by Mia Thompson
Sapphire’s hands shot up when she saw the gun. Shelly cocked it and Sapphire closed her eyes, waiting for the end. At least in death, she wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore.
When nothing happened, she opened her eyes to see Shelly’s hand shaking. Her teeth clenched and her eyes bulged. She screamed, as if being torn apart from the inside.
“Go!” Shelly yelled, finger still on the trigger. “Run!”
Sapphire sprinted for the door. Then came the biggest rumble yet.
The walls rattled around them, and the floor pulsated erratically. As the magnitude grew, Sapphire realized it. What they felt before weren’t aftershocks; they were foreshocks.
The earthquake escalated and the floor groaned with strain. Sapphire watched the cracks spread out over the tower’s old walls like cobwebs.
She looked back at Shelly, knowing the floor would collapse and Shelly would plunge down with it. Sapphire eyed the trunk against the wall, then launched toward Shelly and grabbed her.
They dove into the trunk, just as the roof caved and the bell crumpled. The floor crashed down and they tumbled into the dark hollow.
• • •
William looked at what little remained of the church. The “hallway” in front of him was cloudy with debris. Some walls still stood, while others lay in piles of stone and wood. The roof was gone, and the black sky with its bright stars peered down at him. The altar was the only room still partly intact. He did the right thing by diving into the coat closet when he felt the first foreshock.
He spotted a limp hand, white with dust, sticking out from a crushed trunk. He grabbed the broken beam from on top of it, and pushed it off. The lid was jammed and he had to kick off the hinges to open it. His eyes landed on her. She was beat up, bloody, unconscious, and not his daughter. It was the silly woman who thought she could outsmart a killer.
Lesson number one in tying up a victim: never use duct tape during a southern Californian summer. Moments after she left, the tape’s glue wilted in the heat and peeled off his sweaty body.
He picked her up, then flung her body into the debris with distaste, and dug into the trunk again.
Sapphire lay curled, cat-like against the back. He pulled her out, and gingerly wiped her face free of dust and blood. He put his ear to her mouth and sighed from relief when he heard her breathing. At last, he’d have his daughter.
His eyes drew to the trunk’s floor where a gun lay on top of a preacher’s robe. He shoved it in his pant lining before he took Sapphire in his arms. He peered down at the woman who’d kidnapped him and made sure to step on her fingers when he passed.
Take her. The Hunger wanted… what was the name she’d rambled during her speech? Shelly? Yes, he wanted Shelly dead.
“Let’s not waste time. I finally have what I came here for.”
Do you? The Hunger played a magnificent scenario. At the end of the scene, William got all he wanted.
He balanced his daughter against his chest so he could pat his inner pocket. Yes, he still had his new concoction and it would help him turn her.
William looked down at Sapphire’s body, limp in his arms. She looked innocent, just like when she was a baby. His baby.
Something inside William clicked. Why was he doing this? Before he found out what happened at the country club, hadn’t he always wanted Sapphire to stay out of his world? William’s life was a viscous cycle of pain, impulse, and solitude. He wanted his family, but not at the cost of his child’s soul.
The Hunger released the order again, trying to push the thoughts away.
“What do you care if Sapphire comes or goes?” William snapped.
Bait, The Hunger answered in satisfaction. Once Sapphire turned, she would make them trust her. Then she would bring them to William in heaps so he could kill them. You get to play family, and I get all I can eat.
William stood frozen, his little girl in his arms. He’d won against The Hunger before, maybe he could do it again. Maybe he could silence the voice and set Sapphire free.
A sharp pain stabbed William in the gut. He moaned and nearly dropped Sapphire as he fell to his knees in the ruins.
Then what happens? The Hunger’s poisonous declaration was overbearing. Lonely, lonely, lonely, William. The voice filled his stomach with pain and his head with commands. The doubt was gone and he stood, feeling stronger than ever. The Hunger forced a grin to his lips.
