The Butcher and the Butterfly

by Ian Dyer

  Martin felt Ted relax in his hands and could see a realisation hit him, the realisation you get as a child when you know your parents are telling the truth no matter how hard it seems.

  ‘What do you suggest, Marksman?’

  Martin refocused on the old home standing there like some ancient monolith in the moonlight.

  ‘We go in there until I can figure out how I contact the one that can get us out of this.’

  ‘Who would that be?’

  Martin knew what he was about to say must sound totally insane, especially to Ted based on their previous conversations, but Ted had to know sooner rather than later.

  ‘The Angel of Death.’

  Ted laughed the laugh of a madman. ‘Thought as much.’

  20

  The wood shed adjoining Thatcham’s place was large, dusty and as dark as a deep cave. It had been the scene of a killing, numerous rapes and now a secret resting place for the slut Varula.

  Hunkered down low, sat crossed legged on the floor was young Dotty and bathed in an ethereal purple glow which emanated from the ancient orb she stroked its glass exterior and looked deep into its core.

  ‘What am I to do?’ There was some desperation there from Dotty.

  it is up to you little butterfly. You must takes me too them and keep me safe. Keep me out of harm my little Butterfly.

  ‘I can do that.’ She wiped some snot from her nose, ‘But don't harm me Da. Just the stranger, okay?’

  Okay, Okay, little Butterfly. Yer Dad is gonna be fine. The young Thatcham and the bastard Marksman will be enough for now.

  Dotty didn't know who or what a Marksman was and didn't have enough up top to put two and two together so she merely nodded along.

  Rising slowly she hooked the orb under her left arm and proceeded to step out into the cool night air. Varula pulsed softly and slowly in Dotty's arms and created a warmth around her like a comforting blanket on a cold winters evening.

  As Dotty left the shed, Varula seemed to be pulsing a little stronger and the closer they both got to the house the faster and harder the pulsing seemed to get. Before walking up the front steps Dotty stopped and looked blankly at the big house.

  What is it my little Butterfly?

  ‘I'm a bit scared.’

  Nothing to be scared of. I'm here; I can protect us both as long as you do as I say.

  ‘But I can't hurt my Dad. If he asks me to do stuff I have to do it.’

  We won't be hurting him. I have found another way. Step into the shadows

  Dotty did as she was told and turned away from the steps and into the shadows of the overhanging trees. She ducked down making sure to hold on tight to the orb with her left hand.

  Someone was walking toward her but in the gloom she couldn't make out who.

  If you want yer dad to be safe do as you told. You got that Butterfly?

  ‘Yep.’ Dotty replied softly.

  Good. Now jump out and grab that little twat by the throat.

  21

  Martin and Ted stood in the darkened living room that old man Thatcham had once frequented. It was lavishly decorated and full of golden, sparkly trinkets Martin was more used to seeing this type of home in the wealthier parts of his old homeland.

  Ted felt along the wall and flipped a switch. A dull, yellowish light filled the room and Martin noted a look of deep concern on the farmers face. The last few hours looked as though they were starting to take their toll on the farmer. The house was calm; still, like the calm before a summer storm. Martin brushed his hand through his matted hair.

  ‘Do not fear for your daughter. If what I think is happening is actually coming to pass then she is safe all the while there are men around.’

  Ted slumped down in a nearby armchair. ‘I don’t know what the fuck you are going on about half the time, Marksman, but you seem to know what you are talking about. What next?’ Ted raised his arms into the air like a cheap side show preacher among his insane followers and raised his voice to a bellow, ‘Will ye be calling forth the great Angel of Death?’

  Martins face contorted into an unfamiliar grin. ‘I fear the only way to bring him here is too…’ Martin tailed off.

  ‘Oh,’ remarked Ted, ‘More dead people. Thought as much.’

  The hum of the spark light engulfed the two men for a while. Neither moved though they were both restless; they both sensed something was happening outside. Dotty and the relic were up to something. Ted thought briefly about old man Thatcham and the storm that would follow and his mind’s eye could clearly see the noose being wrapped about his neck and below him the three men heaving on the rope lifting Ted from his feet and into the air where he would choke on his own blood.

