by Jim Goforth
She also targeted sex offenders released from jail, or even those out on bail who hadn't yet been sentenced."
"Christ," Corey murmured. "Did she ever get the wrong guy?"
"Nope. All the men she baited tried to rape her so she was pretty certain they'd done it before and escaped unscathed. Not when they tried it on her though."
"Was she ever unlucky?" Corey queried, stopping short of asking if Blaise had actually ever been raped herself.
"Are you kidding? No, not Blaise. One time was close though. She baited one fellow and he brought two friends along to the party. All three died painful deaths."
"Christ!" Corey repeated. "So Blaise is definitely not somebody to mess with."
"Definitely not. I wouldn't recommend it. And if she gets her hands on this Errol Haskell she will make him endure the kind of pain he has never imagined before."
"Good. I hope she does." Corey liked the sound of that. "And how about the Twilight Twins? How did you two get started?"
Desiree was silent for a while, gazing out the window as if collecting her thoughts and if Corey wasn't mistaken he thought a twinge of pain lurked in Desiree's expression.
"It used to be hard for me talking about this," she started, and immediately Corey felt a sick surge in his stomach, fearing the worst. "It's gotten easier with time, but it's still kind of difficult.
Melissa and I grew up together, we weren't unfortunate poor people like Blaise, we had good families and good homes, and from an early age we played together, went to school together, hung out after school, played sports together, all that stuff.
I had an older sister Breanna; she was five years older than me. When I was twelve Breanna hung herself, leaving behind a suicide note implicating somebody who had been habitually molesting her for years and years and years.
That somebody was Melissa's uncle. Turns out he'd tried the same thing on Melissa only to get a severe kicking in the balls. Naturally he didn't try that again after she warned him the next time she would run a steak knife through his ears while he was sleeping.
She didn't tell me about this until after Breanna died, and of course neither of us knew about the abuse of Breanna because she never told us. It also turns out that both our families had always known about the uncle’s treatment of Breanna and agreed to turn a blind eye to it because once she turned eighteen she could leave home, what a sad fucking excuse.
Once Melissa and I both turned sixteen though, it was us who left home. We disowned our families after four long years of living with that grotesque knowledge and split, planning a horrible retribution for old Uncle Sick Fuck.
In the meantime, we were busy seeing to other pedophiles and other degenerates with an M.O similar to Blaise's though our targets were often harder to track down.
One day we came back into town, dressed up like absolute tarts, both of us with blonde wigs.
Melissa had the star tattoo around her eye by then so with the blonde wig on she certainly didn't look anything like Uncle might have been expecting.
We picked him up at his local watering hole, knowing he had a car, promising him the best time of his life.
You should have seen the guy’s eyes, popping out of his head in sheer disbelief. He thought we were hookers, but we assured him we weren't, told him everything he was going to get was going to be free. By the time we got to his car the guy was almost wetting himself with joy, little knowing he'd be wetting himself in earnest a little later.
Melissa drove and I got in the back with him. He started to reach for me and I took my wig off and dropped it on the floor. Melissa took hers off too and flung it back at him. He caught it for whatever reason and then just sat there boggle eyed holding it like a fool.
'Remember us Uncle?' says Melissa, smiling like a piranha and Uncle fucking remembered us alright.
'Don't be shy,' I said. 'Of course you remember us.'
'You know where you're going don't you?' Asked Melissa to which Uncle replies,
'No I don't. Back to my house?'
'No you idiot,' Melissa says. 'You're going to see Breanna.'
'I'm sorry!' He starts yelling, apologising. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I've been to visit her grave anyway!'
Lying fool, he never would have gone to visit Breanna's grave.
'I didn't say you were going to see her grave,' says Melissa. 'I said you are going to see HER!'
He's a bit slow Uncle is so it takes him a while to realise, but once it dawns on him just what Melissa is referring to he gets really panicked.
