The Hunting of Malin

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  Luna’s forehead wrinkled, aging her ten years in the soft light. “Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

  Malin sharpened her gaze. “Is Violet really coming into town tomorrow or did you make that up?”

  “I made it up because I knew something was off.”

  Dropping the fork to the plate with a clatter, Malin pushed it away.

  Luna sat down in the chair next to her and took her hand. “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  “I don’t feel like talking about it right now.” Fighting back tears, she mourned her old job and knew finding anything remotely that enjoyable would be like finding a black cat in a coal cellar.

  “Oh Malin,” Luna breathed, patting the back of her hand. The disappointment in her tone made Malin feel like leaving before she could burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, sweet pea. I know how much you loved that job.”

  Malin pressed her lips together, despising the way her mother’s other hand instinctively went to the sapphire amulet hanging from her neck. Framed in white gold, seven sapphires made up the iris of the evil eye while twenty-nine small diamonds filled in the sclera – more of her superstitious bullshit. “Roscoe’s going to let me pick up some shifts at the bar,” Malin said, taking her hand back.

  “I’m sending you home with some money.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t need any money. Okay?”

  Luna stared at her for a bit, considering something inside her head. The central air kicked off with a loud click and everything got dead quiet. Her sunken eyes squeezed together, sending wrinkles jutting from the corners. “Are you sure there isn’t something else you are not telling me?”

  “Like what?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Mom, there’s nothing else.”

  Nodding faintly, Luna collected her thoughts. “Well, you can always move back into your old room and you know that.”

  “I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

  Luna took an unenthusiastic bite of her chickpea salad, watching Malin avoid her eyes. “Actually, I could use some help around here. I’m overbooked with healing appointments alone.”

  Malin rolled her eyes, unable to stop it. “You know that’s not my thing.”

  “How would you know?” She speared the salad with a fork. “I think you would be surprised by how much money you can make just doing a few quick readings.”

  “I’ll find something soon,” she said, rising from the table.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not really hungry and…I need to go do something.”

  “Well, don’t you dare go alone. Didn’t you hear what happened to that poor Holly Banner girl?”

  Malin’s back stiffened with a flash of Holly’s ashen face. “I did,” she muttered, grabbing her purse which suddenly felt full of rocks.

  “A horrible thing,” Luna whispered, hand gravitating back to the stupid necklace.

  Opening the front door, Malin pulled in the fresh air to clear her head. “Sorry about dinner.”

  “Wait!” Luna sprang from the chair and pulled the necklace over her head. “Take this.”

  “Mom, I’m fine.”

  “Malin Waterhouse you are a pretty, young woman and there is a killer on the loose. This necklace has protected our family for generations; now take it!”

  Malin’s gaze lowered to the amulet dangling from her mother’s fingers, bravely staring directly into the evil eye. Goose bumps rippled across her flesh like someone just raked their nails down a chalkboard. “That’s what my kickboxing classes are for,” she replied, leaving without looking back.

  Chapter8

  Bob was the killer and Malin was the bad news. She punched harder with each blow, only stopping for a kick to the ribs before returning to punishing strikes that sent him swinging to and fro. Streams of sweat stung her eyes and blurred her vision, but that didn’t slow her assault. She couldn’t hear Bob’s pleas for forgiveness over The Pretty Reckless blasting from her earbuds, and didn’t care. Tears fell, mixing with the shiny droplets scattered around her purple Nikes. A hand landed on her shoulder and Malin screamed, knocking it away with a quick backhand.

  Whitney jumped and dropped a duffel bag to the floor, a startled look bending her face into a frown. “I’m sorry,” she panted, covering her heart and biting back a laugh. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Malin pulled her earbuds out, struggling for air and feeling ridiculous. “Sorry, Whit. I thought you were a rapist. You taking off?” Her eyes roamed the small gym she hadn’t realized was now empty.

