Kayla And The Devil

by Bryan Smith

  True enough. While the Ripper had been yammering away about his awesome ninja stalking skills, her hand been drifting to the knife. So now the dude was paying a high price for his inattention, as well as for never for one moment considering her a real threat. The latter part of that equation was possibly his biggest error.

  Because, as it turned out, she did have it in her.

  In the right circumstances.

  Like now.

  The blade had only gone halfway in. She didn’t want to kill him. A plan was rapidly forming in her head. She had no idea if she could pull it off, but it was worth a shot. She yanked the blade out and blood poured from the wound. The Ripper gaped at her in shock as he backed away from her. He dipped a shaking hand inside his cloak, obviously going for his dagger. Kayla took two rapid strides straight at him, planted her left foot solidly on the floor, and swung her right foot forward, nailing him between the legs with everything she had. The killer gasped in pain and dropped to his knees, the dagger tumbling from his suddenly limp fingers.

  Kayla grabbed a lamp with a heavy round base off the dresser, yanking the cord from the outlet as she raised it high above her head. The Ripper stared up at her with stunned, bleary eyes. Scott was yelling, the volume of his distress soaring higher as the sounds of violence continued to fill the room.

  The lamp struck the top of the Ripper’s head with a resounding clang and he crumpled unconscious to the floor. He was clearly down for the count, but Kayla nonetheless repositioned herself and struck him another blow. Because it was like her mom always used to say--better safe than sorry.

  She then dropped the lamp and heaved a big breath. “Holy shit. Can’t believe I did that, Scott. Kinda proud of myself, though, have to say.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” he asked, probably for the ten zillionth time.

  It was getting tiresome. “Tonight’s your lucky night, that’s what’s going on, idiot, so please shut the hell up.”

  Kayla retrieved her knife and took a look around the room, trying to quickly assess what else needed doing before she could hightail it out of here.

  She smacked her forehead.

  The bags!

  They were in the drawer where she’d left them earlier in the evening. After locating them, she stuffed the empty packages from Hustler Hollywood in one of the bags. The blood-stained knife went in the same bag. The restraints would have to stay here, what with their still being attached to Scott and all. She couldn’t risk letting him loose. He might attack her or who knew what. All she could hope was that the basic bondage tools she’d used were so common they could never be traced back to her.

  She stood there a moment longer, tapping her foot on the floor as she scanned the room again and tried to remember if she was forgetting anything.

  Her gaze landed on the table.

  Purse!

  The purse went in the same shopping bag with everything else.

  There was just one thing left to do.

  Back to the nightstand she went, where she lifted the receiver out of the room phone’s cradle.

  And called 911.

  36.

  All Kayla wanted to do after successfully fleeing the scene of the crime was get back to her dorm and crash for the night. It was just after 11:00 p.m. by the time she unlocked the door to her room and staggered inside. Grateful to find Sheila absent again--and presumably out clubbing with her friends yet again--she undressed, turned out the lights, and slipped under the covers of her bed. She turned on her side, tugged the pillow up tight against her, and was sound asleep within moments.

  She slept straight through the night and awoke shortly after eight in the morning to sounds of jubilation. She frowned as her eyes fluttered open. There was a lot of girlish squealing and cheering coming from the hallway outside her room. She was accustomed to hearing the occasional general commotion whenever one of the school’s sports teams won a big game or something else of significance happened, but this was louder than usual. She was thankful she’d gone to bed sober for once, otherwise all the noise would be doing a number on her poor noggin.

  She opened her eyes fully for the first time and saw why the celebration in the hallway seemed so much louder than it should.

  The door to the room was standing wide open.

  Panic gripped her for a moment as she glanced around the room, expecting to see the Ripper lurking somewhere nearby. But the room appeared to be empty, at least her side of it, though she did faintly hear Sheila’s television just below the din of noise from the hallway. A newscaster was speaking in excited tones about something, but it was hard to make out what he was saying over all the cheering and whatnot. As she tried to make sense of what was happening, she slowly became aware that she could hear other televisions in other rooms tuned to what seemed to be the same newscast.

  Her panic faded, but she did continue to puzzle over the open door. She was certain she’d closed it last night. So if the Ripper or some other minion of hell wasn’t responsible, that could only mean Sheila had left it open. Why her roommate would leave the door open was a mystery. That wasn’t like her at all. Sheila’s leisure activities involved a number of things not allowed in student housing, which meant she valued her privacy more than most.

  And just as Kayla was thinking of her, Sheila came bounding through the doorway, skidding to a stop on the carpet in her bare feet. “She’s awake!”

  Kayla scowled. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Ohmigod, you’ve got to get up! Come check out the news!”

  Before Kayla could respond, her roommate zipped over to her side of the room, disappearing behind the desk/partition. A squeal of bedsprings indicated she’d jumped up on her bed, as overcome by excitement and anticipation as a little kid eager to watch cartoons.

  Despite her annoyance with all the noise, Kayla’s curiosity got the better of her. She got up and trudged over to Sheila’s side of the room, taking a seat on the corner of the other girl’s bed. Sheila aimed a remote at the television, jacking up the volume to jet engine level so they could hear what was being said over all the hubbub.

