by Kris Norris
“Gil! So much…oh God…now, now, now!”
Her screams filled the room, mixed with the sounds of wet thrusts and male groans. Like a symphony, it rose, gathering strength until the very walls vibrated with the heady sounds of sex. The room dipped and swayed, suspending her on the verge of consciousness, when Charlie roared out behind her, spurting the first hot jet of semen into her ass. It coated her anal walls, heating her already enflamed tissues.
“Charlie! Oh God, yes!”
Her cry of release was followed by Gil’s, his ejaculation filling her channel until the excess seeped out around his cock, coating her thighs and his stomach. Darkness merged with light, fire swept through her body as her final orgasm shook her to the core, clenching the muscles in her groin so tight both men stopped, held prisoner by her body. She could hear them groaning, trying to push through the last of their release. She opened her mouth for one last soundless scream before collapsing on Gil’s chest, her body totally spent.
“Damn it. I’ve never come so hard in my life. You’re amazing.” Gil brushed his hand down the curve of her back as he pulled her even closer. “Just breathe, Fallon. Everything’s okay.”
The words came from far away, as if spoken from another room. She tried to open her eyes, but nothing seemed to work. She sighed, content to let the men move her once they were done.
“Thank you, baby.” Gil’s words seared through her heart, the love in them overwhelming. His lips were soft against her ear as he kissed her gently. “I’ll always remember this night.”
Fallon mumbled something against his chest, too exhausted to form words. She felt Gil smile at her attempt, smoothing his hand down her hair and across her shoulders. The last thing she heard was Charlie’s groan of pleasure as he pulled free from her body, and kissed her on the cheek, whispering his thanks, his devotion. Then the world faded into Gil’s heartbeat and hers.
Fallon opened her eyes as the scene shifted around her. Suddenly she was standing in a warehouse, the smell of decay and urine heavy in the air. She looked around, hoping to see the way out when the sound of gunfire filled the air. She screamed, ducking behind a large box as more shots and a loud blast echoed through the empty space. Men shouted in the distance, their feet thudding against the floor, followed by cries of pain and more shots. She covered her ears, needing to dull the sharpness of the pleas. She’d never heard men beg for their lives, and the sound tore through her chest. It seemed never ending. Shots. Screams. More shots. She waited until a bleak silence fell over the warehouse before she turned to leave. She twisted behind the box, crawling towards the rear of the building, just as two men moved in front of her, one carrying the other across his shoulders. They were dim against the shadows, their faces blurred into the surroundings. She edged forward, fear holding her captive, as the smaller man placed the other man on the floor, catching his head before it hit the dusty wood.
“Damn it, Charlie, don’t do this to me.”
The man cursed as he shook his friend by the shoulder. She moved closer, needing to see the man’s face.
“You promised we’d always be partners. Now wake the fuck up!”
Gil! Her heart slammed into her chest as she recognised the man kneeling over the other. His chest was covered in blood, a black patch burnt into the left side of his shoulder. He was coughing up blood, desperately trying to rouse his partner. She looked down, nausea washing over her as she stared at Charlie’s face. His skin was white and his face was frozen in a grimace. She could tell by the way his head lolled to one side he was dead, but Gil wasn’t giving up. He pressed down on the wounds, too many to count, and breathed his own laboured breath into Charlie’s mouth.
“Live, damn you!” he yelled, pumping down on Charlie’s chest, making the blood run from his body.
Fallon stepped forward unable to look away, needing to share in Gil’s pain. But they moved with her, always staying a step away.
“No! Please, Gil!”
Sirens blared in the distance, rain fell against a grease-smeared window, as Gil battled against death. Slowly his body succumbed to his injuries, until he lay beside his partner, his eyes open, but unseeing. Fallon sank to the floor, unable to move. Tears fell, sobs wrenched from her chest as she watched her lover slowly dying. She felt his pain, his regrets, knowing even if he lived he’d be lost to her forever. She put her hands to her head, trying to block out the sudden blast of music in her head.
