Unfortunately, he was pretty sure she wouldn't listen to him or Jack when it came to taking some precautions with her safety. No matter, he would stay close enough to ensure no harm came to her. Close proximity with Serena promised to be a kind of erotic torture, but he would withstand it to keep her safe. He only hoped that death by blue balls truly was an urban myth.
Chapter Five
Twenty-four years ago...
It was bitterly cold and damp in the cellar, so he pulled his thin, naked legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, holding himself tightly in a little ball. This made the shallow gashes in his pale back sting but he was used to the pain. Water dripped somewhere and he could smell the dankness mixed with the unpleasant odor of rat droppings. His grandfather was obsessed with ensuring that the rest of the old house was clinically clean, but this place was purposely kept as dingy and unpleasant as any prison cell. The boy was fairly certain the cleaning lady didn't even know this place existed. If she had seen it, she wouldn't be working for the old man anymore. But she was paid well not to ask questions and that's exactly what she did. Her kind was good at keeping their mouth shut. At least that's what his grandfather said.
It was darker here than anywhere else he'd even been. Not that he'd been many places. The blackness seemed to have actual weight and texture, pressing him down into the icy cement floor, making him feel helpless and weak and very, very alone. He didn't need a candle to know what this awful place looked like. His grandfather had brought him here many times, sometimes to instruct but mostly to punish him. A crude black swastika was painted on one wall, while the opposite side of the room was dominated by a life-sized poster of Adolf Hitler, arm raised and looking wild-eyed at a riveted audience of his compatriots.
He knew his grandfather considered the figure in the picture to be a great man, but he couldn't look directly at it without a little shudder of terror and revulsion sliding down his spine. There was something about the dark-haired little man's little eyes, something hot, frenzied and downright scary. In truth, that look reminded him of his grandfather when he was on one of his tirades. Like he'd been that afternoon three days ago. After Miss Ellis, his teacher, had come to talk to the old man. About him and his behavior. The way he treated the other kids and the things he did when the teacher wasn't around.
His grandfather had greeted her at the door with his usual blank stare, his unrelenting disapproval apparent without saying a word. Oddly, Miss Ellis was not intimidated though the old man still possessed a tall and imposing figure. Most people found his baleful gaze unnerving, but she just glared back at him as she always did when they encountered each other.
The old man had resented the teacher’s interference for months now. In his opinion, Miss Ellis was a busybody and most likely a dirty whore. If he had his way, someone would show her what happened to women who didn’t know when to keep their mouths and eyes shut. He would not have his grandson in school with her except his worsening eyesight had forced him to allow the boy to enter the public education system.
After being home-schooled by his grandfather for the first few years of his education the boy had been happy and excited to escape his rigid presence for several hours a day. The freedom had been a heady experience after having every moment of his life so strictly regimented.
At first, he had been eager to escape the old house but school wasn't what he expected. He was an outsider there. The other kids thought he was weird and the teachers had strange ideas about treating everyone the same. It was a confusing place where he didn't know the rules. As much as he wanted to fit in he was always a bit out of sync with what was considered normal. As a result, the other children and even most of the teachers avoided talking to him. It didn't help that his education was so advanced compared to his classmates.
At the age of nine, he could quote Nietzsche with ease and had already memorized the Periodic Table of Elements and all its components. Complicated quadratic equations were well within his grasp and as a result he was understandably bored when presented with gold stars for completing his multiplication tables. He was moved up two grades, but this just alienated him further from his peers.
It didn't help that his grandfather insisted that he stay away from anyone who was not their kind. He was fanatical about his grandson not becoming tainted by any unsavory elements, which to him meant anyone of non-Slavic descent. The trouble was that the boy couldn't always tell who was superior and who wasn't. Skin and hair color, he'd learned, weren't always reliable indicators. One little boy in his class had golden hair and green eyes, just like him, but his last name was Lopez, so he couldn't be a member of the Master Race. Another olive-skinned girl had the unfortunate name of Olga Schmidt, a German-sounding name, but according to his grandfather this child was an impersonator and a fake.
There were so many rules regarding how to tell if someone was suitable or not. He didn't really understand how his grandfather was able to tell the difference so easily. The old man insisted that as the boy grew older he would come to recognize their kind. As he matured, so would his ability to distinguish the pure-breeds from the mixed breeds.
The one time he had brought home a playmate from school his grandfather had barred the door with his cane and screamed at him to not let that 'little Jew' in his house because he'd 'stink up the place and steal the silverware.' According to his grandfather, all Jews thought about was making money and scheming to cheat people out of what was rightfully theirs. Henry, his one and only friend, didn't even have a big nose and his family was dirt poor, so obviously he didn't fit the profile. Yet his grandfather was certain he was Jewish. It didn't make any sense to the boy. Henry had only wanted to check out the boy's comic collection, not steal anything. But the severe beating and subsequent two days in the cellar that followed Henry's visit had convinced the boy that it was better to err on the side of caution. So he began avoiding everyone, keeping to himself and inwardly seething at his inability to distinguish his tribe from these others.
