by Marcus Brown
“That’s all we need,” Tabitha stated. “The damn CEO of News Group UK chasing my tail.” Tabitha looked at her phone. Since arriving at the crime scene, she’d had seven missed calls and didn’t need to guess who they were from. “My day is just about to get worse – I’ve had seven missed calls from the chief.”
“Rather you than me,” Trey replied. “I don’t know who’s worse, the chief, or Marshall.”
“I’d vote for Marshall any day of the week,” Tabitha decided. “At least the chief won’t plaster my face across the front pages of a newspaper.”
“Marshall’s like a Pitbull. Once he gets hold of a story, he won’t let go ‘til he draws blood.”
“Yeah, I remember that case from a while back.” Tabitha cast her mind back, remembering the one and only time she’d met the infamous Rachel Lang. It was during the course of a murder investigation involving a homeless girl and she couldn’t think of a more unpleasant person. She couldn’t say she was sorry to hear Rachel had vanished into thin air. “The Editor of his paper went missing during the investigation into the Promised Land Lane murders. Marshall caused all sorts of problems for us at the time, offering rewards left, right and centre until every loony crawled out of the woodwork with a story to tell and cash to claim. It did more harm than good.”
“I was working in Manchester back then, but vaguely remember reading about it. They never found the editor, or the person responsible for killing the kid, if my recollections are correct. Wasn’t there talk about the place being haunted?” He laughed. “I seem to recall something about one of their own reporters too, but the details are a little sketchy in my mind.”
“The whole thing was a mess, and now the press has aptly named our murderous friend, The Dark Magic Murderer, we’re bound to be linked to that case, same police department and all. Thankfully, I didn’t work that particular case or Marshall would hang me out to dry.”
One of the Crime Scene Investigators stepped in front of them, cutting the conversation dead.
“Well, as lovely as it is gossiping with you about the good old days, I don’t have an infinite amount of time here, so leave me to it and I’ll come back to you with my preliminaries as soon as. Once I’m done here, I’ll get the bodies shipped to the morgue, but cause of death won’t be a surprise, that much I can guarantee.”
“What do you think killed these two?” She peered over at the decomposing corpses and her stomach lurched.
In over three centuries, she’d never seen anything as brutal as these recent killings.
“Without question, the removal of the vital organs, but since we’ve never found the missing organs, it’s only a best guess scenario. I don’t know if the victims were conscious at the time any of their organs were removed.”
Tabitha pulled a face, not wanting to comprehend the agony the two before her had endured. “We need to catch this bastard,” she said.
“Agreed. I’d say that was most important and preferably before any more mutilated bodies are left around the North West of England for me to deal with. Until then, you’re more than welcome to attend the autopsy.”
“Seriously, Trey, if I did that, I’d never eat meat again.”
“You can’t beat a good Steak and Kidney pie,” Trey joked.
She glared at him, knowing he was trying to stifle his laughter.
“You’re a sick puppy, Dembélé.”
“I’ve been in this job for ten years, Tabitha,” he said chuckling. “and learned to separate my work and home life a long time ago.”
“I wish it were that easy for me.” She walked off. “Call me when you’re done. No matter how late it is.”
“Gotcha, Tabi.” He waved as she walked away. “Oh, and give my regards to your sisters.”
Tabitha turned and glowered at him. “How many times have I told you not to shorten my name. I’ve worked hard to earn the dragon lady tag, and making me sound like a cute kitten will undo all that hard work.”
“Sorry, Tabi-tha,” he called back to her. He winked and a big cheesy grin stretched across his handsome and chiseled face.
She liked the guy a lot, but couldn’t afford for her own work and home life to become entangled.
In another world, she’d love nothing more than luring Trey to her bedroom, stripping him naked and exploring his muscular body with her hands and tongue. She dreamt of rubbing essential oils into his ebony skin and wrapping her lips around, what she imagined would be, his long, thick, black cock.
Flustering herself with tawdry fantasies that should never become a reality, she got to her car and slumped into the driver’s seat.
Setting her phone in the docking station, it beeped telling her the hands-free connection was working. She pressed number one on the keypad and dialed home.
It rang a few times before she heard the familiar voice.
“Crockworthy residence,” the girlish sounding voice answered.
“Talia, knock it off, will you? You know we don’t use that name any longer.”
“What’s up, Mistress Glum?” Talia replied, obviously teasing her sister.
“Where’s Tamara?”
“In the basement studying the book as you requested. Why?”
“I’m on my way home.”
“At this time of day?”
“Yes. We've got a problem, one bastard of a big problem in fact. Another two were found dead today. That’s five in total now.”
Chapter Four
Miriam squirted copious amounts of clear antibacterial gel onto her hands and rubbed them ferociously together. She’d rolled up her sleeves before starting on her hands and was now making her way up to her elbows, scrubbing furiously.