Fallon bolted upright, clawing at the images tumbling across the darkness. Gil, his body shuddering in the cold, blood slowly leaking from his shoulder. Charlie, lifeless, splayed out on the floor as thick pools of blood gathered around him. She could taste the metallic scent, hear the desperate gasps, feel the guilt pour through her as her hand lunged out, grabbing the annoying object off the small table. Words collided in her head, as she flipped the phone open, mumbling the first line that popped into her mind.
“9-1-1, do you need police…” She stopped, unsure of what to say. She didn’t know where she was, or what time it was. A man breathed on the other end, and for a moment, she thought it was Gil.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I need?”
The voice was deep and dark, like the sound of evil clawing up from the depths of Hell. She felt her body tense, a cold shiver shimmy down her spine. “What?”
There was a moment of silence before the eerie words wavered over the line. “I said, ‘aren’t you going to ask me what I need’?”
Fallon pulled the phone away and stared at it for a moment, finally registering where she was. Home, however dismal and empty, she was home, tucked into her bed. She placed it back beside her ear, not sure what was happening. “What do you need?”
A rough cackle filtered through the static and she cringed at the menace the sound carried. “Well, it’s a little late for the ambulance, but I’m certain the police would love to stop by and take a look at my work.”
“And what work is that?” she asked, staring into the darkness, afraid the sound might be coming from one of the shadows.
“I save sinners from their sins. I restore their faith and free their soul.”
“And how do you do that?”
The man sighed, a hint of remorse edged in his voice. “I purify them.”
A wave of heat flashed through her, but she pushed the dizzying feeling away. She needed to keep focused. Somehow this psycho had dialled the wrong number and she needed to get as much information as possible to give to the police. “Okay. I’ll send the police your way. Where are you?”
“Where… 195 Mortimer Street. It used to be the old gospel church. It’s on the right.”
“And what’s your name?”
He laughed then, a grating sound that seemed to echo off her bedroom walls. “You can call me, The Priest.”
Fallon frowned into the phone. The Priest. Couldn’t he have come up with a better code name than that? She shook her head, ready to ask her next question, when he spoke to her again.
“What’s your name?”
“I go by operator number. Would you like that?”
He chuckled and she knew the bastard was smiling. “I’ll just call you, Angel. Goodnight, Angel. And don’t worry, we’ll talk again real soon.”
Fallon listened to the phone disconnect, the empty air loud in her ear. She went to press her recall button when the image slammed into her head, the picture so bright, so clear, it knocked her back against the mattress. She screamed out, thrashing against the visions filling her mind, as they pulled her into another place. An altar, dotted with candles, centred on the sculpture of Christ. A woman’s body spread across it, her limbs hanging lifeless towards the floor. She was young with blonde hair that melded into red, the ends still dripping blood onto the smooth wood. Her body was slashed in long strips that seemed to spiral out from her abdomen, ending at the tips of her fingers. Her eyes were open and dull, staring up towards the heavens. Fallon looked closer at the girl’s chest. Just above her left breast was an intric
ately carved cross, the edges curved and sculpted. She’d never seen anything like it before. Her eyes followed the lines, tracing their path until they stopped at the woman’s groin.
Fallon turned away, unable to look at what the monster had done. God, there was so much blood it ran in rivulets down her thighs, collecting in the toes of her high heeled shoes. She couldn’t imagine what he’d stuck inside her, but it’d shredded the woman’s cunt. She tried to cover her eyes, when a dim silhouette moved in the distance. She drew her hand over her brow, shielding herself from the glare of the candles, just as a man opened the door. He was large, with blonde hair sprinkled with grey and a long black coat. His hand hung down by his side, absently twitching a knife against his leg. He paused for only a moment, his back to the altar, his head tilted to one side before stepping into the rain, his outline vanishing into the night. Fallon moved to follow when a pain ignited in her temples, dropping her to the floor. The room began to sway, dipping first right, then left. She heard the phone tumble to the floor, saw the lightning flash outside her window, a moment before her eyes rolled back in her head, pulling into oblivion.
