Marc went to find his girlfriend the next day when she had not returned with Dante. He “borrowed” a car from the neighbor a couple of miles away and drove to Shaylese’s house. Shaylese was not there, but he did not expect it to be that easy. He needed to find Shaylese before he did anything else—to cure her.
Marc drove all through Sansville, to malls, to theatres, even to libraries and the school, but could not find Shaylese.
The next few hours after driving from the mall, he drove around an abandoned town. He was about to exit it when he heard a strangled, mutilated “voice”. He spun around and drove towards it. He got out of his car and slammed the door shut. The “voice” was familiar but he couldn’t place—he certainly hoped it wasn’t Corrin. It wasn’t.
It was a mangled body lying in an alleyway, blood spilling everywhere. Marc recognized Corrin’s brother immediately. He ran to Dante’s aid.
“M-Marc...” Dante breathed heavily. “M-Marc...Corrin...taken...” Dante was dead within moments, even before Marc could ask by whom and who had done this to him.
Marc cremated Dante’s body near the lake in the forest behind Dante and Corrin’s house and dumped the ashes in there. He then continued on with the search to find Shaylese and then Corrin.
It took two days to find her.
Inside a well-known pub, Shaylese sat at a table alone, twirling a mug around in her hands. She was staring at it so intently, that she didn’t even notice Marc walking up. He slipped into the booth opposite her and said, “Hiya.”
Shaylese jumped and looked at him with bewildered eyes; Marc was happy to see that they weren’t scarlet red anymore but the stunning blue they normally were. She looked confused and frightened at the same time to see Marc sitting there.
“M-Marc...?” she murmured. “Marc, what’s going...where am I?”
“You’re in a pub, Shaylese.” Marc said, his voice hard and cold. “You’ve ordered a beer. Do you remember what happened in the dorm room after Dante left?”
Shaylese narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “What?”
Marc sighed and decided to just cheat and look into her mind. Her peered into her eyes and tried to pry through her head, but...
He was suddenly flung back, past the booths behind him and hit a picture on the wall, the glass shattering. He grunted as he fell on top of the table. Marc looked up to locate Shaylese and she was standing in between the rows of booths along the wall and the chairs and tables in the middle of the pub. Her eyes had returned to their scary red color and the five employees that worked at the bar stood behind her, their eyes blank—completely white.
Marc swore under his breath and ran at Shaylese, the picture in his hands. He met her and attempted to hit her with it, but her left arm blocked it as if it was a soccer ball that had been kicked towards a goal. The picture flew out of Marc’s hand and Shaylese lunged for his neck, but he sidestepped and found the door.
He yelled, “Shaylese, Corrin has been kidnapped!”
For a moment, her minions who had come towards Marc, stopped, confused expressions on their faces.
Shaylese looked the same, her eyes varying between colors. Red to blue, to red, to blue, to red again. Marc took his chance to talk with her. “Who do you think took her?”
Shaylese mouth two words and Marc flinched.
Narrowing his eyes, Marc turned tail, and sprinted out of the pub, climbed into the car, and headed towards South Dakota. They had a small mountain range that Marc was guessing to be where Corrin was being kept buy Marc’s vicious cousin of his Uncle Franklin. Cornelius Kayne.