by Sara Clancy
“They are territorial predators exclusive to rural environments,” he said, as if it were obvious.
“Yeah. That sounds important,” she said. “Counter point; they hunt people. We’re people. So ...”
He huffed, the sound barely audible, not enough to know if it was amusement or annoyance. “Their M.O. is simple and they keep to it,” he said.
“M.O. is modus operandi,” one of the twins stage-whispered to Evelyn. “It means how they do something.”
“I knew that one,” she whispered back with a smile.
The other twin scoffed. “Yeah, because you cheated and asked a cop.”
Aleksandr didn't stop his explanation to accommodate their whispered conversation. It was the longest Evelyn had ever heard him talk and play tricks with his voice. His accent thickened around his words. His voice rough like crunching gravel. Low and steady like static.
“They keep to stalking grounds and victims they’re familiar with. Prostitutes or homeless people only. Someone easily lured, whose absence won’t be missed straight away. Never any high-risk targets.”
“Aren’t those people the definition of ‘high-risk’?” Evelyn asked.
All three of them chuckled.
“You can’t be a hunter if you’re still thinking like prey,” Aleksandr said. “Non-transient people with wide social networks are high-risk for us. Vera and Vlas don’t like attention or press coverage. Sure as hell can’t hold their own against a taskforce. Don’t have the skill set or required ego. So, they stick religiously to people that the mass population don’t care about. The stray sheep on the edges of the herd.”
“Right,” Evelyn mumbled.
“Once they’ve got their target, they instantly retreat with them back into the wilderness. A place they know well. Somewhere isolated where they can have complete control. The hunt, kill, and disposal will all take place there. Privacy is essential.”
“So,” Evelyn said, “you’re saying that killing in a place like Las Vegas is way out of their comfort zones?”
“Witnesses, security cameras, police, numerous victims at once,” Ivan rattled off.
Evelyn refocused on the projected smiling faces as Aleksandr continued.
“Most people like us, the ones that don’t get caught, are creatures of habit. We find something we like, and we stick with it,” Aleksandr said. “Lure. Isolate. Control. Any reminder that they don’t have the upper hand will make them hesitate.”
“And never go with them to a second location,” Nadya added.
Evelyn nodded even though no one could see her. “Can you send me that photo? I want to make sure that I remember them. Ah, right, my number.”
Evelyn’s phone beeped, buzzing against her chest with an incoming call before she could finish the sentence. Resenting the distinct lack of woman’s clothing that had decent sized pockets, she pulled her phone out of her bra. Something about having the phone in the palm of her hand made her remember Aleksandr’s fumbling on the device earlier. He texted the twins, she realized as a message alert illuminated the screen. Damn it, Alek. Couldn't you have gone for the less creepy way of giving them my number?
“Right. Thanks. So, does anyone have any other suggestions on how to deal with these guys? I mean, apart from ‘don't get in the car’?”
“Look for a Mohawk braid,” one of the twins said.
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a braid that looks like a Mohawk. Duh,” Ivan said.
“Vera has thick hair and braids along the top of her head for a kill,” Aleksandr explained.
“She thinks it makes her look like a Viking,” Nadya added.
Aleksandr snorted but continued, “It’ll be multicolored and rather noticeable.”
“I’m sorry,” Evelyn cut in. “I can accept that ancient Greek monsters are real, but a serial killer with rainbow hair is just too much.”
“It’s not rainbow,” the kids corrected as one.
“They both loved their trophies,” Aleksandr said. “Vlas goes the traditional route and takes photos with the corpses. He'd keep them in a hunting cabin or lockbox somewhere. Vera’s the dramatic one. She takes a lock of hair from each victim and braids them into her own. Hence, multicolored braid.”
“How many victims are we talking about?” Evelyn asked.
She heard a shuffle of material and assumed Aleksandr had shrugged.
“It’s hard to tell since we’ve been in hiding. If they’ve kept their pace, I’d say their death count would be around forty-three by now.”
