Djinn: An Extreme Horror Novel

by West, Sam

  “Just leave me,” she said quietly.

  “I will come to you tonight at midnight for final time, or when you have killed the sixth person, whichever is sooner. And then it will be over, either way.”

  She closed her eyes for a brief second and when she opened them again he was gone.

  Six people. I have to kill six people…

  The thought churned in her guts and fucked with her head. It was nine o’clock and she was out on the streets of London. She was dressed in an understated outfit of blue jeans and a black pullover that went some way to disguising her eye popping figure. All the clothes she had bought yesterday she had left behind in the hotel room with no idea if she would ever retrieve them. She didn’t even know why she had bought all that shit in the first place.

  Because I can. Because I’m a shallow bitch.

  Her shoulder bag housed the debit card with the billion pounds, along with the Djinn’s lamp, which she clutched close to her body for grim life.

  People streamed around her on the busy Hackney street. People in suits. Women in burkas. Women pushing prams. An old man with a walking stick. A gaggle of pubescent girls in school uniforms that looked like they had been pulled off the rack in a sex shop. Her head swam with the life that was teeming all around her. Of the lives she had to end.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do, she thought, mentally going through her options. Steal a car and mow down a few people? Buy a gun and hit a shopping centre? Stick a knife in random people’s guts as I pass them in the street? Knock on the doors of a few homes and slaughter the families within?

  A sob escaped her lips. Yes, she had killed three men in as many days, but this was different.

  Maybe I can kill a few tramps or something. Find some homeless guy that’s harassing people. I could be like a vigilante, cleaning up the streets of London…

  But that would mean approaching someone potentially violent. It would mean putting her own life at risk.

  I should wait until it gets dark, then it will be easier.

  But dark would mean midnight was not too far away. She didn’t want to rush this. She didn’t want to fuck it up and ruin everything.

  I need a gun. If I go around knifing people I’ll get blood on my clothes. But where the fuck am I supposed to get a gun?

  She supposed it would be relatively easy to find a gun shop, but then she would need a licence to buy the damn thing in the first place. And she had no idea of where to even begin to look to get one illegally.

  A hard knock to her shoulder jolted her out of her worried musings and made her stagger sideways.

  “I’m so sorry,” said a deep male voice.

  When Pam looked up she found herself staring into the brown eyes of a tall, good looking guy. He was around her age, maybe a little older, and dressed in jeans and a simple, long sleeved black t-shirt.

  “Forgive me, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Hey, can I buy you a coffee to make it up to you?”

  Pam had temporarily forgotten that she was beautiful. It would seem that men would go to any lengths to get her attention, and the ploy of walking into her didn’t fool her for a second. Maybe your average beautiful woman would have bought it, but not Pam.

  “Sure,” she said with a bright, breezy smile. “That sounds lovely.”

  In a heartbeat she decided that he was an obnoxious bastard and he deserved to die. He should never have crossed her path. It was all his fault.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked.

  “Pam.”

  “Pam. That’s a pretty name. I’m Josh.”

  “It’s nice to meet you Josh.”

  She stopped in the street and lightly touched his arm. He stopped too and looked expectantly down at her. Pam had cleaned the public toilets in Hackney in her previous life and she knew that they were just around the corner.

  “So,” she said, in her best fuck me voice. “I’d really like to take you somewhere. I’d like us to get to know each other much better.”

  His face darkened to red and his lips moved for a moment without any sounds coming out. What she had just offered him was obviously all his sexual fantasies come true; a chance encounter with a beautiful woman in the street that would lead to sex.

  Fuck, this was just too easy.

  The poor bastard. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “Whatever you want Pam,” he managed to get out eventually.

  They turned the corner of the street and walked in silence to the red brick, circular building in the middle of a concrete island.

  Taking him by the hand, she led him into the ladies, casting a quick glance around to make sure no eyes were watching. She knew they would be caught going in on CCTV but as long as she could escape the clutches of the police until midnight tonight, she didn’t suppose it mattered.

  “This is crazy,” he breathed into her lips when she locked her mouth against his.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, dragging him into the cubicle and shutting the door and locking it behind them.

  They embraced in a passionate kiss, the man’s hands all over her. As they kissed she slipped the bag off her shoulder and draped her hands behind his neck, discreetly unzipping the top of it.

  A hand slipped inside and her fingers curled around the handle of a small kitchen knife.

  Shit, I’m going to get sprayed in blood…

  Just as his hand began to fumble with the front of her jeans, she stabbed him in the back in what she hoped was the rough area of his heart. She felt the knife scraping against bone, and she had to wiggle it a bit to get it in.

  He wailed into her mouth, a funny sound like an inverted scream. He fell against her and she dodged to one side, causing him to crash face first into the locked door and slump to his knees.

  He began to scream in earnest.

  “Shut the fuck up,” she said, fisting his hair with one hand and yanking his head violently back. In one swift movement she slit his throat. Blood instantly flowed from the wide gash, soaking her hand and spraying the door. He gurgled and gargled on his own blood, his limbs twitching, then he went slack, his body heavy against the door.

