by Scott Blade
An eerie, uneven silence fell across the second floor. It smelled of cinnamon and sand. Peculiar, I thought. The Kline’s used those plug-in air fresheners. I hated the smell of cinnamon. Of course, I hated everything that smelled of sweetness.
The thought of letting the StoneCutter kill Eline Kline before we intervened, crossed my mind.
We snuck down the stairs and saw a light flickering from under the kitchen door. The door was ajar. I reached into Shane's jacket pocket and pulled out his gun. We crept slowly towards the kitchen.
As we neared the door, we heard soft music playing as if Eline and her lover were enjoying a nice, quiet dinner. I reached out and touched Shane's gloved fingertips to the back of the door. I wanted to nudge it open enough to where I could peek in.
As I pushed it, I noticed that Eline and her lover were not conversing at all. I thought it odd that they were so ambient. Then I realized that I didn't hear any sounds of clinking silverware or slurping from wine glasses. Something didn't feel right. I shoved the door open. I saw Eline sitting at the opposite end of the dinner table. Only she didn't move, not an inch.
I focused on her face. Her eyes were closed.
Candlelight flickered, creating shadows that danced across the carpet. I shoved the door open completely. I drew my gun and pointed it where her dinner guest sat, but no one was there. I pointed the gun at an empty chair with an undisturbed place setting.
I entered the room, ready to strike. Before I could see that there was an intruder standing off to the side, a sharp needle pierced the veins of Shane's neck. The syringe injected something sinister into his bloodstream, immediately numbing him.
I faltered and flailed about in his head. I saw the StoneCutter's shadowy face in my peripheral vision. In a flash, his image became hazy. I couldn't see the details of his face. Shane's vision was too blurry. I turned the gun in his direction, but I was too slow. With one flawless move, he swiped it out of Shane's hand before I could fire a single shot.
The fluid that he injected had taken Shane's senses hostage. Suddenly, nothing worked. He was unusable. My vessel's gages went haywire. I twisted and whipped my body and tail inside his head as violently as I could, but nothing snapped him out of it.
A thick blackness swept through his body. He was immobilized. I neared the same state. The tranquilizer's fluid began to flood into my region of Shane's interior. I tried to swim in it, looking for an air pocket, but there was no hope of escape.
The fluid consumed me. I held my breath as long as I could. Eventually, I was forced to breathe it in. I inhaled two deep gasps of the fluid and it overtook me. I grew powerless to it. I feared that it would drown me, but it was breathable.
The fluid flooded my lungs and within seconds I was fast asleep.
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Shane woke up, dazed. He sat at the dinner table across from Eline Kline. His vision was fuzzy, but he could make out her features. She barely moved. She was drugged. They both were.
He shook his head in an attempt to fight the paralyzed feeling that overwhelmed him.
After several minutes, Shane realized that he was alone. The creature in his head was not there. He was the only one at the helm; nothing guided him, no acute senses, and no heightened abilities. The source of his fearless strength had vanished.
His fingers twitched. The drug wore off. He realized that he was not restrained to the chair. The StoneCutter was not afraid of him. As his strength returned to his muscles, he began to plan his escape.
"Careful son," a dark voice said. The voice sounded familiar, like the one in his head. But this voice emitted from over his shoulder.
Shane cocked his head to see who it was, to gaze upon the real StoneCutter. Before he could take a good look, a nickel-plated Colt 1911 scraped his cheek.
"Keep your eyes forward," the StoneCutter commanded. "At least for now."
As his human senses returned, Shane felt something that he had only felt when he was trapped in confined spaces––crippling fear. It ripped through the pores of his skin and invaded every blood vessel in him. He was scared. He was terrified.
The monster inside him, his Mr. Hyde, was nowhere to be found. He needed him now. He needed him for protection. The StoneCutter was right behind him.
"Shane Lasher, are you trembling? I never thought that I would see you tremble. Not you, son."
