Murdering Her Light

by Michael Clement

  Zebulon scurried over to box, then he came back with a bulky, rolled up leather scroll with three buckles on it. Unlatching it, he allowed the scroll to roll open, revealing dozens of sharp metal tools.

  He removed a device that looked like a deranged dentist’s probe. Smiling, he removed four more just like it. They had sharp points that were almost invisible, they were so sharp.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  No, my mind instantly answered.

  Bending over, I grabbed my knees and prayed for it to be over with.

  I should have prayed harder.

  Zebulon wrapped his spider legs around me to hold me still. Then, he jabbed the first probe into my skin.

  It burned like a bee sting. I twitched trying not to react.

  Then, the next probe struck, and the next.

  Sweat dripped down my back, as I tried not to struggle or whimper.

  I could feel five of the little bastards poking out of my back.

  “Hold still,” he instructed.

  Then, the fucker sent power into the first one.

  It began vibrating in my flesh, making a humming noise.

  A whimper slid out of my mouth, between my gritted teeth.

  The second and the third rang differently. I could feel them vibrating back and forth, humming with a different tune than the first.

  His claws twanged off of the other two probes, making them sing with power.

  Another groan escaped my mouth. My arms began to shake and quiver, as I tried not to scream.

  The probes warbled and thrummed, as their individual humming became a song… of pain and agony. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and I could feel blood dripping down my back.

  “Let it out,” Zebulon whispered. “Scream for me.”

  But, I was too stubborn. I wasn’t going to give into him.

  Mumbling, Zebulon increased the energy flowing into the pattern.

  I cried out when the metal beneath my skin became molten and started taking a new form.

  Faith ran out of the shower, dripping water everywhere.

  “What the fuck is going on?” she shrieked.

  “Don’t interfere,” I groaned through gritted teeth.

  Zebulon hummed happily, as he fed on my agony.

  Moaning and groaning, I prayed harder.

  Finally, with a snap of electricity, the metal popped into the right configuration. I felt the pattern below my skin sing into life for the first time.

  It had never been working properly, I realized.

  Then, each of my other patterns began to awaken and thrum. I could hear them all murmuring happily, moaning and strumming with power.

  It was exhilarating.

  Suddenly, I didn’t want the needles removed. Being able to hear each of them singing to me made me finally feel less alone, less vulnerable.

  I don’t know how long I lay there, in a zen state, totally absorbed by their music, but finally, Zebulon began slowly pulling out each of the needles.

  “Are you alright?” Faith asked, kneeling in front of me.

  “Yes,” I whispered, as I leaned on his legs which were still wrapped around me.

  “That was wonderful,” Zebulon mused. “Your pain is so… exquisite.”

  - 37 -

  I could still feel the pattern on my back warbling softly, hours later.

  That bitch -- Tori -- must have known that it wasn’t working.

  I was lying on my stomach, in my cot. Zebulon had warned me that I shouldn’t use my healing pattern on my back, that it needed to settle first.

  I think that he was just enjoying the pain that I was still in.

  Now that I had felt each of them sing, I could hear all my tattoos singing softly to each other. Each of them was singing a different tune or melody, as they drank in the power flowing off of my Companion or my Devil’s Kiss.

  My prayers sang happily, content to make the world a better place, full of joy and safety.

  And… I could hear my curses. They sounded hungry. Full of power, bloodthirst , and rage; determined to protect their bearer and destroy anyone who threatened me.

  I was slowly becoming a monster, capable of killing anyone who deserved it... and that thought made me happy. I wasn’t interested in walking into a shopping mall and murdering innocent people, but I was glad that if someone tried to kill me, that I could hurt them and protect the ones that I loved.

  If… I had someone to love. Sadly, I realized that right now, Faith was the closest thing that I had to a friend. And, that was based on only a few hours of time spent together.

  Tori and Daniel would happily kill me if they got a chance and my teacher enjoyed feeding on my pain. Comfort would torture me until blood poured down my skin and my heart stopped.

  I didn’t know anyone who wasn’t potentially my murderer.

  My life was so fucked up.

  Faith began snoring, disrupting my inner torment. She was lying next to me, sound asleep, while Zebulon was rocking in his hammock.

  “Why do you enjoy pain?” I asked him.

  Zebulon shifted in his bed and yawned.

  “Why do you like chicken?” he replied.

  “It tastes good,” I answered.

  “And, hamburger?” he asked.

