by Tiana Laveen
She turned and faced the man once again; this time, she caught Lawrence’s profile. Her husband’s right hand man loomed about with a disturbing smile on his face. Ironically, his calm presence immediately made her sigh in relief. She turned in all directions; trying desperately to meet the golden eyes of the one she’d given her heart to.
Where the hell is Saint? I thought he’d be in here by now.
Just that quick, her peace of mind got compromised as she watched Zoo get situated with a large plate of something that appeared raw and definitely didn’t have a chance in hell of surviving the onslaught he had in store. Her cell phone vibrated against her thigh. She gripped the thing, almost dropping it as her nerves wound around one another like tangled snakes. Clutching the thing, she answered, gulping nothing but air. No words left her mouth. She had never felt her heart beat so fast and a dull pain spread across her chest. She swallowed hard.
“Let him eat. After he pays his tab, I want you to do as we discussed. Do you understand?” Lawrence asked.
“Yes.” She disconnected the call.
The chatter of the patrons, outbursts of laughter and forks clanking against plates became the music to her tumultuous soundtrack.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
She sank her teeth into her lower lip, going crazy as she glared at the exit from time to time. She grabbed her phone and called Saint.
“Hey…” His voice ran over her eardrum like the gentle flick of a warm patois, yet it was refined and customarily silver-tongued, and she missed how it would light her fire.
But still, her reason for packing the .38 Special was more than about sex; it was about a union, about saving many by sacrificing one…
Saint remained quiet and calm, almost sedated in his tone. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“…Like I want to go home.” Her voice quavered, and her knees bucked just a bit.
“Just a little while longer, baby. I’ve thought of a way to help you, but…let’s not get into that just yet. Just take care of what you need to do and I promise to be there before the clock strikes twelve.” And with that, the call ended.
She stood in the crowd. A hostess brushed gently against her and asked if she’d been helped. Taken aback that she was even noticed in the lively place, she nodded. “Yes, I’m just waiting for a friend.”
That answer suited the woman just fine, and she disappeared, calling out seat availability. Everything stirred together, making her eyes blur and her temperature soar. She tried not to think about her children, about Mama, about her sister, but she couldn’t resist. What if something went terribly wrong and she ended up in jail for attempted murder? Worse yet, what if she was sent to prison after actually completing the deed? And then…she looked around the place once more. Saint had opened the gate of his world a bit wider and exposed the awful, ugly truth. New York was in trouble. Big trouble.
But, her struggle continued…
She prayed to God.
Lord, how can I kill this man? She was no Angel Child. She’d not been given the authority to take another’s life. She was the wife of a supreme being, nothing more and nothing less. At that moment, she imagined this was how a drug dealer’s woman felt—knowing that what she was doing was wrong, but she had to, for her man. No, no…that analogy was all-wrong, too. She replaced it in her mind with something more befitting…
Sacrifice. Yes. Sacrifice.
A sacrifice not only for New York, but for the whole damn world. At that moment, she could very well be contagious and not even know it. Did the hostess now have her ailment, too? How many women had she contaminated and subsequently ruined their relationships if she didn’t nip this in the festering disease in the bud? More importantly, Saint was falling apart. He made no statements as to such, but it was evident. His temperament was all over the place, and sure, she hadn’t helped with her antics, but he simply wasn’t himself. He’d even become short with the children a time or two, and ended up asking for forgiveness. That was completely unlike him. The curse had a way of not only cutting off the physical love connection, but debilitating the one who was being shunned—a double-edged sword that cut both ways, slicing anything in its wake. Malicious. Diabolic. Evil.
