He helped her into a sitting position. Her breathing still hadn't relaxed, and he imagined it wouldn't for a while. The knife Martin dropped lay several feet away. Kara's eyes widened and she recoiled against the couch as he grabbed it.
"Calm the hell down," he said. "Sit still."
He sliced the duct tape around her ankles and pulled the strip away from her mouth. She let out a huge breath, nearly hyperventilating.
"Oh my God oh my God," she repeated between sobbing. "Thank you thank you."
Jack winced as she leaned her head against his shoulder. It was bad enough a knife was pressed into his shirt. Now a teenager was spreading her tears all over it.
"Okay, okay," he said, fighting his impatience. "Deep breaths. Just imagine you're home painting your nails or something, whatever the hell it is teenagers do."
He rose to his feet and approached Martin.
"Give me the keys to the cuffs."
Martin could barely speak. He spit up more blood. "They're-they're in the kitchen."
Jack picked up a loose, heavy book and slammed it across Martin's face.
"Bullshit. You keep them on you at all times, so you can keep your little illusion of control. Hand them over now. It'll spare you some pain."
He fished in his pocket and handed over the keys. Jack knelt next to Kara and unlocked the cuffs. Her right arm fell at her side as she leaned forward and hugged Jack tightly with her left arm. She trembled, and Jack managed to fight off the instinct to shove her away. Instead, he tried to pretend she was Tiffany, and gently patted her back.
"Uh, it's okay," he said awkwardly. "Everything will be okay, I guess. What's your name?"
"Tina. My name's Tina. But that crazy asshole kept calling me Kara." Tina tried to turn to shout. "You hear that, you bastard? My name's Tina!"
Jack laughed. "Whoa. Some attitude. I like it. Let's take a look at you here."
He lifted her shirt just enough to see her cut. It'd be fine, it wouldn't even need stitches. There would probably be a tiny scar, a reminder of how close she came to a very different outcome. His gaze settled on her arm.
"Your shoulder."
"I can't move it. It hurts."
"Dislocated."
Tina didn't have time to utter a single word before Jack grabbed her arm and yanked. Tina's eyes widened and then clenched shut as her shoulder popped. He covered her mouth to stifle the scream. She shouted into his palm for ten seconds as she gripped his arm with her other hand.
"Oh God," she said. "That fucking hurts."
Jack wiped the saliva from covering her mouth on her shirt sleeve.
"I'll bet it does."
"You-you saved my life."
She reached forward to hug him, but Jack declined, holding up an arm to block her. One half-hug was enough.
He wasn't fond of touching. Only a few people could get away with it. He enjoyed the occasional daughterly hug and kiss from Tiffany, and the not-so-occasional marathon under the sheets with his girlfriend, Erica. Every great now and then, probably an average of around five decades or so, he'd hug Victoria.
And that was it.
"I didn't really save your life," Jack said. "I consider this more an investment in my daughter's future. But hey, whatever. You're welcome. Tina—" Mortals were generally more receptive at hearing their names. "Do you want to know why Martin grabbed you so easily?"
"Why?"
"Because of this." He pulled her cell phone from his pocket and dropped it in her open hand. "For Christ's sake, try looking up from it every now and then. Check out the world around you. It's not so bad." He hesitated. "Well, yeah, it actually is pretty bad. But still, the cell phone isn't always your friend. Especially that old, crappy model."
"Yes-Yes, sir."
He smiled and nodded. "Manners. I'm impressed. Are you still with me? We've got one more thing to talk about."
"What?"
He gestured with his head to behind the couch. "I'm going to take that piece of shit to the police station."
Tina took a deep breath, gathering herself. "Okay. I'll go with you."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You would? Your life would get turned upside down. Media camped on your lawn. Reporters everywhere. Cops, lawyers, judges, courts. You'd do all that?"
"Yeah, if it made sure that animal never did this again."
"Wow. You're really stronger than you look, Tina. But none of that's necessary. I know this will sound weird, but all you need to do is get your backpack over there, and walk home."
