Chapter Seven:
"Don't open—"
Theodora gasped, sitting straight up. Her eyes blurred with sleep, but it didn't stop Malcolm from slowly shaking where he lay. He continued mumbling words, shaking his head. His eyes, even closed seemed to be going wild.
"No!" He started yelling, "No—"
"Malcolm!" Theodora shouted, shaking his shoulders. "Hey!"
He stayed asleep, mumbling another string of words. Then he was whimpering, and Theodora frowned. This was so unlike him, "Mal!"
His hand began twitching, and she crawled over top of him to pin his hands down. Still yelling for him to wake up, "It's ok! C'mon, it's just a dream."
"Please—"
"Malcolm!" She grabbed his face, just when his eyes flew up and he sat up straight.
"I-I—"
"It's ok." She told him again, signing with relief. "You're fine."
"I— I felt trapped."
"You're here now. It's okay. Deep breaths."
He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, then slumped against her in a hug. Theodora held him tightly, "You're lucky I don't have a life."
He snorted, already tuning out the vivid nightmare. "Thanks."
Theodora chuckled, shoving away from him. She slipped off the bed and placed her hands on her hips, "Now. Look it, you got—" she stared at the clock, it was only 4 am. "Around 6 hours of sleep."
"My normal."
"But you didn't start the nightmare thing 'til around now because you were still for the rest of it."
He blinked slowly, then his head flew up, something clicking together. He hopped of the bed, rushing down and into his office.
"I saw something at the killers place. Pages ripped from a book, about anatomy. I looked familiar— I saw it in my nightmare."
He shuffled through sheets, then found two pages and picked them up. "I had taken them, from Nico's. I thought they connected to something and I was right. These are from one of my father's books, ones that only he has."
Her brows furrowed, "So you're saying whoever the killer is, has been getting help from your dad? Is that why he chose to copy him, and choose the Quartet?"
"I'll go and ask him."
Malcolm walked back out, pages gripped in his hands as he rushed back into his room. A suit was laid on on a chair, and he picked it up, already shedding his shirt.
"You are not going to see your father!" Theodora charged in after him, ignoring as he changed quickly. "Are you insane?"
"Perhaps. But what if he knows something, Theo? What if he can help? I can't sit around while a killer is copying him and he could know. Women are dying, and that's not right."
She pursed her lips, "I can't let you go alone."
"And I can't let go you with me." He looked at her, no playfulness in his eyes. He was dead serious. "If he sees you again he'll find a way to use you. If he knows you mean something to me, and he needs me for something... I don't know—"
"The man is behind bars. Locked in an actual cage, Malcolm. He can't do anything to you or me, not physically at least."
"Theo—"
"You're not going through this alone. I've been your friend for how long— way to long, actually, but I've seen what going to him all that time did to you. You're not going alone. That's it."
He sighed, tugging on his trench coat. "The last I remember, there are other rooms and doors before leading into his. The one just before, I want you out of sight so he thinks it's just me." Malcolm told her, motioning for her to follow him out. Both of them now wide awake. "He'll talk more if he thinks it's just me."
She said nothing, only followed him. When they got outside, he pulled out his phone from his coat and called for a taxi.
"It will take awhile to get there. It's just outside the city."
"I've been there before, remember." She glanced at him, "It was awhile after I met you and you asked if I wanted to meet your dad. That whole experience was quite a surprise."
He mumbled something into the phone, than hung up. Casting a long look at her, "I'm not sure why I did that. It wasn't very smart."
"Then I met your Mother, and I thought she liked me until I told her my name. Then she got all weird and now can't stand me." Theodora said out loud, "Why does your family talk all proper? I hate having to do it but I love the face they make when I butcher it."
Malcolm snorted, "First, my Mother does not hate you. Second, it's just how they've been their entire lives. Third, you do butcher it. Badly."
"My dearest Malcolm, whatever do you mean?"
He rolled his eyes, just as a taxi pulled up against the curb. He stepped towards it and opened the back gesturing for her to get in, "You must certainly take a seat, whatever would we do if we were late?"
Theodora laughed, getting up, scouting to the other side so he could take the seat next to her. He never sat in the front seat if it was just the two of them. In his mind, taxi drivers were a big reason people either died or went missing but if it ever happened to her— well, it wouldn't because he was next to her instead only an arm length away.
Malcolm told the driver the address, and within seconds they were out on the road.
"So." Theodora clicked her tongue, "What did you see in your newest nightmare?"
He sent her a glare, "I'm not talking about it."
"It might be good to. I mean, we are going to see the man who created it all for you. Maybe to talk about it before seeing him will make you feel better."
Malcolm huffed, leaning forward and closing a small divider that let passengers speak to the driver. He leaned back and clasped his hands together, staring at them.
"I always feel trapped. When it starts. I'm always trapped and I can't wake up because it feels so real." He said quietly, "I see snippets of things. Of me with him, before I even knew—"
"Is it always the girl in the box?"
"Sometimes. Most times, now. It's always that damn box."
"Do you see anything after that? What happens after you open the box and you see her?"
"I scream. And then I wake up."
Theodora pursed her lips, "So you're trapped in this dream that always ends with you opening up the box."
He nodded, "This was a waste of my telling you. You're just as confused as I am."
"No—"
"Yes."
"Malcolm." She glared, "I'm confused, yes, but there's something keeping you from seeing more. A road block— I don't know."
"This was a great conversation."
"Shut up."
"You're a great conversationalist."
Theodora huffed, crossing her arms. "With that attitude, I'm gonna annoy the crap out of everybody in that building. I'm gonna speak so fancy, your father will wish he was dead."
"I don't think—"
"Shush." She covered his mouth with her hand, giving him a playful smile. "I have to plan what I'm gonna say."
He pushed her hand away, smiling. "I feel better now. Thanks."
She laughed, "I told you I know what I'm doing."
"You never said—"
"Can I just have this one?" She looked at him, "I just want to win, once. Once! Is that so hard?"
"Fine, you win."
"Good."
It was silent for the rest of the car ride, neither one of them truly prepared to face the monster locked away within that building. Within that cage, just waiting to be let out.