She hiccups her tears away.
“Sorry, Lei.” I give up on finding a key and settle on a hammer and screwdriver instead. A feeling of malaise falls over me as I return to Leila’s side.
How am I going to get her out of here in one piece?
I don’t want Leila to see I’m out of my depth, so I turn the padlock onto its rounded back, position the screwdriver, and start hammering. If I can just hold on until Detectives Mosepi and Louw come, all will be well. All will be fine.
Leila cries out, her broken nails digging into my shoulder. I’ve accidentally pulled the chain too far away and it cut into her wound.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hold on, okay?”
“God damn it,” she hisses.
“Relax, Lei.” The hammer pounds against the back end of the flathead screwdriver. Bam! Bam! Bam! But the lock doesn’t spring open as I’d hoped it would.
“Es—”
I cut her off when the hammer comes down with a mighty, hollow blow.
“Esmé!”
Chapter 41
When Him noticed the splash of crimson in the long grass, he knew he’d fucked up properly.
He blamed his headache for not being as focused as he always is. How could he not have noticed he had a tail? Blame shifting won’t help Him out of his predicament, though. No, he needed a plan, one he could use to turn the situation in his favour.
The headache hadn’t improved, but there was no time to fix it.
He peered through the window of the decrepit house, seeing Esmé dash across the field and towards the slaughterhouse. She would find her friend there; the slutty one he’d had to keep gagged thanks to her incessant shrieking. Jesus, her voice could burst eardrums.
Him stretched his neck one way, far enough to hear the crack and feel the release in his tight muscle, before he does the other side. He grabbed his hunting knife from the table, and slipped it into the holster on his belt. The time had come to put an end to the game, even if Esmé was a few days early. Him walked out of the decrepit house, clearing his throbbing mind of whatever negative clutter is housed there. He no longer had the luxury to lose his head.
He entered the office, through the open door, and quietly slinked across the room to the slaughterhouse. Their voices were somewhat muffled, but not enough.
Tsk-tsk. You’re no good at sneaking, he thought, allowing himself to be swallowed up by the shadows. His eyes adjusted to the darkness swiftly, giving Him an advantage over Esmé and her need for a flashlight.
“Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake!” Esmé shouted at the blonde woman, her nervous voice filling his workshop in echoes, while her friend exchanged sobs for hiccups.
He moved closer, quiet as the grave, barely breathing to keep himself from being noticed.
Esmé whispered something to her friend he couldn’t quite make out. An apology? Maybe. It didn’t matter. Neither of them have figured out he’s with them yet, waiting to pounce.
Esmé hammered at the lock, but metal and metal held fast as she tried, in vain, to free her friend.
The woman cried out.
Esmé said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Hold on, okay?”
Him moved a few feet closer, well-hidden until he no longer needed to be. He knew this place like the back of his hand, every crack in the concrete floor, each meat hook in the ceiling, even the drains’ position. He knew exactly where to step and not to step to remain a part of the fixtures.
“God damn it,” the woman hissed.
Nearing them, he slowly clipped open the hunting knife’s holster. Just in case Esmé wasn’t in the mood to listen… or play. Whatever movements and sounds Him might have made were drowned out by Esmé’s desperate hammering.
“Relax, Lei,” she said pounding away.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Him moved within a couple of meters from Esmé’s hunched over form.
The other one looked up, straight at Him. Even in the darkness he saw how absolutely terrified she was. Her bottom lip quivered, while her eyes stayed glued to Him.
“Es—” she started to say but the hammer came down with a mighty, hollow thud again, cutting her off. “Esmé!” she shouted.
Him smiled as Esmé turned slowly. She dropped the screwdriver to snatch her cell phone from the blonde, but held on to the hammer.
The flashlight suddenly shone directly into his eyes, and he let out a hiss of annoyance, covering his eyes with one hand. Him hadn’t expected her to do that, but this momentary lapse would be the last.
Him righted himself, cupping one hand over his forehead so the light didn’t irritate his eyes further.