  “I like it because it is different then chicken,” I chuckled.

  “Exactly,” he replied. “Shadar need pain, agony, or fear to flavor their meat. When we aren’t eating, we can also absorb emotions easily when others experience it. It helps sustain us when we can’t eat live meat.”

  I shuddered at the mention of live meat.

  He shrugged. “It is a primal need, like sex.”

  “What is the plan for tomorrow?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “We continue to walk back to Burning Tree,” he replied. “I can’t get my radio-transmitter to work, so our only choice is walking.”

  Then, he stroked his chin and studied me. Finally, he said, “I think I will show you something special tomorrow.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Under the Alamo is the workshop of the Warlock Moses Rose,” he said. “I keep some of my most precious artifacts, including the Book of Boaz hidden within it.”

  I looked at him in shock. He had just told me where the Book of Boaz was hidden. My mouth gaped open, making him laugh.

  “You are my apprentice now,” he told me.

  Then, he smiled wickedly, “If you betray me, I will flay you alive and enjoy every second of it.”

  Then, the spider turned over and went to sleep.

  It took me an hour to fall asleep. Visions of Zebulon peeling my skin off of me, one inch at a time, made it very hard for me to relax.

  -- M --

  Kara watched as Daniel and Tori tortured Comfort.

  They had captured her outside the Alamo, in an old hotel called the Crockett Hotel. They were in the ruins of the Presidential Suite. Comfort was nailed to the inside of the huge stone fireplace that was big enough to cook an Alabama boar in it.

  The Warlocks had nailed her wrists above her head, so she hung about a foot off of the floor within the huge fireplace. Blood dripped down her arms, as she struggled to free herself. Her spider legs were tied together with thick black ropes.

  “Where is the entrance to the workshop?” Tori growled.

  “Go fuck yourselves!” Comfort screeched back at her.

  How did they find out about Rose’s workshop? I wondered.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Daniel complained. “Make her tattoos visible so that we can cut them off already.”

  Comfort spat at him, coating the floor with a yellowish-green discharge that sizzled.

  “Try it,” she challenged Daniel, promising him pain in return.

  Daniel backhanded her, snapping her head back, as blood splattered the gray rocks behind her.

  Comfort laughed at him, as blood dripped down her face.

  “That won’t work,” Tori said, “but this will.”

/>   Comfort turned her attention to Tori who had a green flame dancing in her palm.

  “Would you like to burn? Little pregnant mother…” Tori challenged.

  Comfort shivered in distress. I could see in her eyes how much she wanted to cover her vulnerable stomach.

  Zebulon’s wife was pregnant.

  “Let me cut her,” Daniel insisted.

  “In a minute,” Tori replied. “First, we have to light the fire.”

  Raising her hand, she prepared to throw the flames at the waiting logs in the fire.

  “Wait,” Comfort screeched. “Wait.”

  Tori lowered her hand.

  “Tell me what I want to know,” she insisted, walking closer to the Shadar.

  Comfort looked torn. She peered at Tori and then the logs below her.

  “Fine,” she hissed. “The entrance is under the altar, within the sanctuary.”

  Struggling, she pleaded, “Now, let me down.”

  Tori turned to Daniel. “Bleed her.”

  “No!” Comfort screamed as Daniel drew a long Bowie Knife.

  “No! Please,” she implored the Warlocks.

  Daniel’s knife cut deeply into her torso.

  Comfort screamed as he dragged it sideways, across her body.

  Her flesh peeled back, and blood drenched Daniel’s clenched fist.

  Grinning, he pulled the blade back out, stepped back, and licked her emerald blood off the blade.

  Comfort shook in panic, as her intestines poured out, raining blood onto the logs, along with dozens of small green egg sacs.

  “Oh, God,” Comfort shrieked in agony.

  Smiling, Tori threw the fire onto the logs. “Die, you Shadar Bitch,” the elf snarled.

  The flames roared up, igniting the dry wood instantly.

  Kara looked away, uninterested in watching the Shadar burn.

  - 38 -

  I could still smell Comfort’s burning flesh when I woke up.

  I barely made it to the bathroom, before I began throwing up violently. My arms were shaking, and I had sweat pouring down my back, as I clutched the porcelain seat.

  But, I couldn’t forget that smell.

  “God help me,” I whispered.

  “He won’t help you,” Zebulon whispered. “You aren’t Shadar.”