"Are you kidding me?"
Jack shook his head. "No joke. The cops will have all they need once they see this place, dig into this guy's history. There's no need to get you involved. And, to be honest, I don't need you telling the story of how some guy came and rescued you."
He slowly helped her to her feet, to get her moving. He retrieved her backpack from the floor and slipped it over her good shoulder.
"This…doesn't feel right."
"It's okay," Jack smirked. "I know all about doing the right thing. You go, stop at a friend's house, get cleaned up, whatever. And give the cell phone a damn break."
She stopped at the front door, and for a moment, Jack imagined she was Tiffany. He shoved the moment of weakness away. Tiffany was the reason he tracked Martin in the first place. Jack was waiting for Tiffany at school weeks ago when he first noticed Martin, slowly circling in his car. It didn't take much to see he was trouble. The other parents didn't notice. They were either too stupid or involved in their own meaningless lives; Jack wasn't sure which.
But he was certain Martin wouldn't harm another child, and his stare would never fall on Tiffany.
Tina surprised Jack by forcing another hug on him. He frowned as he extended his arms and she sniffled against his shirt.
"Thank you," she said. "I don't even know your name. I'll never forget you."
"Shit, I hope that's not true. Take care of yourself, Tina."
Jack closed the front door behind her. He enjoyed Judge Judy tearing into another mortal on TV behind him. He turned back to the fallen bookshelf, and saw exactly what he thought he would.
Martin was gone.
A trail of blood across the hardwood led around a corner to an open door leading down. Martin had pulled himself along, as quietly as he could. Jack ignored him while he tended to Tina.
"This isn't exactly a fair game of hide and seek," he shouted into the dark basement. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"
Jack took the steps one at a time, not in a hurry at all. Only the light from the first floor let him see. The stairs trailed off into a wall of darkness. He was certain Martin was hiding in some nook or cranny somewhere, ready to attack.
His nose wrinkled as an odd scent reached him. A mustiness with a mix of cleaning chemicals.
There was a light-switch on the wall next to him. He flicked it upward, bathing the basement in a soft glow.
A rare moment of surprise and awe found its way to the two-hundred-year-old.
It wasn't so much a basement as it was a dungeon. Chains and other various restraints were everywhere. A tiny cage sat in the corner, just large enough to fit a person. A bowl of water sat against the cinder-block wall, next to a mattress made of hay. Large harnesses hung from the joists above that Jack at first thought were more restraints, but he recognized them as suspensions used in different sex acts.
Martin came out of nowhere. He shouted as he swung the baseball bat, cracking Jack across the temple. The blow did no damage, but the force spun Jack around and made him stumble. He regained his footing and glared at Martin. Martin was backing up a step, cocking the bat back, ready to strike again.
"Are you shitting me?" Jack said. "You tried to stab me, throw a knife at me, and you think that puny toothpick will do something?"
Martin said nothing as he roared again, and lunged forward. He swung once again, but Jack blocked with his arms easily. He grabbed the bat from Martin's grasp and swung at his knees. Martin stumbled, but di
dn't quite fall, so Jack struck him again. And again. He didn't stop until Martin was curled in the fetal position in the middle of the basement.
Jack dropped the broken bat to the floor and once again took in his surroundings. He noticed the tray of various torture tools, scalpels, pliers, hammers, against one wall. A collection of cleaning supplies were in another corner, but there were still spots of blood here and there.
This was nearly Tina's fate.
Jack had killed more living creatures than Martin could ever dream of achieving. Vampires, werewolves, witches, goblins, ghouls, Nazi scientists, bank robbers, rude parking attendants. He didn't discriminate. He killed for many reasons. He killed to achieve a goal, remove an obstacle, or sometimes simply in rage. But the sexual torture, the need to kill to fill some kind of sick emptiness, Jack couldn't grasp.
Between the two of them, he wondered who was the bigger monster.
