by Jack Porter
Seeing the blonde woman as she was, chained and helpless in Big Bob’s basement, brought out the same sort of protective instinct in me. Without thinking, I went to her, offering reassurances.
“Bob’s dead,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He can’t hurt you.”
As I drew close, she stared at me with wild, uncertain eyes.
“He’s dead?” she asked, her voice tiny and hopeful.
I nodded. “I killed him,” I said. I don’t know why I said it, other than to convince her that the monster was indeed dead. She stared at me for a moment more, and then hope won the battle against her fear. All at once, tears formed in her eyes, and she started to cry once again. But these weren’t tears of fear. They were tears of relief.
A few days ago, my awkward, low status self wouldn’t have known how to react. But my connection to Rachel had given me more than just regular sex. My Goth lover had effectively taught me how to relax in the company of women.
Without even thinking, I sat down on the bed next to the blonde woman and cradled her in my arms.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s all over now. He’s gone, and can’t hurt you anymore.”
She leaned into me and cried, but only for a surprisingly short time. Then she drew herself up and held out her hands. “Can you get these off me?” she asked.
I found myself thinking that she was remarkably calm given the situation. I looked around the basement for something I could use to take the chains off her, and Azrael once more spoke in my mind.
“The fat man must have had keys,” he said.
I nodded. “Did you see where Bob put his keys?” I asked the woman.
“Yes. He keeps them in his pocket.”
I stood up. “Okay. I’ll be back in a moment.”
She didn’t seem to want me to go. She reached out almost by instinct, but hesitated, knowing I had to leave to get the keys. Yet she still seemed to want to delay it.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
I smiled at her. “Simon. Simon Kingman,” I said.
She gave a tentative smile in return. “I’m Sandy,” she said.
I nodded as if she had given me a gift, then went back upstairs.
Have you ever tried to fumble around in a dead man’s pockets? Especially if that dead man weighed almost four hundred pounds, if not more? It can be quite a struggle. I had to heave him over onto his back, and when I did so, he let out a huge, noisome fart that had me leaping away while reaching for one of my knives. I thought that the huge man had come back to life, and it took me a moment to realize it was just his digestive system doing its thing.
To the tune of Azrael laughing at me, I tucked my knife back away and finally came away with his keys.
Back downstairs, Sandy held out her hands for me.
“He said he was going to eat me,” she said. “And I believed him. He showed me all those heads, and told me that each one, each person had a different flavor. He was looking forward to seeing what I tasted like.” As she spoke, she shivered in revulsion, and I unlocked the chains around her wrists.
As soon as they fell away, it was like she could taste her freedom. She breathed it in and turned to me with a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I thought I was done for!”
“My pleasure,” I replied. “Now, let’s get you out of here. Only–you might want to keep your eyes shut when we go upstairs. It’s fairly messy.”
Surprisingly, the thought didn’t faze her. It was like she was a new woman now that her hands were free. “No, I want to see him. To make sure he’s dead.” Then she gave a laugh. “Does that make me seem bad? A little evil?”
I laughed and shook my head. “It wasn’t you who killed him,” I said.
At this, she looked at me with a curious expression. “You’re right,” she said. Then she asked, “How did you do it? You’re so…”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, saving her from having to say it. “I’m tiny compared to him. And I don’t look like I could do such a thing.” I grinned at her. “But appearances can be deceiving.” I raised an eyebrow to hint that I was something more than I looked.
It seemed to work. Sandy nodded and gave me a genuine smile. “Anyway, I’m glad you did it. And I want to give him a kick for everything he’s done.”
We climbed the stairs, and Sandy did exactly that, not only kicking the fat man in the side, but stomping on his vast stomach for good measure. I could have warned her about the gas, but thought maybe he was out of it.
It turned out that he wasn’t. He let another one in response to Sandy’s stomp, and she flinched in a mixture of surprise and fear. Then, as she realized it was no more than the result of the gas in his stomach, she started to laugh.
I joined in, reflecting that there was little more universal than a fart joke.
At the same time, I marveled at Sandy’s resilience. In a matter of minutes, she had gone from a tearful wreck to a cool, calm, confident woman whom I could imagine being the life of any party she chose to attend. She caught me looking at her and smiled again, while twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.
“So, now what?” she asked.
I figured I’d already admitted to killing Big Bob. There wasn’t much point in lying to her now. “Well, given that I killed him, I don’t exactly want to call the police. I was just going to light it all on fire and burn it to the ground. Then, I guess we should find a way to get you to your home.”
“That works for me,” Sandy said, nodding her agreement. But then she figured out what I hadn’t said. “Do you not have a car?”
I shook my head.
“Why don’t you just take his? It’s in the garage. Nice car, but that’s the last time I’m getting into a car with a stranger I met at a party. ‘Just going for a drive,’ my ass,” she said.
It seemed like an ideal solution, and I already had the car keys in my hand.
Big Bob was a serial killer. He lived in a crappy part of town. His house was a dirty, miserable reflection of the man himself. But he must have had a good choice in cars if someone like Sandy was willing to get in just to go for a ride.
