“Well…I’m glad you are here”, she said softly, opening her mouth to his kiss. He kissed her hungrily, feeling the velvety softness of her lips, the strength of her arms as she pulled him closer to her. She moaned softly, a small animal sound escaping from her lips, as she intensified the pressure of her arms, melting into him. The kiss lasted several seconds and when he let her go, she was flushed, the red color suffusing her face.
“Whoa…what was that all about? she asked, tilting her head to the side in order to look at him better. She was dressed in a black Nike running outfit, her long, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, the face void of any make up, but still as beautiful as ever.
He just looked at her, feeling the mixed emotions running wild in his chest. “Nothing…just that I missed you too”, he said quietly, knowing that it was a lie.
She fixed her eyes on him for a moment, saying: “I’m glad you are here…lover. I have a great surprise for you tonight/”
“Really…and what is that?” he asked softly, feeling his heartbeat go back to normal.
“Ha…you are going to have to wait for it. But now…I’m hungry.”
He smiled at her, thinking that she was always hungry. “Well…let’s go eat”.
“Food…is not what I’m hungry for”, she said, and her voice was husky again, warm and inviting. He smelled the woman scent emanating from her and he felt his manhood responding to her instantly, his heart starting to beat against his ribs again. She smiled then, taking his hand and pulling him after her. In seconds, they were in her bed, frantically pulling clothes off, like lovers who had not seen each other in a long time. He could feel the wild running of his heart hammering painfully against his ribs, adrenalin rushing through his veins, all thoughts of her being implicated in the murders now gone. ‘She is hungry’, he thought, as she quickly took her clothes off, jumping in the bed ahead of him, her breathing coming in raggedy, fast. “Come on…come on…lover”, she said, again and again, urging him to move faster. He kicked his shoes and jeans off, putting the pistol and the handcuffs on the night stand, coming to her, finding her wet, ready for him. Her hand took hold of his manhood, guiding him in easily, her strong arms taking hold of him, her legs closing on him. He closed his eyes as he entered her, feeling himself melting in her heat, her powerful legs closing behind him, holding him in a vise grip, drawing him into her. Cries of pleasure rang in the room as he slid into her, moving, slowly at first, and then increasing the tempo, until she was bouncing on the bed and her cries reverberated in the small confines of the room. He felt himself exploding, her nails digging deep into his back, joining him in an ecstasy of pleasure that knew no bounds. A short time later, when his raging heart was finally subdued, he rolled from her, glancing at her face. The eyes were closed, the face serene, a slight film of sweat on her face. She opened her eyes, rolling off the bed in one swift move, standing up, stretching like a hunting cat satiated for the moment. She stood naked in front of him, not bothering to cover her body with a robe, proud of the way she looked.
“Now what?, he asked, eyes taking in the incredible body, the proud breasts, the long tapered legs with the powerful muscles moving underneath the skin.
“Now…you stay put. I have a wonderful wine that I just bought”. With that, she whirled around, exiting the room. In a matter of minutes she was back, holding two wine glasses. She handed one to Turner, who took it, starting to sip the cold, red liquid. “Damn, but it is some bitter wine”, he thought as he sipped again. He shook his head at the taste again and sipped some more, deciding he didn’t like it very much.
“Where is…this surprise” he asked, feeling a slight numbness on his tongue as he sipped some more of the wine.
Too damn dry, he thought, attempting to put the glass down on the carpet floor. He raised his eyes to see her looking at him, a look of concentration etched deeply on her face, the eyes hard and cold now, no hint of love or passion in them.
“What…what…” he started saying, his tongue thick, the glass falling from his nerveless fingers, the red liquid staining the carpet below like a river of blood. And then it hit him, all the misgivings and his sense of something not right coming to the surface in one quick rush. But it was too late.
He heard the laugh coming from her, something dry and mirthless and he knew that he had been right about her all along. She was the killer and now, he was her prey.
He tried to raise his head, to look at her, but it was as though he didn’t have any control over his body, his mind unable to give commands any more. With a supreme effort, he glanced at her, trying his best to focus his eyes, listening to her laugh, her eyes cold and hateful now.
“You bitch…you drugged me…you bitch.”
