Darkroom

by Poppet

  Unable to be brave any longer, my uncontrollable sobbing steals my breath.

  "Let me give you a sedative. You're in shock."

  I manage to shake my head. I have to face my fear. "Take the mask off. I – I have to see if I know him."

  He pulls away, his visage worried. "Honey, are you sure that's a good idea?"

  I answer with a firm nod while my stomach twists to the point where I feel like I'm going to vomit. He wraps a warm hand into mine, silently supportive as we advance together to Vengeance. I wait for him to do it. I'm still too afraid to touch him. Victor unzips the black hood with hideous red horns, pulling it up so I can see the man who raped and beat me to the point where I wondered if I was still sane. He's tall and the suit hides bulky arms. Staring at them unadulterated rage grips me. He hit me with all of that strength! I stare at the nose, the mouth, the perfect brows. He'd blend in anywhere, in a congenial way. Sandy hair, his mouth at a naturally happy angle despite death. He looks serene. I still hate you! You gave me nightmares and hurt me. I'll still have nightmares and you will have peace and serenity! At least no one will bury you and honour your fucked up despicable life!

  "Do you know him?"

  Shaking my head, the flood of emotions blur Victor. Crumbling, I collapse next to my tormentor, ravaged with the flood of relief, remorse and anger. Bitterly I pound my fist into his chest, "I hate you!" Sniffing as I draw another huge breath, the tears drop onto the buckle. Oh God. His buckle – it's an omega symbol. When he raped me, that belt broke me so severely I thought I'd be scarred for life.

  "Disturbing coincidence isn't it?" I was so caught up that my body jumps in reflex as Victor wraps his arm reassuringly around my shoulders. He draws me up, turning me away with insistent hands, "I'm afraid for you and I can't leave you alone in this state. I'm giving you an injection which will make you sleep. You don't need my guilt on your conscience too. If you don't come with me, then you can't answer questions, even under a lie detector test, that will incriminate you. Let me take care of this. But I need to know you're okay and safe first."

  It feels so wonderful with him taking control, always taking care of me, protecting me, he never stops making sure I'm okay. Twisting I wrap my arms around his waist, "I love you."

  "I love you too." His squeeze is firm and adoring. I'm home; I'm safe.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Shauna, never apologise for being my dainty angel. I'm here to protect you. Always."

  Chapter 34

  Photographs that transcend but do not deny their literal situation appeal to me.

  ~ Sam Abell

  This is planned down to the very last detail. She succumbs to unconsciousness almost immediately. Everyone in the building is asleep. My timing is impeccable. The hours between three and four in the morning are always the best hours to commit a crime without witnesses.

  I own a large canvas duffle bag which I can put him into, to lug him out undetected. Swiftly dressing in black, I then cram my convenient alibi into the bag. Zipping it up, I grunt with exertion as I haul it onto my shoulder and drag it down the stairs. The elevator has a camera, so that's out of the question.

  The M3 is deliberately parked in a dark corner close to the stairwell exit. Summoning my reserve strength I stroll out of the door to the car, forcing the impression that I have laundry in the bag, casually opening the boot and depositing the bag into it with a heavy thump.

  Pulling my sweater hood down further, I get into the car, only switching on the fog lights as I slowly crawl out into the road. Driving slowly and noiselessly until two roads away, where I increase to the speed limit, determination casts my face into concentration as I head for the warehouse.

  Twenty minutes later I depress the remote button, driving with the lights off on the M3, into the warehouse. Closing the retracting door behind me before switching the lights on. Working methodically, but with economical speed, I unzip my prey, remove the clothing from his body, and return him to the bag. Heaving it to the Land-rover where I hide it under a tarpaulin. Wrapping the leather suit up, I hide it in the safe before undressing and pulling on my wet-suit. Folding my clothes neatly, I put them in the floor well on the passenger side before climbing in, checking my watch. The tanks are ready and I have the stun stick and water torch already packed and ready to go. I quickly pull the sweater back on to hide the wet-suit from any observer I pass on the road.

