Twisted Evil

  “Thanks, Andy. You’re a real gem.” Lucie held the toddler to her, not ever wanting to let her go.

  “Oh, before I forget. She did something for you while we did art.” Andy disappeared again and returned with a crudely painted picture of a flower. “Finger painting,” he explained. “Look, she even tried to draw a face in the middle.”

  She took the sheet of paper from him and turned it around and around in her hand, frowning. “Shame it turned out like a – what exactly is that? It can go on the fridge with the rest. We best be off, anyway. Same time tomorrow, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she staggered out of the door and to the end of the garden path. God, why did Michelle grow so fast? She had already nearly outgrown what she was wearing. Lucie heaved Michelle over to her other arm and started to walk along the path. It was tempting to use the shortcut but you never knew who was hanging around.

  A noise came from a side alley, she ignored it and stroked Michelle’s short, blonde hair to keep her asleep. Two shadows came out of the alley and silently followed Lucie until she stopped at the next turning. With the eerie feeling that she was being followed, she stopped and listened for footsteps, not letting herself turn around in case she was being watched. No-one there.

  “Expecting some-one?” called a voice behind her.

  Lucie didn’t turn round – why give them the satisfaction? – heading hurriedly into an alleyway. The face hovering inches in front of her was gruesome and nearly made her scream, if it wasn’t for the sleeping girl in her arms. Such hunger in his eyes, a maniacal expression twisting his features. Jumping, Lucie turned on her heel again and found herself sandwiched between the two who had followed her, and the lunatic she had met in the alley. Where-ever she turned, they were already there – they were everywhere. How many of them were there? All she wanted to do was take her daughter home; put her safely to bed. She thought she knew what these creatures wanted and it was not the same thing that she wanted. She hoped that she was wrong but, what good did hope do when you had knowledge?

  “Look at us,” said a soft, female voice.

  Lucie fixed her eyes on a broken, paving slab at her feet, planting a kiss on Michelle’s little head, praying she would remain asleep until this was over. Maybe she would waken tomorrow and this would all be a bad dream. Maybe…

  “I said look at me, bitch.” The girl was getting angry now.

  Lucie held the sleeping child tightly to her chest and stared defiantly at the girl. Neither of them looked as scary as the one on his own but, somehow, that terrified her more. She remembered the drawing in her other hand and clutched it absently, crumpling it at one corner. It was scarier that she knew exactly what was going to happen next because it made it even more useless to hope.

  “Innocent,” grinned the one with fire in his eyes.

  Robyn glanced at Johnny, knowing that his bloodlust had wiped out any reason in his brain. Johnny stepped towards the woman and child, gently stroking Lucie’s neck and staring at the exposed and delicate neck of the toddler. Just begging to be torn. He bent down hungrily, but was violently pushed away by Robyn. The boy was so impatient. He had to learn to play with his food – it would come in time. She gave him a warning look but didn’t drift from Mika’s side. “Who’s first?” Robyn clapped in delight, running her fingers up and down Mika’s tense, unresponsive back.

  Gently, Lucie shook her daughter awake and set hr down on the ground, by the wall, where she promptly curled up and went back to sleep, oblivious to the danger lurking just a few feet away. “Kill me if you have to, but please don’t hurt the baby.”

  Robyn shrugged dismissively, reached out and twirled her into her arms. Why couldn’t they all be so… accepting? But, then again, where was the fun if no-one put up a fight? “Ah no. This won’t do at all. How are we supposed to show him what to d if you won’t play nice?”

  Lucie swallowed, just craning her head enough to see Mika staring indifferently down at her. There was something in his cold, steely gaze… unidentifiable, just out of reach, but there. What was it? Resignedly, she went limp in Robyn’s arms and bowed her head. Johnny stared at her bare flesh, licking his lips in barely controlled hunger, feeling nothing for a girl that he would have protected yesterday but would not think twice about killing tonight. He almost thought he could hear the blood rushing around her… it sounded fast and loud, as if it was trying to get away. So hungry. Lucie looked at him through scared, quivering eyelashes, silently pleading with him. “I’m not playing.”

