Like a supernatural force, anger overpowered her fear in seconds. She dug her nails into Bobby’s forearms and let loose a silent scream of fury. He swore, released his hold on her and grabbed her by her hair. Lifting her head off the ground, he then slammed his fist squarely into her nose. Her head shot back and hit the cement with a brain-rattling thud. She heard him clear his throat and spit before feeling his warm phlegm. “You ruined my face.”
His hands were around her throat again, choking her. He slammed her head again. If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to die.
DO SOMETHING!
Bobby released his hold again and she sucked in a breath. “Don’t worry, cunt, I ain’t going to kill you so quickly. First, I’m going to have some fun with you. Fuck you silly. Fill your ass with my dick and make you cry like the cunt you are.” His hands went to her chest and he pinched her nipples. The pain was electric, but it helped focus her hate and power. She wouldn’t react again. Wouldn’t give the sick motherfucker the satisfaction.
“Guess you like that,” he said, and let go of her nipples. “Going to have a lot of fun with you it seems.” He smacked her head right, then to the left, and then she saw the stun gun. It lay an arm’s length away. She needed to distract him and get to it.
“Word is you have a small dick,” she said, laughing.
Bobby smiled. “Oh, yeah? I’ll show you how small my dick is, but first,” using his right hand, he punched her in her stomach, then launched a follow up left to her jaw. Her head swirled and she felt blackness coming on. Another blow and she would surely wake up to the pig raping her.
That couldn’t happen.
Forget the stun gun. You are an animal.
She lay there, pretending to be unconscious. Eyes closed, she hoped another blow wasn’t coming. Instead, she received a gentle slap. “C’mon. Wakey, wakey.” He slapped her harder. “Hey, cunt. Wake up.”
She mumbled, making sure it was nothing coherent.
“What was that?”
She mumbled again, her face throbbing and achy.
He leaned closer and cocked his ears forward with his hands. “What was that, cunt? Going to have to speak up.”
NOW!
Amber reached up, grabbed onto his head and sunk her thumbs into his eye sockets. The orbs burst as her fingernails punctured the gelatinous fluid-filled spheres. Bobby screamed. Warm goo covered her digits. Amber withdrew her flesh-daggers and pushed Bobby off her. Reaching over, she snatched up the stun gun, jumped onto a wailing, eyeless Bobby and zapped him into unconsciousness.
Chest heaving, face bruised and bloody fingers caked in gore, she opened her backpack, got out the handcuffs and secured Bobby’s hands behind his back. She then taped his ankles together using her duct tape. Though he was blinded, she wasn’t taking any more chances.
Wake and drown him.
“Not yet,” she said, then donned her black ski mask, making sure to tuck in her long blonde hair. After duct-taping his mouth closed, she searched Bobby’s pockets and found his phone. Setting it to camera mode, she then positioned it on a chair facing Bobby. The fire pit’s flames cast the man in a perfect light.
After hitting record, she got the ball-peen hammer from her backpack and returned to Bobby’s side. Looking into the camera, she smiled, then brought the nail-pounding tool down on Bobby’s right knee.
CRACK!
Amber felt the spherical bone shatter, the sound popping. Bobby screamed and writhed, his cries muffled by the gag. “Shush. It’ll be all right. Don’t you worry none.” She raised the hammer and bashed his other kneecap.
CRACK!
Bobby screamed again and sat up, snot leaking from his nostrils and spittle drooling from the gag. Tears mixed with blood from his eyeless sockets streaked his face, the liquid glistening in the fire’s light. Amber wanted to hit him in the face, but instead shoved him down and went back to work, smashing his right shin.
Grinding her teeth, the giddiness she’d been feeling left, replaced by rage. Up and down the hammer went, the blows as hard as she could make them. Bone broke and splintered, Bobby’s pant legs shredded and bloody. When she reached his ankles, she pulverized the bony knobs on each one.
