by A A Bavar
“I’m so sick of this!” yelled Patricia, and got to her feet, her hands balled into fists. She expertly slid her left foot forward, and turned to the side, her legs slightly bent, and her arms up in front of her in a fighting stance. “You think that kick was luck? I train my physical conditioning five times a week, and I’ve been doing Tae Kwon Do since I was seven. So you better pray the cops get here right now, or else—”
“How cute,” interrupted Samantha in a sing-song. “Sweetie wants to play Karate Kid. But I don’t remember this side of you. The last time we visited, you were more like a scared little girl asking for her mommy, not that this,” she said, waving her hand at Patricia, “will make any difference. But it is cute.” Samantha moved away from the wall and smirked. “Recognize that?” she asked, and tilted her head towards the envelope opener lying on the ground. “Like a dog, it never forgets anyone, and it’s dying to cut you again… or maybe that’s just me!”
Patricia glanced at the envelope opener on the ground and clenched her teeth. Quickly, she took three steps forward, leaned sideways, her balance on her left foot, and lashed out at Samantha’s stomach with her right.
Samantha didn’t react or move a muscle, but stood her ground and smirked impishly as Patricia’s foot hit an invisible wall mere inches from its target. Patricia yelped in pain and pulled her foot back. “What the hell?”
“My turn, bitch,” seethed Samantha. Suddenly, there was a loud crack and her whole body was engulfed in an electric, red halo, sparks flying everywhere, her long hair blowing wildly about her. “Time for you to die!” Samantha, her eyes mere slits glowing blood red and her teeth bared, lifted her arm and with a twist of her wrist sent a ball of red lightning towards Patricia.
The ball hit Patricia square in the chest, the impact inhuman, and sent her flying backwards, crashing to an abrupt halt against the far wall by the door. Patricia groaned in pain, the air knocked out of her, but surprisingly stayed standing.
“And now, the fun part,” said Samantha as the red halo disappeared. She pointed at the envelope opener on the ground and summoned it to her with her finger. The envelope opener sailed smoothly through the air and landed in her hand. Samantha flipped it over, holding it by the tip, and pulled her arm back to throw, but suddenly stopped. “You know, sweetie, target practice is fun, but I think I’ll deliver this one myself, up close and personal. What do you say?” said Samantha, as she flipped the envelope opener over again, holding it like a dagger, and walked to Patricia.
Patricia, recovering from the blow, took a deep breath and started to cough.
Samantha lifted her eyebrows in feigned boredom. “Go ahead, finish your tantrum. I can wait. Because when I plunge this in your heart,” she said in a guttural whisper, and held the blade in front if Patricia, “I want to see your eyes. I want to see the realization that you’re going to die dawn on you, see the fear in you before your life slips away into nothingness.”
“Please… don’t…” croaked Patricia. “Why are you doing this?” Patricia tried to bring her arms up into a defensive position, but they wouldn’t move.
“The oldest reason in the book, sweetie. You took what was rightfully mine,” said Samantha, pulled her arm back, and thrust the envelope opener at Patricia’s heart.
Patricia screamed in terror just as another voice from outside the door shouted, “Samantha, no!”
A blue wave hit Samantha’s arm just as the blade was going to make contact, propelling it to the side as it punctured the skin between Patricia’s chest and shoulder, sinking in all the way to the handle. Samantha roared, her face contorted with rage, her mouth open, baring white teeth that looked animalistic. She swung towards the door as Patricia slumped to the ground whimpering.
“How? This isn’t possible—” she started to shout, but was cut short. Another blue wave of energy crashed into her, sending her flying backwards as Wendy entered. Samantha landed on the ground with a loud thud, unconscious, her limp body half-sliding half-tumbling on the hardwood floor until it hit the far wall right under the bay window.
Wendy stared at Samantha for a second to make sure she wasn’t getting up then turned and knelt in front of Patricia. Patricia’s eyes were closed, her face white as chalk, her forehead covered with beads of sweat. “Honey… it’s Patricia, right? Look at me, open your eyes. Everything’s going to be okay.” Wendy gently slapped Patricia’s cheek. “I’m going to take care of you. Samantha won’t hurt you ever again.”
Patricia moaned softly, her eyelids trembling momentarily.
Wendy leaned down, examined the wound quickly, and bit her lip. “Knowing Samantha, this thing’s probably poisoned… she never was one to leave things to chance,” she mumbled to herself.
Carefully, she grabbed the handle of the letter opener and started to pull.
Patricia screamed, her face contorted, eyes pressed shut. It was a single, prolonged cry of pain, searing the silence, echoing throughout the house. Suddenly, as if in a nightmare, she started lashing out with her hands.
Somewhere in the house, a door slammed, followed by running footsteps.
Using her free hand, Wendy tried to hold Patricia’s hands down. “Patricia, please!”
