by Sam Harding
It was like the scene from some sort of demented dominatrix game, although Mary knew little of the sexual style. She was seated upright on the edge of a bed, her arms were stretched high and outwards by electrical cords, connecting her wrists to rafters in the ceiling that looked as if they’d been exposed by someone recently hammering away the plaster that had once covered them. Her legs were wide open and her ankles were tied to the lower legs of the bed-frame. She tried screaming, but that’s when she realized her mouth was gagged with some kind of cloth with a strip of duct tape keeping her from spitting it out. Her hair, that had once been kept in a low ponytail was now down around her shoulders.
“You disappointed me,” a voice said from behind her.
Mary recognized the voice as David’s and tried to speak, but nothing came out albeit a stifled cry. She shivered, feeling movement on both sides of her, cold flesh making its way down the sides of both her legs. She looked down to see what she was feeling, and saw both of David’s feet moving passed her, and then the inside of his legs pressing up against the outside of hers. She could feel he, too, was completely naked as he straddled her from behind.
“I thought you were an angel sent by Him,” David continued. “I thought the Father had sent me a companion, one who would fight by my side after I strike against the forces of evil tomorrow. I thought you were the one. I appear to have been wrong.”
Mary felt something cold press up against her upper back behind her right shoulder and then, without warning, the sharp horrific bite of a serrated blade bit into her skin and sank into her as David began dragging it downward. Her body seized with electric-like pain as the teeth sank deeper and deeper into her as David continued the downward slash.
Even though she was gagged, Mary’s screams were still loud enough to hurt David’s ears.
*
Twenty minutes.
It had taken twenty whole minutes for Mary to regain consciousness once again. David had not expected that, he had expected her to be able to take more. How could she pass out after only five cuts when women were supposed to be designed to bear the pain of childbirth? Because she’s no real woman, David. Demons are different. They’re weaker.
When Mary’s eyes fluttered open this time, David was now standing in front of her. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, save for the hardware his mother had insisted upon, and his knife was no longer in his hand. He could see blood pooling behind Mary on the bedsheets, the result of him turning her back into a tic-tac-toe board made of flesh.
She set her eyes on David, a look of utter horror and confusion in her expression. David smiled at her and leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “I know what you are, demon. I know Satan sent you to stop me from completing tomorrow’s mission.” He clicked his tongue at her and stood upright again. “Demons deserve punishment.”
Mary’s eyes looked over David’s scared and tattooed body then averted downwards, stopping at the level of his penis. He could see her eyebrows arch in confusion at what she was seeing, and then her eyes widened in shock and further terror. This alone, was enough to send David over the top.
“How dare you look at it that way! How dare you judge? My mother knew what was best, knew what would keep me from giving into my temptations!” Then, something happened that David could not truly comprehend. At least not at first. The blood rush had been so sudden and unexpected that for the first time in twenty years, the clothespin snapped away from his penis. David’s eyes widened as he watched the old piece of wood hit the bedroom carpet, and then he watched as his penis filled and then stood erect. He’d expected it to look different – perhaps even longer, but he hadn’t before taken into consideration the two decades of trauma endured from the clothespin. He hadn’t realized it would stunt his growth by at least half the average size. In a split second, David’s arousal turned into sheer embarrassment.
Mary continued to stare, and although her thoughts were fearful and not judgmental, David did not at all see it that way. Without even thinking about it, David grabbed the serrated blade from the top of his dresser, stepped towards Mary and brought it up hard under her chin. Although he couldn’t see through the gag and the duct tape, David knew the blade had gone through the soft flesh under the tongue, through the roof of her mouth and through the underside of Mary’s brain. The young woman’s eyes widened and her body seized up. Through the knife’s handle, David could feel Mary’s body start jolting and then she finally went still.
David released the knife, leaving it plunged underneath his ex-girlfriend’s skull. Covered in her blood, David began to laugh at the site before him. It was truly beautiful – the slain, naked beast of Satan displayed in his bedroom for God to see. David knew that God would see this for what it was; a worthy sacrifice.
“In the name of God!” He yelled, his voice thunderous in the confines of his small bedroom.
Still in a fit of laughter and elation, David decided it was time for him to retrieve his weapon. Just as he stepped forward to retrieve it, a noise from outside his bedroom caused him to freeze. He wasn’t sure what he’d heard, but if it was what he thought it was, he knew it would sound again once more.
Then, it happened.
The coded knock on his front door.
A message from The Master has arrived. My mission for tomorrow is here!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
10:00 A.M.
I slept through the night without another nightmare, waking up just after eight. Even with Kate by my side, I was sure I’d have at least one nightmare after the incident with Lex and Detective Blake, but for some reason, as long as I’m with Kate, the ghosts of my sleep are somehow kept at bay. Since my first night with her, I haven’t seen Dani, either, and I hope it’s because she’s finally at peace knowing I’ve found someone to share things with again. Even still, in my moments alone, I still talk to her, telling her that I will always love and miss her, and that I hope she is alright with how things had turned out with Kate. I don’t know if she can hear me, but a part of me hopes she’s preoccupied in a better place without having to worry about me anymore. She deserves that much.
