Maniac - Necessary Evils #7 - Ch. 4 (Patreon)

As always, this is only loosely edited and may change before publication. I'm fragile today so be nice, please. 

Aiden

Aiden’s lips still buzzed from their kiss and his thoughts tumbled around his skull with no cohesion, as turned on as he was furious and frustrated. Less than a day together and they’d fallen right back into each other, Aiden had given in so easily. Or maybe Thomas had.

Aiden didn’t know who’d moved first, but the second their lips met all rational thought had abandoned him, leaving behind only thoughts like Yes, fuck and mine. And he would have kept going…could have kept going until he’d buried himself inside Thomas.

Finally.

Or let Thomas bury himself inside him. It hadn’t really mattered then, it didn’t now. When they touched, when they’re lips met, it triggered something deep within and all sense of reason and logic just ceased to exist. Aiden couldn’t explain the effect Thomas had on him. Like he was a match and Aiden was gasoline.

The moment they kissed, it was like they consumed each other, burning bright and hot until all they ate up all the oxygen in the room and the flames died again. Then Thomas would pull away once more and make excuses until Aiden wanted to scream.

Christ.

He wrapped one hand around his coffee mug to quell the shaking, hiding the other in his lap. Thomas needed to talk, he had to, Aiden needed to find out who was responsible for this so he could kill them and retreat back to his cabin in the woods, back to peaceful isolation where nothing could hurt him, where the world couldn’t disappoint him once more.

Thomas sat diagonal to Aiden, this air of desolation swirling around him, lost in his thoughts or maybe dreading what was to come. He didn’t look good. He was pale and haggard and more broken than Aiden had ever seen. Even now, it tugged at something deep in him. He wanted to be heartless about this, about them. But he didn’t know how. How could he stop caring when Thomas had owned his whole heart his entire adult life?

Even mad—even furious—Aiden still hated seeing him suffer. That was what was so frustrating. How could he be so pissed and still feel so bad for Thomas at the same time. How could he care so much about the suffering of someone who didn’t seem to care that he suffered too? Aiden killed people, tortured them, delighted in finding out exactly what made them tick so that he could disassemble them in the most horrifying way possible.

But he could never do that to Thomas. Never Thomas. Somewhere along the way, he’d just…grafted himself to Aiden’s heart and removing him now would cause a wound so deep he’d bleed out in seconds.

Death was probably the far more peaceful option, but Aiden had never had the sense to take the easy way out. Still, he wasn’t letting Thomas worm his way out of this conversation. Not this time. Not ever again. He was going to force Thomas to do the one thing he’d demanded of them their whole lives. He was going to hold him accountable. He had to. The stakes were now far too high.

“Well?” Aiden finally said when it seemed Thomas would never begin on his own.

Thomas closed his eyes briefly then gave a weary sigh. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning.”

Thomas shook his head. “The beginning of what? Their deaths? Before that? After? I don’t even know when the first domino was knocked over.”

Aiden clenched his jaw until it felt like his teeth might crack, praying for patience. “Guess.”

Thomas picked up his mug and took a sip then winced like the liquid was too hot. One final stall tactic. How bad could this story be? Why was he so leery of talking about his family? As long as Aiden had known Thomas, his family was the only thing he’d ever truly cared about. “I guess it started with Shane.”

“Your…cousin?” Aiden asked, recalling Thomas had mentioned the name the night he’d called. Body number five. The one with no face. Had that conversation only been yesterday?

Thomas started to give a stilted nod, that became a shrug. “My…cousin, yes. But before I tell you about him, I need to say some things about my family. Things maybe you already know, but it matters…for context.”

“Alright,” Aiden said, suddenly feeling wary himself.

Thomas nodded. “The Mulvaney’s aren’t special. We made our money the way most disgustingly wealthy people did.”

