Chapter Five
Reaper
3 weeks later
W ith the hood up from my black sweatshirt and donning my mask, I carefully make my way into Jason Doyle’s house through the sliding door on their back porch. Those are always easy to break into, especially since he doesn't have a security system that needs hacking. It would have taken some extra time, but that’s another skill I’ve had to pick up since becoming a serial killer.
It’s three in the morning, and they both should be in a deep sleep by now. I've been watching the house for a couple weeks and there’s never been any movement from 3-4 AM. No bathroom trips or getting a drink from the fridge, just deep sleep.
I pause outside their bedroom door. Typically, this isn't my go-to method of extraction, especially when they don't live alone. It increases the chances of being seen by someone other than my target. Which has yet to happen and I'd like to keep it that way.
A quick sedative injection and they'll both stay asleep hours longer. By the time she wakes up, she’ll be free of the scum that sleeps beside her, and when he wakes up, he’ll wish he never did.
I slowly open it to a room cast in darkness. I flick on my small flashlight pointed at the ground. The bluish white light beams against the dark wood floor. I take a few steps and shine the light over an area rug, then land on the bed.
The empty bed.
What the fuck.
I quickly round the bed and step in something slippery. What the fuck did I just step into?
Red.
Crimson fluid covers the floor, my light reflecting brightly off the bloody mess. I follow the puddle until I reach long legs, then a nude body.
Jason Doyle lies in a river of his own blood. At least I assume it’s him. Someone smashed his face in, along with holes and caved in areas throughout his torso.
Holy fuck.
I flash the light to the left and find a bloody hammer, pieces of flesh still attached to it.
Yup. That’ll do it.
I move the light a bit further behind Jason and… fuck.
Charlotte sits huddled in the corner covered in blood, shaking, eyes wide and transfixed on me.
Oh, fuck me.
I can't say I've ever been put into this situation before. Nor have I ever planned for something like this to happen.
She beat me to it.
Savage little thing.
Good for her, but bad for me because what the fuck am I supposed to do now that she’s seen me. Half my face is covered, but I’m supposed to be a ghost. No one has laid eyes on me and lived to tell about it.
I'm surprised she’s not screaming at my presence. But judging by her appearance, it looks like she’s done enough crying and screaming tonight. She might be all out.
Lucky me.
We stare at each other for a moment longer while I mentally get my shit together and figure out what to say.
“You came for him, didn't you?” she croaks, catching me off guard again.
“Yes.”
“I thought you were a myth. You’re The Bone Reaper, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“The bone mask kind of gives it away.” She softly laughs. “Guess I made a mess of things, huh?”
I shrug.
“You’re not afraid of me?” I ask curiously, tilting my head. Most people seeing a large man in their bedroom wearing the lower part of a skull as a muzzle would be freaking the fuck out. But not Charlotte.
“Afraid? Of what? My life is over now anyway. Nothing matters.”
“Your life is not over. You're free, and by the looks of it, you grabbed freedom by the balls and made it your bitch, little savage.”
“I’m going to jail. I killed him. I fucking killed someone. I'm a murderer,” she says matter-of-factly.
“It was self-defense. ”
“They won't believe that. Look at him. And besides, his family is loaded. They’ll pay off whoever they need to lock me up for life. I fucked up.”
“No. You did what you had to. You survived.” Before I even realize what I'm saying, I blurt out, “Looks like you're coming with me now.”
“What?”
“Come with me and I'll take care of this mess. Part of what I do is making people disappear. Sure, sometimes I like to be a little artistic and leave a display, but sometimes a situation calls for something more… discreet. Come with me, and he will just disappear.”
“I’m just supposed to trust some guy in a bone mask who broke into our house, intending to kill my boyfriend?”
“You said you're not afraid of me and at this point, I don't think you have a choice. It’s either come with me or like you said, rot in jail.”
She looks at her red hands and seems to ponder for a moment. Then she stands on shaky legs and crosses her arms over her chest to hide her hard nipples carving through her blood-soaked white tank top. I pretend not to notice them or that she’s wearing only black panties.
“Can I shower first at least?”
“No. No blood down the drain. Touch as little as possible. In fact, don't touch anything at all. Let’s not spread more blood around. Tell me which drawers have your clothes.”
She directs me to them. I toss her some pants and a sweater, and she puts them on where she stands as I clean off the blood I stepped in.
“Now, sit on the bed and put your socks and shoes on. But don't put your feet back on the ground over there. Roll over to this side and get out.” She does as I instruct. “I’ll get you to my place, then I'll come back to take care of this.”
“Who knew The Bone Reaper drives such a fancy car,” Charlotte says as we drive off in my sleek black BMW that I had parked around the block. “No one would question what you're doing in this neighborhood with this thing. You fit right in. Minus the bone mask of course.”
“What would you expect me to drive?”
“I don't know, I’d imagine you would get around by some kind of large hellhound or a winged demon creature.”
I grunt and shake my head. “I'm not a mythical being.”
“I only learned that like twenty minutes ago. I still feel like I might be dreaming, stuck in some kind of twisted nightmare that’s taken a rather interesting turn with you.”
“I assure you this is not a dream. I’m sure you're still in shock. You can take a shower at my place and rest.”
“Aren't you worried about me seeing you and now I'm going to also see where you live? I could blow your entire operation.”
“If I thought you would expose me, then you wouldn't be sitting in my passenger seat. I'd have you in my truck and most likely no longer breathing.”
“Oh…”
“I think we have an understanding here. And you’ve heard of me so you know what I do. I help people who can’t help themselves. People in similar situations that you were in. I don't think you’d want to ruin that.” She finally falls silent as she fidgets with her fingers and stares ahead.
“We’re here.” I pull down my long driveway and up to the three-stall garage of my lavish contemporary style home.
“No way. This is your house?”
“Surprised again, are we?”
“I just… this is just not wh at I expected.”
“Oh right, you expected some kind of underground lair close to hell?”
“Maybe.”
I shake my head.
With a press of a button, the garage doors open. I step out and round the car to the passenger side and open the door for her.
“Follow me.”
I lead Charlotte to one of the doors in the garage. I unlock it and reveal a staircase that ends at another steel door. I enter my code on the keypad and the door unlocks leading us into my lair.
“This is where I do my… work. There’s a bathroom over there. You can shower and then we can go up to the main house. Fresh towels are in the closet. Put all your clothing in the black bin. I’ll find you something to wear upstairs. I’ll wait here till you're done.”
She nods while taking in the large open basement. Half of which looks like a medical facility. Her eyes widen as they land on a metal table with large plastic containers nearby and then her focus shifts to the shelves lining the far side of the wall adorned with various tools for cutting osseous matter and removing organs as well as gallons of hydrofluoric acid and oxygen bleach.
Her posture subtly changes and I sense her rigidness. Maybe this just made things a bit more real to her. Maybe now she truly understands whose house she’s standing in.
I might save women, but I still do bad things. Things some would consider fucked up and evil. Things I enjoy.
Monsters exist and she’s willingly come home with one. Lucky for her I just happen to be one of the lesser monsters she’s come across.
“I won’t hurt you, Charlotte. You’re safe here.”
She doesn't look at me but nods, then walks to the bathroom. I take a seat, remove my sweatshirt and shoes, slip on a clean pair of boots, and wait.
Charlotte probably doesn’t realize I can still slightly hear her muffled cries coming from the bathroom. The water is not enough to stifle the sound of her tears. But I wonder, are they tears of pain or freedom?