  Whitney picked the bag up and slung it over a shoulder. “That’s enough punishment for one night. I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

  Malin nodded, wiping sweat from her brow with a glove. After leaving Luna’s, she went straight to the gym and caught the last kickboxing class of the night. It would cost her extra money she didn’t have but she needed to hit something that wasn’t a brick wall. A broken hand would cost a lot more. “Can’t wait,” she replied, flexing the fingers on her right hand. “Great class tonight, Whit. Thanks.”

  Whitney gave her a tight smile and turned for the glass door up front. Stopping, she spun around on her heels and tilted her head to the side. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just trying to burn off a big lunch.” Malin stripped her wet gloves off, realizing she was soaked from head to toe. She cringed. Now she was going to have to shower in a public restroom, which was almost as bad as pooping in a public restroom.

  “Did you talk to Tor?”

  “No, I didn’t. And I don’t plan to either.”

  “Good.” They stared at each other for a few weird seconds before Whitney hiked the bag up her shoulder and smiled warmly. “See you Tuesday, sweetie. Maybe we can grab a smoothie afterwards.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “And take it easy on Bob. He has to work tomorrow!”

  Malin smiled, watching the glass door slowly shut behind her and lock in place. The wall scanner turned from green to red and Malin exhaled a pent-up breath, catching her reflection in a nearby mirror. She looked like a warrior in her black leggings and breezy tank top but she sure didn’t feel like one. Taking a long pull from a water bottle, she could feel her muscles already beginning to tighten. She overdid it and maybe tomorrow’s pain would help her forget that she found a dead girl in the woods yesterday.

  A sharp knock on the glass startled her. Spilling water down her chin, she turned to go let Whitney back in to retrieve whatever she left behind, and stopped dead. The black man with a Raiders ball cap tilted to the side waved weakly at Malin through the glass. She glanced behind her to make sure someone else wasn’t standing there but the place was empty. She was alone. Creeping closer, she watched him point at the door and say something she couldn’t make out through the glass. Her eyes darted to the sign taped to the door.

  Please do not open door for guests.

  Everyone must scan their card.

  Thank you!

  He knocked again, jerking her gaze back to him.

  Watching his breath fog the glass, she cupped a hand to an ear.

  “I forgot my card,” he yelled. “Can you let me in?”

  Malin swallowed thickly, sweat oozing from her pores as twilight settled in behind him. He wasn’t dressed for the gym and didn’t have a bag and this place didn’t have lockers you could store your stuff in overnight. It was a small 24-hour joint with one shower in each restroom. Then it hit her and she stopped breathing. What if? What if he was the one who killed Holly? Digging in, Malin bravely reached through the glass door with her mind to sample his flowing aura. It was a selfish attempt, more to figure out if she had the same shine as her mother than to stop another crime. Something pooled around her feet; something cold and dark that made her back away from the door. “Sorry,” she said, turning for a cubed shelf over by the punching bags. Wiping sweat from her face, she envisioned runnin
g into the poor man a day or two later on the treadmills and feeling like an absolute fool. He’d probably think she was racist. Pretty little white girl scared of the big black man with a Raiders hat. Malin stopped walking and sighed. She was being ridiculous. Overly sensitive to everything after what happened yesterday.

  The man pounded so hard on the glass, she thought it would shatter. Her heart jumped into her throat and she didn’t turn around. It was pointless to turn around now because she definitely wasn’t letting him in after a violent knock like that but she had to know. Was he holding a knife in one hand and a noose in the other? Grinning like the Cheshire Cat? A polite rap on the door tugged at her attention. Slowly rotating her head, the man smiled and said something about something.

  Inching closer, Malin searched his oversized shirt and baggy jeans for the outline of a gun or knife. “What’s that?”

  “You need a ride or anything?” he yelled through the door.

  Her face soured and a fly landed on the glass between them. Retreating, she walked away with determined steps that said I’m not turning back around no matter what so fuck off and die creep. At the shelf, she grabbed her keys and cellphone, wondering how long she’d have to hole up in here until the dipshit got bored and went away. Her car was close, but not close enough to keep her from getting her throat slit, especially since she had to physically unlock it with a key. No remote access on a ’93 Miata. And the way her hands were shaking, she’d be lucky not to drop the keys like some walking cliché in a horror movie.

