Page 2

Present Day

Greyson

Putting the car into neutral and shutting the lights off, I let it roll the rest of the way into the abandoned church parking lot and tucked myself among the shadows. I’d done this so many times that it had become as part of my routine as anything else was when I was on the hunt. Nothing changed from my modus operandi, at least not anymore.

Stepping out into the cool night air, I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders as I stared out at the mausoleums. They surrounded one side and the back of the church while the other side was scraggly trees and abandoned row houses. For the most part, it was always me and the dead. The deconsecrated church had come up for sale three years ago, and I wasted no time snatching it up. I didn’t use it to play with my victims. I had no need when a mausoleum—that had been in the family for generations—had a crypt beneath, unbeknownst to my parents.

Popping the trunk, I stared down at my prize before heaving out the guy I’d been stalking all night. He didn’t think anyone was watching, and even if they were, no one stopped to help anyone anymore, which allowed scum like him to flourish. But I saw everything, including how his elderly mother shied away from his touch. Her eyes filled with fear when she dropped the grocery bag she had been carrying, and all the items spilled out onto the sidewalk. I saw how he glared at her. He roughly picked up a few items and shoved them into her arms, leaving the rest behind as he dragged her across the street with a grip that I knew would leave bruises. He didn’t think anyone heard him as he told her that she was useless and he wished that she would die already, but I did.

I’d watched him as he took his mother into an apartment building that was known for being rough and dangerous and then left a few minutes later. He’d walked down the street smiling and flirting with those around him like he hadn’t just abused his elderly mother. I even waited while he ate dinner with his date at the five-star restaurant that sold the best seafood around and then stood in the dark of the living room as the two fucked in the bedroom.

When they fell asleep, I made my move.

New Orleans was my home. In my time here, I’d perfected the art of being seen and yet never noticed. I loved it here and thought of myself as the trash removal, but I preferred the nickname the newspapers gave for the disappearances of those who were never seen again, The Forsaken .

I heaved the passed-out man over my shoulder and closed the trunk before wandering down the path that led directly into the cemetery. Most people didn’t come here at night, but the dead had never bothered me. In many ways, I was one of them. I just happened to have flesh on my bones.

Unlocking and pushing open the door to my family’s resting place, I stepped into the utter darkness and closed it behind me. I didn’t need the light to know where I was going. From the time I was little, I would close my eyes and count the steps to walls and chairs until I could see a room in my mind.

“Wha…wha….” The man on my shoulder tried to speak, but the mix of sedative and paralytic I’d given him would keep him immobilized and confused for at least another thirty minutes. Dropping him down on the ground, I unfastened the latches that kept the massive coffin in the center of the room in place. With a hard shove and a rumble, the coffin moved off to the side and produced a set of stairs that descended into more darkness. Not that I could see them, but I knew they were there, just like I knew every corner of the crypt and who had found a tragic end there.

There was no longer any reason to be quiet, and using my boot, I pushed the asshole into the gaping hole in the ground. When I heard the thud and groan as he hit the floor, I wandered down the stairs and pulled the decorative coffin back into place. The air was damp and musty. The scent of earth was strong in my nose, but what would turn most people off had me taking deep breaths.

Pulling out my lighter, I lifted the lid on the oil torch attached to the wall and lit the wick. The soft glow was instant and cast shadows that danced like they were doing a ceremonial ritual for the sacrifice they were about to receive. Grabbing the guy—I still had no idea what his name was—by his arm, I dragged him across the stone floor past the other rooms that had everything from more of my tools to massive, old coffins in the center. I walked to the furthest cell before closing the metal door. I hadn’t had to install much when I decided to turn the crypt into my work area. The metal door was here already like it had once been used to hold people. I couldn’t imagine what those held down here felt when the area flooded. Locked in a dark hole, feeling the water seep in with no escape and knowing that you were going to drown, you still couldn’t help but keep your face out of the water for as long as possible.

I shivered with excitement, my cock thickening in my jeans at the thought of purposely putting someone down here with a camera and watching them in those final moments. But then they’d get into my shit and mess it up like rats, and that would piss me off. I tried to push away the feelings of excitement. That was the old me, the impulsive me who wanted to do that. The new me was more controlled with my kills, but fuck, that was tempting. Hearing them scream for help….

Shaking it off, I unlocked my tool drawer, pulled out my custom knife, and sheared the material from his body. I’d taken a moment to dress the dick before I carried him out of the house. Oh, to be the fly on the wall when his girlfriend or date—or whoever she was—woke up and found him gone. Tossing his clothes to the side, he shivered as I clipped the metal shackles into place around his ankles and then pulled his arms behind his back to do the same thing.

With my prey now secure, I took the time to prepare the rest of the room. I loved candlelight and took my time lighting the dozens that circled the room before changing out of my clothes and putting them into a sealable plastic bag for safekeeping. I was just doing up my black leather pants when my victim jerked, making the shackles rattle.

“What…what the fuck,” he asked, his voice still groggy.