The Mulvaney road to billions was well documented. As someone who had once bore the name Mulvaney, it was only right that Aiden had learned their history. Thomas’s great-grandfather Gerald Mulvaney had made his money in the 1800’s by having his fingers in many lucrative pies. Oil. Railroads. Hotels. But that’s not what Thomas said.

“We made our money by stealing it.” He flicked his gaze to Aiden. “Legally, of course. We weren’t bank robbers or mafia. We were far worse than that. We stole land, exploited people, lied, cheated, took from those less fortunate until we amassed a fortune we couldn’t spend in a hundred lifetimes.”

Aiden frowned. He could feel Thomas’s disgust like an actual living, breathing thing between them. But why now? Thomas had never been averse to the finer things in life. His wardrobe alone was probably equal to the salary of several congressmen. He had private jets and even a yacht. Thomas was the liberal elite. And Aiden had never seen him appear even slightly apologetic about it.

“By the ‘50s, my family had transformed their image from greedy robber barons to benevolent oligarchs. We gave generously to numerous charitable causes, had several foundations set up to help those who fell on hard times and were shoveling money into things like pharmaceutical and cancer research as well as advanced technologies. To my father, the Mulvaney name was everything. And it was to be protected at all costs.”

What did that even mean? Protected from what? From who? Thomas was equally protective about the Mulvaney name, but that was out of necessity. The only scandals Thomas allowed were those that promoted exactly the image Thomas needed to continue his work. Did that make him like his father?

“To say I grew up with immense privilege is a vast understatement,” he continued. “My father was golfing buddies with sultans and dictators. He played polo with royalty. I truly had no concept of money. My parents kept me deliberately shielded from those who struggled. I knew not everybody had money like us, but I didn’t realize there were people without food or shelter. That seemed impossible to me.”

Thomas stared into his coffee cup now like he was scrying his memories from the dark liquid. He shook his head, expression pained. “Maybe if my father had allowed me to see the suffering of others I might have had some perspective. Maybe I wouldn’t have found my own suffering so…all consuming.”

Aiden hated this. He hated how much he wanted to call this off after only a few sentences because Thomas looked so distraught. He’d said next to nothing but it was like every word seemed to physically pain him like he had to drag his tongue along broken glass just to spill them.

“I was gifted. Like August. IQ off the charts. Homeschooled with private tutors then entered school already light years ahead of my peers even in my ivy league like prep school.”

Aiden’s head swam at the sudden shift in perspective. He new all of this. The whole world knew Thomas Mulvaney had Doogie Howser’d his way into a degree before he was even old enough to drink. Was Thomas processing or stalling. “That had to be hard.”

Thomas’s lips twitched in an aborted smile. “It sucked, but nobody was going to be mean to a Mulvaney. I was a slightly bigger fish in a pond filled with big fish. People pretended to like me. I let them. It was my home life that truly sucked. Shocking, I’m sure.”

It was. Thomas had never spoken of his family with any malice. Of course, Thomas had never spoken of his family at all unless forced. Perhaps that was a red flag they should have examined closer over the years, but given Thomas’s current reluctance, Aiden imagined it wouldn’t have been a productive conversation.

“My earliest memories of my parents were them trotting me out during parties to perform for their friends. Reciting every country from memory, speaking foreign languages, recalling obscure information I’d read from a book far too advanced for me. People would always fawn over me and say ‘you must be so proud’ and my parents would smile and nod.” Thomas was scowling now, the words dripping with bitterness.

“It was all an illusion though. I wasn’t their beloved child, I was a parlor trick, meant to lure people into believing we deserved everything we had, a distraction meant to dazzle people while my father swallowed up more wealth than any one person should ever have a right to. When the party ended I was handed off to the nanny, forgotten again until they needed me once more. It became apparent at a very young age that any crumb of affection I hoped to get from my parents would only be won with effort.”

Aiden’s stomach churned. “How young?”

“Diapers. I was raised by whatever nanny was on the payroll at the time, and there were several because my mom was a monster and would get drunk and verbally abuse them until they quit. If she had just let the nannies raise me, I might have been okay. If she had just stayed distant, I could have coped maybe.”