He tries to come at me until I slug him in the face with a fist and bruise my knuckles which pisses me off so I hit him again just for the hell of it. Then I show him that I have a gun in my handbag which I take out and lay on my lap in case he decides he wants to move again. That sits him still, nose bleeding, eyes bugging out, but it doesn't shut him up.
'Please, take all my money, take the car, whatever, just let me go, I swear you'll never see me again.’
'That's right Uncle,' says Melissa. 'We'll never see you again. Nobody will ever see you again.'
I'll spare you the grisly details," Desiree rounded up. "But needless to say Uncle paid for his sins screaming like a girl and pissing his pants. And after that we still kept his money and the car."
"Christ!" Corey said for the third time. Some twisted little part of him actually wanted to hear all the grisly details of pedophile Uncles violent death, but he decided not to press Desiree for them. "So you got some revenge for your sister finally?"
"Did we ever. Doesn't bring her back though and we also contemplated taking out each and every member of our family who had known about the abuse, but elected against it. Instead we just carried on our deeds until we hooked up with Blaise and started the gang, as it were."
"So how did you meet Blaise anyway?" Corey asked, then realised they were at their destination. "Hold that thought, we're here."
Ryan's mechanic shop Bodyworx was situated in the industrial part of town crowded by warehouses either side.
As Corey pulled the Beast up into the driveway he noticed no evidence of Errol Haskell's van, either as it had been or significantly altered.
The shop wore a bright red 'Closed' sign and all seemed ominously quiet.
Corey didn't immediately panic for he knew they wouldn't leave the van out front to work on it, most likely it was around the back. He also knew that Ryan would have put up the closed sign in order not to be disturbed.
All the same Corey couldn't help, but wondering if the quartet had already left the shop.
He'd taken the most logical route here, the one he assumed they would take back to his house upon leaving but perhaps they had taken a different one, winding through back streets and lanes.
Corey desperately hoped not.
He shut down the engine, putting the Beast into park and tossed the ignition keys in his jacket pocket.
"We going in?" Desiree asked.
"Yeah. Seems awfully quiet doesn't it?"
"Sure does. Is that a bad thing?"
"Hope not."
The pair exited the vehicle as one entity, slamming doors in unison then Corey opened the back and pulled his sports bag of guns out. Shutting that door and locking it, Corey proceeded to lead Desiree up the sloping gradient of the driveway.
He debated over knocking on the door, but elected to walk around the side to the back since he figured if they were anywhere that would be where.
With the front door solidly closed and locked and all curtains drawn tight in the shop windows Bodyworx certainly did look, as the sign indicated, 'closed' for the day.
"I don't like this," Desiree announced quietly. "I hope they're there."
"I'm sure they are," Corey replied, though of that fact he wasn't entirely.
All of their fears were allayed as they walked around the back.
The foursome composed of Blaise, Jess, Peter and Ryan were all in attendance; Blaise and Peter sitting on wooden benches smoking cigarettes, Jess sitting
in the front seat of what Corey guessed was Haskell's van and Ryan standing at an outdoor sink washing his hands.
It was Pete who spotted the newcomers first as he dropped his smoking cigarette to the concrete and ground it out under his boot.
"Corey!" he exclaimed, causing others to look in Corey's direction. “And Desiree. What are you doing?"
"Coming out here to get you lot considering you don't answer the friggin' phone!"
"We never heard the phone," Pete cast a guilty look at his compatriots.
"Told ya that music was too loud," Ryan reprimanded him as he dried his hands on a faded old beach towel.
"You idiot," Corey said to Pete. "Lee was ringing for hours."
"What gives?" Blaise wanted to know, suspicion in her voice.
"Errol Haskell has either been at my house or still is in the neighbourhood," Corey launched right into it. "He's teamed up with Raven's crew and the Plebs and they are all out to get every last one of us. Raven has wisely given him guns so we tried to ring and let you know not to come back otherwise Haskell will recognise the van, even with that horrendous colour you've given it."
Blank looks on the faces of the two boys turned into despairing expressions of consternation.