Ignoring him for now, I wandered over to my shrine, which held several items, but the centerpiece was the skull of my first victim. Closing my eyes, I thanked the spirits for my prey and offered his soul to them as payment for protection to continue doing my work.

“Hey, man? What the hell is happening? Why am I in cuffs?”

Pricking the tip of my finger on my blade, I wiped it on the front of the skull. The hair stood on the back of my neck as the air charged around me. I wasn’t a witch or mage or anything else. I didn’t practice voodoo or any of the other spiritual rites that were popular in this area, but I did believe in the spirit world. I knew respect, and I practiced it faithfully.

“Hey asshole, can you hear me?”

Putting my blade between my teeth, I walked to the far side of the room as the guy wiggled around like a worm on a hook, trying to watch me. The chain swung out, where it was easy to clip the cuffs around his ankles.

“Can you speak? Are you stupid? Hello? Let me go? What the hell is your problem, buddy?” It was a manual crank-style hoist and a shimmer of sweat coated my body when I finally got the dick strung up off the ground upside down. “Do you know who the fuck I am? Or what my lawyers will do to you? When they’re through, you won’t have a pot to piss in.”

“Do you know where that saying originated,” I asked as I picked up his discarded clothing and searched it until I found his wallet. Walking over to Giles, I kneeled and showed him his driver’s license photo. “Do you?”

“What the fuck does it matter if I know? Let me go.” He jerked around on the chain like an idiot, making everything flop. Totally obscene.

“I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you. In the nineteenth century in England, poor families used to pee into pots and sell their urine to tanneries. That’s to tan animal skin, in case you didn’t know. Those that did this to survive another day were considered piss poor.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Get me out of here.” I jabbed him hard in the stomach, and he groaned.

“Don’t interrupt me, it’s rude.” I rolled my shoulders. “As I was saying. But there were those who were so poor they didn’t even own a pot. They were considered the lowest of the low, hence they didn’t have a pot to piss in.”

“Great, is storytime over? Can I go now?” Why were guys like him all the same? Rude, stupid, massive egos, and small dicks.

I ignored his ridiculous question. “I assume your name is Giles, and you live at that address.” I tapped the card that showed a different address than from where I’d abducted him. “That’s a pretty fancy neighborhood compared to the shithole where your mother lives. You couldn’t even be bothered to pick up all of her groceries. Tell me, why were you forcing her to carry the bag in the first place?”

“I don’t know who the hell you are or why you know about my life, but I’m going to nail your ass to the wall when I get out of here,” he snarled, and I smiled.

“What makes you think that you’re getting out of here?” Dragging the tip of the blade down his cheek, it made a scraping sound against the stubble on his face. “I’m curious what is going on in your mind, Giles? Do you think this is a hoax? What kind of friends do you have that would do that?”

The mice were running full speed as he thought over my question, and the reality of his situation slowly seeped into the deep recesses of his brain.

“Do you really think that I stalked you all day, watched you eat dinner and fuck that woman, and then drugged you just to bring you here and let you go because you spew a few threats at me? Tell me, do I look worried?” I could see it in his eyes, and as the horror slowly began to creep in, my heart pounded harder in my chest.

That’s it, Giles. Put the pieces together. Give me your fear.

“Okay, look. What do you want? That’s what this is about, right? You want money?”

“Wrong again, Giles. Wrong again.” Standing up straight, I put his wallet with the rest of his belongings before dragging the V-bottomed trough, with large collecting bottles, over and placing it directly under his head.

“Then tell me what you want!” Giles’s eyes never left me as he fought against the restraints, but they didn’t budge. All he managed to do was wear himself out. His chest heaved with every breath. “What are you doing?” Giles’s voice was shrill as he looked at the knife in my hand.

The corner of my mouth turned up. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to skin you alive, of course.” Giles’s eyes went wide, and he thrashed harder against the chains.

“Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you,” he said, trying to bow his body away from me as I walked closer.

“You’re correct, you don’t know me. But I know people like you, and you’re what’s wrong with this city.”

“Please, man, I swear I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me go.”

I was tempted to torture him. I could derive so much more pleasure from the screams that would echo along the walls, but when I turned over a new leaf six years ago, I had to curb those urges. To remain in control of my darkness was difficult for me and had been worse as a teen. Some days were harder than others, and I admittedly had fallen off the wagon multiple times, but I was in control tonight.

Bending over so I could look him in the eyes, I watched as tears slid down his face and dropped into the trough below.

“You know what’s ironic, Giles? Not so long ago, I wouldn’t have given a fuck what you did to anyone in your life, but then I found a higher calling. My mentor changed his ways, and I had to conform, so now here you are. Do you think that means you were chosen to die? Meant to die? Did the Grim Reaper touch your shoulder as you walked down the street and say today is the day?”

“I don’t know…please, what will it take for you to let me go? Choose someone else.”

Sighing, I tapped my chin with the tip of the blade, giving him a moment to think that there really was hope for another chance. Like I was some vigilante do-gooder looking for him to say, ‘ I’ll be a better person, I promise .’ But that was not who I was.