He quickly became accustomed to being an outsider. He'd felt hurt and lonely for awhile, but eventually it became obvious to him that his grandfather was right. He was a superior specimen and the other children were just jealous of his superhuman qualities. That was why they avoided him, not because he was strange. They couldn't relate to him because he was practically a different species from them. He was more evolved than they could comprehend. He was meant for greatness while they were just a bunch of brainless little mutts. It was so hard, treating them like equals when he knew they were hopelessly beneath him.
Every once in awhile he slipped and let his contempt for his classmates show. Usually these slips resulted in some form of cruel and violent behavior on his part. This latest incident had involved Tommy Mulligan calling him a queer because he was always so neatly groomed. His grandfather had explained exactly what the term meant when he told the boy the story of how he had come to live with the old man five years earlier. His mother had abandoned them when she discovered her husband preferred sleeping with his secretary. His male secretary. Both men had disappeared soon after, leaving the boy in the loving care of his grandfather.
The idea that this mediocre child would have the temerity to infer that he was flawed in this unforgivable manner could not be tolerated. As enraged as the boy was, he didn't respond to the other boy's taunts. Instead he held off for a few days, until Tommy was walking home alone through the forest trail toward the trailer park where he lived.
The boy had sat behind a tree for hours, whittling a branch down to a sharpened point and waiting patiently. When his victim passed by he grabbed the smaller child and threw him to the ground.
Easily, he straddled Tommy's thighs and began pummeling him viciously in the face. When the other boy was bloody and unconscious he began carving into his stomach. Just as he was about to start on the second half of his project he heard someone coming, and had to flee to escape detection. His artwork had ended up looking like a random scratch. That was
a piece of luck. A swastika carved into the other child's belly would have been very difficult to explain given the circumstances.
He'd left Tommy lying in the path, alive but badly injured. His small, broken body was soon discovered by the approaching jogger and Tommy was taken to the hospital where he was treated for a broken nose, shattered cheek bone and two black eyes. When he awoke he identified his attacker, and that was why Miss Ellis had come to visit. The old man had provided an alibi, vehemently denying the possibility that his grandson could be involved because they'd been together since shortly after school let out.
Miss Ellis was the only one who seriously suspected the boy and even she was forced to let it go when faced with the boy's innocent denials and grandfather's support. The boy was, after all, very careful about hiding his nature from authority figures. It certainly helped that Tommy was a well-known liar and his father was the town drunk, prone to using his fists on his both his wife and children. It was assumed that Tommy had accused the boy in order to protect his wino father. The matter was soon dropped and no one at school ever made the mistake of calling the boy a name ever again.
His grandfather, however, had punished him severely for his indiscretion. They'd spent the last three days and two nights in the cellar together. The boy kneeling on the cold floor, naked, as the old man alternated between lashing him with an improvised riding crop and screaming at him that he must be more careful. Must appear normal. Must stay pure and unsullied. Must fulfill his destiny and rebuild the Master Race. These were the words that echoed through the boy's head as he slipped into unconsciousness from the pain. Only to be revived a few minutes later so the process could be repeated over and over until he would do or say anything at all to make it stop.
Now, he could rest. The old man had finally tired and left him here to think about the disaster he'd almost created with his impulsive and vengeful act. His back was a bloody, stinging mess and he was weak from hunger and dehydration, but he'd learned his lesson. No one could suspect what he was. The boy must appear average and non-threatening. And he must wait. Someday he would find the perfect female specimen, worthy of his DNA. When he found her two things would happen: he would rebuild what his grandfather and his compatriots had started so long ago. And more importantly to him at least, he wouldn't be alone ever again.
*****
Karl gripped the gear shift of the Mercedes tightly with one hand and waited for Serena to exit the townhouse. He'd driven around the block when the long-haired man with the limp had paused on the porch to stare at him, but now Karl was parked further down and on the opposite side of the street, where he could casually watch for her by keeping an eye on his rear view mirror.
He was holding his cell phone up to his ear with the other hand, in case anyone noticed him sitting there, but otherwise he was unnaturally still. He was in his hunting mode again. He needed to find out if the pretty real estate agent actually had an appointment or if she was just playing some kind of stupid female game with him. He suspected she had lied to him, but it hardly mattered. In time she would learn that deceiving him was not an option. Once they were together, she would understand the importance of their role and become the ideal companion he'd always wanted. The one he'd been waiting for since his destiny had been revealed to him by his grandfather when he was just a boy.
He'd been mistaken before and those situations had ended badly but the women hadn't been exactly right. He'd had to dispose of them, but they were just collateral damage in the war he was fighting against the inferiors. Some casualties were to be expected.
Serena, however, was perfect. She'd darkened her hair recently, and he didn't like that at all, but her tall, willowy body, fair skin and sky blue eyes were exactly the traits his people were trying to preserve. But it was more than her physiology that drew him to her. Serena was also strong-willed and intelligent. Features he'd like to pass onto his future progeny with her. And when he looked at her, the thought of breeding didn't repulse him as it usually did.
