Kallista

by Sian B. Claven

She took out some money and left it on the table, standing up.

  “Kalli, please, I can help you solve this case and clear my name!” he insisted, desperation in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Darren, but I am looking for cold, hard, tangible facts. I just don’t have time to go on a silly ghost hunt.” She reached out and touched his hand lightly. “Get some help, okay?”

  With that, she walked out without a backward glance.

  BACK AT HOME, KALLI made herself a fresh cup of coffee and then went upstairs to her profile of The Butcher. Staring at the photos already up, she set her coffee on a small chair and went to a box in front of a clear board near the window.

  She rummaged through it and pulled out the photos from the murder of Stanley Mark, an eight year old boy who went missing one Halloween and was found two days later in the forest, his head severed from his body and his tongue missing. She stuck the photos up. Some of them were crime scene photos, while others were ones the police had canvassed for. Any photo that showed the direction Stanley had walked that night was of interest to her.

  Mostly they were photos parents had been taking of their kids, with Stanley in the background. Kalli examined a few of them and noticed the boy’s tear-stained eyes and despondent disposition. She stuck those up in the order they were taken to create a timeline for Stanley’s movements.

  Taking a closer look at the crime scene photos, she noticed that the police notes said it was possible the killer was from a town not far from theirs. In fact, one could get to Redwood by walking through the forest that separated the two towns. They noted that the killer wore generic shoes, untraceable, but he had been tracked to Redwood by the dogs.

  Unfortunately there were no witnesses from when the boy left his group of friends until his murder, aside from the few photos taken.

  Kalli made a note on her board that, although this was the first time the killer had cut out the tongue, she saw it as an escalation rather than a separate killer altogether. She diligently reviewed the case notes and photos repeatedly, in case she missed something, her coffee forgotten and cold.

  She took a moment to step back before she made a big note on the board. If you looked carefully enough, there seemed to be someone following Stanley. You couldn’t make out whom, because he was quite a distance away, but there definitely was someone always behind the boy in every photo supplied by the community. From what she could make out, he was about the right height to match the teenager from the previous killing, although there was a large gap between the previous murder and this one. She needed to figure out why. This spurred Kalli on to make more notes and she got so absorbed she didn’t even notice time tick by.

  Finally taking a break, she looked at her watch. It was well past midnight and her back was stiff and sore from standing in front of the board. She stretched out as much as she could, looked over her work and, once satisfied, she left the room, shutting off the light.

  Too tired to shower, she brushed her teeth, washed her face and stripped off her clothes, walking into the bedroom naked and picking out a pair of shorts and a shirt to sleep in.

  She climbed into her soft bed and slowly drifted off to sleep.

  SOMEONE HAD HER PINNED against a hard board by her wrists and her ankles, so it had to be more than one person. She couldn’t move her head at all. She opened her eyes and her mouth instantly opened as well, to scream, but no sound came out.

  She was looking down at her unmade bed, her body attached firmly to the ceiling of her bedroom. As if the experience wasn’t terrifying enough, her bed was surrounded by people, only they weren’t quite people. They looked like people, but when she concentrated on one, then another, it seemed as if they were see-through, almost ghost-like.

  Kalli tried again to move, but found it impossible. She shivered, the cold air raising goosebumps across her body. She scanned the still bodies below her and focused on one in particular.

  It was Robyn, her painted face staring up at her. Robyn opened her mouth and her tongue was missing. As though taking this as a signal, in unison everyone suddenly looked up.

  If she could have, she would have screamed. None of them had faces. There was nothing. The shape of the face was there, but no one, except Robyn, had eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth.

  Blood started to pour from Robyn’s open mouth as she walked slowly to the nearest wall. Kalli couldn’t take her eyes off of her. Robyn stuck a finger in her mouth and, as the blood continued to pour out, she wrote on the wall in her own blood, DEATH COMES TO THOSE WHO DO NOT SEE.

