The strong scent of sexual release hit all her senses at once. Vague awareness of being carried from the tub filtered through her limp orgasmic state. Hell, right now she didn't care where they carried her so long as they were all together.
* * * * *
Shana awoke to the obnoxious sounds of not only the house phone ringing off the hook but Marklon's cell phone ringing as well. She snatched the pillow over her head, attempting to shield herself from the rude intrusions even as Marklon rose from the bed. Erron stirred on the other side of her, his pitiful moan matching her own. Like Shana, Erron didn't do mornings well.
Normally, neither she nor Erron would so much as budge until the rich aroma of Marklon's Belgian coffee brewing wafted into the bedroom, but something nagged her about the odd non-stop ringing.
Something seemed wrong, and the more awake she became the more she realized no one ever called them back-to-back like this. Ringing until it stopped, then calling immediately again. She slipped on her satin robe and headed blearily for the kitchen, stubbing her toe on their dresser and cussing like a sailor as she hopped down the hallway.
"What's going on?" she mumbled, reaching for the proffered cup.
"Careful. Hasn't stopped brewing, and it's bound to be strong."
Yeah, he'd warned her, but she'd already sipped. Her brain ping-ponged a moment in response to the burst of straight caffeine.
"Uh, wow. Yeah, a tad strong even for me."
Marklon turned his back to her, staring out the window over the kitchen sink and appearing lost in thought. His brows were drawn together in a way she knew meant he was concerned about something.
"Uh-oh, not a good sign. So, who was it so rudely hyper-calling this morning?" She tongued a tad more of the hot java.
"No fucking clue. I think maybe a prank call or something. Someone screamed something, but I couldn't tell what exactly, then there was a bit of heavy breathing. I got a seriously weird vibe from it though."
It took her a moment to realize what he was implying, but then the grisly description he'd given earlier rushed back.
"You think the killer called you?" She nearly dropped her cup, her hands shook so bad from fearing his answer.
He shrugged, as if unsure how to answer.
"What in the hell is going on? Why are you guys getting these weird feelings, and why are my instincts screaming that somehow we're connected to the killings or even the murderer?"
He turned and locked eyes with her with the same fear and questions mirrored in his own gaze that somehow they might indeed be linked to a madman.
"No idea, but I'm past suspecting, and I'm straight out admitting far more is going on than meets the eye."
"What's going on? Why do you both look like you've just lost your best friend?" Erron asked as he came into the kitchen to snag a cup of Marklon's strong brew.
"Well, I've got a confession to make myself."
She blurted it out before she could change her mind. She knew they would become even more overbearing than they already were, but they needed to know.
Marklon whipped around, eyeing her suspiciously, as Erron gulped coffee, preparing for the bomb to drop.
"You guys aren't the only ones tuned in to the killings. Or at least I don't think so."
"Why? What more has happened that you haven't told us?"
"Well, before you both go getting all up with the attitude and shit, I was safe, am safe, and don't want either of you flipping the fuck out."
"Spill it, Shana," Marklon spat, jaw locking up in irritation as Erron's body posture went rigid.
She knew they wanted answers and her to be the one to explain, and like yesterday.
"Well, while I was out checking out the crime scene, I think I experienced a sorta weird vision thingy."
"Keep going." Marklon pushed, looking livid and worried, but for now was at least biting his tongue.
"Look, I'd planned a nice dinner where I would have explained everything, but, well...."
"We're waiting Shana. What happened?" Erron's tone had turned downright demanding, and, geesh, he was usually the calm one.
"While I was viewing the body—"
"What fucking body?" Both roared simultaneously, growing visibly well past agitated.
"The body belonging to the head. A woman's body. A mutilated, tortured woman whose feet I'm betting were the ones that turned up in the seafood department earlier today."
"Okay, wait a minute. We know about the feet, found the sausage, and you told me about the barn. You didn't go into details though. Just suckered me into helping you keep Marklon calm until you could explain. Too late for the calm, but, sweetie, you best start explaining." Erron seethed while Marklon began pacing, clearly agitated.
Much later, after she'd filled them in and cooled them down a tad, they all turned in for a nap. Her guys curling ever so protectively around her bringing some security and relief that even Marklon now agreed something odd was happening. Somehow in hell they were all linked to the killings, and it was up to them to stop the killer.
Both made her swear to not go or do anything they didn't know about or weren't with her for. She gave them her promise but had an inkling she would be forced to break it.
* * * * *
Erron's grunts and curses awoke both her and Marklon. Again, he was covered in sweat and seemed out of it far too long for your normal run-of-the-mill nightmare.
After they wakened him, he insisted in going over it, bloody detail by bloody detail.
A man, naked and strapped down to a wooden bench or table of some sort, way out in the woods or next to dense woods. His mouth gagged, eyes wide in terror and unimaginable pain. Body parts being ever so slowly cut off, though none critical enough to mercifully end his life. Select limbs, digits, and organs that would assure he remained alive while surgical precision and cauterizing effectively squelched any potential bleed out.
"His pain was so intense I awoke thinking I was vomiting and dying at the same time." Erron stuttered, still clearly shaken from the nightmare of doom.