  Johnny smiled the evil, twisted smile of a crazed killer and broke into a laugh that sent a chill up the spines of the other three. He was learning fast. He was a natural at this. Robyn looked at Mika conveying messages of anger and delight without words.

  “It’s not a game,” Johnny told Lucie. Robyn frowned but thought no more of it.

  She swept Lucie’s curly brown hair to one side and roughly held the neck up to Mika. “Drink,” she ordered. “She’s young… untouched. Pure.”

  God, how he wanted to be able to take her and think no more of it. But he was being torn in two, between what he was and what he used to be. Human. With a conscience that was rearing it’s less than favourable head. But, he had no time to think about this problem whilst Robyn was waiting for him to tear the girls throat out. There had been a time, no more than a few days ago, when he would have done it without even thinking about it; but now… He looked away from the neck before him and over at the tiny sleeping girl by the wall. How could he deny the girl her mother? How would he have become the man he was today without his own mother? “She has a kid,” he said.

  “That’s your reason for not ripping her throat to shreds? Because she has a kid?” scoffed Johnny, totally uncomprehending of the importance of family.

  Robyn silenced him with a look. He was young, didn’t understand their ways, but that didn’t stop her from getting angry with him. “Shut up! Mika, sweetie. Don’t do this – you’re scaring me.”

  “I – I –“

  “This isn’t her death, Mika. It’s your survival.” She would never ask Mika do something if she didn’t think it was right. What could possibly be wrong about this? So what if they were destroying one person when it meant he could do so much and save so many others. Not people –the night. The stars.

  He looked around uncomfortably, first at the sleeping child, at Johnny who was shifting his weight impatiently, to Robyn who was wordlessly begging him to feed and be strong again, at the child again, and finally back down at the stretch of unmarked flesh in front of him. There was so much blood in there. So much life. That’s all it was – blood, skin, a body. He couldn’t let himself think about her as a person or he would never drink. No, just another victim, one more body to dispose of. He bent his face to her neck and smelt the addictive substance inside. Reminded suddenly of a drug he had been forced to give up, he bared his fangs and tore into her neck.

  Such a brutal murder. Such a beautiful moment. Robyn and Johnny were both riveted to the spot; Robyn by sheer enjoyment, and Johnny by mounting hunger. As they watched him kill the girl in such a violent manner, only one word echoed in each of their minds. Lucie’s last. Please. The word may have been just a final plea, but to Robyn and Mika it meant something deeper. Please stop what’s happening?

  Robyn laughed and turned her head up towards the dark night sky. Mika had never killed so violently; it had never been over so quickly. Something was hurting him, making him do things out of character, but Robyn wasn’t that bothered about it yet. Lucie’s body lay slumped in Mika’s arm and the piece of paper with Michelle’s drawing fluttered to the floor.

  This wasn’t looking very good. Carly had managed to decode all the disks, though there were a few problems getting them to run properly on this computer. Nothing that couldn’t be sorted in a hour.

  To give herself a break from the unforgiving computer screen, whic
h was beginning to give her a headache, she walked around the room and, once again, found herself looking out of the window. The blind was up and she had managed to push the window open a few inches. It was stiff, as if it hadn’t been opened for years, and the catch was as rusted as an old car in the desert. Fresh, cool air wafted into the room and instantly began to feel much less stuffy – it should be a lot easier to work now. She was quite surprised to hear nothing in the street apart from the odd car screaming along the road. It was quiet, like everything had wound down as night fell. It baffled her how things could be so crazy during the day and so peaceful as soon as it got dark.

  She had decided to wait for the others before she opened the files on the disks. She didn’t want to run the risk of them getting angry with her; she didn’t think she could take any more of that. Especially not now they had added this new one to the mix; he was young, eager – she could see the desire in him, the hunger – even though she had only seen him for a moment. He was dangerous; she just knew it. Maybe he wasn’t such an expert in the art of suffering as the other two, but maybe that made him all the more dangerous.