Deep down, what little was left of him knew there was no turning back after this. To extinguish Sapphire’s humanity, was to extinguish the last of his own. Never again would he win against The Hunger.
Never would there be silence in William Dubois’ mind.
Chapter 21
Sapphire opened her eyes.
When the floor caved in, she’d thought she was dead. A dark death was a reprieve from the guilt that had been weighing her down. Now it all returned.
Sapphire sat up and coughed. She was bleary-eyed and tried to squint to decipher her surroundings.
She grabbed onto a wooden surface next to her, then rose and took a step forward. Her leg yanked back and something behind her rattled. She rubbed her eyes and they focused.
Her ankle was looped in a chain that was locked under a pew next to her. In front of her, the church’s altar was lit by dozens of candles. In the center sat a table, and on top of it lay something covered with a white sheet. Her father, clad in a black preacher’s robe, lit another candle.
Then she saw the gun that had been placed right in front of her. She grabbed it and aimed it at him, though it was pointless. Shooting him would mean killing Julia. “What are you doing?”
Her father turned, a wide smile dressing his darkened face. “Good, you’re awake. We’re almost ready.”
“Ready for what?” Sapphire eyed his robe and the altar. “You do religious sacrifice now too?”
Her father looked down at his robe. “Oh, no. I’m quite fond of this suit and I found this in the trunk. Blood spatter is murder to get out.” He laughed. “Me, religious? Please. God is a human invention. God would mean there was an order to the universe, Sapphire. I can guarantee you there is no such thing.”
Sapphire looked back at the chain and yanked again. “And what makes you think you’re special enough to have figured out the secrets of the universe?”
Her father shrugged. “Had life been predestined, I wouldn’t have been able to kill as many as I have.” Her father walked over to a group of candles and picked up a knife. He turned it in his hand. “Sometimes, I pick a random person, just to see. No justice, no reason, no one’s will other than my own.”
Sapphire shivered at her father’s words, his evil. She pulled at the pew, trying to lift it so she could slide the chain out. She groaned at the weight, unable to budge it.
“We’re all God, Sapphire,” he continued. “We have the power to do what we wish. Everything else—”
“What do you want?” Sapphire was tired of being preached at and toyed with.
He walked over to the white sheet. “I want you to join my world, where there will be no hiding of your true self, no obligations.” He removed the sheet swiftly. “I want you to kill her.”
Sapphire stared at Shelly McCormick who lay tied to the table by her arms and legs.
“I won’t.” As Sapphire said it, a strange, opposing feeling rose inside her.
“Why? Because society’s propaganda has told you it’s wrong. Mankind’s almighty law.” He waved his hands in mock fear. “The same law that tells you acts of vigilantism are illegal.”
Sapphire shook her head, to try to push away the cloudy feeling.
“You’ve heard it, haven’t you?” Her father nodded. “That voice inside, revealing your true nature.”
Sapphire stared at her father as the appalling realization set it. She’d heard it. It had grown clearer and clearer over the summer.
“The moment before you pull that trigger, you’ll feel terrible. But when you do it…” he exhaled and closed his eyes, “
you’ll accept who you really are and I promise that the thing that’s been torturing you, eating away inside you, will vanish.”
She’s dangerous. An encouraging thought whispered. Her family will be better off without her.
A dark fog invaded Sapphire’s mind. Everything felt strange, looked strange. Colors and figures warped around her. “What about Julia… the phone call…”
“Sapphire, we both know there was never a friend. Just like you, I don’t truly have friends. There’s nobody chasing Julia. It was a bluff, but you already knew that didn’t you? Just like you know what you really are.”
Did I? Sapphire wondered in the thick haze. The black fog spread to her muscles.
Her father was right, she realized. Sapphire was already a cruel person who’d performed a cruel act, now she just had to commit to it. Then she’d be free from the guilt and sorrows that had plagued her for months.
The consuming fog was everywhere. When Sapphire looked at the table, she no longer saw Shelly McCormick, the girl she’d befriended at the fair. She saw a target that carried all her pain. She saw her salvation.