  Killing the lights, I start the 4x4, easing out of the building with all the lights off on both car and warehouse. Engaging third gear, I make haste to Cape Point. It's the perfect drop off zone. The waters out there are known worldwide for their Great White activity. There are many alcoves containing tiny beaches littering the tip of Africa, all of them are only accessible on foot. Anyone on the land wouldn't even see down there in the dark, the drop is that steep. It's also a nature reserve, so there won't be any residents to witness this.

  Quietly I direct the Landy off the tiny road, easing her slowly to a lower ridge. Out of view of land level, I cut the engine. Moving with calm haste, I haul the bag out of the back and throw it straight off the edge with a mighty shove. I watch it vaguely catch the slither of moonlight from the crescent moon, thudding all the way down as it rebounds off rocks. Satisfied, I pull the tanks on, strapping the torch and stun stick to my waist, grabbing the flippers, I high-tail it down the rocky descent. All those years of hiking and rock climbing coming in useful after all.

  Briefly I unzip the bag to stare at the greedy corpse of a man who doubted the word of Alpha. He questioned authority. He was once one of us, but insubordination is only permitted for so long before you have to be removed permanently. Those on the inside know too much and cannot be permitted escape. When he argued with me about God's law and it being out of date for our age, undermining Father, right then I knew we could do without him, and he would be a willing participant. He thought he'd been forgiven when I told him I required him to enter my home wearing the suit of God's army. Staring into his immobile face, I pray, performing the last sacrament for another lost soul.

  Pulling on my flippers and then the goggles, I grab the handle of the bag and calmly wade into the choppy sea. It's so dark down here, I feel serene, peaceful. Slipping under, placing the mouthpiece into my mouth and testing it, I swim out, only using the torch when I am forced to. Checking my watch for depth after seven minutes, I unzip the bag, leaving both the body and the bag behind in this ocean graveyard. It's embryonic inside the ocean; calm and reassuring. Unsheathing his body, I pull the chain out of the bag, securing it around his waist so that he won't float to the surface. The carrion eaters of the sea will take care of the evidence for me, salt water will erase all DNA evidence. It's subliminally perfect.

  Hauling as many rocks as I can manage, I weigh down the chain. Checking my watch again through the mirage of bubbles from my exhalation, I've been gone for thirty-five minutes. I have to get back or the neighbours may be awake for my return. No witnesses. Or Alpha will cast me in here to join my latest victim of convenience.

  I secure the bag around ocean debris before swimming with the grace of a stingray back to the alcove. Standing, I snatch off my goggles and flippers. Hooking both to the belt, I use my brute strength to literally pull myself up over the rocky incline, back to the car.

  Swiftly changing back into my clothes, I neatly pack the diving gear away into the storage boxes in the back. Hopping in, I force myself to meander the car casually out of the Cape Point reserve, back onto the main road. Pressured to speed where I can, I make it back to the warehouse in thirteen minutes. I haven't passed a single car and am supremely confident I have no witnesses.

  Changing vehicles, I guide my metal steed home with impatience. Quietly parking in my usual spot, and taking a pretend tipsy walk back up to the sixth floor, silently unlocking the door and flitting inside like just another shadow on a malevolent night.

  Pausing in the bedroom, I check on her. Fast asleep and oblivious. "He's gone now angel. Now it's just you and m
e."

  Stooping, I kiss her warm brow briefly, before taking my clothes off. I douse them with oil. Blood is a protein. DNA contains protein. The best way to remove it during a wash is to first dilute it with fat. Animal fat would have been better, but I don't have time. Shoving them straight into the washer, preparing it with the necessary detergents. It's vaguely beginning to lighten with pre-dawn. Hurrying, I step into the shower. Washing first with isopropyl alcohol, then scrubbing with salt. Appreciating the lazy heat, I use the soap after the initial cleansing. Lathering up, rejuvenating my body and mind.

  Finishing – I shave, slap on Aramis, and dress again in casual light blue Levi's and matching t-shirt. Leaving shoes off, I stroll to the kitchen, switching on the machine to clean the clothes, my only witness. My shoes will cling to evidence. Picking them up, I place them into an incineration bag. Slipping loafers on, I leave the building again. Leaving my angel of serenity to her dreams of me.

