suddenly came to mind.
"Why did you ask me to come here?" I asked rather defensively like he had offended me.
"Your wounds need to be redressed," he answered. "Sit," he added, pointing at a couch.
I swallowed and there was a fluttering feeling in my heart as I remembered how I felt yesterday when he touched my legs while nursing my wounds. It was a very intense and intimate feeling that made me lose control of my senses. I don't know how I would react this time around if he touches me the way he did. I probably might just replicate what happened between him and I in my dreams.
"No!" I shouted more to myself for having such naughty thoughts but Marcel naturally thought I was talking to him.
"What do you mean, no?" He frowned.
"I meant I can do it myself," I replied and he narrowed his gaze at me for a few seconds.
"Fine. Do it yourself. I am heading out," he replied like he cared for nothing in the world as he motioned to the door.
"And where are you going?" I asked and he paused then turned around.
"It's none of your concern," he replied, calmly but I felt insulted.
How can he be so annoying with such a cool demeanor?
As he turned to leave..."When are we returning back home?" I asked, causing him to stop again.
I could tell he was a bit upset by my constant questions.
"When I decide," he replied then left.
★
Back at Elijah's hideout.
A black Nissan car strolled into the gate that was guarded by four armed men and then parked just in front of the building as directed by another guard holding onto a rifle.
After some lengthy seconds the driver's door opened up and a pair of silver heels stepped on the concrete floor from the car. The bearer had smooth, sexy, long legs and she was putting on a tight skimpy green gown that barely went down her thighs. Her slim long neck wore a beautiful silver necklace and she rocked a big, round dark shades.
It was all looking great and perfect. The only odd thing in her dressing was the big black briefcase in her hand.
The lady happens to be none other than Gloria...
"Delivered as promised," Gloria said, handing out the briefcase in her hands to Elijah when she got in and Elijah signaled to one of his men to collect it from her hands.
"Open it up," he ordered and the man did as he was told.
Their eyes were greeted with stacks of dollar bills and that brought smiles on their grumpy faces.
"Nice doing business with you but you could have saved yourself all the troubles of bringing the money here by just wiring it like we had agreed," Elijah said as he romanced one of the stack of dollars with his fingers.
"I know but I want to thank you in person for doing a great job. You did not only take care of my good for nothing friend but you have also dealt with that nosy, smelly detective that wanted to ruin everything. You are very reliable and proficient," Gloria sang Elijah's praises.
"I told you I am the best at what I do," Elijah bragged clearly enjoying the praises he was receiving from her.
"Tell me. Did the detective suffer when he died?" Gloria asked and there was this underneath excitement in her eyes.
"His death was quick. I don't think he had time to feel any pain," Elijah replied.
"Oh," Gloria sounded disappointed.
"What about Ella. Did she passed through pain before she died?" She asked.
Elijah noticing Gloria's disappointed when he said the detective didn't suffer when he died knew he had to say something different to please Gloria this time around.
"If there is another word higher than suffer then that's what your friend passed through before she met her end. All of my men including my dogs had their turns with her until she fell unconscious and her body was sliced open in multiple areas like a can of tin. I can still remember her agonizing cry and the way she begged for her life when hot iron was forced into her anus and private part.." as Elijah spoke there was this sick, satisfactory smile that formed on Gloria's face.
"I wished I was there to see," she said with a wistful expression when he was done talking.
"Well if you have another friend you wish dead then I will seat you in the front roll to watch them die an agonizing death," Elijah said and Gloria smiled.
"No one better annoy me then," Gloria said and both Elijah and her shared a laugh together after which she took her leave.
"With friends like her who needs enemies?"
Elijah said when she had gone. Even Elijah himself although a murderer and a rapists couldn't believe how evil of a heart Gloria had that she doesn't only wanted her friend dead but wanted her to die in an agonizing manner.
What a witch!
*
"sssss..." An electric kettle hissed.loudly and hot stream escaped from its mouth.
An old lady in her late forties or early fifties fully dressed like she was the queen of England casually strolled to the kitchen from the sitting room.
Turning off the kettle the old lady rinsed up a medium mug and teaspoon in the sink then poured some of the hot water from the kettle inside the mug. Searching through her kitchen cupboards she bought some tin cans of beverages as she hoped to make a cup of tea.
She was in the process of making her cup of tea when she heard the sound of her doorbell so she paused what she was doing and went to answer the door.
A surprise look spread across her face when she opened the door and saw a tall handsome man standing at her doorstep. She couldn't possibly forget his face. He was the man with the amazing painting.
"You. What are you doing here?" She asked and the handsome man who happens to be Marcel smiled at her.
"Can I come in?"...
Moments later
"Would you like a cup of tea or do prefer coffee?" The old lady asked but Marcel politely declined.
"No thanks," he said from the couch where he sat.
"So how can I help you?" The old lady asked as she stirred up her tea with the spoon.
"I have some questions to ask. You seem to know somethings about paintings," Marcel said with a slightly serious tone but the old lady smile.
"Me? What do I know. I am just an old lady," she replied her voice carrying a playfulness about it
"You talk about all humans having four faces and being controlled by the emotions behind the faces. How do you control yours then?" Marcel asked his tone showing clearly he wasn't here to play.
The old lady demeanor and expression suddenly changed into a serious one.
"When I said all humans had four faces which represent four emotions I lied. What I meant to say is that you have four faces_No not faces nor emotions but four separate powerful entities that reside inside you, each one capable of great evil and a measure of good but they all have their strong traits which are; Spirit, anguish, jealousy and death. I wonder which one I am speaking to now," the old lady said and just then Marcel's blue eyes suddenly shone golden yellow.