Angel's Messiah (32 page)

“You need to stop talkin’ ‘bout that
slut
,” another man said.

So far three, including Luther, were guilty as sin, and one was ignorant of who Gina was. What about the last? I studied him from the opposite side of the table. He looked like your average man in the street. There was nothing about him that would make you look twice for any reason. I did notice his arm seemed to be jerking under the table.

No, he couldn’t be. Not with all his poker buddies here.

I crouched down to look under the table. He wasn’t doing what I thought he was, yet he was tapping Luther’s leg. I watched for a few moments. It was definitely some sort of message or signal, unrefined and childlike — very different to what Drake’s specialists used. As far as I was concerned that implicated him in Gina’s death as well.

One soul to save, four to damn.

It was time to scare the shit out of them, and get Cleet out of there. I stood to the side of Cleet’s chair and grabbed his arm. He was wearing a long-sleeved hunting jacket that smelled strongly, to me, of deer and musk. Cleet felt my hand on his arm and turned to see who had grabbed hold of him. Seeing no one he shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Cleet?” Luther asked.

“Just feels like someone’s got hold of my arm. Must be a cramp or somethin’.”

“Time to go,” I whispered in Cleet’s ear, so only he would hear.

To the others it would have seemed that Cleet had simply disappeared. We ended up in a park a few kilometres away from Luther’s basement. Cleet was rather distressed by now, not knowing what was going on.

“Damn. I really need to stop smokin’, Luther. I’m having the weirdest hallucination,” Cleet said.

I sat him on a bench in the park and laid the heel of my palm on his forehead.

“Sleep,” I said.

Cleet’s eyes closed and his head lolled to one side. I laid him down in a more comfortable position. To any passer-by it would look like he was having a nap on the bench. This was something I’d only tried once before, though the last time I wanted the two ladies involved to forget, not sleep. I wasn’t sure how long it would last. Even if it was only an hour or so, it would be long enough for me to do my work.

I returned to the basement to find the remaining players rather agitated, trying to break down the door that Luther had seen fit to reinforce. It was time for a little fun. This didn’t have to be all work.

I wrote the words
Retribution has come
in the air above the poker table. The words flared brightly in a lovely fiery red, to match my beautiful eyes.

“Ah, Luther, what does retribution mean?” one of the men asked.

“It means Cleet is being a little shit and playin’ tricks on us. He must’ve known who that slut was all along. C’mon out, Cleet,” Luther hollered.

“I’m sorry,” I said in my best telephone voice, “Cleet is unable to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep and he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.”

“What the fuck’s goin’ on, Luther?” another man asked.

“Beep,” I said, and blinked. Now they could see me.

“It’s a fuckin’ witch,” someone yelled. “Look at her eyes!”

“I’ll accept
bitch
, but not witch,” I said. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name in Helena Malakh. I’ve come to send you to hell.”

“Oh fuck,” someone whispered. I could
smell
his fear.

“And I’ll have you know I’m
not
happy.” I waved a finger at them. “My daughter was
never
a slut. Me on the other hand, that’s a different story.”

I saw one of them reach down to scratch his ankle. He’d either be retrieving a knife or gun, and I’d let him. A little display of my
omnipotence
would do them the world of good. I doubted it would improve their respect for me, though possibly they might develop a healthy respect for how desperate their situation was.

“Well boys, I’d like to get down to business as soon as possible. I have places to go, people to
kill
.”

Okay, it was a small knife and I saw it coming towards me in slow motion. It wasn’t a bad throw, though it was going to miss anything vital by a long shot. Maybe that was the plan. Maybe he thought I’d be in such pain they could subdue me. I watched the knife as the tip pierced the black leather and sliced through my skin to embed itself in my shoulder.

“Come on,” I snorted. “You’re not trying very hard to
kill
me.”

I pulled the knife out of my shoulder, licked my blood off the blade and smiled.

“You could’ve at least aimed for my heart.”

I plunged the knife into my heart to demonstrate where he should have aimed and pulled it out again. There was blood on the blade once more. They knew now that it had been no trick. I set the knife down on the table. Already my wounds had healed.

“Is that
all
you’ve got?” I asked.

“Hell, Luther, I don’t feel so good,” one of them said.

“Shut up, Billy,” Luther said. He turned to his comrades and whispered, “We can take her if we all work together, as a team, like we’ve always done. It’s just like hunting. Three to take her down, one to gut her.”

I smiled, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. Luther had whispered very softly. If I were mortal I wouldn’t have heard what he’d said from where I was.

“I need information,” I said. “Who wants to squeal first?”

“
Now,
” Luther whispered urgently.

The four men bolted down the stairs and charged me. A few fast and well-placed kicks from me — knee, groin, stomach and throat — brought them all down. Unfortunately for me I’d crushed the windpipe of the one I’d kicked in the throat and he was suffocating as a result. I crouched down beside him to watch him die.

“Sorry about that,” I laughed softly. “I didn’t mean to finish you off so quickly. I hope you didn’t have anything important to share.”

I looked at the other three, all clutching various parts of their anatomy. I’d started off with gentle kicks and as I progressed higher up the body they’d become sharper and harder. The man I’d kicked in the groin was rolling around in agony, yet he was still alive. I laughed.

“Ah, come on boys, I was only
playing
. Though I really need to get down to business now
.
I want names. Anyone who was involved with Gina’s death, or knew it was going to happen and chose not to do anything about it.”