  It was so quiet now, she had to look. Was he still there? Watching? Grinning? If so, she might have to call the police and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Right now, she just wanted to go home and eat an entire frozen pizza while watching a bad episode of 2 Broke Girls. Pulse thudding in her ears, she slowly turned to the door, planning on holding up her phone in a threatening manner. Her eyes widened. He was gone and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. The guy was obviously screwing with her and not knowing where he was frightened her more than anything else. Sneaking closer to the door, she leaned against it and searched the lot. The backend of twilight was in full swing, turning everything a grayish-blue that cloaked the ground in creeping shadows. Glass cold beneath her palms, she expected him to jump out at any second and scare the living hell out of her because that was the kind of weekend she was having. Cars traveled by on the frontage road snaking along the other side of the lot, oblivious to her dilemma. She willed their headlights to pull in because now she couldn’t leave until someone was here to call the police when he jumped out from behind something and attacked her. But the cars kept going to whatever dinner party or movie they had planned for the evening, none the wiser, laughing and smiling, happy as clams.

  Malin backed away from the door as if it were slowly turning to ice. She looked down at her phone and stared at the screen. She could call the police right now but by the time they showed up the guy would be long gone – if he wasn’t already. Her eyes rose to the domed security cameras dotting the ceiling. Hanging her head, she groaned, contemplating her next move.

  Heading for the shelf with her bag, her pulse skyrocketed. Bob swung back and forth like he just took a hard right from someone, gluing her shoes to the gym mat. Without moving her head – as if even the slightest movement might give her position away – her eyes darted around the empty gym, searching the far corners for whoever just cracked Bob a good one. Breathless, her jumpy gaze landed on the bathrooms. She imagined herself pulling a shower curtain back in a clatter. Of course, the stall would be empty but he would be there when she turned around. Waiting with a noose.

  Taking a step toward closer, Malin stopped and decided to take her chances outside. Something told her not to go in the restrooms under any circumstance, so she put her keys through her fingers and balled them into a fist, turning herself into a female Wolverine. Gathering her things, she stopped at the door and searched the parking lot before looking back over her shoulder. Bob was still again. An unnerving silence throbbed in her ears. Taking a shallow breath, she pushed on the door’s crossbar and stepped out into the night. The breeze was cold against her wet tank top, the sky a bruised shade of purple. Her car seemed to get further away with each hurried step. The lot was mostly empty and her pulse raced. Mentally, she rehearsed jabbing the man in the chin with the keys before laying a sidekick to his leg that would bring him to his knees, exposing him to Malin’s infamous finishing move: a roundhouse to the face. Blowing out a steadying breath, she stopped at her car and quickly dismantled the homemade key-fist, struggling to unlock the damn door.

  “So, hey lady, how’s about that ride?”

  Malin dropped the keys and wanted to kill herself for doing so. Looking up, she noticed the guy with a crooked Raiders cap stroll out from a fenced-in garbage bin across the lane. Blood rushed through her veins and, in the few seconds it took to retrieve the keys and unlock the door, a vision of him slamming her against the trunk and yanking her leggings down whisked through her mind on a malodorous breeze.

  “I just live around the corner on 6th,” he told her, walking closer with a dip in his gait.

  Malin yanked the car door back, narrowly missing a knee, and climbed inside, slamming it shut and thanking the good Lord the top was already up.

  His face warped when she locked the doors in front of him. “No worries,” he shouted, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. “How you doin on cash?”

  He reached into his baggy jeans and she started the engine. Her eyes snagged on the purple amethyst in the cup holder and she almost held it up to the glass. Shifting into reverse instead, she decided to hell with the cops in favor of putting three hundred yards between her and psycho stalker right fucking now. Malin gave it some gas, ignoring his outstretched hand and focusing on not backing into a lamp pole that would beach her like a ship on the rocks.