Bobby had thrown up, the upchuck spurting from his gag, the rest she guessed he was able to swallow back down. She hadn’t thought of the possibility he would puke and hoped he wouldn’t suffocate, but she wasn’t about to let him soil her. Get his blood on her—sure, but not his bile.
Finished with his lower body, she cracked his elbows, turning the pointy protrusions into rubble and bleeding skin. Bobby begged for his life, tossed his head back and forth to the point she thought he’d snap his own neck, and wondered if he was trying to do just that.
Vomit continued to spew, the gag soaked and wet and thinner.
Good, we don’t want him dying on us yet, do we?
“No, we don’t.”
After shattering his arms, she broke each of his fingers by bending and twisting them in ways they weren’t meant to be. When she was finished, his hands resembled the bristles of a worn out grill brush, the metal strands curved and no longer uniform.
Satisfied with her work, she got up, went over to the cell phone and clicked off the camera, then sent the video to Daemon’s phone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After intense, buckets-of-sweat-inducing sex that ended with Daemon shooting his load onto Sage’s tits before she licked them clean, the couple lay back on the bed and shared a cigarette. They made small talk and were getting ready to fuck again when Daemon’s phone chimed, indicating he had a message from Bobby.
Since they had begun their killing spree, the group always made sure they were able to reach each other, and never left a phone call or message unchecked for long.
Reaching out to the nightstand, he unplugged his cell phone from the charger and looked at the screen. “Well check this out. Bobby sent me a video.”
“Awww, the bag of bones misses us already,” Sage said, expelling smoke from her lungs.
“Probably got so drunk, he ass-videoed,” Daemon said, laughing. He clicked on the file and the video played. His flesh went cold when he saw Bobby tied up and a masked figure next to him. He hoped it was a joke, but quickly saw it was not when Bobby screamed.
Sage sat up, her nipples like rods of steel. “What are you watch—” Sage sucked in a breath. “Is that Bobby?”
Daemon nodded, unable to speak.
“Holy shit. Is this a joke?” Sage asked.
Daemon didn’t answer her; he was watching the video intensely. The scene unfolding before him was brutal, and the last thing he’d ever expected. His stomach churned, half with hate, half with shock. His best friend was slowly being tortured to death. Even if Bobby managed to make it out of his situation, he’d never see, walk or use his hands the same again.
Daemon’s stomach was in his groin. A heavy weight had fallen on top of him, and for the first time in numerous years, he felt sad. The emotion didn’t remain long because his anger flared up. He was pissed that someone was hurting his friend, but even more pissed that he was vulnerable to such pain. He was soft. A pussy. It was bullshit. He was a hard-nosed killer.
Never having thought about losing his friend, he was hit with a wave of emotions he’d thought were long dead. What about Sage? He fucking loved her more than anything. They were soulmates destined to rule a small part of hell together. He’d do anything for her. That was also weakness. But it was one he’d have to be okay with because he knew she felt the same way. All others were worth less than the shit on the bottom of his boot. He thought no more about killing a person than an ant. Squash them both and move on, although killing a human brought a sense of satisfaction unfelt by anything else. And he got to share that with his soulmate.
“Babe, what are we going to do?” Sage asked, hugging him from behind. “This shit ain’t right. We’re the hunters, not whoever is in that video.”
“I know.”
“We ne
ed to find them and kill them. Like tonight.”
“I know.”
“So…”
“I don’t know what to do.” He was indecisive… stalling and afraid. Someone knew about them and was intent on making them pay. It was the only explanation. He couldn’t show fear though, especially not to Sage. “But we’re going to find the prick and make what he did to Bobby look like child’s play.”
Daemon and Sage got dressed. They took their handguns, but also loaded the crossbow, machete, and a few knives into the Camry’s trunk. If they had the chance, they would prolong their enemy’s suffering for as long as possible, but they were going in with the intent to kill first and foremost. If someone knew who they really were, it was best to end them quickly. The video was a message. It stated that the person had no intention of going to the cops. The gauntlet had been thrown down. This was going to be between himself, Sage and Bobby’s torturer.