She turned back towards Zoo, who chomped down his meal without a fucking care in the world. And then, she smirked. With her new perspective at the forefront, her stomach flipped not in fear, but in sweet anticipation…
*
Chapter Thirty-Four
Saint had returned to his car, waiting…waiting…and waiting a bit longer. He continued to wait, and in that anticipation, his thoughts went somewhere he hadn’t ventured in years…
While in college, I did a lot of reading and studying, particularly about human nature and our condition. I delved into a dark period while denying my clairvoyance, often associated with delusions and demonic possession. I knew I was neither, yet so many that have suffered from such states became psychic during these conditions and often levitated off their beds, while yelling curses and not wishing to see, witness or hear anything from a positive light…such as the Lord’s prayer. It is no wonder that so many people like me kept quiet, moved around in the tenuous underground, fearing to be discovered and labeled a killing sociopath. The very things the Creator made to help mankind survive such evil influences are the same things that have been used to torture the souls of many.
The sulfurous blood that covers the land of New York leaves imprecise and, at times, crystal clear clues in its path. It is a large map detailing the sordid conduit that we, as a people, are currently on. The Son of Sam, for instance, in 1976, terrorized New York natives, forcing the city to cling to a state of panic for over a year. David Berkowitz confessed to the mayhem, and stated he had been demonically possessed by a dog that told him to commit these murders. Later, he changed his statement and admitted that he was in fact part of a satanic cult.
David Rifkin, another mentally deranged person tossed aside by society, took Long Island police on a wild goose chase all over a fucking missing rear license plate. Standing there with Noxzema smeared under his nostrils, bleeding into the frowzy locks of his mustache, he was a strange sight to see. It was soon discovered why the sick fucker had been in such a damn hurry and didn’t want police attention. There was a rotting, female corpse in the bed of his damn pick-up truck, and he didn’t want to smell her ass, either. That twenty-two year old woman, Tiffany Bresciani, had been Rifkin’s seventeenth murder. David Rifkin was a demonically possessed, mentally incompetent, sexual deviant and would go down in infamy as one example of what repeated bullying can do to a young person’s brain, especially if no supportive, loving system is in place in the home.
Arthur Shawcross preceded him, and many others came after, all of them enjoying walks down the darkest alleyways of life. You see, curiosity can be a catapult from ordinariness to greatness. It can also be a gateway into another dimension, that one being Hell. Most open the rickety door, believing a treasure may be sitting on the other side. They have no idea what they’ve unleashed but once you’ve unlocked the cage of an enraged tiger, there is no doubt you’ve become his meal for the evening. The mind begins as a vacant lot…and little by little, things from here, there and everywhere collect into a ménage of the macabre, beautifully drawn and mundanely molded. The mental and psychological library is extensive and wickedly categorized, but the need to fill it with new trinkets from past traumas is pervasive. Our need as human beings, to right our wrongs, often rules us and well…I’ve been wronged.
Thus, revenge is now my ruler…
Saint jostled his gum to the side of his mouth as his phone lit up, jarring him out of his dark deliberations. Lawrence had sent a simple text:
I have him cornered. Come to the junkyard.
Saint started up his car and made his way towards the nearby location. He immediately spotted the portly fellow, sandwiched between Jagger and Lawrence and Xenia nearby, off to the side, standing there with her hands thrust in her
pockets. Without a second thought, he veered over, put his car in park and leapt out as if attending a hip and happening party.
“Did you enjoy your dinner, Zoo?!” Saint spoke loudly as he drew closer, pep in his step. “I really enjoy sushi, man.” Saint scratched the side of his face, taking care of an itch. “Matter of fact, it was one of the first meals my wife and I had together before we got married.”
The man turned towards him, his eyes transformed into twin black pools of evil as he hissed in his direction. Fear. It smelled so fucking good coming off the bastard.
