by Amelia Esla
The Devil
Devil's Hell Hound 1
Amelia Esla
Prologue
It was late on a summer night. Not a sound could be heard in the streets on the outskirts of the city. The wind blew the smell of sea salt in the air and it masked the scent of blood that came from a small alleyway between apartment buildings.
No one heard it happen.
No one even noticed the man being killed. It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be quick.
It was.
Morgan was on his knees on the ground, his body covered in blood. It wasn’t his but it might as well been. His shaking hands were warm from the fresh blood that came from the man he killed. His face had splatters of blood as well as his hair. Where he sat on his knees the blood pooled on the ground.
He remembered the thrill that came moments before.
He held the knife so tight that it was hard to let go. And when he did, it meant it was completely over.
It was so euphoric that he almost blacked out from pure bliss.
The body continued to bleed on the ground, the dark liquid pooling and spreading further and further. Blood covered the man’s lifeless face, his mouth was open and his tongue gone. He was suffocated brutally, the bruises and blood around his throat; this was before having an arm forced in his esophagus.
That was truly an accident.
Morgan didn’t think it would go so far. He didn’t think he would feel that good to be covered in blood first of all, but he had his forearm down that dead man’s throat. It was frightening but it felt so good.
The warmth that covered his skin as his arm moved, opening up the muscles of the man’s neck, feeling the life literally leaving him from the inside out, if only Morgan could reach down further.
It was so quick.
But he wished it wasn’t.
Deep down, he wished that he wasn’t so quick to draw away from the dark feeling. He couldn’t get over what it felt like.
Morgan replayed everything that happened over and over again. The chills rose on his skin once more and it desperately made him want to do it again. And again.
And again.
The realization that came with how he enjoyed killing made him so worried that he began to panic. He was traumatized. He was scared. He never thought of murder like this. He spent years trying to defend against this, yet now he was part of what he tried to protect people from.
How could he enjoy ending someone’s life? How could he want to get off to the feeling of actually killing someone?
His heart was racing from the adrenaline. His body was shaking as he stared at the blood that pooled. It was red now. In the dark it looked black. Morgan could feel it on him. He remembered what it felt like when it first got on his hands. He remembered what it felt like when he sliced the man’s throat, the blood gushing over his skin. He remembered what it felt like when his arm reached...
He closed his eyes.
God, it felt so good. It was so wrong, but so good.
“I c-can’t...”
He didn’t like how much he liked it. It was traumatic. He shouldn’t enjoy murdering people. And the fact that he realized that he may keep going out and killing people just to feel the same way he felt minutes before was what made him think he had to stop.
He couldn’t handle it.
“You did fine.” Someone said behind him.
That wasn’t the point. Morgan closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. He knows he did fine. He knows he did better than fine.
“Jaymin...I can’t.” Morgan felt the stress over his heart that caused the pain in his chest. He couldn’t go through with this again.
He loved it too much.
But he wasn’t like Jaymin. He wasn’t ruthless. He had a conscience. He did care about people. Morgan will always have a moment of weakness , that’s why this happened. He couldn’t keep it going like Jaymin could. He will always think about what if he hadn’t done it? Would just a few moments of satisfaction be worth a life?
Morgan couldn’t do it.
Jaymin thought otherwise.
“Did it feel good?” Jaymin got down beside him, wanting to know how Morgan felt about what he did.
And it was even more terrifying when Morgan nodded without hesitating.
If only he could keep killing.
He had no control. The only way he could remind himself not to go too far was because Jaymin was around. Jaymin just wanted Morgan to stop holding back and let loose.
Could he have done something crazier? Could he have really lost his mind and be more brutal?
Jaymin was so curious. He needed to break Morgan.
“You did fine.” Jaymin said again, his hand moving to Morgan’s cheek as he tried to reassure him.
Morgan was stunned. He felt Jaymin’s touch on his face, and that was the realest moment he’s had in a while. He looked at Jaymin, more confused and terrified than he’s been all night. He was concerned that Jaymin only cared about him going wild.
But it didn’t seem that way.
It’s not like Jaymin would leave him alone. He wanted to be with him. He could control him. There was no way he could let Morgan go through this by himself.
And Jaymin couldn’t let his killer back out now. He didn’t think Morgan would.
Jaymin saw it. The way Morgan’s eyes sparkled under the low lighting of the moon. It was a dark pleasure. He wanted it so bad. Morgan was practically aching for it. Jaymin could feel it. He knew Morgan enjoyed it. He could see it on his face as he took that man’s last breath.
Morgan knew what he was getting into. He knew what was happening. He wanted to fight it so badly. He knew what was right, but this felt right. He belonged right here.