  I scowled at him. He didn’t have a condescending look on his face. It was just how he felt. Apparently, God didn’t help humans in this world, according to Zebulon.

  “They killed Comfort,” I gasped.

  “I know,” Zebulon grinned.

  I looked at him in shock.

  “You have a snitch tattoo on the skin between your vagina and your anus,” he said. “It allows your Mistress to follow you and listen to conversations going on around you.”

  I couldn’t believe it.

  But, how the hell could I check?

  “So,” I said. “They are listening now?”

  Zebulon shook his head. “I have blocked their ability to listen right now,” he replied. “And, right now they are too busy breaking into the workshop.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Zebulon looked perplexed.

  “Why, what?” he asked.

  “Why did you tell them where the Book was located?” I asked him.

  He smiled.

  “So they would break in, of course,” he replied. “I need enough evidence against them that I can kill them.”

  “Don’t you feel bad, about them killing Comfort?” I asked. “She was pregnant.”

  “That’s why I’m happy,” he grinned. “I knew that she was pregnant. Who do you think attacked our truck?”

  I shook my head, unable to understand his reasoning.

  “She was trying to capture me,” he explained. “Comfort was pregnant. She wanted to incapacitate me so that she could web me up with her eggs.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Whoever feeds the young, influences their growth,” he replied. “Comfort wanted children who were Sorcerors.”

  Spreading his arms, he said. “I was her best choice for their first meal.”

  Grinning, he said, “I don’t want to die, not yet. So, I used the two Warlocks to dispose of her.”

  I hated Shadar, I decided. They were just too alien for me.

  Clapping his hands happily, Zebulon returned to his hammock to get some more sleep.

  Faith helped me clean myself up and return to bed.

  She held me the rest of the night.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  Not one bit.

  I kept hearing Comfort’s screams and smelling her flesh.

  I didn’t tell anyone… Shadar smelled like chicken , when they were cooked.

  -- M --

  Zebulon was giddy in the morning.

  “They tripped dozens of traps, last night,” he gleefully told me. “Let's go harvest their corpses!”

  Looking at Faith, he said. “I haven’t had good , grilled Elf, in years!”

  He scampered out of the Safe House’s door, leading the way towards the Alamo. Faith and I followed him, not nearly as excited as the excited Shadar.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt, about seeing Tori and Daniel’s dead bodies. I knew that they wanted to kill me and that our whole relationship was a sham, but seeing them dead didn’t excite me.

  Zebulon made it across the road before the first arrow slammed into his chest. The force of the blow picked him up and slammed him backward onto the ground.

  Faith looked at him in shock, unable to process the attack.

  We were standing -- unprotected -- in the middle of the street.

  I grabbed her arm and tried to yank her back to the Safe House door.

  Zebulon roared to his feet, as the second arrow slammed into Faith’s stomach. It ripped her out of my arms and tossed her away from me.

  She slammed into the ground, breaking off the arrow, as blood poured out of her wound.

  The Sorceror raised his arms and created a shield of black fire in the air.

  Then, he turned his body and prepared to rain fire down on the sniper.

  A huge blue and black tiger exploded through the glass windows behind me, cleared the street in one jump and slammed into Zebulon.

  The monster clamped down on his arm and shook the Shadar like a rag toy.

  Crunch.

  Zebulon screamed as the creature bit right through his arm, severing it from his body.

  Green blood jetted out of the wound, as Zebulon looked down at his arm in shock.

  Another arrow ripped through the black cloud above us, slamming into Zebulon again.

  It knocked him to the ground, where he lay shaking.

  The tiger turned and looked at me, arching its back like a much smaller cat. Hundreds of long blue porcupine needles stood on end on its back and jiggled in anticipation.

  I was going to die.

  The monster looked at me. Drool dribbled out of its mouth, coating Zebulon’s arm.

  I couldn’t move. I almost felt paralyzed.

  The shriek of a human’s whistle split the air.

  Growling, the tiger turned and trotted away, leaving me alone.

  I looked around, as Zebulon’s black shield disappeared, waiting for the arrow that would finish my life.

  As the cloud faded away to nothing, I saw the blue and black tiger enter the Alamo, followed closely by Tori, who was holding a bow.

  Shuddering, I realized that they weren’t going to kill me, at least, not yet.

  Getting the book was more important.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  They knew that they could find me anytime... with the snitch jinx tattooed on me.

  - 39 -