by Marcus Brown
“We don’t have time to discuss beauty regimes right now,” Tabitha interrupted.
“What’s the big idea anyway, calling us in the middle of the night?”
“I’m sorry, Tally, but we’ve got a huge problem.”
“What now?” Tamara asked.
“I’ve just got off the phone from Trey.”
“Ooh, the sexy Doctor of Death,” Tamara added.
“Not now, Tam.” Talia said. “Go on, Tabi.”
“The killer left us a clue, and if there was ever any doubt as to who our killer is, this proves it’s definitely Numen.”
Talia and Tamara sat down at the end of Tabitha’s bed.
“Tell us,” Tamara begged.
“Trey found pages from a book in the ocular cavities of both victims.”
“Yuk,” Talia added. “Why did you just tell us that? I can’t stand anything to do with eyes, you know that, Tabi. I’ll never be able to get back to sleep now.”
“Hush, Tally,” Tamara ordered. “What’s so special about this book?”
“It’s one we’ve all read and there’s an original copy downstairs in the library…”
“Oh, not that Fifty Shades rubbish,” Tamara interrupted.
Talia slapped her sister playfully on the arm and laughed.
“Well done, Tam. My mask is cracked.”
“Very droll, Tamara,” Tabitha replied, glaring at the both of them. “If you can’t be serious then you can both go back to bed.”
“Okay, we’ll be serious,” Talia replied. “Tell us, what book is it?”
“Chadwick Hansen’s Witchcraft at Salem.” Tabitha left her words hanging in the air.
The atmosphere in the room was tangible and Tabitha watched as her sisters held their breath.
“That’s it then,” Talia said, exhaling then dragging her finger across her throat whilst making a croaking noise. “We’re toast.”
“We’re well and truly buggered,” Tamara said, spluttering. “He’s finally found us.”
Chapter Eight
Miriam poured pure bleach over her hands and scrubbed at them with a nail brush. They were red raw, her knuckles cracked and bleeding by the time she’d finished.
Her anxiety levels were through the roof. She shook nervously and her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she wouldn’t change a thing. She’d met the man of her dreams and would do anything for him, even if he asked her to walk over broken glass.
There wasn’t time to dally. She had to be at work for seven am and had a long day ahead of her.
Interviews were scheduled for most of the day and she had to find reliable staff – she couldn’t run her business with such a small number of staff, especially with these little side projects taking up so much time.
He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his head in her neck.
She quivered as he sucked noisily on her ear lobe.
Only he had ever made her feel as desirable as she did. She pushed her well rounded arse against his crotch, feeling his hard cock pressing against her.
“Tonight, Miriam,” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll dispose of them first, but I was thinking we need to be a touch more creative. Let the little witches finally know we’re coming for them. What do you think?” He whispered into her ear.
“Anything you want, my darling,” she replied breathlessly, close to climaxing. She could feel the wetness between her legs and wanted nothing more than to pull her big knickers down and bend over the sink and take his big hard cock up her arse.
“I got all day to think about it. You run off to work and when you get home, I’ll give your body a nice rub down, then we can share one of your delicious pies. Once it’s dark enough, we’ll load their stinking carcasses into the van and leave our friend, Chief Inspector Crockworthy and her repulsive sisters a nice little present.”
“You’re so good to me – I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Miriam gushed, her face flushing, trying to compliment him.
“Now, run along. I’ve got important stuff I need to be getting on with.”
Miriam didn’t argue and picked up the bunch of keys from the work surface.
Her hands burned – the industrial bleach too strong, especially as she’d used the scouring pad on them the night before, but she couldn’t stand to have dirty hands.
Closing the door behind her, she twisted round and blew a kiss as his face appeared in the sparkling front window.
*
“Stupid fat bitch,” he spat as he watched her struggle to climb into the gleaming white van emblazoned with her business name.
He waved and smiled, acting out his own little game with the dim-witted Miriam.
She’d been so easy to manipulate – a few sweet words whispered into her ear and she was his and ready to do anything he asked.
Satisfied she hadn’t forgotten anything and he was shot of her for the day, he opened the cellar door and stepped cautiously down the uneven and rickety steps.
He could still smell them, despite the amount of ammonia and bleach Miriam had used to try and disguise the pungent odor.
Luckily, the house next door was derelict so there were no nosy neighbours to worry about.
He looked down at the deep channels he’d dug into the concrete basement floor to catch the victims’ blood.
Everything had been carefully and methodically planned before the killings began. The chosen body parts were taken after the blood had been drained. Then Miriam mixed the blood with pork fat, onions and oatmeal, turning it into her delicious black pudding. He was ravenous just thinking about it, but would eat after he’d finished what he needed to do.
He glanced over to the little table, catching the headline of the newspaper Miriam had fetched for him. They’d christened him The Dark Magic Murderer and he couldn’t be happier.
That old idiot, Marshall, he’d been drip feeding information to, had upheld his end of the bargain and devoted the front page entirely to the killings. If only he knew who was actually relaying the information. He chuckled, pleased everything was running according to plan.