"Don't call me that!" Shane blurted out. His fear grew into anger. For once, he wished that his monster would awaken.
"Son, I have watched you for a long time. As long as you have searched for me. Even before. Can you guess who I am? Have you figured it out yet?"
Shane's dizziness subsided, and he noticed something on the table in front of him, an object that he hadn't noticed before. It was a sketch, resting in a nice frame. The drawing was an etching of a gravestone, the one that was left in his penthouse by the StoneCutter.
Without warning, a feeling of crushing fear overtook him. No, it wasn’t a crushing fear. It was a stark realization. He had seen this same kind of etching before. He saw them in New York in his Godfather's secret loft, the one in his office.
"Terrance?" he asked, frightened to hear the response.
"Yes, Shane," the StoneCutter answered in a cold, modulated way. He stepped out in front of Shane. Terrance Graves, Shane's mentor and Godfather, was his creator. He was the StoneCutter, murderer of his parents. He was the man who linked Shane to a cold, vengeful demon for the rest of his life.
"Terrance?" Shane repeated. His mouth hung open.
"I am the StoneCutter," Terrance said. He wore a black sweater and dark trousers. He pointed the gun directly at Shane. "Sorry Shane. I hope that you are not disappointed. I know that you had imagined that you would be the one pointing a gun at me. But I am the one pointing it at you."
“Terrance. Why?"
"For twenty-eight years, I watched as my only victim escaped me. You were the one that survived. From the very beginning I watched you: grade school, vacations, chicken pox, girls, and law school. I was always there."
Terrance created Shane; he created the monster. Like a puppet master, he toyed with Shane from the first days of his life. He set the events in motion, twenty-eight years ago, that would create Shane's twisted obsession for justice and death.
"I created you. I created the monster that lives inside you. Look at you.
"You are an avenger, a killer of killers, motivated by the lust for revenge," Terrance said. He slowly paced around the table toward Eline.
"You have to admit it. The media has a sick obsession with both of us. They call me "The StoneCutter" with no idea of who I really am.
"You, they've always known––Shane the defender of killers. Only they have no real idea of who you are. They have no idea that you are their white knight.
"In their eyes, you are the lawyer who defends the most despicable men on the planet. But they don't have a clue about the real you. You are a murderer and a betrayer, the man who gives serial killers their freedom only to take their lives," Terrance said. He stopped just behind Eline Kline and stood tall over her.
"You are a seeker of a sick kind of justice, a slasher," he continued.
Wake up! Shane thought. He feared that his monster abandoned him or worse—that he died.
"You killed my parents! You son-of-a-bitch!" Shane shouted.
"Son, lower your voice. We wouldn't want the Secret Service to interrupt our family reunion," Terrance said. He bent down and jerked Eline up out of her seat. Terrance was a lot stronger than he appeared. He lifted her up completely out of the chair while still pointing the gun straight at Shane.
"Don't call me son!" Shane exclaimed once again.
Terrance giggled and said, "But Shane, haven't you figured it out yet? Don't you know why I picked you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Shane asked.
"Stand," Terrance commanded. He motioned the gun towards the backdoor. "Walk out."
Shane mustered all of his strength and stood up.
His legs were numb from the tranquilizer, but they worked. He stumbled a little, but slowly made his way towards the door.
"Terrance, figure what out? Where are we going?"
"I said walk!" Terrance kicked Shane in the rear. He stumbled out of the backdoor almost falling face first onto the back porch.
Then, suddenly, they were not alone.
"Freeze!" a stern voice said from the darkness of the backyard. It was a Secret Service agent out on his patrol.
The agent pointed his gun at Shane. Before he could call for backup over his radio, Terrance was in the doorway with his gun pointed back at the agent.
"Don't move!" the StoneCutter commanded, holding Eline like a human shield.
Shane looked up at him. In the darkness, Terrance's features changed. He looked animalistic, like a horrifying monster, a creature that out matched Shane's. His eyes were black and soulless.