Erron's skin was so chilled that goose bumps had risen across him from head to toe. She was on one side of Erron, while Marklon had gone to sit on the other. She'd never seen Erron so ashen in color, and she and Marklon both tried their best to soothe the jagged edges of the nightmare away.
"There's more. Worse, oh, God, so much worse."
Erron stuttered, struggling to catch his breath and panting more than breathing anyhow.
"Wait until later. You can fill us in after a nice hot cup of coffee and a shower." Shana pecked his cheek before starting to climb off the bed, only to have Erron stop her by grabbing her arm.
"No, it's like...like I need to make sure his story, his death, is accounted for. Like I owe it to him. If I wait, than I chance the memory getting all fuzzy like."
"Go on then. Tell us." Marklon began rubbing his shoulders and arms, trying to take the chill from them.
Shana shot Marklon a nasty look. Erron needed more time to awaken. Pushing him on might make things worse. Of course, it might also make remembering harder, and she figured that was why Marklon didn't stop him.
"He was so cold, and the gag made it difficult to breathe. He was aware of every slice, every cut, and then he felt his penis being yanked on. Pulled and stretched away from his body. The fear. Oh, my God, you don't understand his fear and the unimaginable pain."
"Could you make out any identifying features?" Marklon had the presence of mind to ask.
"Yes. He was dark-blond, but I couldn't make out his height because he was strapped to the table. For whatever reason, though, I got the impression he was rather tall. Well over six-foot going by how his ankles and feet hung off the table."
"Anything about the location stand out?" Marklon asked, trying to gain as many clues as possible.
"No. Nothing
other than thick woods."
"Do you think, ah, there's any shot in hell he's still alive?"
"He lived through his nipples being sliced off in thin layers. Layer after layer, and so thin the burn was excruciating. He survived his teeth being extracted. Survived his fingers being cut, but, when his penis was severed, he vomited and choked. I think he died. I pray he died. I can't swear to it...but I think it may have been Kevin."
"Kevin? The new chef you hired to back you up in the kitchen?" She and Marklon asked simultaneously.
"I...oh, God, it looked like him. He didn't show up or call in for work yesterday. His roommate said he'd gotten a call that seemed to upset him. I'd assumed maybe some family issues had come up and that he was trying to straighten them out and I'd hear from him today. I...I should have called the police. Reported him missing. Done something."
"Stop that. You don't know for sure anything happened. Maybe this really was just a nightmare. I wouldn't have called the police either. Honestly, I would have thought the same thing. I don't think you can even file a missing persons report until they've been missing like forty-eight hours or something. Right, Marklon?"
"She's right Erron. They wouldn't have listened or done anything this soon," Marklon agreed.
Leaning into Erron more, Shana wrapped her arms around him. She held him as tightly as she was humanly able, wishing she could lend him some strength and take the grisly, barbaric images from his mind. Marklon went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She caught his nod as he disappeared into the kitchen to hit the "on" button for the coffee. She knew he would return, and they would take Erron into the hot water to shower him with love. He needed them as never before.
"Come on, let's all take a nice, hot, soothing shower."
Erron mumbled something she couldn't make out, but he didn't resist when she pulled him to his feet. She tugged at his pajama bottoms as Marklon pulled his tee over his head. She quickly pulled her own tee and panties off, and Marklon took off his boxers, and together they led Erron into the warmth and life of the spray.
Chapter Five
Umm, Umm Frozen Foods
Shana had no time for a breakdown as Erron's opening couldn't wait. The small establishment had barely enough staff; if everyone worked hard, they might be able to pull off a grand opening crowd. As guilty as Erron felt for continuing on without knowing for sure where his new cook was, he simply didn't have a choice, as she and Marklon pointed out this morning. They worried about how he'd cope without a back-up, but surely others on his staff could fill in and help.
She'd maneuvered the night off by swapping shifts with a coworker and now thankfully could join Marklon sitting front and center to catch all the excitement. Erron's vision of The Grey Goose was that of a relaxed pub-style setting that offered an experience in fine cuisine usually found only in more upscale but stuffy establishments.
Think Cheers but with Dom Perignon and true culinary treats.
In a restaurant market saturated with old-timey inns on one extreme and full-on nightclubs on the other, Erron had gambled that the Grey Goose could offer something in the middle for those not wanting to switch scenes.
If the growing crowd indicated anything, Shana bet he was right. The place exuded elegance, yet warmth and friendliness abounded. Mahogany wood dining tables, plush wingback leather chairs, and rich, vibrant, wine carpet adorned the dining area, and carefully placed candles provided the perfect amount of ambiance.
The decadent menu offered smoked bacon and apple-stuffed quail, roasted lamb with mint jelly, garlic new potatoes, and basil-rubbed grilled asparagus to name just a few of the available savory dishes. For those with a simpler palate, choices such as steak, roasted chicken, and pork loin were on hand.
Her stomach growled as the aromatic scents teased and tantalized her senses.
"Good thing we came hungry," Marklon said in response to her loud stomach rumble.
"Talking to my stomach now?"