  Robyn looked at her again and then let out a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly, Kalli was released and fell back into her bed.

  She woke up with a start, sweat dripping off her body. The sun had just begun to rise. She threw the blankets off and quickly stood up, running a hand through her hair. She scratched herself everywhere she could reach, the remnants of the dream still clinging to her.

  Going to the bathroom to relieve herself, she then washed her face. Feeling better now that she was really awake, she stretched and mentally scolded herself for letting fear get to her like that. She tied her hair back in a pony and went back to her room to get dressed.

  As she crossed the threshold, she froze.

  Written in red on the wall by the window were the words: DEATH COMES TO THOSE WHO DO NOT SEE.

  Chapter 7

  The Butcher

  HE HAD NEVER BEEN ONE for friends or parties, but he had realised early on that he needed to keep up appearances. After doing a lot of research he realised that many of those branded as serial killers were caught because they exhibited certain signs, one of which was a lack of friends and a social life. He took the time to ensure he had both.

  This particular party was shortly after his last kill and the thrill was still pumping through his veins. He would survive a party with his peers. Dressed and ready to go at seven sharp, he bid his family goodbye before going to meet his friends at the bus stop. They were all excited about the party because Jared, their host, had managed to get a few kegs of beer for them and they would spend the evening drinking.

  Michael, Phillip, Joshua and Sydney were joking about girls and their chests when he arrived. He quickly joined in and they were soon laughing and cracking jokes. He found it easy; they were small-minded and it was easy for him to entertain them. Booze, boobs and balls, and they were happy.

  The bus stopped two blocks from Jared’s house and he was already bored of the conquest conversation of who did whom, where and when.

  He hadn’t partaken in any of those particular ventures, but he knew he probably should or he would be seen as an outcast. Anything that cast him in a ‘different’ light would be the excuse they used when they said, “I thought it could be him.” He needed to blend in, like a chameleon, so he was determined to do whatever it took, including sleeping with a girl.

  The music was pumping so loud they heard it a block away. His excited friends ran their fingers through their hair and straightened their jackets, complimenting each other as they walked. He joined in. They were in high spirits by the time they entered.

  There must have been at least a hundred, if not more, teenagers throughout the house. Most were drinking, some were dancing in the different rooms, while others had found the various nooks and crannies to sit in and make out. There were drinking games happening in the backyard.

  He hung around his friends most of the time, pretending to drink generously from his beer whilst in reality he just kept picking up empty mugs when no one was looking. He was in for a long night and he didn’t want to get drunk and accidentally spill information he shouldn’t be sharing.

  SOME ATTENDED IN FANCY dress. Apparently it was still close enough to Halloween to warrant it, although it was mostly the girls that did so. He felt they did that to show off, or have an excuse to dress like tarts without being bitched about or judged. Either way, he wasn’t interested.

  He made out with a few drunk girls at the beginning of the evening, in a public
enough space for others to see, and then he moved on to the next group to catch up with his schoolmates and possibly pick his next hunt. He wasn’t bad looking, and that worked in his favour, and the fact that he did track and was physically strong was a bonus. He used the excuse of being into sports as a reason for having bigger muscles and being stronger; in reality it was so he could easily overpower his victims.

  As the night dragged on and the unruly, hormone charged teenagers got more and more drunk, he grew bored. As he considered the best place to pretend to throw up, to use as an excuse to leave, the door opened and more girls walked in. He was instantly drawn to one of them.

  She had short blonde gelled-back hair and was dressed in a black dance leotard and a pair of ripped stockings. She wore those rocker ankle boots that the bad girls all loved so much. Her face was painted like a skeleton and her lithe build certainly made her seem as skinny as one.

  The air around her glowed and he felt drawn to her.

  He was no longer bored.

