Killer Chronicles

by Somer Canon

  “Fairy?” I asked.

  “I am one of the wee people, as we were once called,” Grenadine said.

  A dark thought hit me. A scary thought that I was terrified to voice out loud. I scratched at my head, annoyed at a strange tingling sensation.

  “They were low forms of human, which is already a low form of life,” Grenadine said. She was definitely reading my mind. She was admitting to me that she was the killer of Matthew Hart and Martin Hamrick.

  “You don’t call upon a superior being with no offering. The first one, the one that brought me over for the first time in centuries was a predator of children. He cared only for his own hide, so I liberated him of said hide and decorated that garish truck of his with it. The other one was a drunk who liked to beat and urinate all over his woman. When the universe belches out a filthy creature such as that, it’s only fitting that they repay the people that had to endure them by cleansing their presence away,” Grenadine explained.

  “That’s why you made soap out of him?” I asked.

  “I left some for everybody, but I sent a bar special to that woman of his. The best part of that is that even after she learned what it was, she didn’t turn it in to the authorities. She used it. Very circular and very beautiful,” Grenadine said.

  “That’s messed up,” I said, forgetting myself. Grenadine laughed again.

  “I like you, Christina. And since you’ve called me and given me such a nice gift, I will pay it back to you. A favor is what I owe you and I’ll have to think long and hard on something appropriate.”

  “Like a wish?” I asked.

  “I am not a genie,” Grenadine said, sounding angry. “You gave me my proper dues and because of that, I’ll honor you with something. A favor from a fairy is nothing to be taken lightly. It’s nothing that you’ll ask for, it’s something that I’ll see you need and give it to you.”

  “Are there any more of you?” I asked.

  “NO MORE QUESTIONS!” Grenadine screamed belligerently. “I am not your servant, human! I came here to favor you! Can you not see how that is a blessing! Do you not know how to act among your betters?”

  “I…I’m sorry,” I stammered. To say I was scared shitless at this point would be an understatement. I had no idea how I’d lost Grenadine’s good graces so suddenly.

  Grenadine got up from my bed and stalked to me. She got in my face, our noses nearly touching. I stared into those leafy green eyes, trying not to blink for fear of missing something coming at me.

  “I could take you back with me and do what I did to them,” Grenadine growled at me. “My stew pot has been full ever since. I haven’t eaten so well since the Banshees favored only a few families.”

  I swallowed hard and continued to look into the fairy’s eyes.

  “Don’t forget yourself with me ever again,” Grenadine said, standing up straight.

  When her eyes were no longer inches from mine, I felt free enough to blink and breathe. And a blink was all it took for Grenadine to disappear from my room and leave me on my own. I plopped back into my chair and stared at the empty space that she had just occupied, my brain taking a little vacation from the overload. When my thinking capacity came back to me, I jumped up from my chair and ran to the bag that I had dropped by the door, got my cell phone out, and texted Anais.

  “OMG you won’t believe me,” I texted.

  As I waited for her reply, I sat and thought. She wouldn’t believe me. After the phone call with the mini-anxiety attack, she would think that I was having some sort of breakdown. I’d never hallucinated before or thought I saw fairies, but even my dense brain could tell that this was not something that I could share with my supportive friend. But how was I going to handle all of this on my own? How in the hell was I going to keep writing on this file? How was I going to handle being on the radar of something that saw me as an insect?

  “?” was all that Anais texted back. It was basically her way of saying, “go ahead…”

  I sat with my mind racing, and I remembered Terry and his proposal.

  “The secretary for the police that I’ve been working with asked me on a date and pretty much proposed that we be fuck buddies while I’m in town,” I texted.

  “Is he a creep?” Anais replied.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Then go for it. You haven’t had any in a while and this might help ease some of that pent-up tension of yours,” she said.

  I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts straight. Did I dare start a sexual fling then and there? Was I even going to be staying?

