by Gavin Graham
‘The Butcher from Karachi’; a Pakistani shop-owner known by the name of Abdul who was suspected of slowly picking-off members of a small-time criminal gang known as The Kelly Boys. The family were known for dishing out racial profanities to Indians, Pakistanis and Arabs and now one man was making a stand. Except he was giving back more than he’d been dealt and was cutting their heads off with a machete. As yet, they had no firm evidence to connect him to the slayings, just rumours.
And, of course, ‘The Unsung Satanist’. The photographs were horrific and Mac had asked for the Satanic poetry to be typed-up and put on the wall for daily digestion and contemplation.
Siobhan was curious what he wanted to see her about. “What is it then, Boss?”
“What do you know about Broadmoor?”
“Broadmoor? It’s a high-security psychiatric hospital in England, they put one of the Kray brothers in there, didn’t they?”
“Aye, Ronnie, amongst many other psychopaths. Back in the 1800’s a Glaswegian named Daniel M’naghten was sent there…he was delusional and believed that he was being followed around the streets of Glasgow by Tories and spies…so he took it upon himself to go down to London and assassinate the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary – shot him in the back at point-blank range,” McGreavy made a gun with his pointing finger and silently mouthed a ‘bang’.
“Wasn’t his father the Glasgow commissioner of Police?”
“Yes,” Mac was almost smiling, he was in his element, he just loved a good chin-wag on criminal matters, especially if it was pertaining to the history of Glasgow. “That would be fun-fact number one. Number two being that he was the one who paved the way for a legal test of criminal insanity, as well as other common law jurisdictions known as the M’Naghten Rules.”
“Aye, I remember studying that at Tulliallan.”
“You’ll also remember Peter Sutcliffe then, The Yorkshire Ripper, a mad grave digger that killed thirteen women in cold blood?”
“Thirteen that they knew about, he attacked several others too, believing that God was speaking to him from the gravestone of a Polish man named Bronislaw Zapolski. He said that God had told him to kill those girls. How mental is that?”
“Madder than a box of frogs he was, the sick bastard was incarcerated in the early eighties, and many more of the country’s most dangerous psychopaths and serial killers have also found Broadmoor as their final ‘rest home’. More recently, Glasgow’s own Johnny Moffat – The Casanova Killer – was sent there after the Judge labelled him ‘of unsound mind’, as you well know. The psychiatrist diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic – a dangerous sociopath with a narcissistic personality disorder. Anyway, recently, I received some correspondence that would suggest young Moffat has information about the Satanic serial killer case.”
“What kind of information?”
“I don’t know, he wrote me a few letters, he had details about the murders that were uncanny, so I want you to go down there and try to find out, talk to him, pick his brains. Apparently, according to him, his mother had a relationship with The Unsung Satanist.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, they seem to be in cahoots, somehow. I would expect the killer to be a man in his early fifties, going on this theory. Maybe the killer is like some kind of father-figure to Moffat. One thing for sure, however, he seems to worship the ground that this sick bastard of a murderer walks on.”
Siobhan fought back a smirk that was ready to emerge gleefully upon her smug face. “Why me then, Boss? Why not, Jimmy, or Colin?”
“Because, you’re a woman, he’ll try to play games with you, to get inside your head, that’s his thing, he’ll try to seduce you and make you feel special, but secretly in his mind he’ll be thinking about raping you and killing you.”
“Charming, indeed, Boss. What a treat, eh?”
“The more you can string him along, assuming that he has legitimate intelligence, the closer we might get to catching the man who’s committing these murders.”
Siobhan took a deep breath and finally offered her submission. “OK, Boss, I’ll do it.”
Chapter 68
A romance in blood & fluids
Mind control, evil, black magic, it’s all real…
Broadmoor Hospital, London.
It was a strange room, made of solid stone, and dissected by a central wall of unbreakable glass. Moffat sat on one side of the split confinement. There was no light, no electrics, just a square window that was guarded by a steel grid. The only light offered in such a room would be that of Sun and Moon.
