Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  “Oh, uh…”

  “All right, Erik, the truth. Why are you posing as a Simple Simon?”

  “I d-don’t know w-what…”

  “Don’t give me that crap. Quit slouching, comb your hair, and kiss me.”

  A surprised smile crossed his face. He slowly brought himself up to his full height, combed through his wavy hair with his fingers, and took her in his arms.

  Blaze melted when she felt his hard body press against hers. The minute his lips touched hers, and his hands moved over her body, she knew without a doubt that she wasn’t going to have to teach him a thing.

  * * * *

  A crowd of people gathered on the shore of the Savannah River. A body had been discovered at the water’s edge and identified as Suzanne Page, a regular at a local western hangout on Oglethorpe Street called The Cactus Lounge. Her throat had been cut, and a thorough examination revealed an unusually brutal rape. The OIC immediately radioed the station that the body had the same MO as the others.

  Two officers were being anything but gentle as they pushed Barry Schorr into the interrogation room. The dusty little room was small and square, and Russ Cavella, the interrogation officer turned on a bright overhead light.

  “All right, Schorr, how many more are we gonna find, huh? How many friggin’ women are we gonna find in this city that you’ve fucked and thrown away?”

  “God,” Barry buried his face in his hands. “It sounds so much worse when you say it, than when I did it.”

  “Yeah? You mean you didn’t think you were doing anything wrong?”

  “Hell, yes,” Barry said as he looked up. “I knew it was wrong, but that’s what makes it so good. Besides, who the hell cares about a few hookers?”

  “The blonde wasn’t a hooker.”

  “Yeah?” Barry then looked up at the man with a sarcastic grin. “Oops!”

  “What about the secretary? How do you justify that one?”

  “I didn’t kill Melanie Blake for sex. It was to get information out of her.”

  “Yeah? From what I understand, you got the information, then killed her anyway.”

  “It just happened. I mean, it was just that tiny little trickle of blood that did it, you know?” All at once, the memory was like an exotic taste in his mouth that he savored. “There it was falling down her neck leaving a little crimson trail. God, it was beautiful. Before I knew what was happening, I was pushing that knife in her throat and havin’ the best fuck of my life with my prick still in my pants.” His face twisted into a scowling mask when he saw the way Russ stared at him. “Hey, man, I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. Don’t you see? I kept thinking about how good it was with Melanie, so I tried it again. I didn’t figure anybody would miss a hooker, so…”

  Russ was silent, just staring at him.

  “I was curious, man. Haven’t you ever been curious? I just wanted to see if it would be that good again.”

  “Was it?”

  “God, yes! In fact, it was even better because I had time to think about it. You know, perfect it.” Barry looked up into the eyes of the interrogator and saw distaste, so he leaned forward, his voice becoming more intense as if he were trying to make him understand. “I kept tellin’ myself I was gonna quit, but I found out that I couldn’t have normal sex anymore, so I had to keep doin’ it to stay satisfied. That day with Melanie, I found out that the sight of blood does something to me.” Looking into the eyes of the interrogator, Barry’s voice became raspy. “Have you ever fucked a woman when she was having her period? Blood everywhere? It’s kinda the same thing. Forbidden, you know?”

  He grasped his crotch, put his legs together, and closed his eyes. “Ohhh, God, it’s so good. Sliding in and out of her with blood all over your dick. You know you’re not supposed to, but it don’t matter ‘cause knowing it makes it even more exciting.”

  Barry lifted himself halfway out of his chair, leaned toward Russ, and whispered, “If you compound that excitement a million times over, pal, then you might get a vague idea of what I felt every time I did it.” He fell backward into his chair and closed his eyes in ecstasy. “God, it was so good, I could have rolled around in their blood!”

  The interrogator’s face suddenly took on a look of terror. With faltering movements, he stumbled up out of his chair and opened the door. He brought the guard in. “Stay with him for a minute.”

  Russ ran to a dark, little room next door and crept in trying not to make any noise. He looked at the chief and pointed toward the one-way mirror in the wall. “Did you hear that?” his raspy voice whispered. “The man’s a friggin’ lunatic. He’s fascinated by a woman’s blood! So fascinated, in fact that the mere sight of it brings on an orgasm!”