The key in my hand gave me a clue. It came with a metal logo in the shape of a running horse with the word ‘Mustang’ stamped beneath it.
“And then,” Sandy continued. “Once you dropped me off, we can talk about what you would like as a reward for rescuing me.”
One glance at Sandy and I could tell she was at least as far out of my league as Rachel was. I didn’t know her status, but even after I’d leveled up to my current position, it still must have been far above mine.
Yet her intention was clear enough for Azrael to make a noise of triumph in the back of my brain.
At the same time, I found myself grinning. Becoming a hitman really did seem to be just what I needed to give my life the boost that I wanted.
Chapter 27
Big Bob kept a cabinet filled with alcohol next to his TV. I found a bottle of vodka that was more than sixty percent alcohol by volume, and figured that would do the job nicely. I popped the top and emptied most of it over Big Bob himself, but also splashed it liberally over the couch, on the curtains, and on anything else I thought might prove to be good fuel for a fire.
Then I found a cigarette lighter in the kitchen next to the oven and figured that would be the best option for setting everything alight.
But Sandy stopped me as I backed toward the front door.
“Let me do it,” she said with a calm determination. For her, this would signify closure, the end of a chapter that could have gone so much worse.
Understanding, I handed the lighter to her without a word and got out of her way. She didn’t hesitate. She flicked the lighter on, then dropped it on the floor in front of her, right in the middle of the puddle of vodka we had left there as the start of a trail back to Bob.
It caught right away, a low, blue flame that hurried along the trail and engulfed Bob completely before reaching out in new
directions. Sandy and I watched just long enough to make sure it would catch, that the fire would remain when the alcohol burned off, then left, closing the door behind us.
With a jaunty stride, we both headed to the garage, and I got my first look at the car crouching within.
It was a monster. A shining black beast of a machine, a late model Mustang with red leather interior. As a car, it oozed testosterone, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if it breathed fire on start up. As far as muscle cars went, this was Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime. This was the Rock amped up on steroids and made of shiny black steel.
A single glance was enough to answer the question of why someone like Sandy would ever accept a ride with someone like Bob. This car would give instant sex appeal to a bug.
As I drooled over its immaculate, gleaming finish, I could sense Sandy grinning beside me.
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” she said, and it was all I could do to nod in agreement. “Well? What are you waiting for? To the victor goes the spoils.”
I hadn’t seen it quite that way until then, but something inside of me clicked when she said it. She was right. To the victor went the spoils. I hadn’t been able to take anything from Marcel Marionetti beyond his finger, but from Big Bob, I could take this.
Of course, I could take Sandy as well, but that just reinforced the principle.
I smiled to myself, understanding an advantage of being a hitman I hadn’t thought of before.
To the tune of Azrael gloating quietly in my mind, I opened the passenger door for Sandy, and enjoyed the sight of her pretty legs as she settled herself in. Then I took the driver’s seat.
“Where to?” I asked. She told me her address and pointed me in the right direction.
It had been a fair while since I’d driven a car. I had my license but had only owned an old clunker to take me to and from work. When I moved into the city and started work online, that car had just sat, using up money I didn’t have. So I’d got rid of it.
This was more than a step up. This was the difference between an attack helicopter versus riding a bike. For a moment, I was afraid to touch anything for fear it might explode. At the same time, the seat felt surprisingly comfortable, as if it was ready to no longer support the weight of Big Bob’s flabby ass.
The steering wheel seemed familiar and responsive, and when I fired her up, she responded with a deep-throated roar that vibrated in my chest.
It was as if she wanted me to drive her. I waved my foot over the gas and was rewarded with an enthusiastic a roar of enthusiasm. Then I shot a grin at Sandy and peeled out of Big Bob’s driveway as if I was born to drive this very car.
Neither Sandy nor I turned to look at what was going on with Big Bob’s house. But I could see it in the rearview mirror. Before I lost sight of it forever, it had blossomed into a ball of angry red fire. The house was fully ablaze, and I doubted if the fire department could put it out even if they magically appeared on the scene right away.
What would be left of Big Bob’s body and the heads in the basement downstairs, I couldn’t begin to predict. But I doubted there would be any useful clues remaining for anyone to use to figure out what happened, or who did it.
Sandy lived in an apartment complex not too far from my own. She guided me into the parking garage beneath her building and invited me up without the slightest hint of hesitation. With my keys in my pocket, and more nervous excitement than I should have felt given the past few days I’d had, I rode the elevator with her to the fifteenth floor and followed her to apartment 1508B.
“Welcome to my humble home,” Sandy said, sounding proud and gesturing around. “Take a seat. I need a shower, to clean the smell of that place off me. Make yourself at home. There should be wine next to the fridge, and I’ll be out in just a moment.”
With that, she left me alone in a well-kept and surprisingly spacious apartment that was filled with bright colors, cushions, and an assortment of couches and chairs. The arrangement of the latter suggested socialization rather than staring at a screen. The door through which Sandy left suggested a bedroom, and I figured it to be a one-bedroom place, if larger than normal, with the bathroom acting as an ensuite as well.