  “Fuck,” she complained when she saw how much blood had soaked her hand and the sleeve of her jumper.

  The toilet door was completely blood splattered. It dripped down in big globules of red and when she glanced at her feet she saw the growing puddle of red he was slumped in, edging ever closer to her trainers.

  She had to get out of here.

  She strained her ears listening, but it was hard to hear anything over her own frantic heartbeat and shallow breathing.

  It sounded like the coast was clear so she crouched down next to him and shouldered him backwards. The back of his head cracked against the porcelain bowl and she winced at the sound that was somehow even more horrific than the gurgling noises he’d made with a slit throat.

  She pressed her ear to the door, mindful to make sure she arched her body away from the blood. She heard footsteps, and she froze, her heart crashing against her ribcage.

  Waiting for the stranger to finish using the cubicle a few doors down from hers was excruciating. The agonizing five minutes felt like an hour, and when the hand drier finally clicked off, all was quiet.

  It was now or never. Pam stood atop the tank of the toilet and hoisted herself up and over the top of the cubicle wall, bag over one shoulder and bloody knife in hand. She swung herself over into the adjoining cubicle, dropping easily to the floor.

  She found she was shaking violently.

  Boy, what a rush.

  Hurriedly she rinsed off the knife and her hands as best she could, dried the knife with a wad of tissue paper and popped it back into her bag. Luckily, the blood was invisible on her black pullover and her jeans were splatter free.

  She left the public toilet like nothing had happened, even smiling at a girl who passed her on the way in. The man wasn’t likely to be discovered for a while yet. She knew the cleaning rota of the place and the clea
ners weren’t due in again until early afternoon. He wasn’t likely to leak out under the door because the foot of the door touched the ground in the council’s attempt to prevent bag theft when women were pissing. With any luck, he wouldn’t be discovered for hours.

  One down, five to go.

  CHAPTER NINE.

  Maybe I can just off horny men, she thought as she sipped coffee in a trendy café off Whitechapel’s main street. I could be like Eileen Wuornos, didn’t she kill six men before she was caught?

  The idea wasn’t altogether unappealing. She hated men, none had ever been nice to her. And now she was a babe she hated them even more.

  She decided that she really needed to get her hands on a gun.

  But how the fuck am I supposed to do that?

  Hackney was murder mile. Lots of black men driving around shooting each other.

  Yeah, great. What am I supposed to do? Go up to the nearest black guy in Hackney and say, ‘hey dude, you got a gun?’ How racist would that be? If that doesn’t land me in hot water, nothing will.

  She cradled her head in her hands on the table. Five more people. Jesus. How the hell was she supposed to pull this off?

  She lifted up her weary head, a new resolve hardening in her heart. Yes, she would stick to the men. As it stood, she was experiencing no guilt whatsoever, just a fear of getting caught. She wasn’t sure how she would feel about killing woman and children. Not too good, she suspected.

  She thought of her drunken father. Of Wayne. Of all the men that had ever treated her like shit.

  Hey guys, this is all for you. And here comes the next one now.

  “Hi,” the stranger said to her. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Do you mind if I sit?”

  She smiled warmly up at him.

  “Not at all.”

  Pam was doing really well. She had done away with five so far. The guy in the café in Whitechapel she had lured into the toilet and stabbed to death. The third guy she had met on the tube and when they had got off she had stabbed him in a back alley in Liverpool Street, after which she had cleaned off her hands with wet wipes and a bottle of water. The fourth was a suit she had approached outside Liverpool Street Station whom she had lured into an alleyway behind McDonald’s where he had met a similar fate. The fifth was a lone guy in Hyde Park; she had done him in the bushes. He had been too easy.

  In fact, they were all too easy. Pam discovered that she was beginning to enjoy the moment that they died. The look of surprise in their eyes was priceless. She just wished she could prolong it a little more.

  So for the final guy she had decided to treat herself. She was going to get away with murder, right? She might as well enjoy it, she didn’t know if she would ever get the opportunity to do it again.

  She wanted the last one to be special and she had spent the afternoon browsing hardware stores for tools, as well as sex shops in Soho for a few fun toys. Once everything was in place back in the same hotel room in Hackney, Pam went out on the hunt.

  It was dusk by the time she found victim number six. His name was Greg, he was forty three, in London on business and married. She had found all of this out as they sipped cocktails together in an upmarket bar in Kensington where a single drink cost more than she used to make in a day.

  It hadn’t taken much persuasion on her part when she had invited him back to her hotel room. She explained that she was here in London on a modelling job and she preferred to stay in Hackney because it was near her best friend whom she used to go to school with. The lies tripped easily off her tongue and even she found herself believing them.

  They had caught a black cab to Hackney, and now here they were in her hotel room. It wasn’t yet nine, so she had three hours to have a bit of fun before she ended it.

  “This isn’t what I was expecting,” Greg was saying. “We should have gone back to my hotel.”

  “What’s the matter Greg? Don’t you like roughing it now and again?”

  “Baby, I would hardly call an evening with you roughing it.”