The day was somewhat cloudy, so the room was grey and shadowy, sombre.
Moffat sat in a white robe, his head forward, and his long, black hair hanging down low to his chest. He was secured to a metallic chair that looked like it was designed for torture. The wrists and ankles had been fixed with leather straps and secured with solid-steel locks.
“Siobhan, I know it’s you, I can smell the putrid muck of your cunt and the raw pulse of your clitoris…”
“Don’t talk to me like that, please, I’m a Police Detective,” she’d taken her seat and removed her leather jacket, taking a file from her leather briefcase. She wore fishnet stockings and high-heel shoes with a tight leather skirt to get him aroused and excitable. She shuffled some papers around, nervous, breathing heavily, and she discreetly unbuttoned her shirt to give the convicted serial killer a clear view of her naked cleavage, a tease of the breast and her easy flesh.
“Did you come alone?” he asked, looking up now and peering through the greasy strands of hair to look brazenly at her open shirt, licking his lips like a disgusting man-serpent.
“Yes, it is only me and you,” she whispered, putting her head to the side so the guard couldn’t see her face, and she licked on the end of her Montblanc pen, sensually, the way she might do with the tip a man’s endowment, smiling devilishly with slanted eyes as she teased him with that swirling promise of oral sex.
He smirked, vulgarity and mockery all over his despicable face. “You are an evil little slut,” he whispered.
She continued to smile at him and she winked, a wink of the eye that was filled with sexual dirt. “Did you receive my correspondence?” she asked him, looking over to the guard who was frowning and wondering what the hell was going on.
“The letters that you wrote to me were outrageously vivid and crass, I soiled them with my sperm, as you asked me to.”
“They made you ejaculate?”
“I spilled each time in my very trousers, Siobhan, no woman his ever made me do such a pathetic and sordid thing. It was truly beautiful in the most humiliating way imaginable.”
“The very thought of that is making me wet right now, down in my panties, deep inside my whorish filth.”
“I know, I can see it, your muck flows like a river in The Devil’s valley,” he slithered out his long tongue, his jaw locked out, and he flicked at her with the tip. “I can taste it, the salty oils and sweaty musk of your vagina.”
“Oh yes,” she moaned quietly, a sultry purr. “God, John, why do I feel this way? How do you do it? You make me want it so badly, and I found myself fantasising about such horrid and vulgar things, murderous things, you drove me to kill people in the name of Satan, how do you do it? How do you manage to have this complete control over women?”
“I didn’t make you do it, you wanted to do it, you’ve always wanted to kill for The Devil, I saw that in you, I merely assisted in the awakening of your latent murderous desires, those that were already deeply buried in your subconscious mind. I made you want me, all the same, I took control, cast the spell. I can see it now, how you want me down there, for my tongue to be stained in the easy vileness of your womanly salts. That’s what I do, as you well know, I know of real Black Magic, I know of mind control, I can violate a woman’s mind and then her body before sending them into the deepest, darkest void of the Abyss. Why? Because, I am The Devil.”
“Yes, and I worship you.”
“Hail Satan,” he whispered.
“Hail Satan,” she voiced the same words, silently. “Everything I do is a celebration of your esoteric power, your magic, it is powerful and sublime, the most glorious of all evils…”
“The power of the spell is strong, you see, as I was born in the spectre of a powerful and dark shadow. It started, for us, when I saw you at the cabins on Loch Lomond, when they came to arrest me. I accepted my fate, but I knew then when I saw you, I just knew it, it was all meant to be, for we would continue on this magnificent journey together…”
“Yes, I felt it too, up at the cabins. I went back to your house that night and took every part of you that I could touch and smell and obsess over, I felt the power then, the spell that you speak of…”
“Have your colleagues in CID ever suspected anything? Your pathetic lover, The Swede? Or that illustrious Detective, McGreavy?”