“Our final meeting was not scheduled for today, Esmé,” he said. He made sure his disappointment overshadowed his accent. “I don’t like surprises.”
She doesn’t respond with words. Her expression, however, was one of defiance and rage. Oh, yes. She wanted to play. Good.
Him sighs, the same way a father would sigh if his child was being irksome.
“Since you’re here, I suppose we should get started. But please take note, I am not entirely prepared.” He strode across the slaughterhouse, calculating his steps past Esme and Leila, moving towards his workbench. Him kept an eye on her, the same way she kept Him in her sights at all times.
When he gets to his workbench, he sensed how her hand itched to attack him with the hammer, but common sense kept her feet frozen in place.
“Have you ever known anyone to achieve a godlike status?” he asked, reaching to a glass jar without needing to look.
“I cannot say I have,” Esmé answered.
Him nodded, glancing at his hand where a fat cockroach scurried. He shook the insect off his hand, and opened the glass jar.
“That will change today.” He threw the contents of the jar into a filthy mortar. “I will free myself of this mortal shell, these chains made of flesh. And you, my dearest Esmé, will witness it.”
Next, he tossed pieces of the already cut up organs into the concoction before finding within a drawer a special herbal elixir made a few days ago by a friend of a friend. “It’s the grand prize for finding me. You should feel honoured for getting this far.”
“I feel disgusted,” she hissed.
“That makes two of us,” her friend concurred.
Him sneered at the blonde’s remark. She was never worth his time but she would be useful for this last hurrah.
“It’s a pity you feel that way, Esmé. Perhaps I can change your opinion on the matter.” He dusted his grimy hands off over the mortar, placed the pestle in it, and slipped the hunting knife out of his holster.
Then, he stepped away from the workbench and towards Esmé. “I just need one more thing from your friend. Do you mind?”
“Don’t come near us.” Esmé made a show of wiggling the hammer in her hand, but the action only amused Him. “I’m warning you.”
“Now you’re being childish. Step away,” Him said, walking closer.
“I’m warning you!” she roared, clutching the hammer.
Him didn’t so much as flinch. He kept going, fearless. She wouldn’t hit him. No, if anyone was interested in the evolution from man to god, she would be the one. Esmé Snyders had always been the one.
She aimed to hit him square in the face, but when she pulled the hammer back, he flicked his hand in her direction and the weapon flew out of her hands. It fell an impossible distance away, clattering loudly against the concrete, and disarming her once and for all.
He saw Esmé stare into the darkness where her hammer flew, dumbstruck.
Him bypassed her, chuffed with his ability to entertain, heading straight for her friend—who’d been placed in this situation because of Esmé’s failure to humour his simple request to find him. It is her fault, after all.
“NO!” She charged Him just as he’d angled his knife in his hand, and bent over to take the blonde woman’s heart.
But the blonde wasn’t as helpless as he though
t her to be.
As Him is tackled from one side, the blonde is up on her good leg, wielding the screwdriver Esmé had dropped earlier. She would have killed Him, too—the flathead screwdriver had been aimed at his heart—but Esmé’s attack shifts him. As it happens, the screwdriver found his shoulder instead, burying itself hilt deep between muscle and tissue and arteries and veins.
Him roared in pain. Momentum drove him to the side, and backwards onto Esmé.
The blonde woman cussed in victory, falling to her knees as Esmé and Him wrestle nearby. They’re a flailing ball of limbs, scrambling to get the upper hand.
With the knife still angled, still gripped tightly in his hand, he realised a decision needed to be made. Esmé had gone rogue, off-script. He had two options, kill her and search for a new opponent, or let her win this bastardised version of his game.
With his head still pounding, the ancestors still screaming, he wasn’t thinking as clearly as usual. Then, somehow before he could make up his mind his knife plunged into her torso, fast and easy. It is as if fate chose for him.
The action doesn’t prevent her from attacking or defending herself, and the battle continued.