They drove to Bobby’s house.
Daemon stopped the car halfway down the driveway, staying within the wooded section of the property so as not to alert Bobby’s attacker, if the guy was still present.
They exited the car, taking only their guns with them. When they reached the lawn, they went right and skirted along the tree line avoiding the motion-sensing flood lights located on the front of the house. They then made their way to the backyard, surveyed the pool area, and waited just inside the tree line.
The fire still blazed in the fire pit. The pool lights were on, the bluish water sparkling. Various lights were on inside the house too, casting more illumination into the backyard.
“No one here,” Sage said.
“Asshole’s probably hiding. Waiting.”
“You think there’s more than one person?”
Daemon shrugged. “No way to tell. Video showed one, but let’s assume there are more.”
“What about Bobby?”
“He’s probably…” Daemon couldn’t say it. “We’ll help him when we find him.”
“I hate to break it to you, babe, but there ain’t no rush. Bobby’s most likely already dead.”
He turned on her. “Don’t you think I know that? And if he isn’t yet, he will be. You saw what that fucker did to him. They had no intention of him surviving.”
“So why didn’t they just kill him?”
“Cuz they want us to suffer. Must be related to someone we offed.”
“We’re going to really, really hurt whoever it is. They have no idea who they fucked with.”
“No, they don’t.”
Forty-five minutes after arriving at the backyard, Daemon and Sage took turns smoking cigarettes to help pass the time, the smoker going a few feet deeper into the forest so as not to alert anyone to the glowing orange embers.
As more time passed—an hour, then two—Daemon was ready to explode. Sage paced and smoked twice as many cigarettes as him. He was no less angry, but was surprised at how patient he was able to be. But he was at his wit’s end and decided to check out the house, figuring Bobby’s torturer had left. Maybe even taken Bobby with him. The video message was just that, a message that they were going to have to watch their backs, and they were now the hunted.
“All right,” he said, standing. “Enough of this shit. Let’s go see what’s what.” He stepped out of the tree line, gun in hand. Sage was right behind him. He told her to go to the house and meet him by the back porch. “Keep an eye out and cover me.”
Daemon walked on, his head on a swivel as Sage headed off. When he reached the fence, he climbed over it in two movements, landing like a practiced thief. As he approached the table and chairs where the video had been shot, he saw a large bloody area by the side of the pool, the crimson streaking down the side and turning a portion of the water cherry red. It spread out into a pink-tinted cloud. Below it was a headless body resting on the bottom of the pool. It was Bobby. The fucker had cut off his head. Whoever they had pissed off was like them—willing to go to extremes.
A chill swept over him as he realized how vulnerable he was out in the open, the area lit up like a prison yard during an escape. He looked to his left and saw Sage standing by the sliding glass door that led into the house.
“Well?” she said.
“Stay there, I’m coming to you.” He glanced around, looked at his headless dead friend. He was afraid and didn’t like being toyed with. His ears waited to hear a gunshot. The sniper could have him in his sights right now. He’d feel the bullet hit him fractions of a second later. If it was a head shot, he would feel nothing—just be blinked out of existence.
Swallowing hard, he headed to where Sage was waiting.
“Bobby’s dead.”
Sage looked at him. “How do you—”
“His headless body’s in the pool.”
“Fuck. They took his head?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry, babe. I know he was like a brother to you.” She rubbed his arm. “We’ll avenge him, for sure. Don’t you worry.”
“Damn right we will. “Let’s check the house.”
They headed inside and quickly went room to room. Nothing was out of order or messed up. It appeared that Bobby’s killer had not gone in the house and had left the property. Maybe he was watching them. Waiting to strike.
“This sucks,” Sage said after guzzling a beer from the fridge. “Motherfucker’s playing games with us.”
“Exactly. He wants us to fear him. Turn our own game on us. But screw that. We are fear.”
“I think we should leave. Maybe the cops are on their way. First we got to wipe our prints from this place.”