“I wonder how long it will be before the Crockworthy Sisters realise you’re here?”
He looked up from his book and smiled at her. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t underestimate any of them. They come from a long line of sorcerers and if they’re half as cunning as their mother, Abigail, was, it won’t take them long at all.”
“And then what?” she demanded.
“They’ll come for us,” he replied. “And finally, after three hundred and twenty-five years, I’ll take my revenge and end the Crockworthy line, once and for all.”
“You make it sound so easy, my darling.”
“I’ve been here for over two years now, watching and waiting, looking for evidence as to how powerful they are, but they conceal their abilities very well. When the time comes for us to meet, it’ll be easy ‘cos I’ll be prepared.”
“If they’re as powerful as you say they are, what makes you so confident?” she asked.
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but fear not. With each life we take, our power grows and soon, they’ll be no match for us, Miriam.” He held out his arms. “Come,” he invited.
She accepted the invitation and rushed into his arms.
He wrapped his arms around her ever expanding waistline and pulled her close to him. He’d never craved this level of intimacy with her, wanting to give himself fully to the woman he married, but needs must, and now Miriam was fully on side, he needed her to remain there.
When they’d met, he told her the truth about where he had come from and showed her a small display of his power and that was that. She never questioned him about anything and followed his orders dutifully. In truth, he knew Miriam had been a loner, and when not working had spent a lot of time by herself. He could tell she was blissfully happy with his continued presence and would do everything she could to keep him happy.
He pushed Miriam away at the groaning sounds coming from the cellar. The noises excited him and he fought to quash the impulse to rush down into the cellar and end their miserable lives there and then. Seeing their lifeless bodies would be the ultimate thrill. In all good time, he thought to himself.
The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm the Crockworthy Sisters. He wanted to enjoy the game, relish the opportunity of teasing them that little bit more. A nice little game of hide
and seek with the three of them would be most invigorating, but he knew it was only a matter of time, and when that time was right, they’d cotton on to who he was and use all the powers at their disposal to find him.
He pulled Miriam close again and kissed her forcefully on the mouth, sliding his tongue between her moist lips.
He recalled the day they had met.
*
It had been a stroke of luck meeting her on that warm summer’s day two years ago.
Hiding out in what he knew now as Delamere Forest, he’d spied her on one of her rambling trips.
There was nothing remotely attractive or inviting about her, but she was exactly the type of invisible person he needed to help him.
Stumbling out of the thick bushes, he dropped to the ground and called for her help.
She fell for his performance entirely and rushed over.
“Water,” he croaked as she reached into her backpack, bringing the bottle tenderly to his lips.
“What’s happened to you?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.
“I was attacked and they left me here,” he lied.
“Can you stand? I need to get you to hospital?”
“No, I don’t need a Doctor. Just a good hearty meal and a warm comfortable bed for the night will set me right.”
She didn’t need any persuading and helped him to his feet, walking him slowly back to her vehicle.
Miriam drove him back to her home. He allowed her to bathe and feed him. He never left.
Seducing the desperate bitch was easy and Miriam was putty in his hands. She was more than willing to assist him.
Further down the line, he was surprised to learn she enjoyed the killing as much as he did.
It really was that easy.
*
He looked at Miriam and smirked.
The adult females of today were so much more adventurous than they were in his own time and more eager to please their men and bow to the desires of their superiors.
His betrothed would never act so brazenly, and for that he was grateful. He thought fondly of his beloved Catherine and yearned to see her beautiful face again.
He found himself in a world he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams, filled with flying machines and all manner of strangeness and looked forward to returning to his own time, after completing the arduous task set by the village elders. If he played it right, he would return to his own time merely minutes after departing. Then, he would be celebrated and free to marry the girl of his dreams.
He was chosen to track the Crockworthy’s down. He’d been held responsible for their escape and for that mistake, his beloved’s father had refused to sanction the marriage. He had to redeem himself and defeating the witches was the only way he could do it.
He dreamt of Catherine every night and had done since they parted on that long ago night.
Miriam didn’t hold a candle to Catherine and was a dumpy, plain Jane type of woman with shoulder length un-styled mousey-brown hair with streaks of grey running through it. What she lacked in physicality and joie de vivre, she more than made up for in other ways. Always compliant and willing to do his bidding, she never argued – something he’d come to appreciate.
She worked extremely hard, but more importantly, she was able to do the majority of the dirty work, allowing him to remain hidden in the shadows.
*
Tabitha frowned at the chief’s name flashed on the telephone screen. She slowed down and indicated, pulling the car over on the hard shoulder of the motorway.
Readying herself for an ear bashing, she pushed the little green phone icon and took a deep breath.
“Worthy speaking.” She exhaled.
“Have you never grasped the concept of your phone’s callback feature?” the Chief Superintendent barked down the line.
