Dark Season: The Complete Box Set by Cross Amy

Author:Cross, Amy [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Dark Season Books
Published: 2013-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

Comfortable

I have her now.

Forever and always, beyond even death...

Shelley

My head hurts, and this time it's definitely not a hangover.

Opening my eyes, I'm surprised to find myself in a large, light room. It takes me a moment to realize that I've been here before: it's the abandoned warehouse I went to when I followed Comfortable the other night. Which means...

I try to get up, but I find that my arms are tied behind my back and my legs are tied together. Struggling, I realize there's no way I can get loose. The bonds are too tight and too well tied, and I can only wriggle around on the floor.

"Careful," says a familiar voice from nearby. "Don't hurt yourself."

I roll over and find Comfortable sitting on the floor nearby. He has a sad, strained look on his face, as if he knows something I don't know.

"Help!" I scream at the top of my voice. "Someone help me!"

"It's no use," he says. "We're a long way from anywhere."

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I shout at him. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Everything," he says, staring at me. "Everything's wrong with me. That's the problem." There are tears in his eyes.

I struggle again. "Let me go," I say, trying to stay calm. "There's no need for this to be a problem. Just untie me, let me go and I won't tell anyone about this."

"That electric current really hurt," he says. "When you zapped me. God damn it, Shelley, what did you think I was going to do to you?" He pauses. "I wasn't going to hurt you. I'd never, ever hurt you. I'd rather die first. That's why..." His voice trails off. "First I want to tell you everything. Everything about me. So that you understand."

"Let me go first," I say. "We can talk after."

He shakes his head. "Look," he says, sitting up and taking off his shirt. The first thing I notice is that he has a great body, but the second - and more shocking thing - is that both his arms have huge stitch marks near the shoulder. "I'm sewn together," he says.

I stare at the stitches, and I realize that his arms look different to the rest of his body, almost like they're not his original arms. And then I realize that I've seen those arms before: they're the arms that were stolen from the funeral home.

"What the hell?" I say, shocked.

"It's not my fault!" he says quickly. "I was made this way. I was..." He pauses. "I was made right here. In this building. I was put together by a man who had no sense of moral restraint." He comes closer and holds out his arm, letting me see the stitches where he's attached the dead man's arms to his body. "I mean, he wasn't using his arms any more, was he?" he asks, but I can see from the look in his eyes that he knows that's no explanation.

"What the fuck are you?" I ask, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation.

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