Chapter 2
Chapter Two
I picked up the red pen and walked over to the wall. “Goodbye, Marius,” I intoned as I crossed out his face. Where the two thick strokes met, they obliterated his mouth. “Pity I couldn’t have done that when you were alive.” Anything not to have to listen to him drone on about his painting.
The four photos to Marius’s left bore the same red cross. I gazed at the image on the right, enjoying the tingle that started in my chest, then spread outward. My stomach fluttered. Waiting was murder.
I grinned at my own joke. I had time to enjoy the intoxication a while longer, to bask in the radiant, fierce joy that had accompanied each death.
Marius’s departure had been particularly delicious.
Once he’d gotten over his initial surprise—like the rest of them—he clearly relished the prospect of getting me in his bed.
He wasn’t on his guard. Why would he be?
He knew me, after all. So easy to slip the Rohypnol into his glass and watch as he drifted into unconsciousness.
And when he awoke, bewildered to discover he was naked, bound, and gagged, he’d pulled against his bonds.
The sharp scratch as I administered the ketamine only added to his befuddled state.
I saw him resign himself to the act that was to follow. It was almost a pity to disillusion him.
Almost.
I waited until I’d filled him to the hilt before leaning forward to whisper in his ear.
Enjoy it. This is your last fuck. Because when I come?
You die.
And there it was, the ultimate thrill. Not penetrating that tight hole, not driving myself deep into him—that was an act to be suffered, not enjoyed.
Even carving into his flesh brought merely a trickle of expectation.
No, the anticipation of taking his life, of knowing he was unable to struggle against his bonds…
that aroused me to the point of ejaculation.
I shivered. There would be time enough to dwell on Marius. The elation was still overwhelming. Another one gone.
I was in no hurry. My days had taken on a familiar pattern.
Erase one of those sluts from the planet.
Watch the news.
Add more names to the list.
Cross off the names of those who’d eliminated themselves.
Lay the groundwork for the next one.
Wash, rinse, repeat….
Only seventeen more to go. Seventeen men, out of a field rich with possibilities. The world would be all the better for the loss of those twenty-two souls. I’d have preferred a total of twenty-six, but it wouldn’t fit.
Then again….
I might change my mind when I reach twenty-two. There are plenty of men to choose from, after all. And why stop if I’m getting away with it?
I gazed at the photo that took center stage, framed with bare wall, the images of my victims—actual and potential—kept at a distance so as not to taint it with their presence. Men like them had tainted him enough.
They’re going to pay for what they did. And I’ve got nothing but time.
My gaze alighted on the image I’d already picked out. A definite possibility. My only difficulty?
I’d waited five months between victims, and it had been torture. It didn’t matter that it had been the shortest time span thus far. I didn’t think I could wait that long again. Not while the heightened emotions of the kill lingered still. Not with all those faces staring at me from the wall.
Not with his face gazing at me. His voice in my head.
“I’m doing this for you,” I whispered. “To avenge you.”
I had another motive too, one that suffocated me, haunted me, but I knew of one way to assuage that emotion.
I smiled at the image I’d selected. A handsome face with bright eyes and a firm jaw.
“You’re next.”