She laughed again, stepping to him. “Bitch…yes I’m your bitch. And now…you are really mine”.
He willed his body to move with an incredible effort, wondering what the hell she had put in that wine, cursing himself for being so stupid. His eyes glanced at the pistol, close to him, close but so far and he pushed himself from the bed, grunting with the effort, feeling his body tumbling from the bed, his face smacking the floor hard. He heard the laugh again and then his eyes closed and darkness took him.
* * * *
Mariska Mason sat on the bed and sipped the rest of her wine slowly, eyes fixed on the body of the man laying on the floor of her bedroom and a small grin flickered on her face momentarily. It had been so easy, she thought briefly, the wine and the drug. While he was in bed, thinking that he was such a wonderful lover, she had gone in the kitchen, mixing the wine with the drug, Ketamine and now he would be out for about an hour. The drug, also known as ‘Special k’ by veterinarians, was a powerful tranquilizer and she had given him enough to put him out for a while. Now he was powerless in her hands and soon, very soon, he would be dead just like the others before him. She finished the wine and stood up, still naked, bending down and lifting his inert body to her shoulder, grunting with the effort. She turned around, walking out of the room, stopping in front of her ‘special room’ and pushing the door open. She went inside, in darkness, bending down and dropping Turner unceremoniously on the floor, under the horizontal bar. She walked out again, coming back in seconds, Turner’s handcuffs on one hand and a small wooden stool on the other. She bent down, lifting him boldly, the muscles on her arms and legs swelling up, moving easily under her skin. One cuff went around his right hand and in moments, Turner was hanging from the horizontal bar, his body slumped, the only thing holding him the handcuffs. She stood back, eying him coldly and then she turned the soft amber light on and sat down on the carpet floor, the wooden box in front of her, the ancient, Viking battle axe laying to her side. She was ready and soon, Lt. Josh Turner would be dead. She closed her eyes, reaching for the weapon, her fingers caressing the cold metal, waiting…waiting.
CHAPTER 25
Mariska Mason’s Apartment Chicago
11:30 pm
He woke up to complete silence, his head pounding and his eyes hurting. His mouth was dry and the mere attempt to swallow was painful. He worked some saliva into his mouth, moving his tongue, forcing himself to swallow. He breathed hard and deep and shook his head slowly, opening his eyes to slits, feeling his temples throbbing. He wondered what kind of drug she had given him and the effects, knowing that he had not ingested that much of the wine. He shook his head again, slowly and closed his eyes hard, letting his senses fill him with whatever was going on in the room. Silence, deep and unnatural was all he was able to feel. When his head quit swimming, he took stock of himself, realizing that he was hanging from the horizontal bar in the room he had checked in the morning, his own handcuffs encircling his wrist. They hurt like hell and he tried to take the pressure of them by raising his body with his toes. He tried his best not to move suddenly, wanting to give himself time to shake the effects of the damn drug, eyes glancing at the naked figure seated on
the carpet, several objects in front of her. The room was in semidarkness and he squinted his eyes, breathing deeply to clear the cobwebs from his head, knowing that every second was important to him. Not that he had much hope of getting out of the mess he was in alive….but if he had a chance, he wanted to be ready. He glanced in her direction again, wondering what the hell she was up to, catching the glint of a metallic object in her hand. She put the object down and was quiet again, just an ephemeral presence more felt than seen in the shadows of the room.
She sat motionless on the floor, unmindful of him, eyes closed like a person in a trance, until suddenly, she moved, coming to her feet in one swift, fluid move.
She came to him, reaching for his face and cupping his chin in her hand, fingers digging painfully in his cheeks. He kept his eyes closed, body slumped, trying not to react to the pain.
“Are you awake…lover”, she asked, voice rough, husky, her soft breath washing over him, mixed with the smell of sweat and her woman scent. She held him for a moment longer and then she let his face go, stepping away from him. When he opened his eyes again, she was still there, a look of pure evil shining in her eyes, the face etched in rage. He fixed his eyes on her, fascinated by the change in her demeanor and the raw emotions taking control of her.
“I know you can hear me…lover.” She walked away, returning to the spot under the light, bending over and picking something up from the floor. In the semidarkness of the room and with his head swimming, it was impossible for him to see everything she was doing and he cursed silently, long and hard. She turned around, facing him again, walking to him. For a long moment she just looked at him, face upturned to see him better, and then she started talking, her words almost a whisper in the confines of the room.