  ‘Do not let it trouble you, Ted. The man died by my gun, you have nothing to fear.’

  Before Ted could answer the front door burst open and the startled farmer burst forth from his chair and negotiated a path somewhere behind the poised Marksman.

  23

  Dotty had young Simon by the throat; her massive hand holding the pink flesh like you would the top of a bottle of wine. At any moment she could let it pop and spray all and sundry with bloody red gore. She had kicked the door in, the timber of the door not holding up to her tree like legs. In her free hand she held Varula and both Martins and Ted’s eyes were drawn to it.

  Dotty’s eyes were fierce; ringed red with hate and wide like the hunters moon. She stumbled through the main door and into the door way of the living room. When Dotty spoke the two men could hear two voices; one was Dotty’s, the other was deeper, darker and it filled them with dread.

  ‘You two boy’s best be fucking still or I’ll rip this little fuckers head clean off and watch as I make you fuck the hole!’

  ‘Dotty!?’ Ted questioned, shocked at what he saw and heard.

  Martin put a hand upon Teds shoulder and whispered in his ear, ‘That’s not Dotty. It’s Varula. I think she is hungry.’

  ‘Hungry for what?’

  ‘Not you Daddy.’ ‘Just him!’ Dotty pointed toward the Marksman. ‘I yearn for sweeter meats.’

  Martin reached down toward the gun slung low at his side but Varula had that covered off and she squeezed Simon’s throat tighter. Simons face turned an interesting shade of blue, tears ran down from his eyes and mixed with the snot from is nose. It looked like he was trying to scream but the grip was too tight. Thankfully the boy knew not to struggle but his eyes were screaming for freedom.

  ‘No guns, Marksman, not unless you want to see this young colts head rolling around the floor.’

  ‘What have you done with my daughter?’

  Dotty turned to her father; her eyes still wide and Ted wondered if whatever it was that controlled his daughter had even blinked since entering the room.

  ‘I’m still here Daddy. Don’t worry; I have mades a deal with her. She aint gonna harm ya.’ For a moment, behind those wide eyes, Ted knew that his daughter was still there.

  And then she was gone again. ‘That’s right, Daddy, you is safe as long as I gets him.’ Once again its attention turned toward the Marksman.

  Dotty moved further into the room seemingly unhindered by the boy she was dragging around. Her clothes were wet with sweat and the air was growing hot and musty. The young girl spat out a wad of phlegm and it hit the floor with a glorious splat.

  ‘I have been hidden for too long, Marksman. Its time you and I danced and I fulfil this fucking curse put upon me all those years ago. Eons have passed, men have come and gone, trees have sprouted from seed and I have seen them grow into huge towering beasts. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires. I have seen marvels of the sciences and great wars with cities bathed in fire. In that time I have consumed and I have starved, I have been satisfied and I have been left wanting for so much more and now it’s time for me to stop playing games and get on with what I do best.’

  Dotty inched Simon to the side making sure her grip was still tight and raised the glowing ball so that it was head height wit
h the young man. It pulsed frantically and its white light filled the room. Ted edged away making himself merely a shadow behind the Marksman whom remained stock still.

  Martin could feel Varula trying to climb inside his mind. He felt hands moving up and down his body; touching him, caressing him like a lover would on a cold winter’s eve when all there is to do is to survive and to fuck. Visions of women all with the same face filled his vision and they all yearned for his pleasure. They needed him and seemingly he needed them. He could be with them, let it all go and be free of this wretched land and this meaningless life he was now leading.

  But his life wasn’t meaningless. He hunted. He was also being hunted. A man in black now entered his thoughts and it was this man that once again, though unintentionally, saved Martins life. He heard that bastard’s voice deep in the recesses of his mind. ‘Pull the trigger, Marksman’ it was saying ‘Pull the trigger and end the poor man’s life’.

  Though he didn’t want to; Martin knew it was the only option.

