His pulse shot up like one of those rollercoasters that goes 0 to 120 in an instant. This was it. This was everything he needed to start moving forward again. “Yes.”
He then saw in her eyes the same thing he used to see in Serika’s: hunger. He moved in to do what they were both craving.
Suddenly, however, Betty’s eyes opened wide and she bolted to her feet. She stared around the living room as if in a daze. “I’ll be damned,” she said.
He stared at her with concern and a creeping fear she had changed her mind. “Betty?”
She gazed at him with that same longing he had seen a moment ago. That was reassuring. Somewhat. “You know what we need? Some wine,” she said.
Betty headed to the kitchen and immediately located the exact cabinet he kept his wine in. She retrieved the bottle, along with a couple of glasses, and proceeded to pour.
“How did you know where I kept my wine?” he asked. “And for that matter, how did you know I had wine?”
“Don’t sweat the details,” she replied happily.
Okay. Weird, but whatever. At least she was still into him. He could work with this.
She held out a glass and beckoned him over to the counter where she still stood. He took it and drank, savoring the moment.
“Are you happy with me?” she said.
“Of course,” he instantly replied.
Her face took on a mischievous expression. “What about Serika? Don’t you think you’re cheating on her by fucking around with me?”
What the hell? Betty never swore. It was almost as if he was now dealing with someone else. “What are you talking about?”
“You vowed to love no one else but Serika. Don’t you remember?”
There was no way. “How did you—?”
She cut him off. “At your wedding, you swore she was the only one for you in your entire life.”
This wasn’t happening. It absolutely was not happening. Betty couldn’t possibly know these things. “Look, I don’t know—”
He was so focused on her eyes, those accusing eyes, he never saw he reaching for the bottle. Before he even knew what was happening, she brought it down upon his head with a force he didn’t think petite Betty Sodatrino was capable of. His vision exploded with light and a sharp, cracking pain flooded his headed.
He collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. He tried to speak, to ask her why she was doing this, but only a croak-moan came out.
Not-Betty nonchalantly opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. Again, how did she know exactly where it was? “Robert Simons failed miserably when I gave him a knife. Let’s see if I can do better.” Now a twisted smile sat upon her lips.
The revelation crushed him like a vice. “You… you’re responsible for all the attempts on my life?”
“Of course,” she said. “You never expected sweet, innocent Betty. All this time, you thought I liked you, but I really hated you with a vengeance never before felt by any woman. You disgust me.”
She straddled him as if they were making love, but this wasn’t love. She held the knife a few inches above his chest.
“Stop!” he yelled.
The sadistic smile remained. “See you soon, Martin.”
She plunged the knife downward. But as damaged as he was, in tremendous physical and emotional pain, he couldn’t let it end like this.
He grabbed her wrist. Her face distorted with rage at what he guessed was the audacity of him trying to live. With his head swimming in pain and dizziness, it was a real struggle to overcome this woman.
“Just die already!” Strangely, her voice conveyed some strange mix of sadness and anger. From what, he couldn’t say. He had never done anything to her. At least, nothing he could recall.
Not-Betty added her other hand to the one holding the knife, and Martin did the same. Both struggled for life—one to take, one to protect. But, slowly but surely, she was winning. The knife inched ever downwards, closer and closer to the pound of flesh she sought.
He needed to change tactics. He needed to get her off him. In desperation, he began twisting his body, at first experiencing very little give. But after a few moments the twisting turned into rocking and he managed to build up real momentum.
With the knife mere millimeters from his chest, he managed to turn onto his side, knocking Not-Betty to floor. The knife went skidding across the tiles.
Martin staggered to his feet, his head a veritable snow globe; he could have sworn it would bust at any moment. Not-Betty wasn’t far behind, and she had no intention of giving him time to recover.
She roared and tackled him against the sink. She flailed about so violently she might as well have been a tornado. She even tried tearing out his throat with her teeth like a wolf.
Martin gripped her hands with his and managed to force her backwards. Undeterred, she retrieved the knife and charged him with it.
He didn’t think. He was in too much pain to. Instead, he let his body move on its own. It raised a fist and pounded Not-Betty awkwardly upside the head.
The knife fell to the floor, and Not-Betty followed suit. The battle was won, but Martin had rarely felt so much like a loser.
* * *
Serika shot back into her body like a cannonball. Holy shit, that hurts! She had a pounding headache, but after applying a little healing energy, she was fine.
Unlike the previous attempts on Martin’s life, this time she wasn’t mad at his apparent escape. She had known she might not be able to kill him with a mortal body, and this was only phase one anyway. With this savage ‘betrayal’ by the one person he had pinned all his hopes for happiness on, he would soon sink into a deep despair from which he would never recover. The only way out would be suicide.
The Christians didn’t believe one could get into paradise if they killed themselves. The Shinigami, while flawed beyond belief, at least understood that a person could be pushed past their limits and succumb to desolation. They didn’t punish people for it.