  An agonised, high pitched scream cut through the silent night like a knife; Carly wasn’t startled by the noise, wasn’t even surprised. She couldn’t seem to remember the outside wprld being so quiet, though she knew it was only a few days. Sometimes, though, sitting here, it was loudest when it was completely silent. She could hear everything; the steady hum of the computer as it processed the influx of new data, even the drumming of her own heart as it pounded inside her ribcage. The screamed sounded all the louder and more pained for the utter silence that enveloped it. Carly had once screamed like that – shock, pain, terror. It was all the same now, and she wondered if she would ever be so traumatised again, after everything she had been through.

  Carly took a step back from the window. The glass was growing warm and moist beneath her hand. Her hand left a sweaty print of itself on the window, and she watched, fascinated, as it evaporated and disappeared as if it had never been there at all. This time last year she had thought that her life was going to be like that; she would die without doing anything significant or making any impact, then she would die and be forgotten in a couple of years. Just another blip on the map of existence. And now she was helping to save the world – well humankind. Definitely not another handprint on life’s great window.

  The computer buzzed furiously at her, impatiently waiting to be used. The screen flickered again, and she resigned herself to another session of getting all the files to open properly on this new operating system. But not before she took one more long look out of the window, drew in one final lungful of fresh air that she might not get again for days. The night seemed so tranquil, almost magical, tonight – so quiet and dark and rich. Yes – almost magical. She had tried so hard not to think about him, she didn’t want to stop him from crossing over for her own selfish reasons, but she wished Ricky were there with her. Everyone should have a chance to see this.

  Johnny squatted down behind the bushes with Mika and Robyn, watching teenagers and young adults drift in and out of the Platinum nightclub. For a club with such a pretentious name, it was pretty hardcore. Strictly for people who wanted to rock-out after a hard day. Kids as young as 14 were being allowed in because there was a disco on the floor above, but they weren’t interested in the children. Johnny was itching to get up and just attack, but, sensing this, Robyn held his arm firmly.

  “What do we do now?” seethed Johnny, full of pent-up energy.

  “We wait,” Mika replied, not understanding why he couldn’t get to grips with their rules. “Just wait.”

  “Wait?” repeated Johnny, not quite believing what he was hearing. They weren’t supposed to wait, right? They were above that – they took what they wanted, when they wanted it. “Wait for what?”

  “No-one is better than waiting. You must learn to be patient,” Robyn told him.

  “You wait. You choose the one you want – that’s why it’s nice to go to a club… the choice – and you set your trap. They will come to you in time. You feed and kill.” Mika stared at Robyn knowingly, with all the fire of someone on Ecstasy. “You taste and relish their essence.”

  Robyn looked back at him and, without noticing, tightened her grip on Johnny’s arm. She could hear it from a mile off – the sound of blood flowing through him at such high pressure. The relative stillness of the environment made it so much louder – made her want him so badly that it hurt her just to stay still. “But until then, we wait.”

  “Feed, kill. Wait, feed, kill. Just doesn’t sound right.”

  Mika laughed, muffled just enough by the bushes so as not too attract attention. “Oh, child, you have so much to learn.”

  “Teach me, then.”

  “We are, Johnny. You are learning as fast as we can teach.”

  He shook her hand off of his arm and growled.

  “He’s getting hungry. He needs to control it, Mika.”

  “He’s too young for that, baby. Much too young. He follows his instincts, uses his impulses rather than his brain.” It had taken Mika many months, years even, to perfect the art of lying in wait. Keeping a low profile. Leaving it so long between feeds that the suspicious people had forgotten about it.

  Right now, much like a newborn baby – which in many senses, he was – it was a mere reflex, an involuntary reaction, to hunt for a source of sustenance when hunger struck. Johnny rose to his feet and watched the revellers entering and exiting the club. He had caught a scent that he found appealing. Innocence. He had not realised that innocence was something that people radiated. He stepped forward and casually joined the short crowd of youngsters at the door, inwardly bubbling over with anger at this silly need to play along with human rules.