  “Will you have the first post of this file written up and posted by dinner time?” Anais asked me.

  We’d already spent a good deal of money and time on this. Anais was right in that this could drive a huge amount of traffic to our site. I already had a lot of juicy stuff and photos to put into this first installment, and Anais could take to our social media accounts and really sell it.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “Great. Just let me know when it’s up and call me tomorrow,” she said.

  I went to the hotel’s gym and got on the treadmill for an hour with my voice recorder playing my interviews through ear buds. Since I was only walking, I could make notes on a notepad set on the control panel of the treadmill. I got my footsteps in and I outlined my post.

  I went back to my room and wrote out the first installment of the file that at that point was being called the Micksburg Mangler. I am a huge sucker for alliteration. My only regret about it was that I couldn’t pull out one of my big girl words. I think all writers like to do that sometimes, use a big impressive word. Well I do, at least. It keeps me from feeling like a kid parading about as an adult.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I felt weird going on a date in blue jeans and Converse, but I didn’t bring many dressy/professional clothes with me and I didn’t want to keep adding to my dry-cleaning pile. I at least had on a button-up shirt and not a T-shirt.

  I showed up at seven o’clock on the nose. I thought about showing up a little late to make Terry sweat, but punctuality is really important to me. People who are late bug the ever-loving shit out of me.

  I found Terry sitting at a small, bistro-style table sipping a beer. When he saw me, he honestly looked startled before he scrambled to his feet and pulled my seat out for me. I had a broad, stupid grin on my face as I sat down.

  “I didn’t know if you’d come or not!” he said, almost gushing. “I just now got here myself.”

  I waved a waiter over and ordered a vodka and diet coke. I needed some liquid courage.

  “I didn’t want to make you wait,” I said, feeling shy. We weren’t there in a work-related capacity, so I couldn’t keep pulling my serious act on him.

  “I appreciate that,” he said before taking a drink of his beer.

  I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I also noticed his still damp hair and his clean, crisp shirt. He’d put almost as much effort into this date as me. After I’d texted Anais to tell her the post was live on the site, I took a shower and made sure I was shaved and smooth and smelling fresh.

  Smelling nice is a big deal to me, something which tends to make me neurotic. I remember my mom telling me, “You can always lose weight, wear better clothes, fix a bad hair day, and cover up a big zit, but if someone gets a whiff of you smelling bad even once, they’ll always remember you as being a stinky person.” Now, I know that’s not exactly right, but it sunk in and the thought of being remembered as a smelly person terrified me enough that I never leave the house without doing a thorough sniff test of my various parts and making sure nothing offends. People who have allergies tend to not like me so much because I do wear scents, but I am careful not to overdo it and send the local bird population into a perfume-induced coma.

  I wondered how he smelled. I started imagining how warm his chest would feel pressed up against me. I wondered how tight his ass would feel and if he was a deep kisser. When my drink arrived I t
hrew it back, my throat aching from the cold.

  “Since you invited me out, I’ll let you pick up the check,” I said, getting up. Terry looked confused and hurt.

  “Then meet me at my hotel room,” I said, smiling.

  “But don’t you want anything to eat?” he asked, thoroughly flummoxed.

  “We’ll order pizza. Come on, this was your idea. I don’t want to draw this out and risk awkwardness,” I said, spinning on the ball of my foot and leaving the restaurant.

  I drove back to my hotel at an almost criminally slow speed and then took my time getting to my room in order to lessen the amount of time that I had to wait for Terry to show up. I laughed at myself for being so impulsive, but I was counting on him getting that check paid and driving to the hotel like he was on fire and I was water.

  I went into my little bathroom and brushed my teeth again, fluffed my flattened hair, and paced around the room wondering if I should answer the door naked when my phone pinged, alerting me to a text message.

  “I’m in the lobby and you didn’t tell me your room number!” It was from Terry.

  “Shit, I’m stupid,” I said to myself as I texted him my room number.