“Fuck you,” Luther said, clutching his stomach.

“Please boys, we can do this the easy way, which means a quick death for you, or the hard way, which involves a
lot
of pain.”

“Apart from us,” the one with the broken kneecap said, “there’s Davy, Earl, Jodi —”

“Jodi,” I interrupted, “girl or boy?”

“What do
you
reckon?” Luther sneered. “And you’d better shut up, Billy, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Luther, we’re all gonna
die,
” Billy said resolutely. “I want to die quickly. I ain’t used to pain.”

“Wise choice, Billy. Continue,” I said.

Billy rattled off another fifteen names, all of which I already knew — what a shame. He’d been so cooperative I rewarded him all the same. A quick twist of the head, snapping his neck, and it was all over for Billy.

Two down, two to go.

“I certainly hope one of you can give me some names I don’t already have.”

“We ain’t talkin’,” Luther said.

“Why don’t you let your friend speak for himself?”

“I … I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” the other one whispered.

His hands were still covering his crotch protectively. I crouched down and ran my finger along his hand.

“I’ve heard enough pressure in the right spot can kill a man,” I purred. “I’ve always wanted to know if that’s true. Is it? Shall I find out?”

He groaned. I thought he was going to pass out. I placed my hand over his and gave a squeeze, just a little one. He bit down on his lip, trying to suppress a whimper. I squeezed a little harder, breaking his hand.

“
Fuck!
” he cried out. “I don’t know
nothin’
.”

Luther was slowly getting to his feet, clutching his stomach with one hand. I couldn’t see the other hand, but I could hear his finger pulling back on something — the sneaky bastard had a gun. As I heard the
click
of the trigger I fell backwards to the floor and, using my arm, swept Luther’s legs out from under him. He landed on the ground with a thud and the bullet meant for me hit his friend in the stomach. He was bleeding very badly.

“Why, Luther, you’re taking
all
my fun away,” I pouted. “He’s as good as dead and I hadn’t even started yet. I guess you’ll just have to make it worth my while. You can do that for me, Luther, can’t you?”

“Fuck, Luther. I need
help,
” the other man cried out.

“Quiet,” I snapped at him. “It’s
rude
to butt in on someone else’s conversation.”

I knelt on Luther’s chest and unsheathed Death, using the tip of the blade to clean away the grime that had gathered under my fingernails as a result of dealing with scum.

“Now, Luther,” I said, continuing to clean my nails, “I want names. Don’t make me wait too long. I’m not known for my patience.”

The other man continued to whimper. The noise was
really
annoying. I sheathed Death, leaned forward on Luther’s shoulders and kicked out with one leg, dealing a deadly blow to the other man’s head. I rested back on my knees and put my hands on my thighs.

“Where were we?” I asked. “Oh, that’s right, I was about to inflict some pain, you were going to call me some names, then I was going to kill you.”

“
Fuck you!
” Luther said.

I glanced behind me, at his crotch. “I can tell you like what I’m doing, Luther. You obviously like it rough, but I’m
so
not interested. I like
real
men, not dickheads like you and your
believers
.”

“You think we’re all rednecks, don’t you?” he laughed. “If you met Dallas, you’d realise how futile what you’re doin’ is. You can’t kill us all.”

“Dallas, huh. I don’t know him. What’s his last name?” I asked, very interested in what Luther had to say now.

Luther pressed his lips together in a smile, yet said nothing. I slid down and let my legs slip on either side of him until I was straddling his hips. I unsheathed Death and cut the buttons away from his shirt.

“My, my, you’re
really
enjoying this,” I said. “It’s like sitting on a rock. I might have to take a peek later, just to see if it’s really you and not some prosthetic.”

He sneered at me.

“Don’t be like that. This could be
fun,
” I murmured, “for both of us.”

I pulled his shirt aside. He had a very hairy chest —
I don’t mind a bit of hair, but this is positively Neanderthal
— and a number of tattoos that I couldn’t quite make out because of all the hair. I used Death to shave the hair away, though wasn’t really careful enough. As a result I sliced through most of his right nipple. I lifted the little flap of skin then let it drop back in place.

“Sorry about that, Luther,” I said. “Just wanted to see what tatts you had.”

I blew the hair away and used his shirt to mop up the blood. I wasn’t really surprised to see a portrait of Hitler and a hangman’s noose. The numbers fourteen and twenty-three had me baffled though.

“Why the numbers?” I asked, gently prodding them with the tip of Death.

Luther kept his mouth shut. I poked the numbers a bit harder, drawing blood. When he refused to talk I used Death to trace the numbers, pressing deeper with each pass, the blood flowing freely and pooling in the dip of his chest. His face was getting paler, his hair damp with perspiration.

“Fourteen,” he began, the pain obvious in his voice, “is the number of words in a quote by a white supremacist, and twenty-three represents a letter in the alphabet.”

I pulled Death away when he started to talk. If he was going to cooperate I didn’t see the need to inflict more pain … yet.

“W? I still don’t understand,” I said.

“
White
you dumb whore. W stands for white — what the world
should
be. If sluts like you didn’t sleep around we wouldn’t have damn half-breeds and the like. Things would be much more manageable.”

“Why didn’t you just write the word
white
, like this,” and I carved the missing letters into his chest.

Half-breeds indeed,
I thought to myself.
Towel.