“They raped me…when I was only a child. They raped me…the ones that were supposed to help me, to take care of me.” She was silent for a moment, her eyes looking right through him. “They came to me on a dark night, hurting me…hurting me…over and over. And they destroyed my life”. Swiftly she stepped on the stool, fingers like steel claws taking hold of his right hand and seconds later the cuffs came loose. The suddenness of the movement caught him unprepared and he fell down hard, his body slamming against the floor. He shook his head to clear it, attempting to get up, realizing that he was still too weak to do it. He breathed deep again, the rich oxygen slowly clearing his mind. She walked away then, bending swiftly and picking up an object from the floor before coming back to him. She held the item in front of his eyes and he swallowed hard. If he needed any more proof that she was the killer, it was right there, in front of his eyes. Dunbar’s gold shield was in her hands, glinting softly.
“I killed him first, close to his house. He was…he was the first one that hurt me…and then that other pig…Moore”. She laughed then, a dry, mirthless laugh, eyes unfocused. “I killed him too…on a dark, cold night when he was puking his guts out, drunk like the swine that he was”. She stopped again, an unholy light shining deep in the blue eyes and he shivered at what he saw there. An inhuman cry burst from her lips and he recoiled from her at the sound, his body shivering. It was the sound of an immortal soul, crying in pain, a heart rending wail that made his hair stand on end. He felt the cold wind of death walk over him and he shook his head, knowing that death for him was but seconds away.
“I can still feel the claws ripping into me…feel the darkness swallowing me…and I can’t stand it any longer”. She glanced at him with eyes clouded, a silent tear falling down her cheek, her chest falling and rising with the strength of her emotions. She walked away from him again, to where the wooden box was laying under the circular light, and for the first time he saw the axe. She hefted the weapon in her hands, turning to him. It was the axe in the glass case, the one he had seen in her office. She came toward him, but stayed farther away than before, the axe head resting on the floor as she leaned into it.
“I killed the one named Dunbar with this axe…and Moore too. And I’ll kill you now, so you can join their miserable souls wherever they might be”. She was silent then, hard, cold eyes fixed on him and then she smiled at him. “Come on Turner…get up. You are a big boy, lover; I know you can take me…come on”. She was mocking him, laughing at him, the cold stare never leaving his face.
He tried to speak, a dry, croaking sound escaping from his lips. He swallowed hard, pushing himself to his knees, feeling the strength returning to him. If he could have just a few more minutes, he thought, gulping the air into his lungs, just a few more seconds of life.
“Wait…Mariska…wait”, he finally croaked, sweat pouring from him despite the coldness of the room. He was completely naked, just like her and he felt violated, angry at himself for letting her get to him so easily. He glanced around, taking notice of the room where in all probability he would die soon. There was but one light, the door was closed and she had a weapon, which he knew that she was extremely proficient with. She was strong and tall, fast and he knew he was still weak, but maybe…just maybe he could wrestle the weapon from her hands. He laughed at himself, knowing well that in the shape he was in, it would be a miracle if she didn’t kill him on the first stroke of the axe. He swallowed hard again, working saliva into his mouth. He wanted to talk to her, try to convince her to let it go, that somehow they could help her, but one look at her and he realized that she was past listening to him, that she was too far gone for talks; that she was going to kill him just like she had killed the others. In that moment the stark reality that he was nothing to her, that he was not important and had never been, hit him like a solid blow to his chest. He felt the anger suffusing his entire body and his body tensed in preparation for what was coming.
She remained silent and still for a long moment, like someone trying hard to make up her mind and suddenly a grin flickered on the beautiful face, her expression childish almost.
“I almost let you live…lover. I was beginning to enjoy your clumsy attempts at lovemaking”, she said, laughing hard then, the sound reverberating in the small room, the axe in her hand starting to twirl in the air, faster and faster until it was just a blur, the cold metal flying through the air creating a sibilant sound in the room.
He came to his feet, pretending weakness, more than what he felt in reality, hoping to lure her into coming closer to him.
And she did.