But even though the thought of Dani in a better place warms my heart, I still can’t get over one major fact. Today is Christmas Eve and I know deep down, the Butcher is still out there, looking for his next victim, ready to laugh in the face of everyone who let their guard down, everyone who believed Alexander Irving was the killer they’d hunted for the past five years.
I feel a squeeze on the top of my right hand and am transported from my thoughts. Through my windshield, I can see the snow streaking past and the rows of evergreens growing heavier and heavier with white. The snowstorm had started sometime last night, and it has yet to let up, forcing me to drive around thirty miles per hour in a fifty-five zone. I look to the passenger seat and see Kate looking at me with obvious concern in her piercing eyes. Her hand on top of my own relaxes me, and at that moment I can’t help but think that perhaps I’m falling for this woman.
“I’m okay,” I reassure her. “Just thinking about some things.”
“You’re still convinced the police got the wrong person?”
I nod. “What happened yesterday shouldn’t have happened – I should have stopped it.”
“How would you have done that?”
I’m about to answer with some sort of canned irrational response, but stop myself. Kathryn Shultz, the daughter of the most famous psychiatrist in the northwestern United States, would not at all fall for that bullshit. “I don’t know, Kate. I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re wrong about this. Maybe he really was the man you doubt he is – maybe everyone just missed it until now.”
I doubt it very much, but the last thing I want to do is argue with her. Not today. “Maybe.”
“At least try and cheer up a bit before we get there, okay?” She squeezes my hand again. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
By him, she means Thomas, my son. I got a call earlier in the morning f
rom West, asking if I wanted to come over and have a Christmas Eve breakfast with him and Thomas. Although I have work to do, there’s no way I’d say no to spending holiday time with my boy. When I asked West if I could bring a plus one, I think he nearly had a heart attack over the phone when I told him who that plus one was.
“I can’t wait for you to meet him,” I say with a smile, taking a glance at my vehicle’s digital clock. It’s already ten, we’re running late. “His mother – Dani – what happened really wasn’t that long ago – and –”
“You’re worried he’ll reject me?”
“Well, it’s just that I don’t know exactly how much he remembers. He never brings that day up, he never talks about nightmares, and when he mentions his mother it’s always with fond memories. I hope to God that being four-years-old when it happened, that his innocence shielded him from the harsh realities of what he saw that day.”
Kate nods understandingly. “Nightmares are always a good indicator that there’s underlying trauma. The fact he has none is a tremendous thing, Micah. I’d bet he remembers very little of that day if anything at all.”
“Repressed memories?”
“Perhaps. That’s more so a question for my father.”
“Did you call him today?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He’s fine.”
I glance away from the road and look at her. “I mean, how much have you told him about us?”
“Everything.”
This surprises me. “Everything?”
“He’s dying, Micah,” Kate says in a tone that says, remember? “I’m not going to keep anything from him when he doesn’t have the time to figure out secrets. It wouldn’t be fair of me.”
I nod, conceding the point. “I suppose you’re right.”
Kate lifts my hand and kisses the backside of it. “I’m glad I found you.”
I smile and look to her. “So am I.” I’m definitely falling for this woman.
“But,” Kate says, her voice trailing off.
“But what?”
“I’ve got to ask. Why is there a rifle attached to the back of my seat?”
I look at her with mock confusion. “What do you mean? Everyone needs a car gun.”
“Big car gun.”
“You should see my other one.” This time, my voice trails off, hoping she catches the joke.
“I think I’ve seen plenty of it the past few days, Detective.”
We both laugh at the stupid joke, thankful for the brief escape from the darkness. I find myself even more ready to see Thomas now, excited to introduce him to Kate. I hope he likes her because if I have anything to say about it, Kate’s going to be around for a long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
10:10 A.M.
THE RETIRED POLICE officer’s home was located on the corner of a small residential area in the small town of Oak Valley, about thirty minutes south of Solace. Back in the day, it had been an old coal mining town where the miners in the surrounding hills would come down and enjoy a hot meal or a cold drink, but now it was just a place where people lived, in between here and there. The town had one convenience store with overpriced goods and a gas station with outdated pumps. Most of the locals lived in the surrounding mountains, but David’s target lived smack-dab in the middle of the town.
The blizzard, David knew, had to have been sent by God Himself. He could barely see twenty feet ahead of him, which meant it would be nearly impossible for any nosey neighbor to see what it was he was about to do. Although David had never fit in as a Marine, he had still been trained as one, and he used that training now to gain the best tactical advantage he could on his approach to the target location. Speed, surprise, and violence of action, had been drilled into his head ad nauseam as an infantryman, but this morning, the words raced through his head over and over again, as if there were a broken record player somewhere in his brain.
He’d surveilled the house the best he could from across the street, which wasn’t too difficult considering the only structure across from the house was a large empty Methodist Church. The parsonage was on the other side of the church parking lot with a direct view of the target house, but with the blizzard, it would be impossible for anyone to see from one residence to the other.