He looked down at Martin, who continued to moan at his feet.
"You know, I was serious when I said I'd take you to the police. I'm a father now, you see. And I figured I can't just kill the way I used to." He smiled. "I have to cut back, like my sister once told me. But with you…" He knelt next to him to look Martin in the eye. "I've changed my mind."
*****
An hour later Jack sat in the passenger's seat of Martin's car in the garage. Martin sat behind the wheel next to him. He was unrecognizable. His nose was broken, twisted to the side. One eye was swollen shut. There was more blood on his face than visible skin. His breathing was labored and splashy, from a punctured lung. He couldn't run, even though his life depended on it. Both of his tibia were broke, as well as the fibula, which protruded through the skin.
Every window in the car was up, except for a small crack in the driver's side. A piece of flex hose was pinched in between the window and frame, with plastic covering the gap, and the other end was hooked to the exhaust.
Jack laced his hands behind his head, lounging. If it weren't for the fact he wanted to speed things up by sealing the windows, he'd hang his feet out the side.
"Well, you couldn't ask for a better way to die, right? I'm taking it easy on you, compared to what you did to your girls."
Martin struggled to talk. Jack wasn't sure if it was the beating or the carbon monoxide doing its thing. He didn't care.
"You'll…die too."
"Actually, I won't. But thank you so much for the concern."
"What are you?"
"One could ask you the very same question."
"The police…they'll never think…this is a suicide. They'll find you."
Jack laughed. "This is just to throw them off, really. But, to be honest, they won't break their necks looking for your killer when they see what you did in there. Even if they did, I own half of them anyway, including the chief of police. It's kind of sad, but it's the way of the world. If you have enough money, you can pretty much do whatever you want. And I happen to have a lot of money."
"I…don't want to die."
"I don't care. You should consider this a favor I'm doing you. A nice, clean death. If I had more time, I'd put you through a fraction of the pain you did your victims. Maybe even call an acquaintance of mine who happens to control demons. But I have plans tonight."
"I just wish…I could smell her…one last time…."
He slipped off into a sleep he'd never wake from. His head slumped to the side.
Jack took a breath. "And those were his final words."
He climbed out of the car. Everything went differently than he'd planned, but the result was the same. The children of his town, more importantly Tiffany, were safe.
CHAPTER 5
Jack looked over himself one last time in one of the many mirrors in the bathroom. He'd always kept a spare set of clothes in his truck. He ran his fingers through his hair, pleased with his appearance. He looked like any other mortal. His hands were the biggest concern, but he'd scrubbed the blood off and shoved his old clothes into a workout bag.
"Hot damn," he told his reflection. "You are one good-looking bastard."
He left the bathroom and stopped as he set foot in the teacher's lounge. It was empty when he first walked in, but now an older teacher sat at one of the small tables, reviewing notes. She drank what looked like tea and munched on some chips.
"Hello. Can I help you?" she asked.
"Well, you could have two minutes ago," he said, gesturing to the door. "But I think I handled it okay."
She wasn't amused.
"I don't believe you work here. You're not supposed to be in here."
"Oh no. You'd better call the teacher police. Maybe I need a spanking with a ruler."
She rose to her feet. "Sir—"
"Holy shit. Sorry, I didn't mean to make you stand up. Go ahead, sit back down. Ease those bones. I'm leaving. Promise."
He slung the bag over his shoulder as he left the lounge. He cast one last look behind him as he walked down the hall, shaking his head at the teacher. His heart went out to her students.
The halls of the school were empty. The lights were on, but there was no noise, no activity. It almost could have been called eerie, if Jack believed in such a thing. Every footstep left an echo. Some of the lights flickered.
Jack saw his first person as he rounded one of the corners. A janitor mopped the floor outside the cafeteria. He gave a Jack a friendly nod as he passed.
"Hey, buddy," the janitor said. "You okay? You lost?"
"Nah," he answered with a frown. "I know exactly where I'm going."