Chapter Four
Fallon pried her eyelids apart, squinting at the bright light casting long shadows in her room. She was lying on the floor beside her bed, a blanket crumpled at her feet. She pushed herself up, only to fall back down at the pain that speared through her temples. A muted moan feathered from her lips as she tried to remember how the hell she’d gotten on the floor.
“Oh God.” She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her head as images flip-flopped across the darkness, blurring together memories from the previous night. Gil, his tongue curled around her nipple as Charlie stroked his along the velvety skin of her soft inner lips. Twin cocks thrusting inside her, shattering her sanity as she climaxed over and over before falling asleep on Gil’s chest, Charlie’s whispered thanks following her into the darkness. The shooting. Both men covered in blood, lying beside each other as sirens echoed through the building. A man’s voice, dark and hushed, calling to her in the dead of night. A woman…
“No!” Fallon forced herself up, ignoring the way the room dipped and swayed as she searched for her phone. She found it buried beneath the blanket, the lid still hinged open. She pressed the buttons, searching the call history, needing to see what number belonged to the bastard from her dream.
“What?” It didn’t make any sense. The only number that had called her cell was an old number from the office. She frowned, remembering Jane’s call. The room circled again and Fallon closed her eyes, grabbing the table to stop the rotation. She touched a button on her cell without opening her eyes.
“Radio communications, Colleen.”
“Colleen, it’s Fallon.”
“Hey, Fallon. How are you? I was surprised they hadn’t called you in yet?”
“I need a day off. Hey, do me a favour? Look at last night’s history and see if there were any calls to…” Damn, what was the number? “…the 100 block of Mortimer Street.”
“Sure thing, Fallon. Hey, is everything okay? You sound…different.”
“I’m fine.” She paused as she listened to Colleen typing on the keyboard. “Well?”
“Sorry, Fallon. I don’t see anything on Mortimer Street. Not for the past few days.”
“Damn.” She bit her bottom lip, wondering what to do. If she let it go, and the call had been real, then the police would never catch the guy. But if she’d only dreamt it? “Hey Colleen. Do you think you could send a unit over there, say to maybe 195, and have them take a look around? You could say you got an anonymous call about a suspicious male hanging around there last night.”
“If you think there’s a need.” Colleen paused and Fallon knew the woman was more than puzzled.
“Look. I took a drive that way last night and I’m not sure if I saw something or not. And I’d rather not have the guys tease me about it for the next few weeks if it turns out everything’s okay.”
“Alright, Fallon. I’ll send Ken and Jeff that way. They’re just hanging at the coffee shop anyway.”
“Thanks, Colleen. I owe you one.”
Fallon hung up the phone, still staring at the number flashing on the screen. No evidence the guy had ever called her, but there was something about the dream she’d had of the woman. She’d only ever had two other visions like that and they’d both…
“Stop it!” she hissed, picking herself off the floor. “I’m not crazy and I’m not having visions again. It was probably just a dream. I’m just working too much.” She nodded as she headed for the closet. A long ride down a hard trail was just the ticket to clear her head. And erase the images, especially the ones of Gil. Damn, she could feel the slick slide of juices along her velvety lips as she remembered the dream, and the last thing she needed was to get herself so damn horny even a session with her vibrator wouldn’t stem the need. She sighed. Jane was right. She needed a man, even if it was just for sex. Maybe she’d go to Jane’s barbeque after all.
24 Hours Later
“God, damn. He struck again!” Gil slammed down the phone, and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair.
Wade looked over at him, his lips pulled tight. “Where?”
“Some obscure church over on Mortimer Street. Looks like the girl’s been dead for close to two days already. Seems they lock the damn thing up on Tuesday night and don’t check back in ‘til this morning.” He wrinkled his nose as he pushed his arms through his sleeves. “I can’t imagine how bad it’s going to be in there.”