What did that mean? Aiden didn’t have the patience for this.

“But she couldn’t stay away. Especially not when she’d been drinking. She used her love like a reward. A merit badge I had to earn by excelling, by getting things right. Whether it was potty training or learning to read, my mother dangled hugs and affection in front of my face like carrots and if I wanted a smile, a hug or even acknowledgement, I better do what she wanted right the first time.

“I wish I could blame the alcohol. But that wasn’t it. She liked being cruel. She was calculating about it. Methodical.” Thomas was suddenly looking him dead in the eye. “You know what that does to a child, right? We’ve seen it again and again. That attachment disorder. It warps children somehow. I was no exception.”

Aiden’s heartbeat tripped. He didn’t know if the sudden heat flooding his system was over Thomas’s mother’s cruelty or because Thomas seemed to be implying he was warped somehow. Had Thomas actually killed his parents? Had he actually committed the crime this random stranger accused him of? Aiden couldn’t blame him for snapping at his parents, but his siblings? It couldn’t be. Thomas would never kill children. Even if he was a child himself. He just couldn’t. Is that why this was so hard for him? Had Aiden spent the last two decades in love with a true psychopath?

He shook the thought away. “What about your father? Why didn’t he step in?”

Thomas shrugged in a way that was so unlike him that it spooked Aiden, ignoring his question to say, almost to himself. “Maybe because it worked? I did whatever they wanted, made as little mistakes as possible, became their perfect child. I just hated myself. I hated them too. I wish they’d have just hit me. That was quick. Efficient even.”

Thomas jerked to his feet then and, for a split second, Aiden thought he was going to leave, but he just started pacing the kitchen island as Aiden had earlier.

“It got worse as I got older. When I didn’t need hugs or affection, my parents had to get more creative with their punishments.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Aiden ground out before he could stop himself.

“It means they had to deprive me of my own right to exist. I didn’t think there was anything worse than my own parents looking through me, but I was wrong. Do you know what its like to have a household staff of thirty treat you like a ghost? To not even be able to acknowledge your existence? To ignore you completely, even if you’re crying? Even if you’re bleeding? It’s maddening. It makes you feel crazy. And my parents knew it.”

Thomas stopped pacing, once more looking at Aiden. “I’m not telling you all of this for sympathy. I am not trying to get you to excuse their deaths. I know other people had it worse. I need you to know that.”

Aiden blinked in surprise. How often had someone said that to Thomas? That others had it worse? Aiden knew what it was like to be ignored, forgotten in his own home, but to have the entire world treat you as if you didn’t exist? To ignore you when you’re standing right in front of them? That would be a special kind of hell…especially for a child.

Thomas leaned against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms over his chest, like he was trying to close himself off, to distance himself from his past. “If they had treated us all the same, maybe it would have been bearable. We could have been—I don’t know—allies? But when the twins came along... they doted on them. Loved them. Cared for them. Denied them nothing.” Thomas shook his head. “It just didn’t make any logical sense to me.”

Aiden’s heart squeezed as he imagined Thomas as a child, trying to rationalize his own abuse while his siblings got everything. There was no rational explanation for something like that, but children didn’t know that. But Thomas’s parents had known it. They’d exploited it. It was sick and twisted and punishable by death based on Thomas’s code alone.

“I thought my acceptance to the international boarding school would be my escape, but it was just a brand new form of torment. There were kids of all ages, but those who were my age were in eighth grade. I was already taking advanced college level classes. My peers were much older. And unlike my old school, everybody was the child of someone with money, power and status, so I’d lost my only advantage.

“Like August, I was thirteen taking classes with eighteen to nineteen year olds who resented the fuck out of me. But unlike August, I very much cared about the opinions of others. The school work was easy. The social aspect was a nightmare. I wasn’t bullied, but I was, once again, ignored.” Thomas resumed his pacing. “Except for Shane.”

“Your cousin.”