“Get away from me! You’re killing me!” screamed Patricia, her eyes still shut. Driven by pure instinct, she broke through Wendy’s desperate attempt to subdue her, placed the palm of her hand on Wendy’s chest, and pushed as hard.
“Move away from her,” ordered a man’s voice from the hall. “Now!”
Wendy fell backwards, pulling the letter opener out with her, her bloody hand and arm flailing over her head. Wendy’s head snapped towards the door, her gaze met by the black, steely eyes of a man in a black suit pointing a gun at her. Before she could react, there was a deafening explosion. Wendy, her eyes wide open with shock, looked from the man to her bloody chest, and started to lower her arm just as another explosion filled the air. Wendy toppled over on her side. A dim, blue glow slowly extinguishing as her eyes closed.
Samantha opened her eyes. A man holding a gun was carefully walking into the room, followed by two other men. He stopped beside a woman’s body and kicked something from her hand. The letter opener skittered across the floor. Samantha bit her lip, holding back a gasp.
“Avila, check her vitals,” ordered the man with gun, motioning towards the younger of the other two.
Samantha unobtrusively looked down at her hand. On her right, middle finger, was a ring with a large Burmese ruby surrounded by diamonds. “Time to do your thing, my little Graff Ruby,” she whispered.
“McKeown, she’s gone, but who the hell is she?” asked Avila, kneeling down.
“Gwen,” said a soft, imperceptible voice.
Director Schnurr slammed the palm of her hand forcefully on the desk. “What the hell happened in that house, Eric?” she said, the frustration in her voice uncommon.
McKeown rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. “I don’t know. We heard screams coming from one of the rooms. I asked Avila to secure the perimeter with Sgt. Downing, and proceeded to the location of the noise. When I got there, Ms. Jewett… and I’m one hundred percent positive it was her, had just stabbed the victim who was fighting to protect herself. There was a brief struggle, but Ms. Jewett succeeded to pull her arm with the dagger back and was about to stab her again when I shouted the warning and was forced to shoot her.”
“But the person you shot wasn’t Ms. Jewett,” retorted Schnurr. “We’re not even sure who she is at this point.”
McKeown passed his fingers through his hair and looked down. “Look, Beth,” he started, and looked up at Schnurr, “I’ve been here almost as long as you have. You know me, I don’t make this kind of mistake. She looked right at me… we locked eyes right before she reacted and I had to shoot her a second time. It was her… it was Wendy Jewett, the Phantom.”
Schnurr stood up and walked around her desk to the window overlooking the city. “I’m sorry, Eric. I know. You had to do wh
at was necessary under the circumstances. That’s not under scrutiny, but the fact that you identified her as Wendy Jewett…” Schnurr shook her head. “Seems like the Phantom is playing with us. She baited us, gave us everything we needed including the Hope Diamond, and disappeared again. I wouldn’t be surprised if we learned of a new heist in the very near future.”
Paul limped into Patricia’s room in the hospital and smiled. Patricia was sitting up in her bed having some breakfast. “Hey, you’re awake and feeling much better, I see. That’s great!”
Patricia turned and smiled back. “Yeah… but I’m still a little worried. I mean, I know Sgt. Downing said that Samantha was committed to a much more secure mental facility, but… I don’t know.”
Paul walked to the bed and held Patricia’s hand. “Don’t worry, they have her guarded well. This new place is more like a prison with metal doors and buzzers. She’ll never get out.” Paul leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” whispered Patricia.
The door buzzed open and a male nurse entered the sterile, padded room. He looked at the figure stretched and bound on the bed in the middle of the room and walked over. “Hi, my name is John,” he started, glanced at the clipboard in his hand, and continued, “and you must be Samantha DesJardins. Can I call you Sammy?”
The woman’s eyes snapped open. They looked terrified. “What? No! No! This is a mistake!” she screamed. “My name is Patricia Fowler!” The woman yanked at the straps bounding her arms and legs tightly against the bed. “Samantha’s a witch! She tried to kill me! You have to believe me! Please…”
“Of course she is. That’s why we have these,” said the male nurse, and started to prepare a syringe.
THE END
Dear reader,
Thank you for reading Samantha. I hope that you enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to contact me with any remarks or questions about the story, characters, or whatever detail which may have caught your attention or interest. I enjoy getting feedback and do my best to answer.
As you may know, for self-published and independent authors, gaining exposure is almost more difficult than writing the book. It mostly relies on word of mouth and the kindness of readers to tell their friends and family. This being said, if you have the time and desire to do so, I would be most appreciative if you would consider leaving a short review on Amazon or wherever you feel is most convenient.
Warm regards,
A. A. Bavar & Scott Spotson
www.aabavar.com www.scottspotson.com
[email protected] [email protected]