  Using her car this time, I slip in, starting it, and drive to the surgery which is a mere three minutes away. It's 4:30 a.m. Still early enough to go undetected. Using my remote I disable the security. Instantly cutting camera footage into our offices. Rifling the key out of my pocket, I unlock the surgery door, flitting in and walking swiftly to the incinerator. It's always kept on. This is a mainstay in our profession. You have to burn the pieces of body removed for vanity by the paying bitches. Dropping the bag with the shoes, and the leather suit he wore in another incineration bag, into the furnace, I indulge in a fleeting smile. Satisfied I've covered every angle, I escape back into the night, re-locking and activating the premises, returning home. I note one light on in the northern side of the building where we live in Sandown Road. I park her car where I found it, loping quickly back up the stairs and into apartment six-one-six.

  Sitting down on the suede couch, I remotely open the curtains and blinds as I remove my shoes. Appreciating Father's amazing talent as a creator with each new day. Those who sleep late miss the best part of creation, dawn.

  Walking to the kitchen, I pour myself a celebratory whiskey. Johnny Blue. I don't drink much, but like to have a selection of fine whiskey. I can't say why, it's my one personal indulgence. Downing it, I then place the glass into the dishwasher. Turning my attention to making coffee. Post murder ardour grips me as I train a lazy eye on the dripping coffee. It makes me crave sin after taking life. She's warm and lethargic just three doors away from me. I could go in and spill my pride into her.

  My ego toys with me as I decide it will be far more rewarding to see how she chooses to thank me for my sacrifice for her safety. Taking fresh coffee into the darkroom, I sit down in front of the screen, pressing play on our last session of lovemaking. Unzipping the strain, I release my frustration mentally, as she closes her eyes and opens her mouth. Praying to me on the screen.

  ***

  Noise alerts me. Jerking upright in panicked reflex, it takes a moment for last night to filter back, returning a semblance of calm. Victor strolls in with a mug in each hand as coffee teases me with its alluring aroma.

  "Good morning my little angel." He looks tired and pale, but his face is cherubic in its gentleness.

  I return the affectionate smile, "Morning."

  Placing the mugs down precariously close to the edge of the beech table, he leans over after sitting next to me, giving me a nubile soft kiss on the lips. "How are you feeling?"

  "Guilty. Dirty." I do. I vaguely recall Vengeance coming to me in my sleep, telling me it's not over. My soul feels sullied. We murdered him. No one deserves murder. I can't stop my bottom lip from shaking as tears well up again. "I'm so ashamed."

  Pulling me into his chest, a hand rubs my back. "You had no choice. If he'd had his way, last night would have ended very differently."

  I'm unable to prevent the endless tears, "I made you murder him. It's all my fault."

  "I took care of it. There's no evidence that anything untoward happened here last night. Let's bury the past now. The most important thing is that you're safe and you never have to live in fear again." Soft kisses cover my face when he tilts my head, attempting to love my anguish away.

  Doesn't he feel any guilt? I am. It's weighing on me. Why am I crying? Is it relief? We're probably going to hell for this too. I'll never escape that bastard. Now he's waiting for me in my afterlife.

  He's patient. Letting me cry it all out until it subsides. Then he companionably holds my hand when we drink our first cup of morning coffee after the insane ordeal that's been my life for nearly two years. After coffee, he climbs back into bed with me, wrapping his body around mine, the safest harbour I've ever docked in, falling asleep with a possessive hand between my thighs. I didn't think it was possible, but I finally feel both loved, and safe. Drifting back into mindless slumber, I experience a warm peace, secure.

  Chapter 35

  But when we fall short and are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined and chastened, so that we may not be condemned to eternal punishment along with the world.

  ~1 Corinthians 11:32

  Betrayal knocks the wind out of me. Fury floods my body, annihilating the relaxed confidence I was so enjoying as I stare at the bitch. The fallen angel resurrected before my very eyes.