“Sorry, Sir. I did mean to call you back, but I’ve been a bit snowed under.”
“And it’s about to get even worse, Tabitha.”
“How so?”
“Tony Marshall is running a front page spread tomorrow, and I don’t have to tell you what happened last time he latched onto this department – he made us all look like bumbling idiots.”
“Forgive me, Sir, but what exactly is Marshall going to run? He doesn’t know anything to report. It will be purely speculative.”
“He knows we’ve got a damn serial killer on the loose and that’s enough for him to go on. Whatever he writes isn’t important. The headline will be enough to send people into a blind panic.”
She was completely flabbergasted. “But how does he know so much?”
“I’m not bloody clairvoyant, Tabitha, but mark my words. As soon as I find out who’s leaking these details to him, I’ll lock them in a cell and throw away the key.”
“I’d like to think it’s coming from outside my department, but I’ll have a word with the team when I’m back and stress the importance of confidentiality.”
“Well, you better hope for your sake it’s none of your team ‘cos I’ll hold you personally responsible. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered.
“Good.”
She’d worked with the chief for over ten years and learned to let him vent his spleen, it would be over far quicker that way.
“Anything else before I go, Sir? I’m parked on the hard shoulder.”
“Yes, actually there is. Whilst you’ve been ignoring my calls, we’ve had another missing person’s report. Missing teenagers this time – triplets, if you’d believe it.”
“How long have they been missing?”
“Should have returned home this morning from that festival held in Liverpool over the weekend, but there’s been no sign of them.”
“Triplets, really?” Tabitha’s heart thumped in her chest.
“Three young girls. Identical. Seventeen years of age if you will, allowed to run amok around another drug filled festival. It’s likely nothing, but with all these reports on the news people are more wary than usual.”
“Yeah, guess so.”
“Let’s hope they’ve simply met up with some hippy types and done a runner. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.”
Tabitha felt physically sick. For weeks now, she’d been saying to her sisters, they were being watched. They told her she was paranoid, but her instincts were proving to be correct.
Her sixth sense told her it wouldn’t end well for the three girls, but her instincts were also screaming something else – kidnapping identical triplets was a message for her and her sisters. There could be no question about it.
But who was sending the message, and why now?
*
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,
Catch a girlie by the toe,
If she screams,
Hurt her so,
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”
“Such an unusual little song, Miriam. Quite apt. I like it.”
He watched as she went down the line and selected which of the bound girls would be cut first.
He was constantly amused by her little rhymes, and even in the duskiness of the cramped cellar, she always managed to brighten his day.
She was delightful and wickedly evil, and by his standards that was high praise indeed.
He’d grown fond of spending time in this little torture chamber of theirs. He didn’t like the outside world and spent as little time as possible out there for many reasons.
The noise of the cars and people’s inane chatter distracted him more than he cared to admit and he longed to return to his own time of peace and quiet.
There were things about this ungodly world he’d gotten used to, and if pushed, would miss, but, the Witches had escaped from him once and he wouldn’t give them the chance to do it again.
He’d searched through time, desperate to find them. Upon discovering their hiding place, he found Miriam more than willing to act as his accomplice and set about planning their downfall. The only thing that gave him solace was the thought o
f killing the Crockworthy Sisters, stealing their powers and returning to 1692.
“I’m happy you like it,” she answered.
“You’re getting better at this, Miriam, and you know I love a nice little sing song.”
He sat on the wobbly stool and watched as she carved into the chest of one of the young ladies.
The girl shrieked as Miriam pierced the skin, dragging the knife vertically from the top of the breastbone in between the breasts and stopping just above the navel.
The other two thrashed about beside her, desperate to help, but they were tied so tightly, there was nothing they could do.
“If she screams, hurt her so,” Miriam sang in a low monotone voice as she dragged the knife horizontally, making the inverted cross.
He took so much pleasure watching her at work. She was a master of her craft and he wondered, if he delved deep enough, what her past would truly reveal.
He clung to the brown leather-bound book, pressing it close to his chest. It contained the source of his own stolen, but limited power, and the Crockworthy Sisters could never know he was in possession of it. Once he’d finished with them and possessed their powers, he would combine them with his own and go home.
He was doubtful they knew of the existence of his own Grimoire, but he would never underestimate them.
The girl’s continued screams of agonizing pain excited him and sent tingles to his groin, but now wasn’t the time.
It was always the most painful part for them, the removal of the finger and thumb nails. There was no reason for it, of course. He just liked to see their faces as Miriam dug under the nails with the dirty pliers, clamped down, and pulled them out. How they struggled, but no amount of struggling, or begging would stop what was to be their destiny.
Miriam slapped the girl and wrapped a dirty cloth around her mouth. Her screams were dulled, but the noises were still irritating. He craved the silence and soon, the girl would be silenced forever.