He needed to kill Esmé now, absorb her powerful essence into himself and accept his godlike powers. To do this, he needed her heart. Yes, the blonde would have sufficed, but why waste a more potent ingredient when it’s within reach?
The blonde bitch screamed in her “dying-cat” voice, tugging at his clothes, trying to pull Him off Esmé.
He smacks back with one hand hoping to catch her off guard, but the world had gone off-kilter.
No. No! NO!
Footsteps rushed from the other side of the slaughterhouse. He couldn’t do a damn thing to stop this turn of events if he does not harvest, does not mix and ingest his concoction. FUCK!
A male voice shouted commands. Beams of light project into his eyes, blinding him. Nails raked down his face, before an almighty wall crashed into him.
Him, lying under a great weight, felt his lungs being crushed, and couldn’t figure out what was happening until Detective Mosepi’s voice barked out his rights.
Before Him had a chance to fight, the overweight detective had already turned him onto his stomach and was forcefully twisting his hands behind his back.
Him never admitted defeat, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be shot either. Instead, knowing he was beat, he quietly consented to being handcuffed and watched Esmé bleed out on the cold concrete.
“What a waste,” he sighed.
The younger detective, the one he’d seen accompanying Esmé at the Crocodile River, tended to her. His hands were pressed against her side, but she didn’t respond. Even the blonde was more concerned with Esmé’s well-being than getting loose.
“Stay with me,” the young detective said repeatedly, nervously.
Before Him could find out if Esmé was alive or dead, Mosepi—now finished reciting his rights to him—punched him repeatedly in the face with his immense fist, until he blacked out.
Chapter 42
ALLEGED PRETORIA SLASHER IN POLICE CUSTODY
Sapa | 30 September, 2015 18:47
Police have arrested the alleged Pretoria Slasher who is accused of the kidnapping and murder of Valentine Sikelo, Carol-Anne Brewis, and ANC MP Abraham Amin, Pretoria police said on Wednesday.
The Pretoria Slasher’s identity is being withheld from the public. However, other information was released by the SAPS.
“The elusive Pretoria Slasher, who evaded police capture has finally been arrested,” said Detective Elias Mosepi.
“[The Pretoria Slasher] was arrested this afternoon on a small, abandoned plot in Erasmia, at about 15:03pm. He has been on the run since the beginning of September. The suspect will appear before the Pretoria Magistrate’s Court soon.”
The Pretoria Slasher, 35, had been on the run since the assault and murder of Valentine Sikelo on the 4th of September 2015, in Pretoria West.
A relative who has allegedly participated in previous cases related to the Pretoria Slasher was arrested in Pretoria West, earlier on Wednesday.
More details to follow as information is released.
—TimesLive
Comments have been disabled for this article
~
SLIPPERY PRETORIA SLASHER BEHIND BARS
2015-09-30 18:53
Police have arrested the Pretoria Slasher who is accused of the kidnappings and murders of Valentine Sikelo, Carol-Anne Brewis, and Abraham Amin.
“He [the Pretoria Slasher] was arrested in Erasmia, more details will follow later,” said Detective Rynhardt Louw.
The suspect (35) had been on the run since the assault and murder of Valentine Sikelo on the 4th of September, 2015.
Meanwhile, a man believed to be a relative of the suspect was also arrested in Pretoria West, earlier this morning.
“The suspect is expected to appear before the Magistrates Court on Friday pending further police investigations,” said Louw.
He added that the police recovered further evidence of more victims at the homestead.
“A team of independent investigators, with the assistance of the police, is combing the area for further clues of who these victims are and where they may be located,” said Louw. “Police investigations are at an advanced and sensitive stage, and more arrests are imminent.”
—News24
Join the conversation!
24.com encourages commentary submitted via MyNews24. Contributions of 200 words or more will be considered for publication.
We reserve editorial discretion to decide what will be published. Read our comments policy for guidelines on contributions.