  A group of friends went into the club and disappeared into a brightly-lit room – flashing all different covers. The light hurt Johnny’s eyes and he blinked against them. He was at the front, being asked for ID, and the mix of smells - blood, innocence, energy – was almost unbearable. Johnny grabbed the bouncer around the neck and dragged him around the corner where he pushed him against the wall. Robyn and Mika instantly grabbed an arm each, roughly pinning him to the wall.

  “What the hell’s going on?” yelled the large, muscular bouncer.

  “Exactly. Hell,” Robyn replied, mildly amused at his vain attempts to yank himself free. She could feel his muscles tensing beneath her hand and increased the pressure, just enough to keep him terrified of breaking his arm, but not quite enough to break it.

  The two holding him still hardly looked as strong as him, so how could they be holding him so strongly with so little effort? It made no sense, but he wasn’t about to contest that.

  “What do I do now?” Johnny asked, uncertainly.

  “It’s your call,” Robyn allowed. “The second kill is always the hardest because you know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “Kill?”

  “Shut up!” Johnny bellowed. The doorman shut up. Curious, how a person could reek of innocence, be so untouched by horrors, and yet be a doorman in such a nasty part of town. “What do you mean?”

  Robyn didn’t answer, letting Johnny work it out for himself.

  “I’m hungry now. I haven’t got time to play these games you love so much, Robyn.” Johnny raised a clenched fist and brought it down on the doormans’ face, knocking him clean out. “There. Now he won’t feel a thing.”

  “You bruised his pretty little face.” Robyn tried to prop his head back up against the wall only to have it repeatedly, frustratingly, flop back down.

  “No, I guess he won’t,” shrugged Mika. “Good for him but bad for you. Not being able to see the fear in his eyes when you make that first cut in his neck.”

  “How could that be bad for me?”

  “The imagination is no substitute. How else are you supposed to learn… if not from o
ur experience?”

  “Wake up, you bad, naughty man,” commanded the fiery redhead. “He can’t kill you if you’re dead.”

  “What if I don’t want to see his face when I kill him?”

  “Don’t get all shy. I want to watch you bleed. Please? Be alive for me. Then you can be dead. It should be quick, and you won’t feel… much. See, he doesn’t know how to play with his food, doesn’t understand the rules. Now, he’ll do it fast, wants a quick pick-me-up. I’d make it slow, make you feel everything. But you won’t get to feel anything if you do wake up. Don’t be dead. You’re no good dead. Play nice with us, obey the rules, and we shall have a fine time.”

  Whilst Robyn was still carrying her one-way conversation with the floppy-headed bouncer, Mika and Johnny were still arguing. “Don’t you want to see the look on his face when he realises what you are, what you’re going to do?”

  “Not necessarily. I know what it’ll be – terror, horror. How – hey, what’s wrong with her?” He jerked his thumb towards Robyn and Mika followed his gaze.

  “Oh, nothing. She’s just off with the fairies again. Nothing to worry about.” But he did worry. How on earth could he not be concerned? This was getting worse every time it happened – had been for the past month or so – and he was worried that unless they stopped whatever was causing it, he might lose her. Together, they could do anything.

  “I’d imagine that his look would be much like that one. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared she might get lost.”

  “Oh, hurry up and kill the bastard so we can get rid of the body and get home.” Mika used his free hand to turn Robyn to him, and tilted her chin up to him. “Robyn?”

  “He’s no fun, Mika. He won’t play the game.”

  A couple of hours later, when they had disposed of the body, the three began to make their way home. It had been one of their least imaginative body drops ever, a simple strip and dump in the canal, and Robyn and Mika were frustrated that they were having to revert to such basic activities. Over the years their tastes had grown more refined, their plan more elaborate and stretched out. Bottling up their dissatisfaction at the lack of well-thought-out action the night had provided, neither of them cared about, and barely seemed to notice, the people they pushed past, or shouldered out of the way, on their way home.