  “Russ,” the chief whispered impatiently, “we already know he’s a lunatic, but what we don’t know is if there are anymore bodies lying around. Get the hell back in there and do your friggin’ job.”

  Russ turned and slammed out of the observation room sweating. He walked over to the water machine, wiped his brow, and then quickly pulled a cup from the holder. He dreaded going back in there and stalled as long as he could while watching the cool, clean water fall into the paper cup. With one hand on his hip, he upended it a couple of times before he stuck his head into the shadowy, dusty little room and asked if Barry was thirsty.

  “No,” Barry replied, sitting back in his chair and looking at him impatiently.

  Taking a long, drawn out moment to throw the paper cup in a trashcan, pull out a handkerchief, and wipe his neck and brow, he finally turned and walked back in. “So what’s the story, Schorr? You gonna tell us if there are any more bodies lying around with their throats slashed?”

  “I didn’t have time, man. I was arrested within twenty-four hours after I killed Suzanne.”

  “You had a whole twenty-four hours?” Russ ridiculed. “Don’t tell me you didn’t—”

  Barry jumped up from his chair and grabbed Russ by the collar and banged him against the wall.

  “No, you miserable bastard, I didn’t. There are no more bodies, but let me tell you this, if I ever get my hands on Blaze Alexander, she’s history, hear me? That redheaded bitch’ll be the best yet. I’m gonna slice her up like Sunday chicken, and I might even drink her blood while I’m fuckin’ her!”

  Within a few seconds, the door slammed open and the crowd of onlookers was pulling Barry off him. The officers dragged Barry out of the room with him shouting a string of profanities along with threats to kill Blaze.

  “Hopelessly insane,” the chief said as he looked at Russ cowering against the wall where Barry had attacked him. “And just think, L.A. gave him to us!”

  Chapter 9

  His reflection stared back at him, the dark glass hiding the anger that glittered in Erik’s eyes. Greg’s constant harassment was wearing him down, and he was afraid of what he might do if it continued. Now as he removed the dark glasses, he looked himself over, making sure his overalls were appropriately loose and hanging. Since too much of his face was showing, he reached up, and pulled his hair forward and shook it so it would hang down just right. When he had the look he wanted, he opened the door and began his pretended shuffle down the hall and into the bull pin.

  He saw that the morning show was off to a rip-roaring start and everyone seemed busy. He shuffled over to the little closet and pulled out his broom and dustpan. When he pushed the door closed, he looked up and saw a looming shadow on the wall. With dread, he turned, and found himself staring into a pair of glittering eyes filled with hate.

  It was Greg.

  “You’re late, freak. Don’t let it happen again, or your butt is on the street.”

  Erik’s eyes shot flames as he watched Greg turn and walk away. His hands flexed on the handles of the broom and the dustpan, itching to squeeze them around Greg’s neck. He glanced up at the wall clock and it was ten minutes before eight. He wasn’t even due until eight, but the wonder creep, thinking Erik couldn’t tell time, didn’t think he would know.


  “All right, you bastard,” Erik mumbled to himself while watching Greg’s departing figure, “if you think I’m stupid, then I’ll be stupid.” Erik waited a few minutes before he made his way into Greg’s office. He pushed his broom around, bumping into furniture, and then guided the handle making sure it waved around in front of Greg’s face while he was on the telephone.

  He then carefully navigated it, making sure it punched a few expensive panes of glass out of his display chest, and knocked a few knick knacks off the shelves, and destroyed a few photographs. By the time Erik was through, Greg was looking helplessly around his office at the mess, and Erik was shuffling out, with a hidden smile pulling at his lips.

  While Greg was in the process of picking up broken glass and cursing Erik under his breath, Wade Perry walked into his office.

  “What the hell happened here?”

  “It’s that moron!” Greg spat out angrily, indicating to Erik. Every time he comes in to clean my office, it’s in worse shape when he gets through than it was when he began. “The day I can fire that creep’s ass will be the happiest day of my life.”