  Some kind of news conference was happening. Serious-looking men in suits, as well as a few in police uniforms, were arrayed around a podium outside of a government building. Kayla leaned forward, squinting and tucking her hair behind her ears as she tried to zero in on the newscaster’s voice: “Again, what we’re hearing is that an arrest has been made in the Nashville Ripper case. If true, this potential major break may bring a quick end to the killer’s brief but bloody reign of terror. In the last week, as many as nine vicious slayings have been tied to the same unknown perpetrator. A news conference is scheduled to begin here any moment, and you can almost feel the entire city collectively holding its breath as…and the chief of police is approaching the podium now. Let’s listen.”

  A portly uniformed man in his fifties with iron-gray hair stepped up to the podium and adjusted a microphone. After a bit of preamble in which he introduced several officials gathered behind him, he got down to business: “…and thanks to the hard work and dedication of all these individuals, as well as many more men and women working in the field, I can announce today that we have made an arrest in the so-called Nashville Ripper case.” A cheer went up somewhere off-screen, a sound that was echoed resoundingly in the hallway. The chief cleared his throat and pitched his voice higher as he continued. “We are confident the individual arrested last night is solely responsible for all the killings connected to this case. The suspect is being held under armed guard at Baptist Hospital after sustaining injuries in an altercation. The individual is in critical condition, but is expected to survive. At this time we are working diligently to determine the identity of this individual and will provide that information once it is available.”

  Kayla smirked.

  Yeah. Good luck identifying a dude who died over a hundred years ago.

  This result was essentially what she had hoped for when putting her slapdash plan into m
otion last night. In truth, though, she hadn’t expected things to go so well. She had been sure the Ripper would awake and vanish well ahead of the arrival of the police.

  Never in her life had she been so thrilled to be wrong about something.

  In the moments before stabbing the Ripper, she flashed back to the things he had told her that night at Red Nose’s house, finding one aspect of it particularly galvanizing. Whenever the devil sent him out on assignment, he went in physical, corporeal form, and during that time he was flesh and blood, as mortal and vulnerable as any other human. If his body ceased to function for any reason, the devil could simply recorporealize him and send him back to finish the job. Her first instinct was to stab him repeatedly with the big knife. To kill him. That way she would at least be done with him until the devil had a chance to restore his body.

  But then she had a better idea. Specifically, what if she could wound and incapacitate him long enough for the police to take him into custody? It wouldn’t put the Ripper beyond the reach of the devil forever--nothing would--but it would end the killing spree and maybe make him unavailable for a very long time if successful.

  And, lo and behold, it had worked.

  She barely stopped smiling all morning. For once in her life, she had done something good, something that benefited people. Sure, it came far too late in the game for the loved ones of the people who had already died, but at least it was some kind of justice. And that had to count for something.

  …count for something…

  That phrase reminded her of what the angel, Daniel, had said about the spiritual benefit of eventually leaving this world with a soul unsullied by the blood of an innocent victim. He had been right all along. Smug and self-righteous to the point of obnoxiousness, but right nonetheless. She was so relieved she hadn’t killed that man last night. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of how close she’d come to another, grimmer outcome, tears that eventually overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. But she kept on smiling through the tears, because all that mattered now was that she had taken the right path at that moment of truth.

  Sheila saw her crying and pulled her close for a hug, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. They had him now, she said. She didn’t have to be afraid anymore. No one had to be afraid anymore.

  Kayla desperately wanted to believe that.

  But she just couldn’t.

  Because, for her, the truth of the situation was so much more complicated.

  37.

  One more day.

  That was all she had left. Today was Tuesday, and her meeting with the devil was set for the following afternoon. Early in the day Kayla made the decision to stop looking for a way out of her predicament. She had been trying for almost a week and had nothing but grief to show for it.

  Well, okay, grief and a pivotal role in the takedown of one of history’s most notorious killers.

  Leaving that admittedly major positive aside, she had expended a lot of effort that had accomplished exactly nothing. She was no closer to a solution to her problem now than she had been that day she met the devil in the park. So now she was more than ready to accept the obvious--that there was no solution.

  All that was left was acceptance.

  It was a conclusion she’d flirted with early on in her futile quest, but now she was ready at last to truly embrace it. The remainder of her mortal life wouldn’t be much fun. Starting tomorrow, she would be shunned by everyone again. She was going to miss her friends and family terribly. While her contact with them had been severely limited since the start of the semester, now it would be broken off entirely. Forever. Even in its modified state, the effects of the shunning spell had made her miserable most of the time, but at least some human connection had been possible. And during that time, the one person she’d been able to count on was Lee Stanley, a guy she’d treated like shit for so long. He was a good guy. Maybe not her dream guy, but a good guy. She was only mildly surprised now to realize how much she would miss him once he started shunning her again.

  Thinking about these things depressed her.

  Even so, her commitment to her decision never wavered.

  One day.

  One sweet day is all I have.