  "What are you doing?" Anger slips into my tone with the livid rage and adrenaline surging through me.

  Spinning from the mirror with obvious surprise, wearing black skin tight jeans, the harlot smiles happily at me, "Taking out these fucking earrings."

  My hand flashes out before I can stop it, gripping her pathetic wrist in my hand, forcing her to stop, "Don't, I like them."

  Her wide blue eyes search mine, and it's taking every ounce of self-control I own not to smack her into the mirror. Smashing that pretty face into it, forcing it to crack, break, cutting open that peachy skin.

  "Oh … oh okay …" she's faltering.

  I have to get a grip. Forcing a smile I pull her to me, making an excuse, "Sorry angel, my nerves are shot too, from last night. That earring matches my arm, leave it in for me, please?"

  She nods into my chest as I pull away, forcing her chin up, shoving my tongue into her mouth, reminding her who she belongs to.

  "I can go home," she announces with such exuberance as soon as the kiss ends.

  She could have punched me in the nuts and it wouldn't have hurt me, but this?

  "You used me …"

  Her face twists in horror, "No! God no!"

  "Yes. You used me. Now your life can go back to the way it was."

  Shaking her head, eyes pleading, beginning to shimmer with unshed tears, hoarse shock makes her voice waver, "Victor, never. I just … I …"

  "You just what? You just couldn't wait to run back home. You don't care how I feel? You just announce it. I've been through hell for you, and now you're casting me aside, now that I've served my purpose."

  She runs hands over my chest, staring up at me, disgrace all over her. Look at her, wearing her slut, low-rise stretch jeans the minute she thinks God isn't around with his avenging angels. I've deluded myself, I thought she'd changed.

  "Victor please …"

  "Please what? I've done everything in my power to help you. Everything."

  "I know." It's barely a whisper. She runs her whoring hands down my body, rubbing my groin as her whisper lies automatically, "I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought you'd be pleased?"

  Halting her despicable acts of manipulation, I grab the wrist, thrusting her hands off me, propelling her backward into the vanity, "Just get out."

  Tears start falling now, her lips move but nothing comes out.

  "I'm going out. Don't be here when I get back."

  Backing away from her, forcing myself to hide my rage, my shock at her betrayal, my horror, I snatch keys off the bookshelf in the passage outside the bathroom. My phone and wallet are already in my pockets. Striding to the front door, pulling my sunglasses on, I stalk out, slamming it behind me.

  Rushing down the stairs, I almos
t run to the M3. Getting in, my hands shaking, my breath raggedly heaving my chest. I wanted to kill her right then. I wanted to make her bleed, slowly, so that death would be the last mercy Alpha would grant her. I've tried so hard. She seemed so authentic and genuine.

  Pulling my iPhone out of my pocket, I phone my first disciple.

  "Peter. It's Vengeance. I need you to visit Shauna for me."

  Starting the car, I reverse out of the parking bay confidently, my calm returning as a new plan forms in my mind. "I'm going to take her out …"

  One thing she never counted on, was thirteen of us. Driving to Seth, I recall how much power I command. Her life is in my hands. I wield the power to turn her back. The hard way. I need to get more fake contraception from Seth, whose speciality is pharmacology. He has his own lab, and I need her body primed for pregnancy, I've doused her food with folic acid, which is why I cook. It's not out of love, it's so that I can make the most of her biology.

  Absently I share with Pete, "She wore jeans. She couldn't wait to defy Father. God's law isn't open to selfish interpretation."

  Listening I nod, as I stop the car in my reserved bay at the surgery, "When? Today. Definitely today."

  The impostor had twelve disciples. The first are the same as mine. Peter, and his brother Andrew; James, and his brother John.

  But it gets worse as Seth takes me into our soundproofed lounge in the rear of the surgery. His expression is tense and severe as he orders me, "Sit down."

  I know better than to debate. He wouldn't be like this unless it was serious. Sitting down on the black leather chair closest to his, I arch my eyebrows, waiting.

  "Alpha contacted me."

  I nod, gesturing for him to continue.