The StoneCutter grinned, showing his razor-like teeth.
The agent saw that he held the Secretary, threatening her demise. He halted for her sake. She was his assigned detail. He released the radio and removed his finger off of the gun's trigger.
"That's a good boy. Now, toss the gun," Terrance said.
The agent tossed the gun into the darkness. It vanished into the high grass that surrounded the house.
Slowly, the agent put his hands up in the air.
"Walk towards me."
The agent followed the StoneCutter's instructions. As the agent got close enough, Terrance motioned for him to stop.
"On your knees," he said.
The agent didn't even question the orders. He simply closed his eyes and dropped to his knees. This was called an execution position. He knew it.
Never allow yourself to be taken in this position. He could hear the words of his hostage instructor as they echoed through his head. The Secret Service had trained him well. An agent finding himself in this position was done. His life was over, but he had no choice. He was sworn to protect his detail, even if that meant that laying down his life for his country, for her.
Without taking his eyes off of Shane, Terrance struck the agent directly in the throat with the bottom of the gun. He struck him so hard that he swallowed most of his larynx.
Shane watched as the StoneCutter, the man that raised him, sinisterly gazed upon the agent choking to death—watching it, relishing it. The StoneCutter was a monster. Shane wondered if that was what he looked like to other people, to his victims. He wondered what kind of monster he was.
A realization dropped on Shane like the apple falling from a tree and landing on Isaac Newton; he needed the monster inside him and the monster needed him. They were gravitationally drawn together.
The demon needed the small amount of humanity that existed in Shane’s bones. Somewhere deep inside where the creature did not roam, Shane's human side was still alive. He had to protect it. And the monster in him would always protect it. They had to maintain the balance in order to survive.
He never wanted to end up like Terrance, a complete and hopeless monster, consumed by the raging desire to kill.
"Let's move," Terrance commanded. Shane rose to his feet and walked off in the direction that Terrance pointed. They left the dying agent behind.
"Where are we going?"
"Keep walking. We are almost there," the StoneCutter said.
They walked past the barn, past the barking dog. They marched over a hill and past a cluster of trees.
Terrance carried Eline the whole way without stopping to rest.
Shane saw a large tombstone in the distance. It jetted out of the ground up ahead, near the edge of the woods. They headed straight for it. It was their final destination.
When they reached it, Terrance said, "Stop here.”
A shovel stuck out of the ground in front of the tombstone.
"Take the shovel and dig, son," Terrance commanded.
The crippling fear returned to fill Shane's bloodstream. Doom consumed him. He knew exactly what the StoneCutter planned. It was his parents all over again. There was no lover to bury Eline, so the StoneCutter wanted him to play that role. He played the role of his father, and would share the same fate.
"Dig, Shane!"
Shane said nothing. He reached over and grabbed the shovel. He stabbed the earth, praying that his monster would return to him, return in time. However, for now, he was on his own.
Terrance laid Eline on the ground. He stood near Shane and watched as his protégé shoveled the grave of Eline Kline.
A grin formed on his evil face, a grin shared by the creature that lurked inside of him. He thought about how fitting it was that the avenger would soon become his scapegoat.
After Shane buried Eline, Terrance conspired to bury him in an unmarked grave. He planned to tell the agents that Shane attacked them. He'd tell them that somehow he managed to escape the clutches of the famed lawyer/serial killer. Everyone would believe that Shane was really the notorious StoneCutter all along.
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It had been less than an hour, and Eline's grave was dug.
In the cold darkness, Shane felt fearful. He waited for his monster to reveal himself and save him. Desperately he longed for his dark side to come to the surface.
He heard Eline stirring. She regained some of her strength.
"It looks like the Secretary is waking. Put her in the grave," Terrance said. He aimed down the sights of the gun at Shane.
Shane saw the StoneCutter's cold gaze.
"Don't argue, Shane. Just do it. If you refuse I will shoot you in the stomach, and do it myself."