With nothing better to do, I did as Sandy suggested, pouring a glass of red for her and myself, before settling down on one of the couches.
“Do I need to remind you not to blow this?” Azrael asked in my mind.
“Of course not,” I replied. Then I grinned, teasing him a little. “Then again, I might anyway. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Before he could respond, I asked him a question. “But I’m puzzled. Sure, I rescued him her from Big Bob, but why is she so enthusiastic? I mean, I’m still the same guy I’ve always been. Not much to look at, kinda short, a bit dumpy. Sure, my status has improved, but look at me. Why is it that neither her nor Rachel seem to care?”
“There’s more to status than just legal and illegal,” he replied. “You also now have a demonic status as well. It is low, but in this world, even having such a thing is rare. Which means that for those who can perceive it, you are a prize.”
“And Rachel and Sandy can perceive it,” I said, surprised.
“Obviously. For them, your looks and real-world status are less important than the potential you’re able to offer. Rachel always had a demonic aspect to her nature. And even though she seems quite different, the opposite to Rachel in many ways, Sandy does as well. All going well, we’ll get to see it shortly.”
It sort of made sense. I’d always known that some girls were attracted to the bad guys, but I’d always assumed that just meant those with high illegal status. It had never occurred to me that there were different forms of bad.
I couldn’t help but wonder. If my current demonic status was enough to attract women like Rachel and Sandy already, what would it be like when that status was raised?
I had barely downed a third of my drink when Sandy reappeared in the doorway. She was clean and had changed from the dress she’d been wearing into the flimsiest, most translucent black negligée I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help it. I sat there and gaped. I could see everything and then some. Yet at the same time, the negligée served to keep the prize at bay.
It was both alluring and the definition of frustration, and I heard the echoes of Azrael in my mind. “Don’t blow it.”
“No music?” Sandy asked, obviously pleased by my reaction. Without waiting for a response, she turned to a small system set on a low table near the wall, and the room filled up with something modern and light with sensual overtones. At the same time, she dimmed the lights and turned the apartment into a private club through some hidden light, throwing shards of color in every direction.
Then she started to sway within her negligée, and I couldn’t help but watch the way the sheer fabric moved against her the skin of her breasts, hips, and everything else. I noted that she was less voluptuous than Rachel, but no less appealing.
Then she reached for me, took my free hand in her own, and helped me to my feet. Instead of taking the glass I’d poured for her, she took the one from my hand and took a satisfied swallow. Then, smiling broadly, she stepped in close and kissed me.
“Are you ready to receive your reward?” she asked.
Chapter 28
Despite her words, Sandy made no move toward the bedroom, seemingly content to dance, or at least sway, in time with the music, with the wine glass in her hand and one hand around my back.
For my part, I had Azrael almost shouting at me in my mind. “What are you waiting for?” he said. “A written invitation? She is ready and willing. It’s time to level up once more.”
I knew Azrael was right. Sandy was ready and willing. I could tell by the slight flush on her cheeks and the tautness of her nipples through the sheer negligée. Yet, for the moment, I was happy enough to sway in time with her, just enjoying the feeling of being close to such an attractive woman.
At the same time, I admit to a certai
n level of glee at Azrael’s unspoken desperation. I knew that denying him also meant denying myself, in more ways than one, but I just couldn’t help it. Azrael had looked down on me since the moment I’d drawn him out of Chad’s body and into my own.
I had a long history of resenting that sort of behavior and was starting to enjoy getting my own back. Why should even Azrael be immune to my petty moments of revenge?
What made it even sweeter was that I could sense his growing annoyance the longer I delayed. So I waited for Sandy to finish her drink before I took the glass away from her and set it on a side table. Then, to the tune of a song that could have been equally about dancing or sex, I wrapped both my hands around Sandy’s perfect behind and used the strength Azrael had given me to pick her up off the floor.
She let out a squeal of delight and wrapped her arms and legs around me as I carried her into her bedroom.
Sandy had left the lights on with an obvious intent to return. The bedroom was another triumph of cushions and color, and was dominated by a large, four-poster bed. I carried Sandy over and dumped her unceremoniously onto the covers before collapsing next to her.
She laughed at my unexpected roughness and bounced up to her knees, giving me an exceptional view of the way her breasts moved beneath the negligée fabric. With a broad smile, she helped me out of my jacket and shirt, then paused at the body armor she found underneath. But she didn’t comment about it, simply running her fingers down its length before peeling open the fastenings at the sides.
“You won’t be needing this anymore today,” she said, and in moments the body armor joined the rest of my clothing on the floor. In less than a minute, I was completely naked, a circumstance I was getting used to with Rachel, but it was a new thing entirely with Sandy.
I felt a moment of self-consciousness about my pudgy, imperfect self, especially when compared with Sandy’s tone and beauty. It was a flaw I intended to get Azrael to fix at some point, but for now, I just had to live with it.