“For all intents and purposes, yes. But not by blood. His mother married my uncle on my mother’s side when Shane was fourteen. We never even spoke until I started school there. He was already attending. His mom was an heiress in her own right. He was fifteen when I got there but already a star. Junior varsity team captain. Straight A student. Bleached his hair blonde and wore it just long enough to annoy the teachers.” Thomas gave a grimace that might have been his attempt at a smile. “I thought he was so cool.”

A hornet’s nest kicked up in Aiden’s stomach at the way Thomas spoke of this boy. This dead boy. Shane. His cousin. But they weren’t cousins. They weren’t blood related and something about the look on Thomas’s face made Aiden want to punch something.

“So you and Shane were…friends?” he asked, voice tight.

Thomas gave a rough laugh. “I thought so. But looking back, it was more…hero worship on my part. At least, at first. Shane McAvoy, soccer star, wanted to be friends with the school freak. Should have been my first clue something was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Mm,” Thomas said. “What fifteen year old wants to forsake his cool friends to hang out with a nerdy thirteen year old who has no friends? At least without having hidden ulterior motives.”

Aiden sat forward. “And what were Shane’s ulterior motives?”

Thomas didn’t answer, just stared out the window like he was caught up in a memory.

“Tommy, what were Shane’s ulterior motives?” Aiden asked, the name slipping out for the second time that morning.

Thomas blinked at him. “Can we be done for today?” He gave him a tight smile. “There’s a reason therapy sessions only last an hour. I’m-I’m going to go shower.”

He didn’t give Aiden a chance to confirm or refuse, just turned and left the room. Aiden listened as he took the stairs at a run, then as his heavy footsteps moved about the upstairs. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, rehashing everything Thomas said to him before his curiosity got the better of him and he headed to the study.

Once he sat at the desk, he opened his laptop and rewatched the video Thomas had received, freezing it on Shane’s corpse. There was no face. But by process of elimination, it had to be him. All the others had remained intact but it was clear Shane’s skull had been obliterated, likely with a bullet. That made him the anomaly.

All the others had died of strangulation. Up close and personal. But not Shane. Shane who’d possibly had ulterior motives. At first glance, a bullet seemed impersonal, efficient. But this wasn’t just a bullet. This was a shotgun blast. There was nothing left. Whoever had done this to the kid had wanted to make them disappear in every conceivable way. Just him.

Why? Did Thomas know? Had Thomas done it? Had he pressed a shotgun barrel to his forehead and pulled the trigger?

Aiden closed out the video and opened his browser window, suddenly desperate to know what Shane had looked like before someone had tried to erase him from existence. It took a moment to find Shane’s mother, but once he did he found his date of birth easily enough.

Shane wasn’t the boy’s first name. It was his middle. Quincey Shane McAvoy. Heir to a soup empire turned chemical company turned international conglomerate that owned a good sixty percent of the items purchased in any grocery store. Aiden’s hands shook as he clicked the images tab, dreading what he would find.

The first images of Shane made Aiden’s blood run cold. Not because of his calculating stare or his charming smile completely devoid of any true feeling, but because at a quick glance, Shane looked like Aiden at that age. They were both tall and lanky. Both had dyed their hair shock-white. They weren’t twins by any means, but the similarities were there. They were close enough to make him question everything, even his own sanity.

Was that why Thomas had agreed to take him in all those years ago? Because he reminded him of the person he lost? Did that make sense if Thomas pulled the trigger? Maybe it had nothing at all to do with Thomas and he was just projecting?

Did Thomas just have conflicted feelings about his friend and a heavy helping of survivor’s guilt? But Thomas himself said Shane was the catalyst to everything, the one that set it all in motion? How did Shane go from Thomas’s friend to a crime scene photo in the middle of Thomas’s dead family? What had been his ulterior motive?

Aiden slammed his fist down on the desk and slammed the laptop shut before rocketing back in the chair hard enough to temporarily throw it off balance. What the fuck was going on here?