  As he spoke he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms, kissing her firmly on the mouth. Pam almost allowed herself to get swept up in the moment, he was just so good looking, by far the most attractive man she had seen, (and killed) all day. He sort of reminded her of George Clooney. Even though he didn’t really ever have anything that interesting to say, it looked as though he did. His deep brown eyes sparkled like he was the wittiest man on the planet and he was always on the point of spewing forth some fabulously funny one liner.

  He was wearing a white shirt and suit pants, the tie and jacket long discarded when she had met him in the bar. She was wearing a little black dress and she knew that they looked amazing together, like they had stepped out of some pretentious Christmas commercial for aftershave or something.

  They were such a hot couple, it would almost be a shame to kill the handsome yin to her gorgeous yang.

  Almost.

  His kisses burnt a trail down to her collar bone and her head tipped back. Her eyelids fluttered at the intensity of her longing and her heart beat extra fast. Of all the men she had met today, he was the first one she was genuinely attracted to.

  He walked her backwards to the bed, and she let him. Expertly, his hands unzipped the back of her dress and it pooled at her feet in a puddle of expensive silk. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  His husky groan of appreciation reverberated through her and she sighed in pleasure. He pushed her back onto the double bed and kissed down her body, paying particular attention to her perky pink nipples. When his mouth latched onto her already wet pussy she entwined her fingers in his dark hair and decided she would grant him the honour of giving her an orgasm.

  It didn’t take long. Never before had a man shown such interest in pleasing her. Using his fingers and his tongue he induced the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. Waves of pleasure hotly flooded her body, leaving her trembling and weak in its wake.

  “That was amazing,” she purred, stretching her arms luxuriously over her head.

  “My turn,” he said, hastily pulling the shirt over his head without unbuttoning it.

  A few seconds later he stood before her, completely naked. His body was really quite something to behold. Tall and broad shouldered without a trace of fat on him, yet still big boned and bulky. His chest was covered with dark hair and his cock was big and hard, sticking out a perfect right angle from his body, demanding her attention. He was all man and she couldn’t wait to get stuck in.

  “Wait,” she said, when he dived on top of her. “I know a game that will make this really interesting.”

  His eyes flickered. Desire? Apprehension? Full on fear? It was hard to tell.

  “What do you mean?”

  There was a definite edge to his voice.

  “I would like to tie you up.”

  “I’m more of a vanilla kind of guy,” he said, cupping a breast and flickering his tongue over her distended nipple whilst rubbing his hard cock against her hip.

  “Oh, come now Greg, you only live once. I promise it will be the most exciting night of your life.”

  She wiggled out from beneath him and leaned over the side of the bed, retrieving two pairs of sturdy metal handcuffs she had picked up from one of the sex shops she had visited. She didn’t get out the ball of super sturdy twine, or any number of the little ‘toys’ she had stashed away under the bed. Softly softly catchy monkey... she didn’t want him running screaming from the room.

  He hesitated and she thought she had lost him. But then, to her utmost relief, he ever so slightly nodded his head. In her mind she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “OK then beautiful, do what you must, I can take it. Just promise me you won’t tie me up then bugger off and leave me.”

  “Baby, I promise. Lie down, there’s a good boy.”

  He did as he was told and smiled wolfishly up at her, his cock twitching in anticipation.

  “Arms up,” she said, clicki
ng first one wrist to the conveniently carved out headboard, then the other.

  When she was satisfied his arms were firmly secured, she dropped light kisses all over his chest, enjoying the way he writhed helplessly at her touch.

  “God woman, you are amazing.”

  She didn’t answer and locked eyes with his as she lightly grazed his nipple with her teeth. He groaned and threw back his head when she kissed all the way down to his rock hard cock that glistened with pre-come.

  He was a pleasure to suck on. She brought him right to the brink and then withdrew her mouth.

  “You are such a tease,” he panted.

  “I know,” she said, leaning over him, her tit swaying in his face as she reached underneath the pillow his head rested on where she had stored the blindfold.

  He took her nipple in his mouth for a second while he had the chance, moaning softly.

  She sat upright, straddling his hips. His penis nudged at her wet folds and she squirmed a little, teasing the hell out of him.

  He bucked his hips, but tied as he was it was impossible for him to penetrate her. Ever so gently, she secured the black silk blindfold over his eyes.

  “Tell me,” she purred, “does your wife know about your extra martial activities?”

  “Huh?” he said, confusion penetrating his haze of lust.

  “Because it’s not very nice now is it, fucking around behind her back.”

  “What is this?”

  He sounded alarmed. Good. So he should be.

  “Do you want to fuck me up the arse? I just love being perverse.”

  She gripped his hard on and guided it to her rectum, slowly skewering herself upon him. His entry was smooth, thanks to the extreme state of her arousal that had lubricated her arsehole.

  “Take the blindfold off,” he begged, his alarm obviously having passed. “Oh God, I need to see you.”

  “Is that so, lover boy?”

  She stopped rocking on him for a moment to slip her hand under the mattress. Her fingers located the knife and curled around the handle. She began to fuck him once more, running the tip of the knife gently around each nipple, before following the thin line of dark hair that ran down the centre of his stomach to his groin.