“I don’t give a shit about all of that noise you’re making, Zoo. I know you’re demonically bred and possessed and it doesn’t mean shit to me. You think I’m afraid of that shit, huh?” Saint pointed to himself and smirked. “Turn yourself into a cobra, hell, a pile a shit for all I care. It won’t impress or fool me. Anyway…” He grinned. “As I was saying, I’m glad you got to dine one last time. It’s evident from your physical appearance that you haven’t missed any damn meals. And don’t get me wrong!” Saint threw his hand up as if in surrender and grinned a bit wider. “I sometimes enjoyed the company of a healthy woman. I apologize, Xenia.” He winked at her, but the woman was keeping her head down, as if in deep thought. “Just going down memory lane, but there were some thick ladies that well, yeah…it was good damn times! Besides, I’m a man that enjoys a good meal, too!” He chuckled maniacally. “My wife cooks wonderfully, and I enjoy fine cuisine. I just so happen to have a high metabolism. It’s hard for me to keep a lot of weight on, runs in my family. Since we’re all friends here, now, Zoo, I feel like I can share this with you… I also have a high sex drive,” Saint whispered, as if it were some big secret. “…And that helped keep the pounds off as well. My favorite dish, however, I’ve been unable to enjoy because of something real foul someone did.” He shot a glance at Xenia, then back at Zoo. “Do you know what that could have been, Zoo?”
The big fella continued to hiss and make strange noises, his face and body twitching.
“I bet you do. Unfortunately, thanks to you and your boss, Koki, I haven’t gotten laid in over two months!”
Zoo grinned back at him. “I’m not afraid to die, Saint,” he confessed proudly. “Just do what you must.”
“Then why did we have to chase you for four fuckin’ blocks?” Jagger asked before he dug a piece of something out from between his teeth with a switchblade. “You move pretty fast for a big boy…” He smiled.
“We are in a damn junkyard, Zoo.” Saint put his hands in the air as if to declare this the greatest show on Earth. “This is perfect for your burial. You see, your stench is making me quite ill, and the putrid compost actually smells better than you. You soulless mothafuckas really funk up the joint.” Saint shot a look at his wife, who now held her head high, yet remained silent and eerily composed.
“This is what I do, baby… I’m so sorry you’re involved in this.” He spoke to her as if no one else was standing there. He needed to break his train of thought and concentrate on her a moment. He didn’t want this to happen, but it couldn’t be avoided. She nodded, acting okay, playing the role. But one thing was true. He hated Zoo for placing her in this position. Xenia was to never be a part of such things, was now tainted. She’d never be pure again after such an occurrence. She’d never see the world the same way. He loved her optimism and innocent eyes…always seeing the best in people. After this, the woman would undoubtedly have a hint of pessimism and he’d spend the rest of his fucking life trying to make the world feel safe to her again…
“Now, Zoo, here is what is going to happen. My wife is going to shoot you in the heart, and then after that, I have a little surprise for you,” Saint said coolly.
“What surprise?” Zoo’s tone suddenly had an edge of concern.
“Oh,” Saint nonchalantly plucked his own gun from his side holster, clicked it and put it back. The revolver was now fully loaded and ready to play just in case the bastard got any ideas. “You’ll find out soon enough… Baby, come ’ere, please.” He cracked his gum and casually waved Xenia over. The woman walked towards him, her feet steady on the pebbly ground, crunching a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. He was surprised by her upright gait, her face like stone—as if a part of her had already resolved the situation, and had moved passed the shit. This excited and concerned him all at once.
Zoo’s eyes turned vibrant green as a white vapor escaped his mouth. He took several steps backward, then began to chant loudly in Latin.
“Ego autem mortuus fuerit vir fortis!” – (I will die a hero)
“What is that? What is he saying?!” Xenia demanded, immediately tensing as Lawrence grabbed the now bucking man from behind. Zoo’s eyes went wild like a trampling horse as he screamed out and hollered, ranting in Latin, letting everyone know that he was destined for greatness and no one could stop it.
“It doesn’t matter, baby, just ignore him… Now stand right here.”
Lawrence began to talk louder over the man, speaking in Latin, too, chanting, making the man heave deep, uneven breaths.
“Non propter vos…” (No mercy for you…) Lawrence stated as he continued to contain the large man.
“Xenia, are you ready?”
She nodded but didn’t dare look at him as she raised the gun, her arm surprisingly steady, and pointed it at Zoo’s heart just as they’d discussed. Jagger kept his position, lest the fiend break free and try to make a run for it.
