"You've been avoiding me." He said. "It's been a week, Taylor."

"I couldn't do it. I'm sorry."

"A simple task you failed to see through."

"It's harder than it looks, William." She folded her arm. "You talk like it's merely a game."

"But it is a game, a game of chess preferably. Aren't you good at chess?" He clenched his teeth, he swung around. "I assure you, Miss Daniels, your alliance with me holds great benefits."

"No." She said. "My alliance with you is over. My life is at risk... I have to leave town."

"Leaving town? Surely, your father's life isn't as important as yours?"

Taylor sat on the bed, reaching her hand to the bedside. She held a photo. "I've realized my father would never approve of such activities. If he only knew that the only reason he was freed was because I killed an innocent person, he'd never look at me the same. He'd rather die." She looked at him, serious yet sad.

He leaned to the window, watching jolly men just inside the bar across the street. That evening, the night sky was the brightest lamp on the streets and it even made Taylor's room look dark so much so that only the window illuminated the gray room.

William bit his lip, his minion was leaving the path he set for her to walk. "Is it fair to ask... who did that?" He paused, watching her unusual face painted with dull colours of black, purple, and blue. "They knew something, it must be the reason for your disloyalty." He turned to her. "Who did it?"

"A woman by the name of Juniper Stalker." She cringed, standing slowly. "I'll never forget that name, not after what she said about my parents. People like that are a reflection of the demons that roam the earth, I shan't get caught in that fire. Not anymore." She said, rising eagerly to fetch her case from beneath the bed.

"Juniper Stalker." He cursed. "That woman is nothing but a ghost." He started off, running his hands through his hair furiously. "I've only met her for a hot minute and we talked for less than a second. She's a peddler, that's for sure." He had a scowl now. "But she's gone now." He murmured.

"I'm not sure of anything. I've kept a lot to myself but now I have to do the right thing." She said, pulling her hair up from under her coat. She picked up the case and then turned to the side. "William, you and that woman, you both stand in the aristocracy. This is your game of chess now and she just called checkmate."

The night was in its coldest hour, two evil beings in one room, one now accepting the fact that she was going to be the risen devil as soon as she stepped out the door but before she could make that step she fell to the floor. This pain that forsakes her made it tricky to catch the feelings that brew in her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart but you're not going anywhere." He lifted the bottle up to the side of his face, staring at the red luscious liquid dripping off of it. Rubbing his fingers on the light spot, he liked how it tinted the tip of them.

"There's only so much you can do, William. The peril that befalls you is..." Taylor said, shaking her head. Her eyes filled up with tears, she felt her throat struggle to open. "Is coming."

"Care to make that a challenge?" He got down beside her, lifting the bottle up over his head before slamming it down once, then twice, repeatedly until he lost cost. He grunted every time his thrust landed a blow and every time he felt another splatter on his face.

William sat beside her lifeless body, drinking from the masked weapon as he thought about Juniper Stalker. "Juniper, you sly fox. You're smart, surely but there's one thing you'll never understand; Being tied down doesn't hinder one's lust for infidelity, it just heightens it."

Maybe he didn't know what he did that night, maybe he slipped and fell for a moment but that's all it takes, a moment. What is an alter ego? Could this be it? Or is this William Beckingham in his true form? The William Lily knew would never have done this. Or maybe she didn't know him at all. Maybe it had to happen, maybe this book needed something more and maybe William Beckingham wasn't as bad as he seemed. Even his mother couldn't recognize him, even she saw that her son had flaws, obvious ones.

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“Mother! Mother!” William swayed through the house, his shirt undone with his hair as soaked as a wet sponge.

Mrs. Beckingham rushed down the stairs, draping her red robe around her body. She rubbed her eyes, asking. “What, William? What is it?” She was used to her son’s night outs but she didn’t know why he’d wake her up this time.

“She wouldn’t stop screaming, mother. I, I had to make her stop.” He grunted, rubbing his face. He’d already reached their living room bar, he slapped a glass down and poured out some liquid. “I had to do something.”

“William!” She shouted in a whisper, his mother marched up behind him, her head forward and her feet behind. “What did you do?”

“I killed the girl. I killed her.” He said, with little regret and no remorse.

“My.” It was Mrs. Beckingham’s turn to rub her head. “Is it June? Where is she?”

“No, no, it isn't." He said. "The body's in, in the car.”

“You brought her here!?” She gasped, covering her mouth. “We have to do something.” She rushed over to the line but was quickly stopped.

“Wait. You can’t do that mother. You can’t call the police.” His grip on her hand was so tight she flinched. “William? What are you saying?”

“Mother, think about it. What are they going to say when they see her in the trunk with her head bashed in.”

“You put her in the trunk? William.” Her gaze was one in fright, she couldn’t recognize these eyes that had met hers. She took her self back to reality when she ordered.

“We have to get her out of there. Hide her.” She couldn't bear to have her son taken away from her. Her eyes danced around in their sockets as she began thinking of an idea. “But where?” She mouthed.

William pulled her slightly until she followed. “Let’s just move her... To the basement at least. It should give me enough time to come up with something solid.” He insisted. She got to the wide-opened door, She shivered, tiptoeing briskly along the pavement and to the back of the car. William got the trunk open, he grabbed the girl's hands waiting for his mother to get her feet. When she didn’t move, he turned to her with a scowl. “Hurry, Mother.” She gasped, going over. She leaned her head down. The hair on her head fell to the side of her face as she picked up the corpse’s leg. She gulped, turning her face away from seeing the lifeless body. She felt her face swell up and in the dark, William could hear sniffing as they went up the steps to the house.

“Mother, why are you crying? We have to get her in fast.” He whispered.

She nodded, biting her crisped lips as they went inside.

They got to the basement, the dark lonely room where this girl would sleep for the rest of the night. Mrs. Beckingham ran her fingers through her hair, gripping tightly on the ends as she watched her beloved son wrap the body up in a lily-white sheet that began sucking blood instantly. He pushed her in the corner, behind a pile of crates, and left her there then wiped the sweat from his forehead, counting numbers in his head that his mouth repeated in silence.

“We can’t leave her there.”

“Look, Mother.” He stood in front of Jodi, caressing her shoulder and then holding her face; he pressed his head against hers and sighed. “She’s dead, it’s a body now, Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes closed, fighting her tear duct from letting any emotion out.

“Go to bed, we’ll, we’ll deal with this in the morning. No… I’ll deal with this in the morning. You've done enough.” His eyes glanced from left to right at hers. “I know what to do. Nothing’s going to happen to me. Don't worry.” He pulled her into his chest and hugged her for a while. She could smell something raw, unclean on him. She knew what it was. Jodi knew that this smell would never leave her son's hands; he had blood on them forever but that’s not what she was afraid of. She would be a fool if she said it out loud, she’d be a god damned fool. She was afraid of what he might become, what this meant for them.

She went up to the study, trembling with a slight headache; she looked at the portrait of her husband for a while before cursing his name. “It’s your fault. It’s your entire fault.” She expressed; she regretted falling in love with this man, marrying him, and having his children. She carried on his bloodline. Her mother-in-law warned her. The old tramp used to say that she’d better look before she leaped. She also said “It’s too late, you have my grandchild in your stomach. It’s too late. I took the vow and so did you, now you have to live in this house and face them.”

Jodi poured a glass for herself. She muttered before she went bottom up. “She knew something I didn’t.”

She could hear her son stomping through the hall with a metal bucket in hand. "Could it be?" She wondered. "Could it be that I let all the Beckinghams have their way? Am I just a pawn in their game of chess? These demons that are bound to them…. Do they also hold unto those who refuse to let them go?"