Grabbing a handful of his hair, he opened his mouth to beg or scream, but I was fast with my blade and slit his neck open like he was cow strung up for slaughter. His eyes bugged out as he choked on his blood. The red streamed along his face and into the trough below.

I stared into his eyes, silently watching as the panic began to fade and a calmness took over right before the light went out completely. I rolled my shoulders, my body shuddering with the thrill of the kill complete. Clenching my fists, I let out a frustrated roar that echoed around the cavernous space. I slammed them into his stomach, swinging his limp carcass.

“Fuck.” There was something so unsatisfying about killing this way, and yet I knew that I had to change or get caught. But I missed the screams and blood coating the walls. I missed the terror in their eyes and the cat-and-mouse game of chasing them from room to room as they tried to escape. There was no escape once I had them in my grasp.

“Stop swinging already, fuck you’re annoying even in death,” I growled at Giles as I grabbed his body to stop the momentum. Once the blood had drained into the jugs stored underneath, I pulled them out and capped them for later, then slipped the catcher tray under the trough. Time to get to work. The process of skinning took skill, patience, and precision to do it right. Luckily, I had all three when it came to my work. Turning on my favorite music, I started with his legs and let each piece of skin drop into the trough with a thud. The hands and feet were the trickiest part. They took some time to master, but now I could peel it off in one go like a glove or sock. Once all the skin was stripped and gathered into a pile, I cut out the fat. There wasn’t much, considering Giles was in good shape, but what there was got collected into a large pot. I walked out and into the next room that I had set up for this process and dumped it into two separate slow cookers. It had taken some time to figure out how to run electricity down here, but once I had, it made my life so much easier.

Setting the cookers on low, I sang along with the next song as I extracted his organs and put them in the cooler before starting on the muscle. Each piece was carefully carved away from the bones, leaving them completely clean. That meat was layered into a larger cooler along with the tendons. Last but not least were Giles’s bones. With each tendon cut, the bones separated from the rest of the skeleton, just like I was back in school dismantling the dummies for class. Pre-med had taught me a lot, and all my teachers said I had a bright future in medicine. I wonder what they would’ve said if they knew the real reason I’d been taking the courses.

Once the bones were collected, they went into the other room to be boiled and cleaned of the little bits of flesh still stuck to them. This was the lengthiest portion of the process. I could only boil half of the bones at a time. While my goodies were being prepared for transport, I began my thorough cleaning process. Everything needed to be scrubbed, and I was meticulous with every link of chain and crevice of the trough. Using some of the cleaner, I made sure my pants and boots were once more perfect and placed into their storage area as I redressed into my jeans and t-shirt.

It would take a few trips to get it all out to the car, so I hauled everything I could to the bottom of the stairs and then took it up one by one into the mausoleum. Would it have been easier to use a different location? Yes, but I preferred doing it here among the dead. It felt right.

On my last trip from the car to do a final check and lock up, I spotted a figure crouched in the darkness a little further down the row. Blending with the shadows, I moved quickly and silently as I veered between the tall walls until I’d circled and was almost right behind them.

It was late, too late for normal visits to loved ones, and yet the way the person was hunched over and running their finger over the name engraved into the stone told me this was someone special. They were cloaked in all black like they, too, were trying to blend with their surroundings. With their head covered, I couldn't tell if the person was male or female, but from the slender frame, I guessed female.

“I made it six months.” I stood up straighter with the soft and soothing sound of her voice. She had enough of a Cajun lilt that I knew she was from an Acadian parish, but it was bastardized enough that she hadn’t lived there for a long time. “I know, it’s not much considering, but…shit no….” She sighed. “It’s a big deal, and I know I should celebrate the victory, but somehow, it still feels like a loss. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s how I feel right or wrong.”

The woman stood and placed her hand on the front of the small tomb before leaving something on the top. The breeze caught her scent, and it drifted toward me. Something stirred inside my chest when I took a deep inhale. Closing my eyes, I tried to place the combination of light and woodsy with a spicy nuance. The closest that I could come to was an iris flower with a dash of cinnamon.

“Anyway, I don’t have anything new to tell you. Mom is still not speaking to me. I don’t blame her, I guess. I’m still working the same diner job cause no one else will hire me, and I’m at least a solid year away from having enough saved to buy my own shoebox of a house. I know I could rent, but this would be mine. The first real thing that I worked for and the first real step forward. I don't know, maybe that doesn't make an ounce of sense, but you know me, I always have to do things the hard way.” There was a long pause before she shivered and then looked around like she knew someone was watching her. “I miss you,” she finally said, and then turned and walked away with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie as strands of hair blew out from under the black material.

I waited until she was out of sight before walking over, picking up what she left behind, and running my thumb over the six-month chip. Interesting. She spoke like she’d been here before, but this was the first time I’d seen her. Taking note of the name she’d traced, I set the chip down and went back to finish my work.

For whatever reason, the sound of the girl’s voice was stuck in my head. I kept repeating her words while her sweet smell lingered in my nose. It took a lot to intrigue me, but my interest was officially piqued.