“On the count of three, I want you to shoot him…” Saint stated calmly over the commotion, chanting and clatter that grew louder and louder by the second. “One…two…”
On three, Saint grabbed the woman in a flash, standing right behind her, causing her to wail out in shock. Her entire body vibrated as he placed his fingers around the trigger, gripping hers tight, no doubt causing her pain.
“We’ll pull together! Three!”
The shot rang out, piercing the tortured soul’s fleshy body. Saint snatched the gun from Xenia’s hands and tossed it towards Lawrence who caught it in midair.
“Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhh!” Zoo wailed, pressing his hand over his heart that now bled out onto his shirt, exposed by his unzipped leather coat.
Quickly, Saint seized the knife from Jagger’s hand, raced towards the falling man whose expression lit up with a crooked smile as his life force slowly dissipated… until he saw Saint drop to his knees beside him.
“No…noooo!” the man gurgled.
Saint cradled his head like a baby’s, and looked down into his eyes as he punctured his corpulent neck with the tip of the blade. He could see his own image now bouncing from the dagger to the man’s eyes in a dull reflection, and Saint was going to make damn sure that his face would remain with Zoo all throughout his hellacious eternity of drudgery.
“Jagger, turn Xenia away!”
The man immediately seized his wife by the shoulders and forced her head into his chest, cradling her dark hair with his big palm while Saint had his way with the wretched man.
“Tu autem ibis ad inferos! Et erit servus!” Saint yelled. (You will go to Hell! You will be a slave!)
Zoo’s eyes turned ghostly white and he struggled to speak, but only gloppy blood dripped from between his wide, frog-like lips. He waited a second or two, until he could feel the man’s life force cease due to his gun wound, and then quickly finished the deed on the twenty-first second.
“Yes…” Saint sneered as he finished carving into the man’s flesh. “And so it was written, and now it is done! Hand me the garbage bag, Lawrence.” He pointed towards his friend, waving the bloodied knife in his direction. The man did as asked, and only the sound of fast movement amongst ruffled plastic could cover Xenia’s cries.
Lawrence dropped to his knees and helped Saint cover the heavy body with a thick tarp. “You’re takin’ his body where we agreed, right?”
“Yes. I’ll take care of it in two hours. I have to perform the final ritual. Demon Children have to be…”—he tossed Xenia a cau
tious look—“…handled how we discussed.”
“Of course. Jagger, are you going with him? I have one final stop to make and I wondered if you could take my wife home, please.”
Xenia kept her back turned towards him, her shoulders moving up and down as she sobbed in Jagger’s chest. The reality and severity of the situation had now come full circle to hit her, made her sensibilities twist and turn within her.
“No problem, Boss. I will take Xenia straight home.”
“Xenia, keep your back to me, but I want to say something to you.” He got to his feet and cleared his throat, feeling Zoo’s blood dripping off of his fingertips. “I want you to know that I pulled the trigger, baby. I know this was distressing all the same, but I took care of it, okay? There is no blood on your hands. Just mine.”
“Saint…we did it together. Just like you said. Thank you though for what you did. You don’t have to sugarcoat it to make me feel better,” she stated in a muffled voice as she continued to cling to Jagger, balling up his jacket in her palms. Jagger ran his hand up and down her back, comforting her.
“Yes, we both did…” Saint looked down at his feet and sighed. “Xenia, I promise you, I will ensure you are never in a position like this again. Go home, wait for me. I’ll be there soon. I need to take care of something first and you can’t come with me. Are you going to be okay in the meantime?”
“Yes. I’m just glad it’s over.” She seemed to calm, but kept her back turned, surely not wanting to see what he’d done.
“Okay, Lawrence, talk to you in a bit. Jagger, see you back at the house.”
Saint got to his feet and watched briefly as they spread apart, going to their respective destinations. Then, he hightailed it to his car, anger burning through his veins like fresh gasoline. Snatching the car door almost off the hinges, he plopped inside of it, tossed the black, plastic bag over on the passenger’s side floor and started the damn thing up.