He couldn’t tell Jaymin no.
He couldn’t say that he didn’t like this because he loved it.
He had to do it again.
He had to go for it again.
Jaymin leaned his head on Morgan’s shoulder and he stared at the dead body in front of them that was still bleeding; his hand dropped to Morgan’s other shoulder, and he felt his arms shaking. Was Morgan still nervous? The trembling didn’t last that much longer. Morgan felt a little more at ease, maybe because Jaymin was with him.
The warmth was still emanating from the dead man’s body, but it won’t be long before he’s completely cold.
Morgan did good.
But he could do better.
Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Chapter One
A young man walked into a police station early in the morning. The sun was bright out in southern Florida. He had his badge tucked in his pocket, but others seemed to know him. He was a fairly young man who seemed rough around the edges. He was tall and slightly muscular. His darker fade of blond hair was tousled wetly and his face unshaven. His expression was nonchalant as he looked at the chaos that was around him.
He had just transferred here and it was his first day as an investigator for this unit. He wanted an environment that tested him, that kept him on his toes, and he’s heard recently that this was the place to be.
“Oh, Elijah, you’re early.” One of the other investigators came over to him. “Trying to impress the boss on the first day?” He asked.
“Well she called me.” he said and looked around some more, wanting to get familiar with f
aces. “Told me there was something I’d be interested in.” He said casually.
“You’re the new guy on murder crimes right? You’re definitely going to have the time of your life with this one.” The other officer lead him to the conference room.
As cruel as it was, Elijah liked the sound of that.
There were more investigators going over the most recent crimes that happened the night before. And the previous nights before that.
There were photos all over the table of the deceased and they were not anything someone has seen before. Most of the photos were gruesome but had to be taken for evidence. Some of the officers had a hard time looking. It was bizarre to be seeing what they saw, as if the past couple of weeks didn’t test their tolerance already. When the new agent sat down, he picked up the first photo in front of him, the most recent crime, the murder from last night.
A man had his limbs cut off. It wasn’t a clean cut like it was done with a large knife. It was done with something more aggressive, like a chainsaw. The man’s guts were pulled out and displayed around his body as well.
“What’s in his mouth?” Elijah asked.
There was flesh in his mouth, covered in hair and blood.
“His testicles.” The lead investigator said, slamming down a few papers that autopsy gave to her. “Our killer thinks they’re being funny.” She wasn’t amused. She turned around to put the photo up on the board. “This is the fifth one this week, and we have no leads or evidence.” she said.
Was it that difficult? Was the serial killer that good?
“This killer is choosing random people off the streets and doing what they please.” she turned around to face her team. “There are no connections between these people.”
“Well it is a tourist area, of course there would be no connections.” Another investigator pointed out as he put a photo down.
Elijah was pulling all the photos closer to him so he could see if there really were no connections between them. Anything would be helpful. Any similarities, even signatures the killer that might leave that’s a trademark to them only...
That was all he needed.
He separated the photo when he took glances of each.
There were a few connections.
“There’s two different killers.” he said as he separated the pictures into two groups. “One group has the theatrical murders, the exaggerated poses and gruesome images. And it’s not like group two doesn’t have that, but it looks more random without the dark humor.” Elijah picked up one photo. “Group two has burn marks on them.”
“That’s how you’re getting two different killers?” The lead investigator asked.
“Well, why burn some and not the others? Are they significant or just trash?” he asked and put his hands down on the table.
The lead investigator smiled. She expected nothing less from someone who’s only worked murder cases since training. “Meet Elijah Milen, please show him your best hospitality.” she continued to smile towards him.
It was rather easy to figure out that there were two different killers. So what next? What’s the step from here? It seems like things were difficult for them, so even if they had figured there were two killers, it’s not like they have needs.
The lead investigator wanted to talk to Elijah privately. Apparently, she’s had to make it clear to the other agents not to get too invested in this serious case. She’s had to reassign a number of people because they were causing problems. Elijah will not be an exception.
The last thing she needed was Elijah getting abducted or maybe killed.
“Listen, Elijah. I know you’re only here for one reason, but I don’t need you to breathe, eat, and sleep this.” She warned him.
Whoever she lost in this case must have hurt the team.
“May, this is literally the only case I’m working on.” Elijah said. “If I don’t invest in it, then I’m not doing my job.” he said.
The only reason he transferred was for this. May asked for someone who would be able to help and here he was. Elijah would always be devoted to his work, that’s why he was in the process of a divorce, that’s why he’s alone now. He focuses mostly on his work.