Blaise merely looked unreadable while Jess looked openly terrified.
"Oh god!" she said. "How do you know that?"
"Haskell rang Corey at home," Desiree said simply.
"Maybe he's bluffing," Pete suggested.
"Maybe he's not," Corey rebuked. "Get your shit together, we're going back."
"Should we take the van?"
Corey paused to think that one over, but Desiree stepped in to answer for him.
"No, I think we should leave it here. We'll all fit in your car Corey?"
"Yeah. Be a bit of a tight squeeze, but we'll manage."
"So Raven and Haskell are at your house?" Jess asked.
"Not literally. We think they could be across the street sitting on a rooftop, with sniper rifles."
"Fucking hell!" Pete exclaimed.
"What about the Plebs? Did they bring them?"
"That we don't know," Corey conceded. "Desiree and I seem to think they haven't. Not this time, not in daylight..."
"But once the sun goes down, different story hey?" Pete concluded.
"Something like that. So let's get back there before the sun sets fully."
"Or...?" From Ryan.
"Or Raven will launch the Plebs at the house like suicide bombers," Desiree said, a statement that cause Ryan to gape like a landed fish.
"For real?"
"You better believe it," Blaise was on the same page as Desiree. "They won't endanger themselves Raven and this Haskell fuckup. They'll expend the senseless pawns they have, and they have a lot."
"Shit. This is fucked." Ryan declared. "Corey, what have you gotten us into?"
"Wasn't Corey's fault. Blame us if anything," Desiree said. "But do it in the car. Let's roll."
"What's in the bag?" Jess wanted to know.
"Something I'm going to like, I'll wager." Blaise spoke up. "Something that is gonna come in handy."
"Don't tell me that's a bag full of guns Corey," Ryan groaned.
"Okay. I won't tell you it's a bag full of guns. Among other things."
"Ah this is fucking messed up shit. Pete, why did we have to go back to Corey's house this morning?"
Pete shrugged his thin shoulders and ran a hand through his long black locks.
"Search me. But I'll tell you this, whatever's going down, count me in. No more of my friends are dying if I've got anything to do with it."
"That's the spirit baby!" Blaise enthused, emphasising the statement with a solid slap on Peter's butt. "Now, let's go!"
"You in, Ryan?" Pete asked. "You may as well be 'cause Haskell's after all of us."
"Yeah, I'm in. But if I get killed it's somebody's fault. Probably Corey's."
"Why me?"
"Because it's your house AND you, Lee and Tim just had to go for a drunken walk to the lake."
"Regarding that drunken walk isn't there at least one good reason you should be thanking Corey instead of blaming him?" Jess asked of Ryan, with a sly wink at Blaise.
"No. Can't think of...oh, wait, yeah. Yeah! How could I...?" Ryan hung his head and looked suitably abashed.
"Hey, if I'm that forgettable young man, next time your hand will be giving you the best action." Jess warned, though she did with tongue firmly planted in cheek.
"I am sincerely sorry," Ryan apologised. "I just wasn't really planning on a full scale gun battle with freakin' Errol Haskell and his psycho speed freak buddies."
"You hang with wild chicks like us you gotta take the good with the bad."
"Besides as far as we know it's only Haskell in the frame with the renegade girls," said Desiree.
"Don't be laying any bets on that," Ryan warned. "Where ever Haskell is his brain dead army of idiot friends won't be far behind. I bet they're all in on it now too."
"Well Haskell better play his cards real close to his chest, and his friends too," Desiree stated firmly. "He might think he's running the show, but rest assured he isn't. Raven is. And Haskell and his chums might find they're as expendable as the Plebs once they've served their various purposes."
"That's a comforting thought," Ryan said. "Why don't we all just find a nice place to hideaway and let these lunatics just kill each other?"
"Because right now they aren't looking to kill each other, they're out to kill us and Raven won't turn on Haskell until they've finished with us."