“Want me to check it out alone?” asked Wade, zipping his jacket as he followed Gil out the door.
Gil shot Wade a knowing glare over his shoulder as he ducked out into the rain and headed for his truck. “Thanks, Junior. But we both need to be there. Let’s just hope the bastard left something behind this time.”
Wade nodded, climbing into the passenger seat. “He can’t evade us much longer. We’ll get him.”
Gil sighed as he revved the engine and pulled into traffic. “Keep on saying that. Maybe you can make it come true.”
* * * *
“Hi, Fallon. I thought you had another day off?”
Fallon shrugged her shoulders. She’d intended to take a few days off, but the dream had gotten her so worked up, she’d figured the best way to kill the images was to immerse herself in work. So she’d accepted another overtime shift. “Just doing my part to help out.”
“Well it’s crazy over in the southwest precinct. Seems they found another body.”
Fallon stiffened. She’d called back the other day, but her address had turned out to be a beauty salon, minus any dead blondes. “What body?”
“You know, that serial guy… what’s the press calling him… the minister or something. He’s killed a bunch of women in Olympia and Tacoma. I guess he’s moving north. Seems he killed another girl over on the south side a couple of nights ago. Boys said the scene was pretty gruesome.”
Fallon felt her stomach heave and the blood drain from her face. “Where? Where did they find her?”
“On Mortimer Street. 915 I think… an old gospel church. Hey, Fallon, are you okay? You don’t look so good? Maybe you should take the day off after all?”
Fallon heard the words, but couldn’t seem to speak. 915. She’d mixed up the numbers, or he had. Either way, the image had been real. She backed away from the desk, panic rearing inside her. This couldn’t be happening, not again. The visions…
“Fallon? Aren’t you going to sign in? Fallon…”
Fallon muffled a scream as the scene played in her head again. The woman, draped across the altar, her hair matted with blood. Spiral lashes covering her body, dripping blood onto the dark wooden floor. And the cross… it was so intricate. All curves and whirls. It must have taken hours to carve into her skin. Had the girl still been alive?
She covered her ears, a ragged cry echoing in her head. She didn’t know if it was hers or the woman from the dream, but it was the las
t thing she heard before she hit the floor.
* * * *
“No. You aren’t coming into work for a week, and that’s final!”
Jane’s voice was strong and firm, and Fallon knew there’d be no debating it. “I’m fine, Jane, really.”
“Oh, is that so? First you answer your cell as 9-1-1. Then you start calling in anonymous tips, and now you pass out at the desk. I don’t quite see how that measures up to, ‘fine’.”
“I had a headache and stood up too fast, that’s all,” insisted Fallon.
“Nice try, girl, but I know for a fact you never even sat down.”
“Technicalities.” She paused. “Hey wait. How did you know about the tip?”
“I have my ways,” said Jane, with a tone so smug Fallon wanted to reach through the phone and wipe the woman’s smile right off her face. “Look, you’re one of our best operators. But if you don’t take some time for yourself, you’re going to burn out, and then where will I be?”
“Glad to see you’re so worried about my future.”
“You know what I mean. Take a week. Go out on a date. Get yourself laid…and not necessarily in that order.” She paused, and Fallon wondered what her friend was thinking. “Um, Fallon? That tip you called in. Wasn’t it on Mortimer Street?”
Fallon tensed. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain that to anyone without ending up locked up on the psychiatric floor of Harborview. “Yes,” she said, trying not to sound too nervous. “I believe it was.”
“Wow. That’s the same street they found that girl. Kind of creepy if you ask me.”
“Look, Jane…”
“Sorry. My mind is made up. I don’t want you anywhere near the station for at least a week. I’ll check in with you on Wednesday, and see how you’re doing. Oh, and don’t forget the barbeque on Sunday. Brad brought Jackson by last night. The guy’s hot. And he’s into all those extreme things you do, so you guys would be a great match. But it might be wise to get a bit of sex before hand, so you don’t come across so needy.”