* * *
The police soon arrived with paramedics. They took Betty Sodatrino to Mercy Hospital on Memorial to be treated for the blow to the head she had suffered. Afterwards, she would be charged with assault and attempted murder.
They took Martin to the hospital as well. He was treated and question by the cops, but mentally he participated from a distance.
What exactly happened?
He fumbled through an explanation as best he could.
What exactly is your relationship to Betty Sodatrino?
I liked her. I thought she liked me.
Did you ever suspect her of wanting to kill you?
No.
Do you really believe she was behind the previous attempts on your life?
She said so, didn’t she?
We believe you’re in shock.
Sure, that makes sense.
We’ve notified your emergency contact.
My emergency contact? Who is that again?
“Martin!” He was brought out of his fugue state by Molly who burst into the hospital room.
“Hey, Molly,” he managed to say while sitting upright on the bed.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me! What in God’s name happened?”
“As I said on the phone, another attempt was made on his life,” Detective Stephens said. Martin hadn’t even noticed his presence until that moment.
“Jesus Christ!” She focused on the fresh staples in his head. “Who did this?”
“A friend of his,” Stephens said.
“A friend? Are you kidding me?” She was the personification of disbelief at that moment.
Stephens sighed. “Apparently, she wasn’t as good a friend as Martin thought.
“Is she behind the previous attempts to kill you?” Molly asked.
“It looks like it,” Stephens said. Martin was glad he was answering the questions for him; Martin just didn’t feel up to it.
“Are you all right?” she asked, ignoring Stephens.
Martin nodded. “They
uh… say I have a concussion, but I’ll be all right. I just need to rest.”
Martin’s doctor, who was standing next to Stephens, said, “We want to keep him here over night to make sure there aren’t any more serious problems.”
“We’ll keep a guard on him in case Ms. Sodatrino has any more accomplices,” Stephens said. He turned his attention back to Martin. “Do you want to press charges against her?”
“I…” Martin shifted his gaze to the floor. “I don’t know. I mean… she’s my friend. Was my friend.”
“Bullshit! She tried to murder you! Send her ass to prison forever,” Molly said.
Martin’s doctor said, “I think we should save this conversation for later. Martin needs rest.”
Molly agreed to leave only after they assured her Martin would be all right. Once everyone was out of the room, he was alone with his thoughts in the dark.
Betty tried to kill me. Why? I thought she was the one. We were friends. Were we? I just don’t know anymore. Maybe it was all a lie. But even if it was, why would she want me dead?
For the first time since Serika died, that all-encompassing darkness swarmed around him, and it had nothing to do with the room’s lighting. It seemed to speak. You’ll never be happy. It just wasn’t meant to be. There’s only one way out: Give everybody what they want. Kill yourself. Shut the pain off forever. You know it’s the only option left. Put an end to this miserable farce you call a life.
He shook his head so hard he thought it would fly off his neck. I can’t! I don’t have the guts.
Come on, it’s not so hard. You’ll see. Just take a knife and slit your wrist.
But it’ll hurt too much.
Nah, the adrenaline will take care of everything. You won’t even feel it.
I… He had no answer. The arguments in favor of suicide were just too good.
Trust me, this’ll all work out fine.
17
Stephens met with the officer stationed outside the hospital room where they were keeping Betty Sodatrino. Her wounds weren’t as serious as Martin’s, but the doctor assigned to her wanted to keep her for observation just in case.
“How is she?” Stephens asked.
“She seems confused. Says she doesn’t remember anything that happened. Could be just an act.”
“Maybe,” Stephens said. “Or maybe not. I’ve seen a lot of strange things lately. I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
Stephens attention was diverted to a stunning blonde coming down the hallway wearing a fancy suit. As she approached, she flashed a badge. “Agent Mary Rhodes, FBI.”
The badge sure looked legit, but Stephens couldn’t hide his surprise. “What can I do for you, Agent?”
“The Bureau is very interested in this case. We have some questions for the suspect.”
“May I ask what the Bureau’s interest in this is?”
“A house was blown up the other day. We have reason to believe radical extremists might be involved.”
It was a halfway plausible answer, but not enough for Stephens. “May I ask why?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, but the matter is of great importance.”
Something smelled rotten. Hell, it reeked. “Do you mind if I check out your story real quick?”
She smiled. “Go ahead.”
* * *
The Shinigami had witnessed Betty Sodatrino’s attempt on Martin’s life. But because the incident involved two mortals, the gods were forbidden to intervene. Thankfully, Martin had fought off his supposed friend and the Shinigami could now investigate.
Mary, despite her shift having ended, decided to come right over to do just that. She wasn’t worried when Stephens stepped out to call the “FBI” because there was one particular Shinigami with the ability to redirect phone calls. So, while Stephens thought he was calling the Bureau, he would instead be contacting a very different Bureau whose office had been hastily set up in a vacant apartment earlier.
A few minutes later, Stephens returned. “Okay, your story checks out. Now, what exactly do you need from me?”