Although the target house was fairly large, it was only a single-story structure, which meant once inside, David would most likely be immediately exposed to who waited for him on the other side of the door. There were no upper floors to separate him from potential danger; he was going straight into the lion’s den no matter what. Due to a wooden fence, topped even higher with a few inches of snow, David couldn’t see into the backyard, and he wasn’t about to risk walking up to the fence and trying to peak over the top. Blizzard or not, that was a sure way to get spotted. There was an SUV of some kind parked in the driveway in front of a closed garage door, the snow piled on top of it made it impossible for David to see what kind it was, but he wondered if maybe it would make for a good means of exfiltration after he did what he had to do.
With his plan laid out for him, David’s body shivered with the rush of adrenaline. He thought back to the letter he’d received the night before and pictured the written instructions in his mind’s eye. He had to admit to himself that as excited as he was, some of the instructions made no sense to him; they were much more drawn out and far more theatrical in nature than he’d expected, but that didn’t matter. He would do as he was told, for to question the Master would be to question God Himself, and David was not about to do that. No way in hell. If the Master wanted theatrics, then theatrics is what the Master would get, for the Almighty works in mysterious ways. David would follow his instructions to the letter and he would not fail. His right hand gripped the wooden handle of the sawn-off shotgun concealed under his long gray trench coat, and he made his move.
His walk turned into a fast walk, his fast walk turned into a jog, and his jog turned into a sprint. David gained quick momentum, even through the thick snow, as he crossed the street and hopped onto the retired police officer’s front lawn. He sprinted across the lawn and then leapt into the air with his right foot out in front of him. The sole of his Marine-issued combat boot connected with the center of the front door and caved it in. There was a loud crack as the door tore away from its bolt lock, taking the doorjamb along with it before slamming hard against the opposite wall, knocking photos down onto the hardwood floor.
David’s forward momentum and the wet soles of his boots caused him to briefly lose traction on the floor and he nearly went down, but somehow, he managed to keep his footing just as he saw a blur streak passed an arched doorway directly in front of him. He wasn’t sure if it was the retired cop he was seeing, but he knew the blur was far too tall to be the seven-year old boy described in his instructions.
Without stopping, he looked to the right, lifting his sawn-off shotgun to clear the living room space over the top of the half-wall directly next to him. Seeing it was only occupied by chairs, a dining table and an old piano against the wall, David continued forward.
Before going through the arched doorway, David could already tell he was about to enter a second living room used for TV watching. A classical Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer cartoon was playing, and as David swung into the room with his weapon at the ready, he could see there was no seven-year-old on the sofa or floor watching it.
The hallway beyond and to the left of the TV area was dark and, at first, David couldn’t see down it until another streak of movement at the end of the hall caught his eye. Without even thinking about it, David pulled the trigger of his shotgun, sending an extraordinarily loud boom throughout the house. Even over the ringing in his ears, David was sure he heard a man yelp, and was fairly sure he’d hit his target before he was able to cross the hallway.
Wasting no time, David racked another 12-gauge round into the shotgun, dispensing the empty shell onto the wooden floor. Smoke poured from the open end of the cartridge, a
s well as the end of the barrel of the weapon, filling the room with the scent of nitroglycerine.
David took in a deep breath through his nose as he continued forward, his eyes scanning ahead like a lion stalking its prey. As he drew closer, he could see the target he’d engaged had come from the bedroom to the left at the end of the hallway and was trying to get to another bedroom on the right side. Directly ahead was a bathroom; its door was wide open and David could clearly see the inside of it was empty. Next to the open bathroom door on the white wall, David could see the damage from the close grouping of his buckshot round, as well as a few drops of bright red blood on the base of the wall and the flooring directly beneath it.
Bright blood, David thought to himself. Bright blood typically meant arterial blood, which meant there was a good chance that the man he’d shot was now working on borrowed time. But David had to remind himself that dying men could be the most dangerous of men and were never to be underestimated in combat.
He decided he’d worry about the bedroom to the left last, and peaked around the corner to the bedroom to the right. He briefly saw what looked like a man lying on his back in the middle of the floor when two shots rang out, exploding plaster and drywall near David’s face. The Demon Slayer flinched and jumped backwards, nearly falling on his ass as he tried to escape the incoming rounds. His heart-rate increased ten-fold and he realized he’d only been millimeters away from being shot in the face.
“You nearly got me!” David called out, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Why not just give up piggy-piggy, you’re a dead man either way.”
“Why don’t you come and get me, you coward.” The voice sounded weak and the words were clipped, a sign the former police officer was in great pain.
But David didn’t care what the man’s voice sounded like, he just wanted to make sure he hadn’t relocated himself in the bedroom after taking the shots. To David, it sounded like the man was still in the exact same spot he had last seen him before nearly losing his head. Slowly, David crept back to the corner of the hallway and crouched down like a baseball catcher. Slowly he pushed the shotgun outwards ahead of him, hooking his left thumb in the trigger guard as he did so. Picturing the location of his target in his mind’s eye, David cleared the corner with just the shotgun and quickly pulled the trigger with his thumb before his target had the chance to react and start shooting again. The second blast was just as deafening as the first, only this time David nearly lost the weapon due to the heavy recoil and his awkward hold on it.