“We’re friends and have been in this house more than our own over the last month. Our prints and DNA are everywhere. It would be odd if our shit wasn’t here. Hell, I blew my load on his mom’s pillow last week, remember?”
“Hell yeah I remember. Half went on my face. You usually never miss my mouth by that much.”
“I was wasted.”
Daemon would normally have taken her at that moment, but he wasn’t right. The whole situation they were in had screwed him up. The tables had turned and he didn’t like it at all.
“We should leave anyway,” Sage said. “No reason to be here. If the cops show, what, you want to chat with them?”
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight. So fucking pissed. But there’s no doubt the cops will come looking for us. We’ll say we were here, but left him alone. It’s the truth anyway.”
“Right. Now let’s go home. We know someone’s after us, so we’ll be ready. They really fucked up by letting us know about them.”
Daemon wasn’t so sure. The killer wanted them off their game, their confidence destroyed. Sage was crazier. She might be fine. He was rattled.
No, fuck that. He wasn’t going to let some hiding-in-the-shadows douche bag alter his being. “First thing we need is money. With Bobby gone, our cash cow is gone.”
“You see,” Sage said, throwing up her arms. “We never should’ve relied on him for money. We had plenty of chances to get our own.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Sage,” Daemon shouted, then walked past her, into the hallway and up the stairs. Sage followed, swearing at him for cutting her off. He apologized, and then they searched the room for Bobby’s go-bag, a backpack full of $100,000, finding it easily in the back of his walk-in closet. “Now we can go.”
They left via the back door and hurried down the driveway to the car. Daemon opened the driver side door and froze as his eyes settled on Bobby’s severed head resting on his seat. “Fuck.” He slammed his fist on the car’s roof. He pulled out his .45.
“What?” Sage asked and peered through the passenger side window.
“Guy’s been here all along.”
Daemon lifted the head by its long, stringy hair and tossed it away.
Sage spun around and faced the wooded area, gun out. Daemon did the same on his side of the car and scanned the surrounding area, but saw only inky woods and driveway
. Something in his mind told him to check the tires. He glimpsed the front one and swore at how flat it was. Looking at the back tire, he saw the same thing. “Fucker slashed the tires.” He pounded the side of the car with his fist.
“Car will still drive, only slower,” Sage said. Keeping her eyes on the woods, she reached back, opened the door and climbed in.
Daemon opened the trunk, grabbed an old rag he kept there and laid it on the seat to cover the blood. After sitting, he felt the cold crimson liquid soak into his jeans. Just wanting to leave, he ignored it and turned the key in the ignition, but to no avail. His foot pressed the gas pedal and he tried again. Nothing. “Car’s dead.”
“We walk then,” Sage said and was about to get out when Daemon grabbed her wrist.
“Wait here, I’m going to check the engine.”
“Fuck that,” she said, pulled away from him, opened her door and got out.
Daemon let out a pent-up breath and was about to open his door when his mind flashed back to when he got the rag out of the trunk. Something had been different. Missing. Then it hit him—the crossbow was gone.
“Sage, get back in here now,” he yelled.
She spun around and looked into the car at him. “Why the fu—” Her body jerked as if struck by something. A gasp escaped her lips and she fell forward into the vehicle. An arrow was poking out of her lower back.
Daemon held her down with his free hand, extended his gun arm over her and fired into the woods. It was reactionary fire, but also cover fire. He emptied the magazine, let the gun fall to his lap and helped pull Sage’s legs into the car, then reached over and shut the door. Sage groaned with every movement she made.
He quickly loaded another magazine into his gun.
“Fuck this hurts,” Sage said, breathing shallowly. She couldn’t sit properly due to the arrow and remained on her shins with her back to the passenger window.
“What do I do, pull it out?” Daemon asked.
“I don’t know, but it kills.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Daemon screamed and punched the steering wheel. “I’m going to kill this motherfucker deader than dead.”
Episodes of Violence Page 19