  Wade gingerly crept around the glass and slumped down on the couch. “Say, what is…”

  Greg’s head jerked around when he heard a familiar name coming out of the radio on his desk. He quickly waved his hand at Wade. “Shhh!” he hissed, while leaning over his desk to adjust the volume.

  “Blaze Alexander, the sensational new late-night talk show hostess that calls herself the Queen of Steam has had her life threatened by Barry Schorr, former manager of Station KCBS in Los Angeles. Her saucy mixture of suggestive rap and instrumental magic is new to the Savannah area, and airs on Station WSCX at midnight. It has been learned that Schorr murdered Melanie Blake in the office of Ms. Alexander’s long-time agent and friend, Scott Sanders.

  “Schorr says he was trying to learn the whereabouts of Ms. Alexander after she suddenly walked off the job. Ms. Blake was the nineteen-year-old secretary of Scott Sanders, and the only person who had any knowledge of her whereabouts besides Sanders himself. It’s not clear what the dispute between Ms. Alexander and her former employer was about, but to quote Schorr as the officers were carrying him away, “I’m gonna slice her up like Sunday’s chicken…and then drink her blood!”

  “Sounds like your number one gal is in deep shit,” Wade said.

  “Yeah, and I’m worried.”

  “Why? The guy’s in custody, isn’t he?”

  “Sure, but she won’t be safe until that creep is six feet under.”

  “You figurin’ he’ll make a break for it?”

  “Hell, yes.” Greg looked at him as if he were stupid. “There’s always that chance.”

  “Hey, man, you’re worried about nothing. He’d have to be Houdini to break out of that iron room they’ve probably got him in.” When Wade heard Erik outside the office, he got up, and said, “Hey, I’ll see you. Gotta run.”

  “Why don’t you stick around? I think I’ve got a couple of brews—”

  “Nah, can’t. Gotta talk to Erik about something.”

  “Talk to Erik? About what? What could you and that nutcase have—?”

  “You know, Greg, don’t you ever get tired of callin’ the guy names? How the hell do you think that makes him feel?”

  Greg looked at Wade with eyes full of astonishment “Since when do you care how he feels? The creep don’t have any feelings, he’s not smart enough. You know that.”

  “Hell, man, you should hear yourself.”

  “Wade, not a month ago you were callin’ him worse names than me. What the hell happened? You get born again or something?”

  “You don’t have to be born again to have common decency,” Wade spat, and then turned to go.

  Greg stood there amazed, and watched Wade go out and begin his talk with Erik. After a while, he looked up and saw them still sitting in the bull pen like old buddies. He kept his gaze anchored on them for a while, wondering what they would have to talk about. Finally, when Wade got up to leave, Greg motioned for him to come into his office. “What the hell is this, Wade? You reverting to the enemy now? That dummy…”

  While Greg went on and on, Wade remembered the day he’d walked into the men’s room and heard Erik talking on a cell phone in one of the stalls…

  Erik didn’t know he was there because he was so distressed over the fact that his mother had died. The words Wade heard coming from Erik’s lips were troubled, but perfect. After Erik disconnected, he sat there for a few minutes and Wade heard him crying softly.

  Feeling as if he were intruding on a private moment, he turned to leave. Just about then, Erik opened the stall door. The two men stood frozen staring at each other, the truth of Erik’s situation a living, breathing thing between them.

  Finally, Erik broke the silence. “I suppose you’ll be telling Greg about this.”

  Wade knew immediately what he meant, and shrugged. “About what? About how you talk better than a college professor? About how you walk like…” Just then, he got a look at Erik’s stricken face, and a surge of compassion he couldn’t hold back, came swelling out of him. “Hell, man. I ain’t about to tell Greg a fuckin’ thing. Greg’s a jerk. I think we both know that. The worst part is, I was following in his footsteps. Thanks for snapping me out of it.”

  Erik couldn’t trust himself to speak, so he only nodded.

  “Hey, man, I’m real sorry.”

  The sympathetic words brought new tears to Erik’s eyes. “Thanks.” His voice croaked. To hide his less-than-manly tears, he tried to skirt around Wade to get to the door.

  Wade stopped him, and put out his hand. “Friends, huh?”