He navigated the halls until he found the room he was looking for. He stood outside the closed double doors and took several deep breaths, trying to gather his strength and nerve.
Jack had done it all over his long life. He'd hunted evil, both mortal and supernatural, sometimes out of sheer boredom. He even had a hand in saving the world a few times. Vampires, packs of werewolves, demons, had all fallen before him at one time or another. There were some things he'd done that pushed him to the limit, such as watching a date movie with Erica, or shopping for clothes with Tiffany. But even those challenges were met and defeated.
He could handle what was behind the double doors. He'd gone close to two centuries without sleep, and he'd survived that. There was nothing he couldn't handle.
"Piece of cake," he said, and pushed open the doors.
A woman looked up at him from behind a podium at the front of the room.
"Ah, Mr.—" She adjusted her glasses to see him better. "Kursed? I heard you might show up tonight. Have a seat anywhere. We just started the PTA meeting."
Jack sighed, and his shoulders slouched. He could feel his resolve starting to wane.
Mrs. Galloway, the school principal, stood behind the podium. Jack didn't like her, and not just because she was mortal. It didn't take someone with his power of perception to see she didn't like children in the least. Jack disliked them as well, but he didn't seek out a job where he'd be surrounded by them.
He tried to hide his amusement as he took in the other parents around him. They didn't want to be there, either. He didn't blame them. The only reason he was present was the lovely teacher sitting with her colleagues off to the side. Erica gave him a short wave as she smiled at him.
Some parents played with their cell phones, clearly disinterested in Mrs. Galloway's words. Others fidgeted in their seats, checking the time and looking about aimlessly. A man and woman sat near the back, whispering to each other. Jack's talent for reading lips gave him a hint at their conversation, and the many perverted things they were going to do to each other. He wondered if either of their spouses, who weren't present, would have something to say about their plans.
The only available seat was in the middle of the gathered parents, which annoyed him. Jack liked to be on the outside looking in, not in the center. He squeezed in between a woman who needed a bath and a mother who was on the other end of the parent spectrum. She hung on Mrs. Galloway's every word, nodding in agreement, an
d even taking notes. He tried not to laugh.
Jack liked to believe he wasn't like mortals, but found himself just as bored as the rest of them. He only half listened to Mrs. Galloway's droning, some of the words slipping through. She spoke of a different lunch menu, the upcoming Halloween assembly, some changes in the bus schedule. She told a joke of some kind, drawing a few laughs. The parents not paying attention laughed along out of politeness. Jack did no such thing.
He decided to at least pass the time indulging his eyes, and gazed at Erica. It was after school hours, so she wore a pair of jeans with a white blouse. Her legs were crossed, her foot tapping the air restlessly. She'd finally changed her hair, wearing it back behind her ears, no longer caring about the large scar on her cheek. She was whispering something to the teacher next to her, but Jack couldn't see her lips clearly to eavesdrop. It didn't help that staring at her lips tended to distract, and his eyes traveled over the rest of her body. He admired her bright smile, fine curves, the way the legs of her jeans pulled up slightly, giving him a peek at the flesh he was hoping to experience later.
She caught him.
Erica flashed him a mock angry glare. Jack simply shrugged, and went back to ignoring the school principal.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Maybe a half hour or so. The woman next to him was still vehemently taking notes. A quiet snore caught his attention, and he looked down the aisle to see a man resting his head on his wife's shoulder, drooling on her shirt.
Jack admired the scene, and couldn't think of a better way to pass the time.
He pulled the pocket-watch from his jeans.
A wave of emotion, joy mixed with relief, washed over him as he ran a finger along the magical trinket. He wasn't sure if that feeling would ever go away. He kept it on him at all times. It was a gift from the witch, Kevin Mishnar. Two centuries without a second of sleep was behind him. He wasn't sure how the trinket worked. He didn't know how Kevin made it, or how he linked it to him. Jack didn't care. All he cared about was that it worked.
Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse Page 6