  I paced around my room a couple more times when the knock came. I opened the door and grabbed Terry by the front of his shirt and pulled him inside, smiling like a lunatic. He stumbled into the room and after I had shut and locked the door, I turned on him and began kissing him. He was surprised, but like me, he was there to play.

  He was warm and fuzzy, and he smelled fresh. His calloused hands never lingered in one spot of my body for long and he had obviously made a study of kissing as a teenager by the way my body was reacting to even his pecks.

  I had his shirt off and his pants unzipped before he returned to the moment enough to speak to me.

  “This is better than Christmas!” he said, a huge smile on his face. I laughed and dropped to my knees in front of him, tugging at his well-fitted blue jeans to get at the prize hidden beneath.

  I wasn’t able to spend much time showing off my oral fireworks before Terry sucked in a breath between his teeth and pulled himself away from me. He leaned down, took my hands, and pulled me to my feet. I used my hand to keep playing with him.

  “That’s great, bless you, but if there were other uses for this fella’ before the night was over, maybe we should give him a break and play with you for a bit,” he said.

  I shrugged and stepped away from him and undressed myself, giving him another show. He stayed back until I was completely bare. He just stood there until I invited him over with a finger. He came at me slowly, penis pointing right at me, and he actually picked me up and carried me to the bed. That was new for me and I was giggling like a kid at a clown show.

  He plopped me onto the bed indelicately and I bounced back into him and our heads bonked, making us both see white for a second. We laughed and held onto the sore spots until I started stroking him again, not wanting the moment to be gone. He moved my hand away and started kissing the nape of my neck; you know, the universal ON button for almost every human vagina on the planet. I wiggled beneath him, trying to touch him more, but he deflected me. I must have gotten him very close.

  He moved down to my breasts and had fun with those, kneading them with his hands and sucking lightly at the nipples. He started kissing down my stomach and I felt his hand lightly stroke up the inside of my thigh. When he kept kissing down, I grabbed him gently by the ears and angled his face back up towards me.

  Look, I just don’t like it. It’s messy and I think it makes things stinky. I liked that he was a giver and didn’t shy away from that act, but it’s just not something I can sit still for. We’ve established that I’m neurotic, and this is just another thing to add to the list.

  He came up to me easily enough. We kissed some more, with him trying very hard to keep himself pressed up against my thigh rather than the wet spot it really wanted to find. I handed him a condom that I’d put on the bedside table and he looked at me in disappointment for a minute. I pointed at the small package sternly and he started to tear it open. I laid back and watched. There’s no arguing with me when it comes to condoms and safe sex. I enjoy casual sex, but I want it done in at least a physically healthy way. I’d gotten grief about it before. Some men find women who have their own condoms to be offensive and unpalatable. I detest that. I’m just taking a bit of control and if a man doesn’t want to play by those rules, then he can enjoy playing pocket pool with his blue balls on the drive home.

  When Terry was sheathed and I knew that I was protected, I sat up and pushed him down onto his back.

  He slid in easily and I began grinding on him. I didn’t take my time once he was inside of me. That familiar urgency and ache inside of me kept me from restraining myself at all. If he weren’t wearing a condom, he might not have lasted long enough to get me to the end. Luckily, he was wearing one because I don’t negotiate with guys sporting boners.

  I felt that quickening and leaned back and gripped his thighs as I angled myself just right for that final finish. I lifted off of him and slammed back into him a few times and as I came, I squeezed his thighs a little too hard. I could hear him yelling “OW OWOWOW” through the haze of my orgasm and I leaned forward and rode him to his own finish, which he met in a disappointingly quiet way.

  I fell off of him to the side and lay next to him panting and smiling, fully relaxed for the first time in days. I leaned over and stroked his softening penis and he pulled away self-consciously and got off the bed.