  Martin took in a deep breath, composed himself, rid his mind of the voice that was still tearing at his skin, turned his head and whispered softly to Ted, ‘I’m very sorry.’

  Before Ted could even act, before Ted could try and stop this man from killing his daughter the Marksman had raised his gun; its death barrel pointed at the three figures not ten paces away.

  ‘Fuck you.’ The Marksman said and the room was filled with the ancient echo of gunfire.

  Under that echo Ted was yelling his remonstrations but it was to no avail; a Marksman doesn’t miss.

  24

  Dotty released her grip on Simon’s throat and his lifeless body slumped to the floor. Unlike his father he hadn’t pissed his pants. At least he had that.

  The orb fell from Dotty’s other hand as she reeled back from the shock of the impact and she lifted her hands to her ears as the noise from the gunshot reverberated around the house. Dotty fell to the floor tears falling from her closed eyes in realisation of what she had caused.

  Varula rolled around the floor coming to rest by the armchair Ted had been sat at not ten minutes past. She was covered in Simon’s blood. She then voiced her concerns to the room.

  ‘You motherless cunt! You miserable, useless cunt! I’m going to fucking kill all you sons of whores and feast upon your worthless souls and when I am done with them I shall take that stupid little cunts one too!’ The orb pulsed with white light but it was motionless.

  Ted ran to his daughter’s aid and he knelt beside her trying to control the sobs. He could feel something trying to get into his head, a woman, no, women. They were trying to take him. Trying to seduce him. They wanted him and he wanted them. They were beautiful and they could be his if he just stopped looking after this needy little bitch beside him and went to them; went to her. But there was someone else with him now. A soft hand held his shoulder and stopped him from moving. He turned his mind’s eye to see who it was. It was another woman. Familiar but a stranger too. It was the voice that shook Ted’s thoughts.

  ‘You cannot have this man, Varula. He is meant for another path. He is not meant for you.’

  ‘Palaluka, what the fucks are you doing to me? Let me have him. Please. I need him. I have to have him.’

  ‘Leave him alone.’

  ‘I can’t. I have been hungry for too long. I must have him.’

  Ted felt a strong tug upon his body as white light filled his vision and forced the screaming voice from his head. In an instant his mind was clear and in the corner of the room, by the old chair, the orb was dull and quiet.

  25

  ‘Well if I can’t have him then I shall have to have you Marksman. I don’t need some foolish little cunt to do the work for me.’

  Martin could once again feel the sexual desires of the bitch orb scratching at his skin. The thoughts filled his mind with visions only seen in the darkest of whore houses and in the minds of deviants. Varula had now taken form in his mind’s eye; tall with dark hair blowing in the wind and eyes a deep radiant green.

  ‘Come on, Marksman. How long has it been? Too long I’d wager. Far too long. Let it go. Whatever it is you want it can wait. Just a little fuck, that’s I all want. I promise I will be gentle.’

  Martin could see Ted looking at him with concerned, scared eyes. He was still afraid for his daughter but there was no need to be. Not until the orb had had her fill would she seek a woman’s touch. It was men she was after.

  ‘Take your daughter upstairs, Ted. Stay there until I have dealt with this cunny bitch.’

  ‘That’s right, Ted. Off you go.’ Varula was addressing the room now, her singular obsession, her mind games all forgotten in desperation.

  Ted seemed oblivious to the order from the Marksman and he remained sat on the floor holding his weeping daughter.

  ‘Ted!’ the Marksman snapped, ‘Take your daughter and get the fuck upstairs. Now!’

  The farmer snapped out of the temporary fugue he was in and slowly rose to his feet. All the while he watched the orb. Not until he felt the strong grip of his daughter upon his weary shoulders did he turn his attention to Dotty. Struggling, he helped Dotty to her feet. As he turned to leave there came a terrible thrumming noise from outside. It sounded as if a thousand horses were stampeding across the fields. It was getting loader and loader and Ted struggled to think let alone hold onto his heavy set daughters whose cries where getting just as loud.