“Forty-three? Vera and Vlas have killed forty-three people?” Evelyn asked.
No one responded, but they didn’t have to. The information couldn’t be taken back now. It was lodged in her brain like a hot fire poker. No fear, she commanded herself. Remember the Furies.
“Okay,” Evelyn said slowly. “So, who’s the third one?”
“Radmiar.”
She didn’t know which one of the kids had spoken before the picture changed and she was momentarily blinded. Squinting to refocus, Evelyn found herself staring at a photograph of Aleksandr. Only with short cropped hair and a radiating smile. It was strange to see him so casual. So relaxed. Especially with Petya’s arm slung over his shoulders.
“Radmiar’s your identical twin,” she said numbly.
Aleksandr grunted but didn’t say anything. Tension filled the room, making the air dense.
“So,” Evelyn said as she shifted around again. “What’s he like?”
The question made Aleksandr snarl. Each word that left his mouth was razor sharp and filled with hatred. “He thinks he’s the love child of Richard Ramirez, Ted Bundy, and Hannibal Lector. A gentleman killer.”
“Richard Ramirez,” Evelyn said. “That sounds familiar.”
“The Night Stalker,” he said. “San Francisco, 1984 to 85. Home invader and sadist. Chose places at random. Broke in, raped, tortured, and murdered the occupants. No victim preference. He was happy as long as he got to kill someone.”
“Wait, how does that add up with Bundy? I mean, they were both rapists,” she cringed, feeling weird talking about such things in front of the twins. “But Bundy used charm, didn’t he? Tricks to get women close?”
“Radmiar likes to alternate,” Aleksandr said. “He’s going to be the bigger threat. This is his perfect hunting ground, and he will hate you.”
Evelyn looked at the photograph again. If she had been ignorant about who they were, she would have considered it a beautiful family photo.
“It does look like he’s fond of his parents,” she said. “Does he really blame me for their deaths?”
The twins snickered, and she looked around.
“What?” she asked.
“Radmiar has an issue with women,” Aleksandr clarified.
“He only listened to Olga because he was terrified of her,” Nadya added. “The rest of us weren't so lucky.”
“Hey, at least we don’t have to worry about all three of them joining forces,” Ivan said. “Even avenging our parents wouldn’t be enough to keep them from each other’s throats for long. Vera despises him.”
“Your mouth is going to set him off.” There was a hint of amusement in Aleksandr’s voice, as if he were eager to witness the fallout.
“Is that something I should aim for?” she asked.
“It would throw him off his game,” Aleksandr replied. “He’s like Petya. The kill for him is a sideshow. The main event is the fear he causes. The more you backchat, the more he’ll want to destroy you–”
A sharp knock on the door cut off their conversation.
Chapter 7
Frozen in place, no one dared to breathe as they waited. The few seconds of silence were enough for the anticipation to burn against Evelyn’s nerve endings. Another series of knocks. Nothing to tell them what threat stood on the other side of the wood. She balled her fists. Rolled her shoulders.
“Alex?” a woman’s voice called th
rough the door.
“Damn it,” Aleksandr hissed under his breath.
The siblings broke into a flurry of movement. The projector shut off as the overhead lights flicked on. Aleksandr swung down, hopping over Evelyn’s lap and pressing himself against the door, one arm on the handle while he checked the peephole.
“Alex, are you in here?”
“Yeah, Alison,” he called out with his Southern drawl. “Just give me a second.”
The twins crawled along the side of the bunk bed, moving from the bottom to perch on the top. Side-by-side, they looked sweet and innocent. As she stood up, her feet a little numb, Evelyn caught a flash of metal before they hid whatever they had under a pillow. A knife, she figured. Aleksandr glanced at the twins. They nodded and all three of them broke into wide smiles. Evelyn didn't have time to deal with how unsettling she found that before Aleksandr unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Hey, Alison,” Aleksandr sounded delighted to see her. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Nah, come on. You’re always welcome. You know that.”