  It wasn’t much, but she meant to make the most of what little time she had left. She wouldn’t waste so much as one more precious second of it chasing something that would forever elude her. She also wasn’t wasting time on things that no longer mattered. School, for instance. She skipped her classes and spent some quality time walking around the city again, what she thought of as her part of it anyway, the area that stretched from Hillsboro Village and encompassed the school’s campus, Broadway, West End, Elliston Place, and the outer periphery of Centennial Park. It was another warmer than average day in early December. The sky was blue and the sun was a big yellow ball high in the sky. It was a great day for walking and taking in all the sights she’d taken for granted most of her time here. A great day to be alive.

  She tried calling Lee several times. It would have been nice to spend at least part of the day with the last person she’d been intimate with, even given the abbreviated nature of that encounter. She even thought maybe she’d give it one more go with him. Now that she knew about his inexperience, she could take steps to make the second time better for both of them.

  But Lee didn’t answer her calls. They all went straight to voicemail. Though her opinion of the guy had evolved significantly in recent days, she knew he didn’t have a lot friends. No way was he talking to someone else every time she called. Which meant his phone was off and he was avoiding her. Which made her sad, but she forced herself not to dwell on it, repeating the one day left mantra in her head every time her thoughts drifted back in that direction. She left one brief message that hinted in unmistakable fashion what she had in mind. If that didn’t get him to call back, nothing would. And yet her phone remained sadly silent as the day lengthened.

  Until the call from her mother early that afternoon.

  She was sitting at what had become her usual table outside Fido’s in Hillsboro Village when the number appeared on the screen. Her first instinct was to let the call go to voicemail. Talking to her mother for what was likely the last time ever struck her as too painful a thing to endure. In the very next instant, however, she realized how much she’d regret it later if it she passed up the chance.

  She hit the accept call button and put the phone to her ear. “Mom?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, her mother said, “Hello, dear.”

  Kayla’s eyes filled with tears, but she kept her tone light as she replied. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, not much, really. I just…I haven’t talked to you in so long.” There was an almost undetectable quaver in Lila Monroe’s voice. It was very slight and anyone who didn’t know her well might miss it entirely, but Kayla picked up on it right away. Her mother was upset about something. The source of her distress was easy to guess, a hunch that was verified by her next words. “I guess I’ve been sort of standoffish with you lately, and I don’t really know why. I’m so sorry you weren’t able to visit for Thanksgiving.”

  “It’s okay, mom.” It wasn’t okay at all, but that wasn’t something she’d ever tell her mother. “I was busy with school stuff.”

  “Oh, I know.” This time a small sniffle was audible. The poor woman was really struggling to hold back a gusher of emotion. “You’ve always been a very diligent student and I’m so proud of you for that. I still should have said something before the holiday, maybe should have badgered you into setting aside your work for a day or two to come visit your family, but by then I hadn’t talked to you in so long and…well, I just can’t fully explain it, baby. I’m just so sorry you weren’t here with us.”

  “It’s really okay, mom. Seriously” She strove to keep her tone bright and cheery as a counter to her mother’s dreary mood. She didn’t want to get all maudlin. Her last talk with her mother to be a better memory than that. “Don’t even worr
y about it. Besides, finals are next week and after that I’ll be home for three whole weeks.” She laughed. “You’ll see me so much you’ll get sick of me.”

  They wouldn’t see each other at all, of course. But Kayla saw no harm in briefly pretending otherwise. They talked more about Christmas, including who all would be there (the usual ginormous gathering of the whole extended Monroe clan, of course), all the food she planned to cook, what kind of gifts to buy everybody, and so on. By the time they had exhausted the subject, Kayla was on the verge of her own emotional breakdown and reluctantly began to steer the conversation to a conclusion.. “Well, I need to be at my last class of the day soon, mom, so I better let you go.”

  “Okay, honey. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse again, but I want to tell you one more time how sorry I am that I haven’t kept in touch with you better this year.” Another small sniffle, but at least this time she didn’t seem on the verge of a collapse. Their talk had propped up her mood, apparently, and that made Kayla happy. “I promise you it won’t happen again.”

  But it will, mom. It will. And the bitch of it is, you’ll never know the difference or give it a second thought. But it’s not your fault.

  But she couldn’t say any of that.

  “And I promise that you really and truly don’t need to worry about it. Everything’s cool as cool can be between you and me.”

  “I love you, Kayla.”

  Kayla squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears. “I love you too, mom. Talk to you soon.”

  The line went dead.

  Kayla hung her head and thought for a while about everything she’d lost.

  And all that she was about to lose.

  A short while later she left Fido’s and headed back to campus, where she walked the familiar grounds at a slower pace than usual. She wanted to drink it all in, because this was another part of her life that was coming to an end. She supposed it was technically possible she could muddle through one more semester the way she had this one, but she had years to go to complete her degree and just couldn’t see managing it with the shunning spell in full effect. No, soon she’d begin a new kind of education, one that was all about learning how to scrape out an existence on the margins of society. And the sooner she got started on it, the better. In the meantime, though, it was nice to stroll around one more time and think back on her freshman year. It was no exaggeration to say that year had been the most fun and exciting time of her life.