  Both men looked at each other and had the same idea.

  Flee!

  An object smashed through the front windows. The three of them barely had enough time to cover their faces as shards of glass and fragments of wood engulfed them. Bits of brick and mortar landed around them and the floor creaked under a great pressure. The force of the impact threw them back and onto their backsides; only Dotty remained on her feet and the Marksman wondered what on this earth, except for a bullet of course, would it take to fell this woman?

  Shaking the glass and wood from his hair the Marksman looked up to whatever it was that had smashed through the window and was now taking an interest in the lifeless body that lay on the floor. He wasn’t surprised to see the Angel of Death, his charred body in all its glory hunched slightly under the low ceiling, its wings tearing through chair fabric and its stench all around him.

  The angel turned to face the Marksman caring little for the two others in the room.

  ‘You have been busy, Marksman and it looks as though you have found what others have not been able to.’

  ‘More like it found me.’ Martin stood and brushed himself of.

  There was a loud thud and small moan. ‘What the hell is going on!?’ Ted said from the back of the room. Martin turned to find Dotty laying on the floor; unconscious, whilst Ted stood over her staring at the monster in front of him.

  ‘What the hell…’

  ‘Enough.’ It was Death who finished the sentence and with a wave of his hand Ted fell and lay on the floor next to his daughter.

  The room was growing hot and sticky and rancid. It reminded Martin of the old decaying Asylum back in Ritash; a hellish hole filled with the lowest of the lows left to rot in their own filth and depravity. Pointing to the orb he said,

  ‘I have fulfilled my part of the deal, Death. Varula is all yours.’

  ‘No I’m not. I’m nobodies, especially that stinking pile of bones and charred flesh.’

  ‘Silence whore. We have heard enough from you tonight and you have played enough tricks.’

  And so the orb fell silent, though the ball pulsed with light.

  ‘And all was dark and the Man God said ‘Let there be light’ and there was light.’ Remarked Ted without realising.

  ‘I thank you Marksman. You have no idea what this means for me.’

  Ted holstered his gun and scanned the room. Two unconscious strangers, a dead boy and somewhere back over the fields another man lay in the road covered in his own piss and blood. ‘Your thanks mean nothing. If that is all, I shall continue my
search for the Sorcerer. Take the orb and let no man gaze upon it until we are all but dust.’

  Death turned his featureless face toward the Marksman. This close and with no background noise Ted could hear the charred skin crushing against itself and under that noise the sound of bone against bone. It made his skin crawl and his teeth grind.

  ‘Sadly, Marksman, I need one more favour. Just a trifle one really. I would have been able to use this boy but it has moved on from here.’

  ‘What do you mean? I told you I don’t do riddles.’ Ted coughed, holding back his gag reflex as the scent of Death bore deeper into his lungs.

  ‘I am tired of this life. I want to be human again. That bitch over there, when the world was young, saved me from a life best forgotten and never retold, because I saved her. Now it’s time for her to give this life to another so that I may be free to walk the earth as a man again and in time; die as a man should die.’

  Ted looked at the body on the floor. ‘You were going to use the boy?’

  ‘Yes. But that draw of yours, coupled with that temper, were far too quick for me. I thought I had more time. Its soul has gone and is now nothing but an empty sack of skin. As useless in death as he was in life.’

  ‘Then what is it you want? Another? What do you want me to do? Walk into town and offer it up as a prize?’

  ‘Always dramatic, Marksman, always wanting to have the final word before you deal the death blow.’ Death walked across the room caring not for the glass beneath his feet nor the obstacles in his way.

  ‘It’s simple really,’ Death continued and he pointed to the two unconscious bodies on the floor, ‘He will do.’

  Martin’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head with disbelief.

  ‘What do you care, Marksman?’

  ‘Only that you expect me to kill that poor bastard and leave his retarded daughter to fend for herself. That isn’t a favour, it’s a fucking nightmare.’

  The air in the room became thicker, tense and still. The temperature started to rise and the stench became almost unbearable causing the Marksman to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his travel worn coat.