Watching the three girls lying there, cold and dead, excited him. He imagined the Crockworthy sisters lying there instead, wondering if their naked corpses would be as inviting as the ones in front of him.
He hadn’t yet taken their eyes, but the hearts, kidneys and lungs had long since been removed and taken away, ready to be used as filling in Miriam’s delicious home-made pies.
Slaying the three lying dead girls before him had been the best yet. He’d had the pleasure of hearing their screams as Miriam used the pliers to pull out their fingernails. That was always his favourite part – the pain they felt before he plunged the blade into their hearts and sent them on their last journey to hell.
There was a lot to do before Miriam returned that evening. He plucked up a knife from the small table behind him and knelt over one of the dead young ladies.
Her eyes were still open, staring into nothingness. A milky film had settled over them, but it didn’t matter to him. Such pretty eyes, he thought to himself as he forced them out, one by one. Within minutes, he had six eyes to add to his collection. He popped them into the little box on the shelf and carried on with his work.
Grabbing his copy of Witchcraft at Salem from the ledge, he tore out the pages he’d selected the night before. Then, using his newly discovered origami skills, he carefully folded each page into the shape of a small witch’s hat and inserted one into each empty cavity.
Chapter Nine
Talia sat on the mahogany bannister and crossed her feet at the ankles. Perfectly balanced as always, it had been a while since she’d felt this playful.
She’d been humming the same tune all morning. One of her favourites from a long-missed era.
Talia clicked her fingers and brightly coloured, glittery stars fell from the high ceiling. She giggled mischievously, knowing Tabitha would have a fit if she were to witness her hijinks.
>
Pushing herself off, she began to sing softly as she glided slowly, but expertly down the curving staircase.
Talia waved her hands dramatically in the air as though conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, and suddenly speeded up, careering down the rest of the banister as the disco beat of No More Tears echoed throughout the house.
She reached the end of the banister and rose briefly into the air, as though defying gravity.
Her red embellished grosgrain-trimmed leather stilettoed feet slowly touched the floor and she rubbed her hands together, pleased she hadn’t lost her touch.
The glittery stars fell all around her as she twirled around on the spot, loving the way her tartan wool midi skirt billowed outwards.
Her dyed, long honey blonde locks cascaded down her spine. She felt just like a Disney princess.
“Enough is enough.” She belted the tune out as the song hit its crescendo.
“Tally,” Tamara screeched over the loud music.
Lost entirely in the music, she hadn’t heard her sister yelling from upstairs.
Looking at her watch, Talia was worried about the time and waved her hands again, the music and the magic coming to an abrupt halt.
“I’m leaving for the office now,” she called out, a little breathless from the twirling and dancing. “Ring me if you hear anything else.”
“Hang on a minute, Tally,” Tamara yelled. “I need you to drop me off as my car’s going in for a service. I can’t be late. I have exam papers to mark.” She rushed down from the first floor.
“Hurry up then. I’ve got a conference call with a buyer from Italy in an hour and I want to make sure I’m prepared.”
“Okay, okay, don’t rush me.” Tamara stood in front of the mirror, pouting away before applying a fresh coat of lipstick.
“If you’re not ready, why don’t you just blink yourself in?” Talia asked. “Saves you getting all hot and bothered.”
“‘Cos if Queen Tabitha finds out I’ve blinked anywhere, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Tamara groaned. “And talking about being ready. What on earth are you wearing?” Talia rolled her eyes as Tamara stepped away from the mirror and circled her. “Is this really what a Fashion Editor considers stylish nowadays? Really, Tally, you look like an extra from Braveheart.”
Brushing off the snipe at her choice of dress, Talia responded. “Honestly, I don’t see the point in mother sharing her powers equally amongst us. It’s like living under Nazi rule again, and you remember what that felt like.” Talia made a mental note to have a strong word with her sister, once she got home from the office.
“If it’s not bad enough being triplets and sharing the same face, she always seems to know what we’re thinking, and that’s before we’ve thought it ourselves.” Tamara returned to the mirror and pouted again.
“Oh, come on, Kate Moss, I haven’t got time for you to adore yourself in that mirror all day long.” Talia grabbed her sister by the elbow and dragged her away.
“Don’t pull me, Tally,” Tamara said, wrenching her arm free. “Wow, you’re as bossy as Tabitha sometimes.”
“I’m leaving this house in thirty seconds, Tammy, and if you’re not with me, and you won’t blink in, you can Uber to work.” She pulled the oak Cathedral door open and looked down at the parcel left on the top step.
“I’m right behind you, Eva Braun,” Tamara huffed.
“Ooh, looks like one of us has a parcel. I wonder why the postman didn’t knock?” Talia bent down and picked up the small package. She gasped when she read the address label.
The Crockworthy Sisters
Moonlight Manor
“Tammy, you need to have a look at this.” Talia passed the box to her sister and watched her reaction.
“Who sent this? We haven’t used the Crockworthy name since the start of World War Two.” Tamara turned the parcel every which way. “Nothing else is written on it.”
“I wonder what’s in it?” Talia snatched the parcel out of her sister’s hand and tore at the brown paper covering.