“No, not a thing, they are moronic plebs. McGreavy doesn’t even solve crimes, he moonlights with University Professors of criminology and bogus fortune-tellers who solve crimes on his behalf so that he can take all the credit and be hailed as a crime-solving mastermind.”
The Casanova Killer laughed, mocking them. “What else did you do at my house that night, when you went back to the gaff in Easterhouse?”
“I covered the walls with graffiti – BURN IN HELL – SEX MONSTER – BEAST. It just looked like a bunch of thugs who wanted to prove a point.”
“Wonderful, my dear, just wonderful. You liked the pictures?”
“Of you and your beautiful mother? Incredible, the most sensual pornography I’ve ever encountered, the incest was a sweet drink to swallow. I touched myself and wailed in the night on the very spot where you obliterated your father’s skull with that hammer. It was so special, John, so special.”
“And you took all the things?”
“Yes, I was the first one on the scene, during the initial visit. To be honest, at that stage I don’t even know why I was doing it, taking the things, touching them, it was getting me wet and I knew something was starting to happen inside of me, so I just started to steal what I could. I have most of your things at home in a room that is mostly under lock and key. It is a shrine to you, and others like Ramirez, I worship you there and plan out the murders, how I will do it without leaving any evidence behind, to transport the bodies to the Satanic cult, and to get under McGreavy’s skin as much as possible…I just love to watch him squirm…trying to work it all out as I put him onto false trails…”
“I’m so happy to hear this. The power of the spell is so strong, Siobhan, and it should never be underestimated.”
“It is so sad, that you can’t have me to abuse, I long to feel you inside me, deep, I long to be your victim and give myself to the Abyss…”
“Oh, but I do have you to abuse Siobhan, in the most gruesome ways, sexually and violently, in my mind, I most certainly do…but it is never merely about sex for me…not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, I would take great pleasure in feasting with my tongue on the pinkness of your fleshy grain before slicing up your gut. I’ve enjoyed the sin of your tainted salts so many times already, and I’ve butchered you to the bone in my own head, and at the core of my being it fills me with excitement and arousal, you see, the smell and the taste of your cunt is rather delicious…”
She was drooling over his words and pressing her thighs tightly together as the heat streamed and soiled her panties with liquid warmth.
“I want it to be about sex, in real life, explicit and murderous sex. I want you to want me and to fuck me, right now, and to kill me. Do it, hard, give me the pain and suffering that I crave for, please Casanova, I’m begging you for it.”
“Very well. I am doing it, right now, so enjoy it, you rotten, disgusting whore.”
“Oh, yes…” she suddenly began to moan and breath heavily as he psychologically took her against the wall and made her tremble as he choked her and entered her, deep and hard.
The guard was confused and kept looking with curiosity.
Casanova was grinning like a nut.
The guard continued to stare, frowning, sure that he’d imagined what he thought he’d heard. “Yes, fuck me and kill me…I want to bleed as you ejaculate inside my fading body…”
“I’m coming inside you, now, I’m gutting your stomach with a cold shank of steel.”
“Yes, I can feel it, come on, give it to me, end my life in the bliss of orgasm.”
“You are my beautiful whore,” he smiled, his evil smile. “I want to cut you so badly, to feel the slick of your blood on my fingers, I want to lick it and suck it and taste it.”
“Yes…”
“I want to drink your blood like rotten vinegar,” he showed her his tongue again and flicked it around with shaky little darts.
“Put that disgusting piece of tongue-flesh between my legs and drink from my dead, oozing river.”
“I want to rip out your liver and eat it raw.”
“Yeah…I know you do, John, it turns me on so fucking much,” and, suddenly, she began to giggle like a girl who had not a care in the world. They may as well have been enjoying a casual lunch in a Glasgow brasserie.
Again, the guard was watching, his look of confusion reaching peak levels.
“So, tell me…if it’s not about the sex, for you, what’s the real cream?”