Kill her. The thought urged. You’re no better than the men you’ve trapped.
“Shoot her,” her father pushed.
In midst of the heavy miasma, Sapphire raised the gun toward Shelly and placed her finger on the trigger.
• • •
Aston turned the headlights off before he pulled into the parking lot.
His head was still fuzzy, but he felt better.
After he wrestled four nurses, who were trying to pin him back in bed, he’d confiscated a cab and raced toward the station. He was thankful someone, Barry most likely, had left him a change of clothes at the hospital; a sweaty bare ass on a leather seat was the worst. He was on the road when the earthquake hit and didn’t feel a thing. The radio gave him the news.
He knew the station could use his help, but he had to find Sapphire. She’d gone to meet her father hours ago, and she still wasn’t picking up. He’d called her non-stop since he woke up.
He’d almost been back in Beverly Hills when he saw he had two voicemails and played them.
“Hi, Aston, this is Ginnifer.” She gave a nervous laugh. “You know, the caretaker. I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch some time? I really enjoyed your comp—”
Aston had pressed a button to let the next message play.
“Detective Ridder,” the familiar voice sounded. “This is Detective Meadows. I just wanted to inform you that we searched Bennett Rivers’ dating profiles and found that the last woman he dated doesn’t exist. A fake. We managed to track her account to its Internet source. I don’t suppose the name Shelly McCormick rings a bell?”
A bell? It rung the fucking Big Ben. Shelly McCormick fit the profile he and Barry drew up for the Copycat like a glove.
Aston U-turned the second the memory of Shelly McCormick’s rescue popped into his head.
So here he was, at the parking lot of the abandoned church—now crumbled—unsure if his shot in the dark was instinct or insanity.
Aston stepped out of his car and saw the faint flickering light escape from a glassless window. He approached the building and went to pull out his sidearm. Aston held back a roar. Fuck. He forgot he didn’t have his gun.
Armed with nothing, Aston climbed a pile of bricks to reach the tall window. He peered inside and took in the panoramic scene. Sapphire stood in the aisle and pointed a gun at the altar where a man, holding a knife, moved. It wasn’t until he turned his head that Aston saw it was William Dubois. Shelly McCormick lay unconscious in the center, tied to a table. Not the scenario Aston had expected.
You can do it. Shoot him. Aston urged Sapphire. What are you waiting for?
The longer he looked, the more it seemed Sapphire wasn’t aiming the gun toward her father, but toward Shelly. Aston disregarded it; the candle light must be playing tricks on his angle.
“Tell me, Sapphire,” William Dubois said, “what happened in that room?”
“He wasn’t coming after me,” Sapphire said in a hard voice. “He killed Charles and then I killed him because I wanted to. I wanted him dead.”
Aston couldn’t believe her words. The painting he’d created in his mind about what happened in the cigar lounge liquefied and oozed off the canvas. She did it. Sapphire killed Richard Martin by choice. Bile rose in Aston’s throat.
“Good. Now shoot her, and release the pain.”
Sapphire cocked the gun, and Aston panicked. He had to act fast.
“Don’t!” He shouted, and jumped through the window frame. He landed in a crouch and both heads turned toward him. Sapphire blinked, as if she wasn’t sure he was there.
“And just when I thought my night couldn’t get more perfect.” William watched Aston. “Look Sapphire, Richard Martin has come to kill Charles. Shoot him.”
Sapphire turned away from Shelly in a robotic movement and put her aim on Aston. He held his hands up in disbelief. “Sapphire! What the—”
She fired.
The bullet smashed into the brick next to Aston’s head. Lucky for him, she was a terrible distance shot. He looked from the bullet hole to her in shock. Shit.
She pulled the trigger again, and Aston bolted.
Bang. Bang. Bang. The bullets exploded into the wall behind Aston as he sprinted for the altar and the man whose voice seemed to be controlling Sapphire.