She moved then, with a speed that left him stunned, a move so fast that it was nothing but a blur to his eyes. In all his life, he had never seen a human being move like that and it almost cost him his life. The axe came hunting for him, an incredibly powerful blow that had it landed, would have taken his head off with just one blow. He moved back savagely, grunting with the effort, throwing his body backwards. The sharp edge of the axe caught him across his upper chest and he felt warm blood seeping from the cut, barely opening his skin, a painful wound but not deadly. He crashed against the wall as she crowded him again, listening to her laugh. He squirmed and weaved away from her, looking for room to maneuver, cursing the damn weapon in her hands and the drug she had given him, gulping air into his lungs to dissipate the effects, adrenalin rushing through him. She came after him again, eyes fixed on him, the grin still on her face, hardly breathing while he felt his chest constricted, gulping air. Blood from his chest wound flowed steadily, running down his chest. She feinted with the axe and suddenly he felt himself flying across the room. She had moved incredibly fast again, but this time it was a karate kick that landed on his chest, the powerful blow almost caving his chest.
“Jesus H. Christ”, he exploded, remembering the trophies in the office. The damn woman could kill him with her bare hands also. She came at him again, kicks flying, crowding him, and not using the axe, the diabolical look in her eyes making a mockery of him. She felt that she was his superior, felt that she could kill him any time she wanted to and was only playing with him. She landed another kick, this time to his face, feeling his jaw breaking,
and the pain incredibly sharp. He tasted blood in his mouth and he spit, grimacing at the pain that shot through him. He moved away from her, his feet coming into contact with something behind him and he almost fell down. She saw him faltering and like a hunting cat, came at him quickly, the axe coming up in an arc, glinting wickedly in the amber light of the room, He snatched a quick look at whatever was by his feet, seeing the black wooden box and he sidestepped, moving fast as his left leg kicked at it, sending the box flying toward her. She jerked to the side, stopping the axe in midair, giving him the opening he need it. He came into her swing, his right leg flying, connecting with her chest, tumbling her to the ground, the axe flying from her hands, a look of surprise now on her face at the unexpected move from him. He crowded her now, dancing slightly on the ball of his feet and moved then with a speed honed by hundreds of encounters with death as he kicked at her again, the foot smashing on her mouth, her head snapping, jerking back. She shook her head, sweat and blood droplets flying from her face, glinting like diamonds in the light. Blood stained the carpet beneath her and she recoiled from him, swiftly coming to her feet. As he came into her, she pivoted and swung her left leg. He saw the kick coming and sidestepped it, feeling the powerful blow landing close to his testicles. For a moment his leg was numb and then she was coming at him, wiping blood from her face. Her eyes glanced at the axe and she jumped, diving for the floor. He did the same, landing on top of her, using his superior weight to force her head down. She was naked and sweaty, his hands unable to hold on to her. She squirmed and bucked like a wild horse, her knees trying to connect with his testicles. He swung at her, a closed fist that jarred her head to the side an then he was diving for the axe again, his hands closing on the shaft, turning around. He was coming up when something crashed against his head and he went down, the axe dropping from his fingers. He shook his head to clear it, knowing that death was coming, his inner voice screaming at him to get up, to move, that death was but seconds away. He lifted his eyes to her, shaking his head like a wounded animal, the pain emanating from his broken jaw sending waves of nausea and shivers through his body. She has taken the stool and smashed it against his head and now she was coming up with the axe in her hand, gloating, a smile on her face, eyes shining with the unholy light that he was becoming so familiar with. She came fast, eager to finish it quick, the axe coming down on his unprotected neck. Suddenly he yelled, turning on the floor, his right leg exploding upward, catching her coming fast, the foot crashing against her chest with all the power he could exert. He heard the unmistakable sound of bones breaking, saw the blood starting to gush from her mouth and he sprang up. The axe fell from nerveless fingers and he snatched it, swinging to the side with all his remaining strength, the sharp edge coming down on her neck, the blade slicing all the way through muscle, sinew and bone. Stunned, he saw the head tumbling down, framed by the long, blond hair, the severed neck gushing blood onto the carpet, the body falling down slowly. He felt a wave of nausea hit him, the hot bile filling his mouth and he was down on his knees, letting it go.
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