Hunting in Wild Darkness

1. Sebastian

CHAPTER ONE

SEBASTIAN

I’d never given much thought to anything outside of killing.

Truthfully, it’s the only way I know how to survive.

“Now, Hank. Can I call you Hank?” I ask, patronizing him.

“Fuck you!” The man strapped to a metal table, in an abandoned art studio downtown, spits out blood from where I knocked him out only a short time ago. The blood drips down his chin.

This is the only place we could find on such short notice.

The clouds from the afternoon rain dissipate, leaving the bright sun to peek through the blurred poly sheeting that covers the windows.

We don’t have much more time before it grows exponentially brighter, exposing what we’re doing to people passing by on their early morning commute to work.

Because anyone walking or driving by could see our dark silhouettes.

“That’s not very nice,” I chide.

My cousin, who’s also my business partner, steps over to the table. “Do you know why you’re here, Hank?”

The man’s eyes bounce between River and me. “No! Who are you guys?”

“God, I’m so sorry,” I mock, resting a hand on my chest. “I’m Sebastian, and this is my cousin River.”

“So what? Why the hell am I here?”

“You’ve done some bad things.” River tsks, shaking his head.

“What? I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

Clearly, this guy is going to need us to spell it out for him, just like all the others.” I slide a photo of a young college woman from my pocket and hold it up in front of him.

“You raped and strangled her, didn’t you?”

“Never seen that bitch in my life.”

But the way his pupils flare when he looks at the photo tells me she’s definitely one of his victims, one he’s proud of.

I know because that’s the same look I get when I kill someone.

River grabs his chin, jerking his head to the side to force eye contact with me. “If I were you, I’d start telling the truth, or we’ll make your death a lot more painful than we planned for it to be.”

“Are you some rogue cops looking to settle a score or something because you think I got away with it?”

River and I exchange a smirk.

“Funny,” I say. “Our Hank here is a comedian.”

“We’re definitely not law enforcement.” River chuckles.

I flip the photo up again, bringing it within an inch of his face. “You killed her.”

River removes his handgun from his waistband and taps it on the table near Hank’s temple. “Remember, hard or the harder way. It’s up to you.”

“Fine! Is that what you want to hear? That I strangled her!” Hank’s body jerks against the restraints.

“Go on.” I motion for him to continue.

“I wasn’t going to kill her, but that bitch wouldn’t stop screaming.”

“Ugh, I really hate when they scream, don’t you?” River cocks the gun.

“Fuck you! I told you the truth,” he spits out. “Now, let me go!”

I shake my head. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

“I swear, I told you everything. Who the fuck are you guys? What else do you want from me?”

“We already told you who we are,” River grumbles, as he peeks through the slit in the plastic curtain of the abandoned building, looking toward the street.

I lean down to get close to Hank’s face. “We’re the fuckers who’re going to make sure you never hurt another person again.”

Hank’s eyes widen when the realization finally hits him that he’s not leaving this place alive. “I have money! How much do you want? I can get it for you.”

I laugh. “Nah, we’re good. See, my cousin and I own a very successful company. Thompson Innovations? I’m sure you’ve heard of it. So, money isn’t why we put fuckers like you down.”

“Then what do you want from me?” he repeats again in panic. “The girl was a mistake. I swear I won’t do it again.”

“What is it, Hank? You don’t want to hang out with us?” River says. “We’re sort of bonding. You’re telling us about how you raped and killed an innocent woman, and we’re explaining what we do to people like you,” River continues.

I knock my gun next to his ear, the tapping reverberating in the room. “All right, enough with the small talk. Time for some retribution.”

“No! Help!” he screams.

“No one can hear you.”

River then moves to cover Hank’s mouth with tape so he can’t scream any louder.

Tears roll down his skin, crimson where I hit him earlier, his pleas muffled.

“Let’s get this over with.”

River nods in agreement. “Lux is expecting me back at the manor to help her pack for our trip to France. So the faster we can do this, the better.”

River’s expression is impatient as he bounces slightly in place. I never thought my cousin would settle down with anyone, but after rescuing the police lieutenant’s daughter recently, he’s been obsessed.

“I remember. You’ve only told me a million times.” I roll my eyes.

When I spotted Hank this morning on my way into the city, I knew I recognized him as one of the guys on our running list filled with names of predators who’ve somehow escaped the system.

Thank god I had a pair of TI’s smart glasses in my car, because I was able to slide them on and identify him right away.

“It’s not my fault he fell into my lap. I couldn’t let him go once I found out he was on our list. You know that.”

Most of them probably come to the Pacific Northwest to hide since the vast forests here give them the space and privacy to do it.

Little do they know, we live here ourselves.

“Trust me, I get it. I’d have done the same thing.”

I turn my attention to Hank. “Well, we wouldn’t want to keep his girlfriend waiting.”

Then I aim the barrel of the gun to the side of his head.

And with one quick shot, he’s gone.

A rush of adrenaline shoots up my spine, spilling into my limbs as the intoxicating thrill of the kill washes through me. And with that, knowing I’m the one who is putting an end to his life reinforces why I do what I do.