  He was walking to the bathroom when he stopped. It wasn’t a pause or a thoughtful halt, but a total freeze on his part. He was mid-step with one foot extended, ready to meet the floor.

  I felt an arm drape across my stomach and I looked over.

  Grenadine was in bed with me.

  “I haven’t seen that done in quite some time,” she cooed.

  I yipped and launched myself away from her, which sent me flying off of the bed and onto the floor, landing on my shoulder in a painful thud. Grenadine rolled over onto her side and looked down at me from the bed.

  “I knew I liked you, but I didn’t know how much I was going to like you,” she said to me.

  I had nothing to say. I’d just been kicked out of my post-coital glee by something looking like a mix between a Halloween witch and Nummy Nellie.

  “You used him expertly, Christina,” Grenadine said to me, slithering off of the bed and coming to sit next to me. She reached a hand out and stroked the skin just under my left breast. “Very nice,” she said.

  I rolled away from her and grabbed Terry’s shirt and covered myself with it.

  “I hate modesty, Christina,” Grenadine said, sounding annoyed with me. I kept my nakedness hidden and Grenadine rolled her green eyes at me and reclined back and looked at Terry’s frozen form.

  “I have a feeling about this one, Christina,” Grenadine said. “He might be the favor I pay you. Maybe he’ll be something I take home to put into my stew pot.” Grenadine squinted and the skin at the tip of my scalp got tight.

  “He’s got secrets, but he’s boring,” Grenadine said, waving a dismissive hand at Terry’s back. “There are better specimens to use who might actually scratch the awful itch you always feel. He’ll be overwhelmed by you too.”

  “Good thing we agreed to make this a casual thing,” I said in an angry and defensive voice.

  “Casual doesn’t have to mean boring,” Grenadine said.

  Again, I had nothing to say. I was scared right out of my head and I wanted nothing more than to run out of that room, leaving Terry behind in his stasis. I started sliding my arms into the cool arms of Terry’s shirt when Grenadine charged at me and ripped the shirt off of me and from my hands. She pushed me in the middle of my chest and I fell back right on my butt and looked up at her, my eyes wide and afraid.

  “I said stop,” Grenadine growled.

  She got down on all fours and crawled over to me, her hand landing on
my ankle and sliding up my leg, venturing towards my inner thigh. I scooted away, slamming my legs shut and turning to the side to keep that part of me away from prying fingers.

  “I could demand recompense for this rudeness, Christina,” Grenadine said, settling her hand on my lower stomach. “We used to demand first-born children. Oh, how I miss having your young around. Fairy babies aren’t pretty like human babies and they certainly don’t taste as delectable. Human babies were my favorite meal in my younger days. The way you animals breed, I barely put a dent in your population by feasting on a few soft, buttery babies a year. Maybe this interaction will result in a child and I can have my favorite braised baby and carrots. I haven’t had that in centuries, Christina. It really is delicious.”

  “I’m on the pill,” I said. My heart was beating fast and my breathing was coming in shallow gasps. I was lying on the horribly patterned carpet of a hotel room with a fairy hinting that she wanted to eat my offspring with a side of carrots. It was surreal. And terrifying.

  Grenadine was looking at me intensely and that tightness in my scalp returned.

  “Birth control, eh? That’s interesting… and disappointing.” She said to me.

  “We try not to breed like rabbits anymore,” I said, hoping to keep her in a level mood.

  “And yet some of you collect pets,” Grenadine said, looking past me. “The way some of you treat each other as opposed to how you treat animals is baffling. There are people who are brutes to man and beast and there are those who treat animals better than they’d ever treat a fellow human. Why is that, Christina? Why do you put your sick and infirmed on life-lengthening drugs that do little more than prolong misery and pain, yet you euthanize sick pets to ease their pain? Where is the humanity in a decision like that? Are you afraid to let the people die for fear of your own mortality or are you just quickly disposing of sick pets so that you can skip off to get a brand new one? I don’t understand.”