  It didn’t take him long to migrate towards her, weaving his way from one group of friends to another. He wanted to be close to her - he needed to be close to her. He wanted to touch her skin, taste her tongue, and watch the life leave her eyes. He felt electrified as he watched her laugh, talk and, most importantly, drink.

  Once he was a part of her group, he concentrated his energy on her friend, barely paying attention to her. He made sure they all got fresh drinks as soon as theirs were almost done, and then suggested a few rounds of shots. It was minimal effort and took little to no time to get all the girls in that group drunk.

  He excused himself and found his friends. Quickly explaining the situation, he had Michael, Joshua, Sydney and Phillip join them and soon they were each wooing the girls, leaving the girl with the painted face alone.

  She was getting lonely, he could tell. He smiled as she left the group to go sit in the garden. Most of the teenagers had broken off into couples and were noisily making out either in the garden or in the house somewhere.

  He followed her, watching from the shadows of the house. She appeared dejected, sad, and clearly didn’t know what to do with herself.

  It was perfect.

  He ambled over, taking a deep breath and sitting next to her. “Hey.”

  She looked at him and gave him a smile. “Hi,” she said.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name. I was so busy catching up with Penny that I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you.” He gave her a big smile and, thinking quickly, gave her a false name. “I’m Weston.”

  “Robyn, I’m Robyn. I’m Penny’s cousin,” she said, giving him another smile.

  He had her.

  “Where are all the people you were with? Where is your cousin?” He was gentle; he didn’t want to scare her away by being too quick.

  “Oh, they all found ... someone,” she commented. “I’m not from around here so no one really knows me.”

  “Oh, but that makes you the best of the lot,” he complimented her, “because you’re not like the girls from around here”

  Robyn blushed lightly, but it was obvious even in the low light in the garden. He shifted closer to her so that their arms were touching. Her flesh felt warm against his and her face got rosier at the touch; the ruddiness shone through the white face paint. He looked down at her shiny eyes, her lips black with that oily face paint.

  “Want to get out of here?” she asked.

  He pretended to look surprised, not wanting to be too forward. “Where to?” he asked.

  “My parents are out for most of the night, so we can go back to the motel we’re staying in?” she offered.

  “Aren’t you staying at Penny’s?” he asked, letting his hand slowly envelope hers.

  “No, there isn’t any space at their apartment. We can, you know, do stuff.” She looked at her feet.

  “Okay, but only if you want to,” he said quietly, keeping her hand in his and standing up.

  Robyn followed him, not even thinking to tell Penny where she was going; she was going to be able to tell her, with a rather big smile, that she bagged a hot guy when she saw her cousin the next day.

  They walked out of the house together and she led him down the road in the direction of the motel.

  THE MOTEL WASN’T VERY far. It took them about half an hour to walk there. Robyn pulled a key out - he wasn’t sure where she kept it in that skin tight leotard - and unlocked the door, pulling him inside. The person renting the room next to theirs was watching TV loudly, and he realised that it made it that much more exciting. If he could get her gagged and take that glow of life away from her while there was someone nearby, it would be such a brilliant kill for him.

  They sat on her bed and she hesitantly looked up at him. He gave her the most charming smile he could muster. Indeed, he felt very charming at that moment, and leaned down, kissing her deeply.

  After a few minutes, they both came up for air and she giggled. “You have face paint all over you.”

  He gave a hearty chuckle, imagining her head severed from her body. Although the paint had spread to him, it was barely smudged on her; it was clearly good quality. They kissed again and this time his hand, deliberately shaky, reached up to grope her over her top.

  She moaned into his mouth and goosebumps lifted on her arms. She held on to his shoulders while simultaneously leaning back so that he was forced to lean on top of her, leveraging his weight on his elbows. He kissed her hungrily, making her want more, tasting the mix of sweet and salt on her lips as she broke into a light sweat.

  He paused and moved to her ear to whisper, “I want you so badly.”

  “I want you too,” Robyn said, arching her back against his touch.