"Great," Ryan muttered, kicking a broken segment of brick halfway across the yard, probably envisioning it to be Errol Haskell's head.
"Have you locked up inside yet?" Corey asked Ryan, realising he had one more duty to complete before his crew were on their way home.
"Not yet. Why? You need the little boys’ room?"
"No dumbass, I need to call home and let them know everything's sweet here. No thanks to you playing the music too loud."
"That was Pete's fault. I told him to turn it down."
"I don't care," was Corey's parting shot as he headed inside the shop to locate the phone.
Lee picked up at the Somerset residence after three short rings, answering the call with a cautious 'Hello?' as if expecting the caller to be Errol Haskell delivering more nasty news.
"Lee? It's just me," Corey said. "Everything is fine here, everybody is still here. They just didn't answer the phone because Numbnuts Pete had his music up too loud."
"Fucking Pete," Lee said, releasing a shaky laugh. "Had us worried didn't he?"
"Yeah. Obviously things are alright there. No dramas?"
"No, just these outlandish stories these girls keep cooking up. I swear this Serena broad thinks she's Stephen King or somebody, the crap she keeps coming up with."
“Well, sorry to disappoint her, but everything's fine. We're gonna leave the van here and all come back in the Beast. We'll be leaving as soon as I hang up the phone."
"Okay, well hang up the phone, load up and get back here. Before sunset preferably. I don't fancy a pack of them Plebs busting in here any time soon."
"No, I suppose not. Hey, listen Lee, Ry thinks if Haskell is involved in this then it's a good bet he's tried to get all his buddies in too, Drake and Vickerman and all those other losers. What do you think?"
Lee was momentarily silent, as if mulling over the unpleasant scenario Corey presented him with.
"I suppose he could be right," Lee said eventually. "Shit, I never thought of that. I guess it'd be up to Raven though wouldn't it? If she wanted to involve all of them too. Unless she thinks too many people are getting too much knowledge."
"Well I doubt she would knock back able helpers who have a vendetta against the likes of you and me anyway," Corey said. "And what's more Desiree thinks Haskell and his cronies are expendable pawns anyhow. So if they start getting out of hand she'll have her girls make sure the knowledge dies with them."
"Right. I'll let Melissa know about all this. You just hang up and get your ass home."
"Okay. Hanging up. Bye."
CHAPTER 30
Corey clanked the receiver into the handset, cutting off the connection, pleased to hear that Raven hadn't had any further brain explosions and sent hordes of rampant Plebs crashing into his living room.
For some particular reason, maybe some innate sixth sense guiding him, Corey now felt compelled to peek out the front window of Bodyworx. So he did this, cracking the drawn curtains just a fraction, enough to see out into the street. As he did, placing his eye to the gap he'd created he froze solid.
No longer was the Beast the solitary vehicle parked outside the shop.
Directly across the street, up in the driveway of a furniture assembling warehouse was parked another vehicle, this one a large dirty white Range Rover.
Corey recognised this car immediately for the personalised licence plate 'BIGWES' was a dead giveaway.
Wesley Drake was yet another of Greg Scanlon and Errol Haskell's reprobate gang and this Range Rover was his car.
Drawing his breath in with a sudden sharp hiss Corey let the curtains fall shut.
He stepped back and away from the window, stopping behind the door as if having the solid form between him and the outside was safer than just the glass and the curtains of the window.
It didn't matter anyway, with his vehicle parked very obviously outside Bodyworx it was evident that he was in the vicinity.
He stood by the shop door in a quandary.
The presence of Wesley Drake and possibly his perpetual sidekick Dennis King outside indicated to Corey that perhaps Errol Haskell was clueyer than he'd been given credit for.
Had Drake arrived here by coincidental chance, assigned by Haskell to check out all the known hangouts of Corey's friend or had he in fact tailed the Beast from the Somerset abode?
Corey had been closely monitoring the rearview mirror as he drove, along with watching the road before him and not once had he spotted the white Range Rover following him so he tended to think it was more the former than the latter.