"When it's screaming that furiously and mine agrees, yes."
Everyone appeared to be having a grand time. Rather than leave after the final course, dinner patrons headed over to the bar area featuring rich cherry wood rails, brass footers, and small bistro tables. The cocktails flowed plentifully and without stop.
When a young waiter wheeled out a linen-covered trolley bearing the second of the ice sculptures Erron procured—in order to replace the first, a melting swan—all hell broke loose. The unique cooling tarp that had been draped over the sculpture slid off to reveal a large, bloody mermaid. Flash-frozen body parts appearing to be kidney, heart, and liver glistened visibly within the clear icy sculpture. Coagulated blood smeared the mermaid's edges and pooled in lumps around its base. It appeared as though the sculpture had been cut in half, scooped out in places, and refrozen with the new additions encased inside.
Shana's pangs of hunger were quickly replaced by gags of repulsion. Marklon grabbed her and turned her away from the gory sight, burying her within the confines of his large barrel chest. Sadly, he wasn't quick enough, as the images of death and decay ate away at the fine dining memory of mere moments before.
One high-pitched scream radiated throughout the room while other voices were stilled in shock. Several patrons shielded their faces. Others snatched out their handy-dandy cell phones to snap morbid photos, no doubt hoping to sell them to the tabloids. It took several minutes for anyone to register the note written in blood dangling from the mermaid's neck.
Sorbet anyone?—The Chef
Several in the room erupted in violent bouts of high projectile vomiting. Wet orange chunks flew as high as the octaves of the screams. Many raced for the door, others for the bathroom. One woman fell when the strap of her high-heel shoe came right off, causing a man to trip right over her.
Pandemonium erupted as more and more patrons pushed toward the exit doors. Chairs went sailing as people fell into or over them, creating a stampede from hell.
Erron, pale, glassy-eyed, and swaying, appeared to be going into shock. The sight of the body parts sparkling away in their damp coffin as his dream blew up before his eyes was clearly too much for him. With Marklon already speaking with the sheriff, who thankfully had been right around the corner, Shana raced over and threw the tarp back over the sculpture, trying to cover the grisly scene.
Rather than drop to the floor like she suspected he wanted, hell, even needed, Erron did his best in the melée to calm everyone down, including the staff. If anyone had paused to listen, they'd have heard his confirmation the food hadn't been spiked with anything other than the required ingredients.
The morbidly nauseating note on the sculpture had been intended for reaction only. No sign had been left with the bodies before because the killer hadn't wanted to warn anyone until it was far too late.
The killer had left a note this time, strictly for the pleasure of the reactions and madness that would no doubt follow his shocking display.
Which could mean only one thing. The killer was close enough to watch the chaos he'd caused and possibly select his next victim from one of the many terrified patrons.
* * * * *
Shana had to admit she must look rather suspicious to law enforcement, as, so far, she'd been at every gruesome event. Thankfully, she had answers for most of their questions and alibis when needed. After they, she assumed, verified her statement, she finally received the clearance to leave. Moments later, Marklon and Erron decided to become involved whether the police wanted their help or not, as both finally acknowledged some sort of link with the killer.
No, they hadn't wanted to believe it, but that didn't change the fact that they were now factually linked somehow. This odd connection gave them an advantage the police didn't have when it came to stopping the madman.
The three of them stayed up all night, writing down anything and everything they thought relevant to the case, then cross-ch
ecking the facts and locations against each other. Shana rubbed her hot, weary eyes, glancing at the clock and the ungodly hour. She shook her hands and kept making notes. From the odd dreams they'd all had to the strange, unexplainable emotions from both killer and victim all the way to the actual crime scenes. They spent hours poring over all their notes at what the common denominator might be and came up with zilch.
"There must be something we're overlooking?" she asked, shooting back her second shot of the Patron she snagged from the Grey Goose before the police shut the doors.
"Yeah, but what the fuck is it?" Erron snapped aggressively.
"Erron, I understand you're stressing, dude, but snapping at Shana isn't going to help," Marklon growled defensively.
"Fuck you, Marklon. You didn't just lose everything you've ever worked for in one night. Fucking opening night, man!"
Seething with anger, Erron stood so abruptly he knocked the uncapped bottle of Patron over. Shana reached out to grab hold, but Erron snatched the bottle out of her grasp and smashed it against the end table. Shards of glass and booze went flying over everything and everyone.
Marklon was up in a second, body-slamming Erron against the wall.
"Settle the fuck down. You're acting like a spoiled fucking two-year-old for Christ's sake!" Marklon shouted.
"Sure, easy for you to say. You haven't lost shit! Now get the fuck off me." Erron tried to shove Marklon away.
Shana had never seen the guys get into it so badly. She jumped in between the two men, trying to pull them apart.
"Please, Erron," she said in a soothing tone. "We both understand what a horrible night this has been...."
"Do you? Do either of you truly understand? I had everything invested in the Grey Goose. The entire town now thinks they fucking ate part of a person. A person! What part about 'lost everything' can you not wrap your female brain around?"
Table for Three-Hold the Blood Page 4