~
FAMILIES RELIEVED BY PRETORIA SLASHER ARREST
Wed, 30 Sept 2015 20:00 PM 0 Comments
Article By: Almarie Badenhorst
“The capture of the so-called “Pretoria Slasher” is a big relief for the victims’ families,” Pretoria police commissioner, Ludwa Mamba said on Wednesday.
Earlier, authorities captured the suspect after evading police for almost a month.
The Pretoria Slasher is accused of kidnapping, torturing, and murdering Valentine Sikelo, Carol-Anne Brewis, and ANC MP Abraham Amin.
Further investigations of the agricultural holding he was found living at yielded more possible victims.
Police said they will question the suspect and formulate charges against him.
He and another man, a family relation according to insider sources, will appear in court on Friday.
The Pretoria Slasher could also face charges of murder, rape and evading arrest.
Two hostages: a civilian and an occult expert who had been consulting on the case for the SAPS, were found at what is now called “The Carnage Farm.” Both hostages sustained minor injuries and were taken to a hospital for treatment.
The Pretoria Slasher did not resist arrest when police found him.
Officials are now looking to piece together a puzzle of muti and murder.
—EWN
~
PRETORIANS CHEER AS SLASHER IS ARRESTED
31 September, 2015 | 10:32 a.m. 21 Comments
By Andrea Miller
Yesterday was a good day for Pretoria residents.
First, news came in that the Pretoria Slasher has been taken into custody, saving one hostage from a fate worse than death, and an investigator from bleeding out. Then, scattered thundershowers across the city finally broke the insufferable heat. It’s as if God Himself was celebrating the police’s victory.
Sources within the Pretoria West Police Department claim the Pretoria Slasher was cooperating with authorities for the most part, but so far he’s still being elusive about his true identity. But, there’s a twist! The Pretoria Slasher’s half-brother is also in custody. Police allegedly picked him up for speeding yesterday morning, and linked him to a buffet of crimes.
This leaves the question: Is this a matter of nature vs. nurture, or something entire
ly different?
For those readers who don’t know, the Pretoria Slasher has been a busy guy as far as kidnapping and murders are concerned:
His first known victim—Valentine Sikelo (28)—was found brutally mutilated and murdered in a field in Pretoria West on 4 September, 2015. The young mother, wife, daughter, and sister, had been walking to the taxi rank on the same day she’d died, before the Pretoria Slasher whisked her away and tortured her for muti.
The second victim—Carol-Anne Brewis (12)—was found on Gert van Rooyen’s property; her body broken, and her brain missing. She was taken out of her bedroom, in the middle of the night, and killed in his van. Why? According to our inside source, the Pretoria Slasher just said: “She was the perfect sacrifice.”
Abraham Amin (39)—a politician for the ANC party—was the third victim. His body was found gutted, hanging from the Daspoort Tunnel’s ventilation shaft. This rising star in the political party was a beloved figure in his community, as well as in the party. Unfortunately, his great future was ended when he was kidnapped from an ambassadorial mansion in Moreleta Park, held captive, and killed when he was trying to escape.
These are just the victims we know about. Numbers have been thrown around by investigators as to how many people the Pretoria Slasher has killed in his lifetime, ranging from between 8 to 39.
“It’s difficult to be sure, because [he] also seemed to buy a lot of body parts and organs on the black market,” our source divulged. “So far, we have enough evidence to link him to, at least, 15 murders, but the investigation is far from over and the number is likely to change.”
International readers might be thinking I’m making this stuff up, but the truth is, ritual murder is alive and well in South Africa. Muti—made and distributed by traditional healers—are basically homeopathic remedies. Usually, “muti” are tinctures and tonics made from indigenous plants, but there are people who take things too far… This is where witch doctors, witches, and the like come into play.
Now, so far there is no word as to whether the Pretoria Slasher is, in fact, a registered traditional healer, but the Traditional Healers Association of Africa has already distanced themselves from the killer.
Muti Nation Page 25