Inside was an exquisite box carved from rowan wood. “Oooh, how pretty.” Talia cooed as she raised the bronze clasp and opened the lid.
Tamara flinched as Talia dropped the box and let out an ear-splitting scream.
Chapter Ten
“You have to call Tabitha.” Talia had dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking backward and forward on the spot. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.
On the ground in front of her was a human eyeball. The box was lying a few feet away from the eyeball.
Visibly shaking, Tamara struggled to pull the mobile phone from her handbag. “I’m calling her now.”
Talia kept her eyes closed and continued to rock.
“Tabi, you have to come home now,” Tamara sobbed. “Yes, now, but come alone.”
Moments after, the air crackled with static and a portal appeared. It sparkled, looking like it had formed from millions of tiny diamonds.
Tabitha stepped from within and looked shocked. It was evident she’d spotted the box and its contents a few feet away from her sisters.
She hurried over to Talia.
“I’m here, Tally. Open your eyes.”
“I can’t,” she said, her voice sounding shaky, “I don’t want to see it again.”
“Come on, let me help you up, then we’ll get you inside. Tammy, come and help me.”
Tamara stood at the doorstep dithering, her teeth clattering together. “I can’t move, Tabi.”
Tabitha put her hand on top of her sister’s head and blinked, the two of them vanishing.
Seconds later, she reappeared at Tamara’s side, grabbed her hand, then vanished once again.
*
“You blinked, didn’t you,” Tamara said, sounding surprised.
“What else would you have me do? Neither one of you could move a muscle.”
“What if you were seen?” Tamara asked.
“I was alone when you called and nobody could get past our wards to spy, even if they wanted to.”
“But what if you’re right and it is Numen, and he has people working for him, wanting to expose us.”
“I don’t think we need worry about exposure. If that’s what Numen wanted, he would’ve done it by now. He wants what he’s always wanted – our magic.”
Chapter Eleven
“We need to give this to Trey,” Tabitha argued.
“You can’t,” Tamara protested. “He can’t find out about us.”
“I won’t let him see the packaging. We’ll just say it was left on our doorstep in the box. I can’t sweep this under the rug. Humans are dying now, because of us,” Tabitha rationalised.
Talia blinked and returned seconds later with the packaging. She knelt in front of the hearth and blew gently, pulling back as the logs ignited and the flames burst to life. She tossed the brown paper into the fire and they all watched as it burnt to ashes. “Done, now call him.”
Tabitha dialled Trey and gave him a brief run-down of what had happened. She hung up and refocused on her sisters.
“He’s on the way, but we need to get our stories straight, okay,” Tabitha said.
Her sisters nodded in agreement.
“You two were leaving for work and found the package. You opened it and when you realised what was inside, threw it to the ground and it’s been there ever since. Got it.”
“Yes, Tabi. We know what to say,” Talia responded. “Now will one of you two get me something alcoholic to drink. My nerves are shot to pieces.”
“I’ll get it, but go easy until Trey has been and gone,” Tabitha answered. “Tammy, you need to call in sick. Call Tally’s office too whilst you’re there.”
*
Trey pulled up half an hour later, spotting the eyeball on the driveway.
He climbed out of his black Lexus and opened the boot, forcing his hands into a pair of latex gloves.
Approaching the wooden box, he took photographs of its loc
ation and proximity to the house. He did the same with the eyeball.
Inspector Nathan Rigby pulled up and parked behind Trey. He got out of the car and looked at the eyeball.
“What is this shit?” he said.
“Charmingly put as usual, Nathan,” Trey replied. “It’s a human eyeball in case you didn’t know.”
“What sicko would leave an eyeball for the dragon lady to find?”
“If my suspicions are correct, the same sicko responsible for the recent murders.”
“You think?” he asked.
“I’d stake my reputation on it. Either this eyeball belongs to a body we’ve already found, or will come from somebody the killer is yet to reveal. I don’t believe this is a coincidence.”
“Where’s the dragon lady?”
“I would assume your boss is indoors with her sisters. Go and knock. You’re gonna need to speak to them all. Apparently, it was Talia who discovered the box on their doorstep as she and Tamara were heading out to work earlier this morning.”
“You think the killer is eyeing the Worthy’s up as his next victims?” Nathan asked, heading for the front door.
“I hope not,” Trey answered as he secured the scene. “and tuck your damn shirt in, man.”
He walked away from the house and called it in, telling his forensics team to get there as quick as they could.
Chapter Twelve
HUMAN EYEBALL FOUND AT HOME OF CHIEF INSPECTOR WORTHY
“Shit,” Tabitha said as she glanced over the headlines. She was standing in Trey’s office. He’d just confirmed the eyeball belonged to Lucinda Deveraux, the murdered French student. “Who’s feeding Marshall this information?”
“I don’t know,” Trey replied, “but the chief will be spitting blood when he sees it.”
Tabitha’s phone rang as if on cue.
“I think he’s already seen it.”
She answered the call and prepared herself for the onslaught.
“Tabitha, I need to see you. My office in an hour,” he ordered. “No excuses.”