Even as he said the words, Aleksandr made sure that his broad shoulders covered the gap, essentially blocking her from entering. There was no stopping the woman's view, however. She had a good few inches on Aleksandr and could easily look over his head. Alison pushed her wavy brown hair over her shoulder as she smiled up at the twins.
“Hey there, cutie pies,” she beamed. “How are you two today?”
“Good,” they said playfully before giggling, like shy little kids ready to hide behind their mother’s skirt.
Alison’s easy smile faltered when she caught sight of Evelyn. Recovering quickly, she raked her gaze over Evelyn once before refocusing on Aleksandr.
“Oh, I didn't know that you had company.”
Evelyn waved sheepishly. The gesture wasn't noticed or acknowledged.
“She’s an old friend,” Aleksandr said. “Just in town for a few days. She’s checked in upstairs."
“Alex,” Alison spoke the name with both indulgence and warning.
“Yeah, I know. But the kids really wanted to show her some stuff and they were so excited. Could you tell those little faces ‘no’? She'll be heading back up in a second.” Tilting his head, he chuckled softly. “Sorry, I've completely forgotten. Why did you say you were here?”
Alison gave a little laugh, one that showed she was more distracted than she wanted to seem. “There’s been a mix up with the rosters. Jim didn’t put any guys on and we’ve got some orange flags.”
“Orange flags?” Evelyn asked.
“It’s a room service thing. If someone’s been ...” Alison’s gaze skirted to the twins as she tried to think up a child appropriate code word. “Mean to a female server, they’re marked as orange in the system, so we know not to send any more women up on their own. If they ... bully a man, they’re marked as yellow. If they’re just all round horrible, they’re red.”
Evelyn struggled to smother her laughter as she nodded along. It was surreal. I was worried about mentioning ‘rape,’ while she’s worried about the word ‘jerk’. Evelyn resisted the urge to shake her head. This is just a world of wrong.
Evelyn wasn’t sure what to say. Or even if she could without a burst of manic laughter passing her lips. Mercifully, Alison was satisfied with a smile and refocused on Aleksandr, holding his gaze with a beseeching smile.
“Is there any chance you could come in early?”
“I thought Dan was on shift.”
Alison snorted. “Yeah, Jim put him as administration supervisor. So ...”
“Right,” Aleksandr matched her frustrated laughter and continued in what had to be a poor imitation of Jim’s voice. “The A.S. answers the phones and takes the orders. Can they do that from the floor?”
“Okay, that’s way too close to accurate. You’re creeping me out,” Alison said with a smile. “So? Please, Alex. I’m sure room 3622 is going to call in again and I don’t want to have to go up there.”
“Is he a meanie?” Nadya asked, softening her voice and widening her eyes, a picture of untarnished purity.
Ivan quickly followed suit, adopting the same expression as he asked, “What did he do, Alley?”
Watching Alison’s discomfort increase, Evelyn found herself wondering how often the little brats had messed with her like that. They seemed to like this game a lot.
Aleksandr turned to the kids, the angle just enough to hide his sneer from the visitor.
“He never learned his manners.” His voice remained light while his expression left no room for argument.
They nodded, their game over.
“Please, Alex,” Alison said. “Dan said that you'll be able to leave early. As soon as the morning shift starts.”
Aleksandr looked at the twins again. It was barely more than a glance, but Evelyn felt like she was on the outskirts of an entire conversation. In the end, Aleksandr turned back to Alison and shrugged.
“Sure thing. I’ll be right up.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Alison beamed. “You know, I can wait if you want some walking company.”
“You need me to start right now,” Aleksandr said.
“There’s also that,” Alison winced. “Did I mention, thank you?”
Aleksandr heaved a sigh. “Let me just grab my stuff. I’ll get changed in the bathroom.”
Evelyn glanced around, noticing for the first time that the room didn’t have an attached en-suite.
“It’s dorm room style,” one of the twins whispered, as if picking up on Evelyn’s thoughts. “Restrooms are those red doors down the hallway.”