My eyes close slowly, and I breathe in a deep, heavy breath. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“There’s really nothing like it,” River agrees before taking out his phone.

“Great.” I slide the gun back into my waistband and take out a pack of cigarettes. After lighting one up, I hop onto the counter only a few feet behind Hank’s dead body.

“You really should quit. That shit is not healthy for you,” River says in judgment.

“Fuck you,” I say, taking in a drag. I should quit and have wanted to for some time, but after each kill, I always reach for one. “Fine, whatever, there will come a day when I do. But it’s not today.”

“Maybe sooner than later?” River slides his phone back into his pocket. “Hayden and the night crew are pulling around the back.”

I nod, drawing in a long puff.

River walks out the back door, before returning a moment later with Hayden, who is my right-hand man and one of our closest friends.

“Not too bad,” Hayden comments as he walks into the room, followed by our small but lethal group. The night crew is a group of guys that help with our nighttime activities, handling cleanup and disposal.

I hop off the counter. “I’m headed out. Call me if you need anything.”

River is right behind me as we leave the crew to clean up and step out of the back door and into the small alley behind the studio. We then take a sharp left toward the end of the building where our cars are parked.

“What’s the status on the Black Veil Society?” River asks as we pass small businesses still closed up from the night. “Do you and Christian have a plan to reach out to them?”

I shrug. “Yes, there has been movement. Not as much as I’d like, but I’m eager to get started.”

The Black Veil Society is a centuries-old secret society of serial killers.

It was believed to be an urban legend until one of the Society’s cards was found on the body of Andrew Hughes, one of our targets.

Andrew was a hotel heir trying to recreate his brother’s sex ring.

The card is embossed with a shiny cream-colored font with the words Black Veil Society written on the front, while a ten-digit telephone number is written on the back.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Christian, our FBI contact, has been researching the FBI databases on the group before we contact them.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I slip it out. It’s Christian calling.

“Speak of the devil,” I say to River as I answer the call. “What’s up, man? Did you find anything?”

“Not a lot to report.” Disappointment fuels his tone. “But what I do know is that they might have established chapters throughout the country.”

They first came on the radar of the FBI with the surge of serial killers from the 1970s. But with the crackdown on crime and advancements in forensic technology throughout the 1990s, they were thought to have dissolved.

The allusiveness of the group only makes me hungrier to bring them down. The thrill of the hunt. But ultimately it was the tragic deaths of my and River’s parents that sent us down this road—a job gone wrong that would forever change the course of our lives.

“Chapters?”

“Yeah, so basically, I’m theorizing there might be smaller groups making them harder to detect. They can organize small-scale killings without causing too much alarm,” he explains.

I blow out a breath of annoyance. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

“Sorry, bro, I wish I had more information before we infiltrate them,” Christian offers.

“River and I are on our way back to the Thompson Manor. I’ll touch base with you soon.”

“In the meantime, I’ll check in with my local ground contacts. Strip clubs, truck stops, and informants,” he says.

“Sounds good, we’ll talk soon,” I tell him before ending the call.

I stop short when I sense someone staring at me from behind.

“What are you doing?” River asks.

A small black cat with matted fur is looking right at me. “He’s cute.”

River cranes his neck around me and glances down. “It’s a cat.”

“Oh?” I say, glancing at the tiny black kitten perched on top of a tin trash can lid. He’s staring right at me. “He’s a little guy.”

We both turn our backs to the kitten and head back to our cars, but he continues following us.

I turn around to see he’s right on our heels. “Is he following us?”

“I thought so.” River chuckles. “Well, let’s go.”

“Is he alone?”

“I don’t know, Sebastian. He’s just a stray cat, leave him be.”

Crouching down, I reach my hand out to pet him. He walks right up to me and head-butts my palm. Against my better judgment, I pick up the dirty feline. He sits comfortably on my bent knee. His feral amber eyes bored into mine. “Yeah. He’s coming home with us.”

“What?” River halts, his mouth hanging agape. “Absolutely not. We’ve never had a pet.”

“Well, we do now.”

River’s hand meets my shoulder, pressing it back. “Sebastian. You’re not serious, are you?”

“Look at him.” I smile. “It’s like he chose us.”

River’s eyes slide down to the kitten. “You’re a serial killer, Sebastian, and you want a kitten?”

“I kill for the good of mankind,” I argue. “And besides, he’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“Look at him,” I scratch the top of his head. “He’s all alone out here. And what if he’s like us and doesn’t have a mom or dad?”

“You can’t just pick up a stray cat. We come and go all the time. Cats are a responsibility. And besides, what ruthless serial killer do you know goes soft for a homeless kitten?”

“Eh.” I shrug my shoulders and lift the cat up as I stand. “I think work is better when I don’t have every detail planned out.”

He follows behind me as I bring the tiny kitten to my car. “And just because you say something is yours doesn’t make it automatically true.”

I let River think he has any say in this decision and allow his brief comment about my impulsivity to slide, because we all know he is not one to talk.

Now, if I can get this kitten to the vet to make sure he’s—or she’s—good to go, then I can get back to bringing down a secret society of serial killers.