For the most part, he found sex distasteful. Part of this was probably the result of his grandfather's brainwashing. Hans Bauer had been obsessed with the notion of racial purity, and Karl had also come to believe that ultimately the only purpose of sex was to ensure the continuance of their superior lineage. Pleasure and intimacy had never had much to do with his sexual encounters. He performed because it was his duty, but in his opinion the sex act was joyless, primitive, and degrading. And he hated the way the women he'd impregnated at the facility looked at him. First with pity, and then fear.
Through the wonders of the internet he'd found a society of men just like him. Direct descendants of the Third Reich who believed in the same ideals his grandfather had instilled in him and who also wanted to create the ultimate society of supermen. It had been surprisingly easy to gain access to the breeding facility this society funded in Eastern Europe, called "The Farm," by the men who supported it. Here women of appropriate racial purity and fertility were kept with the exclusive purpose of breeding the new Aryan race. In exchange for money and the security of their families, these women allowed themselves to be impregnated as often as possible by natural or artificial means.
Currently, Karl was the father of four sons being raised at The Farm. The oldest of his experiments was eight-years-old and showing an unnerving amount of promise under the direction of his tutors and coaches. Adam, as his mother had named the boy, was a wonder. He was freakishly athletic, intelligent, and even charming. Most of all, he possessed a great gift for languages, including Latin and some of the more common Middle-Eastern dialects. He would make a great politician one day, which is exactly what he was designed for.
Karl had only seen the boy three times when he returned to the facility to impregnate another egg donor, and he was struck each time by both the boy's coldness and his potential for greatness. Anyone who doubted their methods could not deny the result. Adam embodied the ideal his society had been trying to preserve. Someday he would prove their racial superiority over the genetically imperfect when he and his brothers achieved complete world domination. To an outsider, these ambitions seemed ridiculous, but to Karl and the men who shared his dream, it was more than a possibility. It was a foregone conclusion. They had the power, money, resources and connections to make it happen. It was just a matter of time.
It had been a year since Karl had returned to the facility. Thinking of Adam just reminded him that he needed to further their cause by contributing more of his DNA. He could easily do so by sending a sample via courier and have one of the breeders artificially inseminated, but for him masturbation was even more distasteful than sex with a partner. He did not like to touch himself down there. Not at all. Masturbation made him feel pathetic and dirty. At least when he used the women at the facility he was able to find some pleasure when he hurt them a little. Their cries and discomfort made him feel powerful and strong, almost invincible. Of course he couldn't go too far or he'd be banned from the facility, but no one complained if he was a bit rough. They needed him and his superior genes too much to risk alienating him.
With Serena he felt it could be different than it had been with the breeders. Those women were just receptacles, human incubators, not partners, like he so desperately desired. Ideally he would like to raise his own children in a natural environment rather than abandoning them to The Farm's labs and classrooms. The results of such conditions would surpass even Adam's potential. With a woman like Serena, he would have both a mother to those children, and someone to care about him for the first time in his life. He was certain he'd be able to overcome his discomfort with intimacy and learn to enjoy the physical side of a relationship with her. If he hurt her occasionally, she would forgive him. Hopefully, she would come to enjoy the pain he needed to inflict in order to achieve satisfaction.
Sitting in the car, waiting, he felt the first stirrings of an erection as he thought about hurting Serena. He hadn't been even semi-hard since he'd strangled the blonde waitress a f
ew months before. One of his failed experiments. He only hoped Serena would not disappoint him like that silly bitch. She had foolishly attempted to reject him despite his offer to impregnate her mediocre body with his superior seed. Serena wouldn't do that. She would be grateful and happy to serve him. If he could just get her away from the influence of the cripple and that half-breed slut she was associating with, then he could convince her of the purity and wisdom of his purpose. But first he had to get her alone.
Chapter Six
"No offense, but you guys really need to get a room or something." Serena said, shaking her head as she gathered her brochures and threw them in her briefcase, preparing to leave. She glared at Jack and then Lacey, who had followed Serena back into the kitchen. "I realize you met at an Open House, so they have some kind of special and very horny meaning for you and all, but I can't do business like this. I'm a real estate agent, not a Madame. And this is not a brothel. We need to keep it PG in here when clients are around. Okay?"
Lacey flushed under her deep tan and looked reproachfully at Serena. "Were we that bad?"
"Afraid so." Serena glanced in her friend's general direction but continued gathering her things. She couldn't look at Lacey's guilty expression without feeling a bit ashamed of herself. Jack and Lacey deserved to be happy and only a real bitch would try to diminish their enjoyment of each other. On some level she knew she was overreacting but couldn't back down now. Right or wrong she was completely annoyed with them and their over-the-top infatuation with each other. Annoyed and pea-green with envy.
Hot Property (Kingston Bros.) Page 6