  “Here’s a few hundie. It’s all I got but I can get more!” He gestured with a wad of bills that Malin barely saw because she was too busy throwing it in gear and flying out of the lot. Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he graciously grew smaller in the rearview mirror, fading into the throbbing shadows.

  “Jesus,” she panted, taking a sharp left and hammering on the accelerator. “What the hell was that?”

  Chapter9

  It was the dead of night again, but not at Mortimer Woods. This time, Malin found herself out at Clearwater Lake with no idea how she got there. It was peaceful and serene, the stars peeking through an umbrella of trees as bright as the flashlight in someone’s hand. Moonlight glittered across the glassy water in the distance while Malin hid behind a tree and held her breath. Her back tightened down the middle when a man shoved someone to the leaf-covered ground. A girl screamed and tried to get back up but her bound hands made it easy for him to push her down again. Pulling a hood up higher on a beige Carhartt, he stood over the trembling blond with his head tilted to one side, silently deliberating her fate while she frantically pleaded for her life through falling tears. Wet sounding words fell on deaf ears, making one thing very clear: he wasn’t here to listen.

  Malin looked around, barefoot and terrified. A breeze rustled the leaves. Shadows cloaked his face and, somehow, she’d been pulled into something. Her palms turned sweaty against the rough bark when the bastard took a boxcutter from his coat and slit the girl’s t-shirt open, exposing a black sports bra beneath. She screamed and he socked her one time in the mouth, reducing her cries of protest to a garbled sobbing. Shaking the pain from his hand, the wind carried the man’s subsequent laughter across the lake, scaring up a nighthawk hunting the shoreline. He rested his hands on his hips and filled his chest, watching her melt into a puddle of despair on the ground. There wasn’t a soul around at this hour and the sonofabitch clearly took pleasure from her cries of pain. Coming closer with the boxcutter, he made a threatening lunge that drew a high-pitched shriek from her broken lips. The girl scooted backwards in running shorts and pressed up against a
tree, blubbering something about her parents having money. Kneeling, he held the boxcutter up to her face, making her crack the back of her head against the tree trunk. Moonlight winked off the sharp steel. The wind stirred up the leaves and dirt around them. He said something Malin couldn’t hear, reviving the poor girl’s hopeless begging.

  Malin searched the area for help even though she knew they were alone. A stick snapped beneath her feet and the man jerked his gaze in her direction, stealing her breath. Jumping behind the tree, her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she feared he would hear it. Closing her eyes and trying to control her frantic breathing, she imagined him coming closer and had to know if he was. Had to know if he was already standing on the other side of the tree, ready to slit her throat. Dragging in a shaky breath, she barely peeked around the trunk. His tight gaze jerked right to her, turning her legs to stone, and there was no disguising the evil in his eyes. Footsteps crept up from behind and Malin suddenly knew the fiend had a partner in crime and she was about to meet the same grisly fate as Holly Banner. Turning ever so slowly, she found herself staring up into the bottomless eyes of a ten-point buck. The massive creature snorted. Smoke rushed from its flaring nostrils, warm against Malin’s cheeks.

  The blond took advantage of the distraction and kicked the killer in the nuts. Springing to her feet, she made a run for it. He gave chase, scaring off the deer and traversing the darkened trees with an uncanny ease. Hesitating, Malin followed. Rocks and sticks dug into the soles of her feet. The marina lights flickered into view across the lake before vanishing behind the foliage once again. Flashlight pumping, the killer chased the girl down and Malin could barely keep up. Her legs burned and her feet hurt but she didn’t have to go much further because the blond tripped and fell to her stomach, driving the wind from her lungs. The killer pounced, plunging the boxcutter into her back with a vociferous grunt and yanking it to her tailbone, unzipping her like a dinner dress. Skidding to a stop in the wide open, Malin let out a hair-raising scream. The killer’s head snapped around and she awoke in her sweat soaked bed, the ceiling fan a whirling blur in the early morning light.