  Erik hesitated a minute, not knowing what to make of Wade’s sudden change of heart. Looking down at the extended hand as if it held a gun, he said, “Do you mean it, or is this just another trick you’re playing on the dummy?”

  “Are you kidding? You did a fantastic job playing the retard. Seems to me you’re a lot smarter than any of us. Hell, no, there’s no trick here, man. You have my word.”

  Erik gave him a sniff and a smile, then clasped his hand in his own. “Well…thanks.”

  Now, hearing the insults rolling off Greg’s tongue, he couldn’t believe that only a few days ago he’d been just as big a jerk as Greg. Unfortunately, he’d been influenced by Greg who had a stronger personality, but that day in the men’s room, the spell had shattered so completely he could almost hear the broken pieces make brittle contact with the ugly tile floor.

  He felt a slight twinge of regret that Greg hadn’t let go of his animosity toward Erik. The poor guy didn’t deserve any of the insults that were constantly thrown at him, and every time Greg let one fly out of his mouth, a clean stab of anger would pierce Wade. Unfortunately, today Greg’s mouth seemed to be in overdrive.

  “Hey, give it a rest, Greg,” Wade interrupted. “Erik’s not the enemy.”

  Greg’s mouth hung open as he watched Wade turn and leave. Sliding his gaze over to Erik, he noticed him turn away quickly, and then continue with his work. Erik had apparently been listening, but he didn’t care. As long as he had taken Greg’s last warning seriously, the bum could eat razor blades and die.

  In the days that followed, it pleased Greg to see Erik as bright and alert as a moron who didn’t know what day it was, and since Blaze didn’t show up until it was almost time for her to go on the air, Greg knew they hadn’t seen each other since the day he put the fear of God into Erik by slamming him up against the station wall.

  As far as he knew, Blaze had forgotten that Erik Grant was on the face of the earth, and that pleased him very much. What the hell did he care what Erik and Wade were cooking up? It didn’t concern him. Blaze, now she concerned him.

  * * * *

  “Can’t you give me a little more time?” Blaze whispered as she looked up into the blue-green eyes of the man she loved. “It’s hard for me to even trust a man after what I’ve been through.”

  “Don’t
you know I would never hurt you?” Erik urged as he kissed her neck and nibbled her ear.

  “Of course, but I just think we need to give this relationship more time before we get too deeply involved.”

  When he made a move to become intimate, she grew rigid in his arms, resisting his touch. He tried again, but when she began struggling, he finally jumped up.

  “My God, Blaze, I’m going crazy! I’m a normal man for God’s sake. I can’t see you, hear you, or touch you without wanting to have you!”

  Blaze sat up and looked at him anxiously, and then down at her watch. “I have to go, Erik. I’ve only got a few minutes before the broadcast starts. Will you listen?”

  He turned away from her in fury. “Hell no! That just makes it worse. Don’t you know that? You’re in that goddamned sound booth making love to the whole friggin’ city of Savannah, yet you’ll hardly even let me kiss you. We’re not kids, Blaze, I can’t just sneak behind the barn with you and hold hands. If you didn’t want a relationship that went all the way, why in hell didn’t you just stay away from me?”

  She put her arms around him and rested her cheek on his back. “I couldn’t stay away, Erik. I really do care about you.”

  He jerked himself out of her arms and whirled around. “Oh, come off it, Blaze, I know what you wanted. You just wanted to have some fun with the poor, retarded janitor.” He looked at her with a cutting gaze. “As long as you thought I couldn’t do anything, everything was fine. You never thought about how it would be if you got that poor wretched son of a bitch all stirred up, did you? Now you’re scared as hell and tryin’ to turn me off and on like a friggin’ water faucet. Well, it won’t work!”

  “It’ll happen, Erik. Just give it time.”

  While she was talking, his hungry gaze fell to her breasts, and then down to her tight jeans. He tried, but couldn’t keep his eyes away. Just thinking of her made his breath hot and shallow. He flexed his hands several times while he tried to gain control of himself. He could feel it slipping away, and turned quickly while speaking with a soft voice. “Blaze, I think you’d better get out of here now.”