“I can give you something else-”
“Whatever you think will happen to me, won’t happen to me. I’m just here to catch a few killers and I’ll be out of your way.” Elijah knew what he was here to do.
He wasn’t going to get too attached. He wasn’t going to overstep his boundaries. He was just an investigator. Nothing more.
However, because May seemed more than concerned with the safety of her team, Elijah wanted to ease her nerves, so he did promise he won’t go overboard. Who knows what could happen though. Elijah would keep a safe distance from his new case and his life.
He had to stay alive right, if the case was that serious.
He was dealing with two murderers at the moment. He needed to know more about them.
Elijah took time to catch up on all the open cases he could read through at once. He read the autopsy reports and drug screens, and anything that might have some information. He kept the groups of murders divided to make it easier on him.
There’s a lot that can be figured out about psychopaths just by how they kill.
All these murders started happening a few months ago, but recently, they’ve picked up more and more until it was a body dropping every single night. Police patrol has increased to keep people safe in the streets, however it doesn’t change the dynamic of the murder. Although there are true rumors circulating about a murderer loose, none of the tourists stopped coming. In fact, it made them more eager. So it won’t be long before the city starts using the murders as a publicity stunt.
Just before Elijah decided to go out for lunch, he saw the officer that talked to him first walk out with someone. Were they giving a statement? Was it about the murder?
Elijah narrowed his eyes.
This man gave off a vibe to Elijah, one that brought chills up his spine in a subtle and scary way. It was unsettling. However, looking at him seemed different. This man looked like he was worn down. He may have been in a suit, but his expression said that he’s tired, that he’s broken, that he wants to give up. It was almost a sad puppy type of look. His dark eyes were filled with depression and lost hope. But when Elijah looked away, the chills resurfaced.
What was the truth?
Elijah went over to the officer when the man was gone.
“Who’s that, Ben?” He asked.
“Just some guy who gave a statement about the woman killed two nights ago. Lydia Garcia.” The officer said.
Elijah remembered reading about her. Her body was contorted to break most of her bones. They were broken individually while she was alive. Her trachea was broken to cut off her airway and she suffocated to death. She was also burned at her face, well her eyes were burned.
Elijah took off to go talk to the man himself before he disappeared.
He walked outside in the blistering heat and looked for the man that was wearing a gray suit. He called out to him when he was spotted.
The man turned around, a little confused on who was trying to get his attention. As he moved, wherever he moved, his curly hair that was dyed black would bounce. It certainly had to take him a while to grow all that hair. He doesn’t remember the last time he got it cut. He stood quietly in front of Elijah, still holding on to his suit jacket at his arm.
“You, uh, gave a statement about that woman who was killed, right?” Elijah asked to get right to the point. He showed his badge so the man would know that he was part of the investigation as well.
“Yes. She was my client, so I knew I had to say something.” He said quietly.
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.” he answered.
So there was one connection between a victim that was murdered and someone else. Sure it probably didn’t mean anything, but it was always helpful when anyone made a statement.
E
lijah didn’t think that this man was a lawyer for real. He got a good look. This man was slightly twitchy and too passive. How would he make a good lawyer? He must have a certain nature in the courtroom that he doesn’t have outside of it.
“Well, if you find anything that may be helpful, you should call us.” Elijah gave him his card. “Mr...”
“Blair.” he finished. “But you can call me James.” he said politely as he took the card.
Would it be useful?
Elijah let that man leave; he felt like he was wasting Mr. Blair’s time.
He needed time to think himself anyway. He had a case to work on.
“Let’s just hope that nothing out of the ordinary happens tonight.” The officer said when Elijah walked back into the station.
“Define out of the ordinary.” Elijah said, a sardonic tone to his voice.
What they’ve seen was definitely out of the ordinary. How could someone so easily kill like it’s nothing? These murders that have been happening have been out of control. Its a shame that the police are having difficulty determining what’s going on.
Who could be killing these people?
Elijah was the type of person to take their work home with them. He lived alone so it’s not like he would be bothering anyone. He continued to read over the rest of the murders he didn’t get to finish earlier. It was kind of gruesome how someone could lack so much empathy and end their life.
Elijah found another connection.
One was not empathetic. One murderer was an actual psychopath. This killer did not care what happens, that’s why the murders were so gruesome. The other killer, they were breaking. The kills weren’t as wild or theatrical, their organs were always in tact, there was no reason to defile the body, or maybe the killer couldn’t handle it.
Elijah had new information he was eager to share with his colleagues.
The next morning he stood at the front of the room and he wrote on the white board under all the pictures, separating the murders into their right categories. He didn’t know names of his colleagues very well so he chose to get to the point of it.