“It is about the control, having total control of your mind, so that you will want to serve me, as a lover and a killer and a willing victim. The control is the cream, I like to fuck a woman’s mind before I take my disgusting thrills from her body, like a Reaper in the night. I do it out of love, my love for women, because I love all women, I’m the greatest lover of women to ever live, that is why they call me Casanova, and I know truly that all women just love to be kissed before they get fucked. That is the depth of my love…” he started to laugh, a laugh of immense evil, boundless evil.
“The sex of your malicious and twisted mind is so much better than any form of physical sex could ever be, truly.”
“My work continues, now, with you, I will control your mind so that the ash can be eternal.”
“The killings will continue, I will always do The Devil’s work, because you were the one to show me the true path, to awaken my senses to the fruits of Satanic indulgence. McGreavy has no clue, he’s such a fucking moron…” she laughed again and looked over to the guard. “Are you there when I kill, in spirit, can you see it?”
“Yes, the ash comes, and then I see it.”
“I’ve seen the ash too, it is like a confirmation of the spell, the power, right…?”
“Indeed, it is, it is a confirmation of evil. That it is real, and that it is taking over, He is taking over, The Devil. At that point, I am with you, I see what you see and I feel what you feel. When you fuck, I fuck. When you kill, I kill. When I watch you kill, the earth moves, it is incredible.”
“Does it make you ejaculate?”
“Of course, it does, it always does.”
“John?”
“What is it?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Siobhan, as pathetic as it sounds, I love you too…”
Chapter 69
An evolution of evil, within a Satanic ideology
People fear what they cannot understand, so to be misunderstood is to be feared, hence the outcast will always have the upper-hand…
She’d come into contact with Moffat at the cabins, fallen into the spectrum of his spell, his esoteric pull had been real after all, and this was how he had manipulated his victims and brought them to their deaths.
She knew that she was helpless to it, that this was her final demise, her ending.
She allowed him to enter her being, not in the Biblical sense, but in the abstruse sense. She’d allowed his demonic charm to take control of her mind and force her to think things, feel things, want things, do things… “Follow in the paths of Ramirez, as killer, and Crowley, as broker of spirits, and
bring a profound wrath of darkness to the streets of Glasgow, make those Christian hypocrites bathe in their own blood, those blind sheep who are enslaved, imprisoned, by the indoctrination of their own lives,” these were the words that he had planted into her head by the force of demonic power. “Show them the glory of the outcast, those ignorant and docile pigs, for we are the hated others and the Unsung Satanists.” The words became absorbed in her brain and the process of liberation began, the escape from sorrow, entrapment and mental imprisonment. She felt free, for the first time in her life, enlightened, and she saw it as clearly as she saw the stars in the sky – that she had a mission to complete. To show the world the murderous glory of the Left-Hand Path. That Satan is knowledge, wisdom and glory. The true bringer of light. That it is time for the adversaries of the ‘big lie’ to finally take a stand, as the blind lambs and the ignorant sheep were to realise their bleak destiny – to be slaughtered in the night.
So, she accepted her own destiny, as a hated outsider, to fight the fight and commit these ritualistic murders, for the same ideologies as other self-styled Satanists, like Ramirez, a killer that she worshiped in a morbid and ghostly room.
She studied him.
His methods.
His techniques.
She prepared herself and when the time came, she tracked them down, the ones that had to be punished for their sins, and she went out to kill them and deliver them to the altar of a Satanic cult, a secret sect with which she had a profound historical connection. Yes, she had risen from the shadow to protest against oppression and injustice. She was there to rebel against them and soon, the whole world would know her, and the other hated ones would worship her, like she worshipped Moffat. She would slaughter them all, in bloody fashion, like the lambs they were, as pathetic sheep that had been over-fed on their own catharsis, who had neglected the truth and the true path to wisdom.
Now, they would pay for their ignorance, they would die with disgrace and their children would bleed and burn.