Chapter 38: The Hooded Figure

"Where are the other guards?" I asked the single man standing outside Shawn's mansion.

"Their shift is over; but not to worry, more are on their way," he replied in a dismissive tone that got the message across: he couldn't be bothered with satisfying an insignificant teenager's curiosity.

I entered the lounge area and saw a messy haired Chrissie cradling Shawn's head in her lap.

"He's asleep," she whispered, as if she was talking about a baby.

"I would not have been able to see that," I sarcastically stated. "I got clothes, by the way."

Chrissie gave me a thumbs up.

"I'm going to raid the fridge." I had told my parents I was staying with Chrissie, with being the key word in that sentence. I hadn't had a chance to eat anything, and my stomach groaned in protest.

The kitchen was streaming with natural light that caught me by surprise, since in all the other rooms the thick curtains were drawn and barely any light slipped through. The kitchen was large. I would have expected there to be a cook, or some sort of servant; a butler maybe. It was probably better if there was no butler, I mean what had we learnt from all detective movies 'The Butler did it'. The creepy guy lurking around the mansion was always the bad guy; if there was a butler in this house, it would no doubt be him who killed the Mayor.

I opened the fridge and was immediately hit with the stench of beer, together with a freezing cold gust of wind. Each shelf of the fridge was filled with bottles upon bottles of alcohol. I sighed and moved some of the bottles aside, peering past them to get a better look at the back of the fridge. I pulled out a carton of milk, but when I opened it I realised it had turned sour. I abandoned the fridge and decided to look through the cupboards.

I found a packet of fruit loops along with a container of cookies. What did this guy survive on?

"This was all I could find." I carried my catch back to Chrissie.

"If he's not a big eater, how does he remain so..." She made a circle around Shawn's exposed midriff.

I rolled my eyes and bit into a yellow fruit loop: banana. I stuck my tongue out in disgust.

Chrissie giggled and started munching down on a chocolate-chip cookie.

We ate in silence. I finished all the fruit loops, save for the yellow ones. And Chrissie ate the cookies. I felt bad that we were finishing all of Shawn's food, unless he had a secret stash somewhere. He should have been a bit more hospitable; he did ask us, well Chrissie, to stay.

"Madelyn," Chrissie whispered in my ear. "Wake up."

"Huh?" I asked, rubbing my sand-crusted eyes. I reached for my phone, realising the battery had died and I had forgotten to bring a charger with me. I buried my head in the goose feather pillow. "Too early," I grumbled.

"Someone's in the house," Chrissie gulped, her voice shaky.

My eyes shot open. Whoever had killed the mayor was back to kill Shawn, and whoever got in his way. I tuned my ears in and was able to hear the sound of someone creeping up the stairs. They walked slowly, trying to remain silent.

"Where's Shawn?" I enquired in a hushed tone.

"In his bedroom," Chrissie replied, echoing my tone.

"We need to get to him," I suggested, not sure where my bravery surfaced from. I had a sudden urge to protect Shawn. I had seen enough death within the last couple of months.

We tiptoed towards Shawn's room, using the walls to guide us since we were too afraid to turn the lights on. We were greeted by the lion crest as we quietly opened the door.

The light in Shawn's room was already on; maybe after what happened to his family he was afraid to sleep in the dark. I wouldn't blame him if he was, death made you fearful even when you knew there were no monsters hiding under your bed.

We approached Shawn's large bed, only to realise we were too late. A red line ran from the right side of his throat to the left. Blood oozed out from the cut and his mouth was open wide in a last attempt to scream, before his oxygen was cut off. His eyes were open and emotionless. His hand rested limply at his sides. Chrissie let out a heartrending scream.

"Shhh." I put my index finger to my lip. The stairs creaked and the footsteps got louder. Fear consumed every part of me, it was eating me from the inside out. Chrissie sobbed, I didn't tell her to be quiet. It didn't matter; he, or she, knew we were here. And it was only a matter of time before we were both dead.

Chrissie grabbed a lampshade from the nightstand next to the bed. She held the lamp as a weapon in front of her face. I was surprised she could see, with the tears filling her eyes.

A figure stepped through the door, his face masked by a black and yellow hoodie: a Stinger. Chrissie stepped in front of me ready to defend us. I for one accepted that all hope was lost and made a silent prayer, to whichever God was listening, for a quick death. And I prayed this murder wouldn't go unpunished, like what had happened with Asher's murderer. Mind you, it could be the same person.

Chrissie lifted her lampshade high above her head, ready to bring it down to hopefully stop the hooded figure. The man lifted his hood, allowing us to see the face of the person that was about to end our lives. I squinted my eyes, trying to adjust them to the dark.

"Stop!" I yelled, putting myself between the lampshade and Caspian. 

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