Reluctantly, Shane dropped the shovel and walked over to Eline. His scarf had fallen off of his face, no longer concealing his identity. His eyes were back to their normal deep blue. She looked up at him, appearing to have recognized him.
"No. No," she begged, looking directly at Shane. She didn't even see the StoneCutter. She must have assumed that Shane was the culprit doing this to her.
Shane lifted her up and carefully placed her in the hole. He climbed out.
"Now, cover her," Terrance said. He lifted the gun higher so that Shane would see that he was serious. There was no sign of a lid.
"With the dirt," Terrance continued.
Shane tossed the dirt back on top of Eline. She struggled to stand up. The drug's effects were still potent enough to keep her immobile. She was powerless to fight back and soon she was buried under a mound of dirt.
When Shane was in the hole, he dug an extra air pocket on the bottom while making it look like he patted the dirt a couple of times with the shovel. As long as she kept her face in it, she might have enough air to last ten to fifteen minutes. It wasn't long, but it could give Shane enough time to wake his creature, or so he hoped.
Wake up, he thought, feeling desperate.
"Now what? You plan on killing me as well?"
"Son, I'm not going to kill you. Frame you, but not kill you," Terrance replied, lying. He stepped closer to Shane. He approached him until the only thing between them was the mound of dirt.
Shane grinned in anger at Terrance for calling him son again. He said nothing this time.
"Walk towards the trees over there," Terrance said, pointing off in the darkest direction.
Shane turned and walked. He felt more than afraid now. He felt defeated. The StoneCutter had outdone him. He knew exactly what Terrance planned.
Terrance had already dug up a grave somewhere else for Shane. He was going to bury him in a special coffin, one that he carved himself.
After he shot Shane, buried him alive, and left him for dead, the StoneCutter would return to his normal life as Terrance Graves. He would simply settle back into his disguise and watch as the FBI scrambled to find Shane Lasher––suspected StoneCutter.
Shane stopped just in front of the open grave. He could hear Terrance snickering behind him.
The StoneCutter had won.
Shane's only hope was for his monster to awaken, and that seemed impo
ssible now.
Terrance had killed Shane's parents. He had killed his father and taken over the firm as the sole president, dropping the Lasher name from the masthead, making it Graves and Associates. And now, he was going to kill Shane—the only remaining Lasher.
"Son, have you figured out what is happening to you? Have you figured out what sets me apart from other killers? How I choose my victims?"
"You are going to kill me like you did my father?" Shane replied as he inched closer to the edge of the open grave.
"Shane, I am your father," Terrance said. He watched the expression of complete shock rip through Shane's face.
The StoneCutter's dark words reached into Shane's head, grabbed hold of the monster inside of him, and like a defibrillator, jolted 10,000 volts into my body.
"No!" Shane shouted.
"He was getting close to me. Like you were. He suspected me. So I seduced and fucked a lonely, rich woman—your mother," Terrance continued.
His confession surged a second volt of electric waves through my body––20,000 volts. I felt my teeth rattle. My breathing suddenly returned. Still weak and unable to move, I laid still and listened to what Shane was forced to hear. I felt his emotions. I feared his fears.
"I wasn't satisfied with just fucking her. So seven months later, I killed them and tried to kill you. But then, you were born and I grew to love you, son. I don't want to kill you, but you leave me little choice," Terrance explained. He inched closer and closer to Shane with the gun pointed directly at his temple.
He was going to kill his son, my vessel, framing him for Eline's murder and for all of his other murders. The Kline kid must have been one of his illegitimate sons. Terrance's style was more than robbing rich families and burying them alive. He had affairs with the wives of powerful men, and then forced the men to bury the wives alive. That was how his monster got off. He secretly took his adversary's prized possessions including their women, and then he forced the husbands to kill their wives. Essentially, he robbed them of everything. He stripped away their power.
That was how he selected them. Every family that he killed wasn't only rich, but also powerful. He liked to take their power away, burying their power with them deep in the earth, hiding them from society.