William saw him coming. He aimed his knife at Aston and used his other hand to signal Sapphire. “Stop shooting!”
Aston swerved around the blade and plowed into the killer. They plunged to the ground, and the knife flew out of William’s hand and slid off the altar. Aston sent a kick to his gut. William soared back and slid across the floor.
Aston hurried over to yank the killer up by his collar. He shoved him into the wall with such force, the back of his head made an indent. Aston punched until Sapphire’s father’s face dripped in red.
His fist froze when the man smiled at him, teeth full of blood. “Even if I lose, she’ll never be yours. She’ll always hunt. She’ll never choose you over them.”
Aston shoved his body into the wall again. A small case fell out of William’s inner pocket. Holding the disorientated killer, Aston grabbed the case and opened it.
“What is this?” There were two identical needles inside, one full, one empty. The full one sat below the title: Hemlock. The empty one sat below the title: Narcosynthesis. Aston looked over at Sapphire, then grabbed her father by the jugular. “Is this what you gave her to twist her head?”
“Yes.” The son of a bitch laughed. “Her logical mind has taken a back seat, leaving her primal-self open for suggestion. It won’t last long, but it’ll be long enough for her to kill.”
“You’re turning your own daughter into a monster, you sick fuck!”
William shook his head. “My drug can only work with what’s already there.”
Aston drew back his elbow, then sent a powerful punch to the Beverly Hills Killer’s face. William’s eyes crossed, then his legs gave out and he sank to the ground.
Aston turned to Sapphire. She stood with her arm straight, finger on the trigger. He gazed at her muddled eyes. If her father could manipulate Sapphire, maybe Aston could too.
“Sapphire… this isn’t you.” Aston stepped off the altar. “He’s given you a drug.”
Her head made a meager twitch at his voice.
William Dubois crawled up to the knife below the altar and grabbed it. “Shoot Richard Martin before he gets to Charles, Sapphire. Then shoot Shelly!”
The killer’s cold voice sparked something in Sapphire’s eyes.
Aston stood halfway between them both, and he couldn’t be in two places at once. He had to get to Sapphire’s gun before she killed both him and Shelly.
• • •
Sapphire stared at serial killer Richard Martin as he approached her with his hands up. He was alive again, somehow, and he would kill Charles unless she shot him.
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“Pull the trigger, follow that voice that’s been speaking to you!” Her father’s voice rang clear through the foggy surrounding.
“If you’re hearing a voice, Sapphire,” Richard Martin said, “it’s called fucking guilt. You hear it because you feel bad, because you care about people, not because you’re a sociopath!”
The murderer’s confusing words caused her hand to shake, and her anger to rise. “You don’t get to speak.” She pulled the trigger again.
The shot blasted into Richard’s arm. He grabbed it, clenching his teeth. “Sapphire, fuck! It’s me!”
Sapphire’s vision went blurry at the desperate voice and for a second Richard Martin’s face warped.
“Don’t let him fool you, Sapphire,” her father encouraged as he stood up. “Shoot him before it’s too late!”
Yes, the killer had to die, for good this time.
“Don’t listen to him.” Richard Martin staggered, holding his bleeding arm. He was close enough for her to shoot him point blank now. “You feel guilty for killing Richard Martin, right? The man who murdered Charles.”
Sapphire squinted. Why was he talking about himself like that? Everything was too confusing.
“I once caught a perp who put my old partner in the hospital, and I was so blinded with rage I would’ve beat him to death if the guys hadn’t pulled me off. What you did doesn’t make you a killer, Sapphire. It makes you human. You’re a good person.”
About to fire into the killer’s blackened heart, Sapphire’s finger froze over the trigger. His words felt good, comforting. He didn’t sound like Richard Martin, he sounded like…
“Aston?”
“Lies!” her father yelled. “He’ll say anything to make you put the gun down!”
Sapphire’s vision went into hyper drive. Richard Martin’s and Aston’s faces morphed back and forth in quick, pulsating swaps.
“Shoot him! He’s the enemy.”