Evelyn meant to thank them for the information, but Aleksandr side-swiped her, maneuvering past her to get to the wardrobe, and she forgot.
He hid his discomfort well, careful never to let Alison see how much he hated the brief, unavoidable moments of physical contact. Evelyn slipped onto the bottom bunk at the first opportunity, trying to make it easier on him. Unfortunately, it left her awkwardly close to Alison. Neither of the women were inclined to acknowledge the other and the resulting silence was tense.
“Oh, hey,” Alison stammered. “Did you guys hear about what happened at the Flamingo?”
The noise Aleksandr made was a perfect expression of good-natured indifference. “Nah. We don’t really go around there.”
“Well, you know that flock of real flamingos they have on display, right?”
He nodded.
“They went crazy!”
Aleksandr finally turned around to face her. “They’re pink puffballs on sticks. What exactly would their going ‘crazy’ look like?”
“Apparently, it involved a lot of property damage. I was talking to my friend who works the front desk. She wasn’t actually there when it happened, but she said the whole habitat was just destroyed. They even smashed into the buffet area.”
Evelyn watched in awe as Aleksandr morphed his face into shock and horror. It had never occurred to her that he could be a good actor.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“A couple of people are in the hospital,” Alison said. “Apparently, more were injured in the stampede rather than by the birds themselves.”
“I’ll never understand that,” Aleksandr said with a frown. “How could someone just ... run over another human being?”
Alison shrugged. “People act weird when they’re scared.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Evelyn rubbed the knuckles of one hand over her mouth, trying to hide her reactions. It was like being in a parallel universe. Sitting there, watching Aleksandr Sokolovsky talk about the goodness of humanity, all the time using a Southern accent and showing social skills. She couldn’t decide if she found it creepy or hilarious.
“Anyway, it’s becoming a whole big thing. Reporters have been swarming the place all day and animal rights groups are up in arms. But this is the scariest bit. My friend, the one who works ther
e, overheard some cops talking. And they think it could be a terrorist attack. Like someone poisoned the birds to have them act like that.”
Aleksandr nodded and shrugged at the same time. Like he didn’t agree but was too nice to say as much.
“Yeah, I know,” Alison said. “It sounds like a bad conspiracy theory, but you can’t be too careful these days.”
“We’ll have to keep an eye on the news updates,” Aleksandr said.
With that, the conversation was over. A tense silence returned when the two women tried to avoid eye contact. It didn’t last, and they shared the compulsory polite smile when that inevitably happened.
Alison looked to be around the same age as Evelyn, close to her twenties but not there yet. While she was trying to suppress the urge, Alison couldn’t keep from sneaking glances at Evelyn. A few years ago, she might not have noticed the quick flick of eyes. Now, each glance felt like ice water sloshing over bare skin. Not able to stand it for long, Evelyn deliberately met the girl’s eyes again. Surprise flashed over Alison's face before she was able to cover it with a tight smile.
“I’m Alison, by the way.”
“Eve. Nice to meet you.”
While she didn't have any experience with using an actual alias, Evelyn had been using her name to sort people out for years. When she was a kid, she had the facial recognition skills of a goldfish. It would take a few meetings for her to remember anyone. Not recalling someone’s name was awkward. Forgetting who she didn’t like was worse. The process was simple. She was ‘Eve’ for the irritating people, ‘Evelyn’ for others. Today, it was Evelyn to people she knew wouldn't try to kill her, Eve for the rest, and that churned her stomach.
“Know him for long?” Alison asked.
“Feels like it.”
Alison’s shoulders tensed up before she mumbled, “You have wonderful kids. You should know that.”
Rattled by a rush of confusion, Evelyn barked a laugh. “What? Hold up. They’re not mine.”
“Oh,” Alison stammered. “I just thought ... well, you know what a stickler for the rules Alex is. Two years and he’s never even taken an extra coffee sweetener without permission.”
“Yeah, he’s a good ol’ boy,” Evelyn said.