She explained, “Well, first I need to question the suspect. After that, I’ll need to look at all the evidence you’ve collected so far.”
“Right,” he said. “This way, please.”
He led her into the room where a doctor and another officer stood next to the bed where Betty Sodatrino lay handcuffed. She had a black eye and slight bruising above it.
“What’s going on?” she said. Her good eye was red; she had been crying.
“Miss Sodatrino, I’m Detective Stephens and this is Agent Rhodes with the FBI.”
“The FBI? What do you want with me?” She was on the verge of panic.
“Why did you try to kill Martin McDonnell?” Mary said.
“What are you talking about? I would never do such a thing! Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
“Martin says you tried to kill him, and you were found unconscious at the scene,” Mary said.
Betty tried to sit up, but found that difficult because she was handcuffed to the bed. “There has to be some mistake! I would never do anything to hurt him.”
‘The evidence suggests otherwise,” Stephens said. A pack of cigarettes stuck out of his pocket; Mary guessed this night probably had him dying for a smoke.
Betty broke down and began sobbing; at the rate she was going, her clothes would be soaked before too long. Mary felt bad for her.
“It’s okay,” Mary said. “Just tell us what you remember.”
Betty sniffed and wiped her good eye with her sleeve. “I was at Martin’s house. Things were going well. We were about to get serious.”
“What do you mean, ‘serious’?” Stephens said.
“We were about to kiss for the first time. I leaned in, and… everything went blank. My next memory is of waking up in this room.”
“I find that a little hard to believe,” Stephens said.
Betty insisted, “It’s true! I—” Without warning, her eyes went wide and she fell back against her pillow.
Mary didn’t like this one bit. “Ms. Sodatrino?”
A cruel smile crept across Betty’s mouth. “Forget everything I just said. Martin’s punch must have confused me.
“I tried to kill him. Repeatedly, in fact. There, Detective, you have my confession.”
Stephens cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “You admit to being behind all the attempts on his life?”
“Absolutely. I paid Robert Simons to attack him, I programmed his SmartCar to go out of control, and I caused the gas leak that blew up the cabin.”
“Why?” Mary said.
“Let’s just say I’m a champion of women’s rights. I found out some time ago he got his wife killed.”
“You mean Serika?” Mary said.
She nodded. “He needed to pay for that. He was never charged with it, so I took it upon myself to punish him.”
“That was an accident,” Stephens said. “You should be upset with the hit-and-run driver.”
“Oh, he got what he had coming.” The cocky smile never left her mouth.
“What do you mean?” Stephens said.
Mary had heard enough. “Detective, I need to speak with you outside.”
They left the room. As they did so, Betty’s voice called out behind him: “Do come again, you two. Especially you, ‘Agent.’” She said the last word with sheer mockery.
When they were back in the hallway, Stephens ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell was that about?”
“Betty Sodatrino is innocent,” Mary said.
“I doubt that,” he replied. “Listen to her. She’s out of her mind.”
Mary had to explain it to him, to try and make him understand. “I know it looks that way. But she’s actually possessed.”
He stared at her a moment. “Possessed? Like, by the Devil?”
“It might as well be.”
He let out an exasperated laugh. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve seen a
lot of crazy this week, and there’s only so much crazy I can take. You expect me to believe we’re dealing with a goddamn demon?”
Not a demon, probably, but it didn’t really matter. “Why not? You said it yourself—you’ve seen a lot of crazy this week. Why not add one more instance to the mix?”
“What makes you think she’s possessed? Maybe she’s just crazy.”
“She doesn’t have a history of mental problems. Up until now, she’s been perfectly stable.” Thankfully, Mary had done her homework.
He sighed. “All right, let’s say for the sake of argument that she is possessed. That’s not exactly easy to prove in court.”
“That’s why we have to keep her from ever going to court. You need to convince Martin McDonnell not to press charges.”
“That won’t sit well with his family,” he said.
“Just convince them Betty’s sick and needs help. Please, don’t let one monster destroy her life.”
Stephens paced back and forth for a minute. Finally, he said, “All right, what the hell. Maybe I’m the crazy one here, but I’ll try it.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Detective.”
“Did you need anything else tonight?”
“No, that’s it. I’ll come see you tomorrow at the precinct.”
* * *
Serika left Betty’s body and returned to Yomi. Now she relaxed in the mattress on the floor of her quarters.
With the “confession” delivered, Betty Sodatrino would be put away for the attempts on Martin’s life and everyone would stop looking for the culprit. In addition, he would now be on the verge of suicide. Come to me, Martin. Come and let’s discuss what you did.
Still, a certain kernel of doubt nagged at her. According to Aogami’s calculations, she only had two more days at most before she was caught. She absolutely had to finish off Martin before time ran out.
Hopefully, though, he would take care of that for her. She wondered how he would do it. Gunshot? Nah, he didn’t own a gun. Slit wrist? Possibly. OD on sleeping pills? Could be.
There was a time she couldn’t stand the thought of him dying. But death itself changed her outlook; now it would be her salvation.
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