  He smiled and kissed her neck softly. “Can I tie you up?” he murmured against her skin as he slowly pulled her hands above her head.

  She was eager to please him, that much was obvious, and she tried to both nod vigorously but be sexy at the same time. She was clearly inexperienced. It made it sweeter for him.

  Finding a few neck ties draped on the headboard, he pulled one towards him, looped it through the gap in the headboard, wrapped it around her wrists and tightened it. She moaned again, trying hard to sound sexy. He wasn’t really interested. He trailed a hand down her body and she shivered. Selecting another tie he did the same to her feet, making sure they were bound tightly.

  He got up and smiled at her. “I’m going to go hunt down some free condoms in the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.”

  She smiled at him and nodded, rubbing her legs together. He wasn’t sure if that was meant to be sexy or if she needed to relieve herself, but he didn’t care.

  He went to the bathroom and shrugged out of his jacket and shirt. Strapped to his back was a nifty little hatchet he had spent weeks sharpening. He released the home made holster that kept it strapped to him, safe and unnoticeable, and caught it before it clanged to the floor. He found a shirt draped over the tub and shrugged it on before walking to the door and staring at her.

  “Oh, sweet, sweet Robyn,” he murmured.

  She looked at him with fluttery eyes, which soon turned to confusion. “Is that my dad’s shirt?” she asked, tugging slightly on the tie binding her hands above her. “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of daddy’s girl pervert.”

  He shook his head, but he was done speaking. He slowly moved towards her and as he got closer she noticed the weapon in his hand.

  Fear had her tugging frantically on her bindings. “What is that? Hey, you’re scaring me, Weston, stop it right now. Did my cousin put you up to this? It’s not funny!” She shouted the last part.

  She was hurting herself the harder she tugged, but he enjoyed it. That fight or flight instinct kicking in was what made the hairs on the back of his head raise up in excitement. Nothing was more thrilling than watching something or someone fight a losing battle.

  Robyn started to scream and he panicked a bit. This was, after all, not the usual seclud
ed place he would have picked. He crossed the room quickly and grabbed a sock at the foot of the bed. He didn’t care if it was dirty or clean as he balled it up and shoved it deep in her mouth. She gagged against it, but he held it there.

  Not moving a muscle, he listened intently to see if anyone would come to the girl’s rescue, if his days were finally numbered and he could no longer fulfil his fantasies. But, the only sound was from the extremely loud television next door. To Robyn’s dismay, there was no saving knock at the door to enquire about her screams.

  Robyn tried to speak against the dirty sock that gagged her, but couldn’t spit it out or talk around it.

  He ran his finger lightly over the blade of the hatchet and chuckled. “No one saw us leaving together, Robyn, and, just by the way, Weston isn’t my real name. In case you did tell anyone you were taking me home with you.”

  Shifting to hold the weapon by the handle, he trailed the blade up her already decimated stockings, then the leotard and up to her face. Tears were now streaming from her eyes, but the high quality makeup did not budge. Her face was perfect.

  “I’ll try to make it quick,” he murmured, “but only because I like you.”

  Raising his hatchet above his head, he brought it swiftly down towards her neck. The sound was sickening, as was the blood that spurted out of her. It drenched her father’s shirt, the one he was wearing, and he couldn’t resist licking his lips where some of the blood had splattered. It felt like electricity coursing through his veins. He raised the hatchet again and swung down and, with a sick crunching, he knew her spine was severed. He lifted it once more, brought it down and it cut through the remains of her neck, lodging itself in the bedding underneath.

  He sighed happily.

  Setting the hatchet down, he unbound her hands. He had to move quickly now. As it was she was dead weight, and he didn’t want rigor mortis to set in before he had sculpted her perfectly.

  He hoisted her into the bathroom and, after a quick look around, determined the pole for the shower curtain was thick enough, and put up well enough, that it would hold her weight. He looped the tie around it and secured it in place, moving her feet into the bathtub.