Addicted In Cold Blood (17 page)

Carefully canvasing the area, she made her way further to the back of the house, peering in basement windows for something, anything—only to see much of nothing. It was completely blocked and only different contrasts of light and shadows could be seen. Going to the side door, she looked both ways before turning back to the locked entrance. She reached into her tool kit and removed the flat piece of sturdy metal then slid the torque into the bottom of the deadbolt keyhole, making sure she jiggled it just right, aligning it so that the pins clicked.

She allowed a grin as the door opened, giving her a glimpse of strange, azure lighting. She looked around the weird foyer area, narrow in some areas, then suddenly wide in others, searching for the alarm security box. Suddenly, she was fully bathed in the blue light that she’d seen upon entry. She held her arm up over her eyes, blinked several times, gathered herself and continued to make her way down the long hallway. She saw the alarm and raced to it, the flashing red light beckoning her. Focusing as much as she could under the blinding light, she surveyed the box and immediately
unplugged it from its power source then disconnected the backup battery inside the control case. She waited until all of the lights on it went dead. Her heart beat in her ear drums as she overdosed on the now dissipating adrenaline rush. Sighing with relief, she looked both ways down the hall and entered the living room, freezing in her steps.

Are you kidding me?!

She pulled her coat tighter at the freezing temperatures and stared at the clear ice block walls in disbelief. She’d felt the cool air as soon as she entered the dwelling, but things went from cold to meat locker frigid—the kind of cold that would even be too much for snowmen, carrot nose included.

What kind of weird shit is this man into?

She ran her hand down the wall, wet, super smooth and slick to the touch, but surprisingly, keeping its cubed shape. She looked over at a control panel, noticing it to be some sort of heating and cooling device. Not wishing to waste any more time, she forced herself to get past her shock and further her investigation. Opening drawers in a nearby desk, one at a time, she seized computer discs, read scraps of paper under the glow of the blue light, perused strange charts she couldn’t understand and stuffed them into her pocket along the way. Soon, she was inside the master bedroom.

A fairly normal room, except there was one cold spot—his nightstand drawer, filled with blue light and neatly cut ice. It was a deep freezer, and she was amazed by the beauty of the glowing ice, almost like sapphires and indigo diamonds. The bathroom was completely ice blocked and sterile, the whiteness blinding. The odor of fresh bleach made her blink, her eyes watered and her nose suddenly felt slightly congested.

What were you bleaching so much? Evidence? Did you kill someone in here?

She made her way back out into the hallway and pulled on several doors that were electronically locked.

Hmmm, why are these locked? What are you hiding?

Removing her torque, she began to work on one of the shut doors, her wrist moving at lightning speed and her curiosity zooming even faster.

*
***

Xzion fisted his twitching hand, sickened with queasy anger. He didn’t think it was possible to get madder than he had been earlier that evening. The damn cop woman forced him to play her little game, go on foot to the bus stop for his kill, then drag his tired body back home only to see, as soon as he pulled up, that someone had been in his house...or was
still
inside. The blue back-up lights lit flooded the rooms, clearly visible from the outside. Nothing around him seemed suspicious—no strange cars and disruption to the outer perimeter...until he looked closer and saw the size 9 shoe imprints in the snow.  Snow always told secrets. It had a really big mouth and even with snow shoes, it was hard to cover. It kept excellent records, and until the sun and heat came, it would tell the world your every move, with or without your consent.

He removed a gun from his jacket and made his way closer, each step swift and determined. Standing by the front door, flooded with an angry bilious sea in the pit of his twisted stomach, he observed that it wasn’t broken down in the least... and was still locked. He cocked his head to the side, his adrenaline rushing as he made his way to the side of his home...and there it was...the lock had been removed. He looked around again and saw no one, then quietly entered the beacon of light that had become his first ‘welcome home’ warning.

He entered the living room. Nothing looked out of place, but he knew better. He kept his eyes focused and his ears tuned as he pulled out several drawers, immediately noticing the missing materials. Smirking, he shook his head and kept going.

They won’t be able to read or understand it...nice try though...

The hall bath and several other rooms, including the kitchen, were empty, but the alarm had been disabled. He clicked his gun, and the sound echoed throughout the room as his heart rate accelerated, not due to fear but because he hoped it wasn’t
her...

****

Jayme seized the moment, blending in with the indigo light as her entire form strobed under the now pulsating, luminescent room that resembled an odd stark white and slate steel decorated science lab. Bubbling crimson concoctions, long clear test tubes with unknown substances and bleeping computers greeted her with their eerie strangeness... so many computers in the cold room, doing strange things. The temperature made her feel as if her blood would freeze mid-stream in her veins.  She carefully began to pace the large room, judiciously taking note of the blinking green and black screens and becoming increasingly agitated at the buzzing noise in the chamber.  One apparatus moved up and down as air suctioned back and forth, like a blood pressure machine on hydraulics. Much to her surprise, she had absolutely no idea what she was looking at. Prodigious and disturbing, at least she was relieved to not see any human body parts floating about, discarded murder messes or cadaver debris. But then again, why would she? If he
was
the killer, he wasn’t known for keeping trophies or tumbling into the pitfalls of irresponsible sloppiness. Matter of fact, he had been surgically clean about his kills, until he began to scribe messages on their bodies, and everyone understood them loud and clear, minus the mysterious ‘star’ burnt into poor Owen’s flesh...

She walked toward a translucent liquid filled cylinder with cerise droplets in it that reminded her of suspended blood in clear, liquefied stop animation. She peered closer and removed her cellphone, prepared to take photos of the area before heading to another part of the room hidden by a partition with a heavy steel bar across the threshold. She snapped, back to back... *click*

Damn flash.

Too bright. She was sure it had caused the entire scene to be white washed and she’d have to redo it. Quickly reviewing the shots, looking closely at the detail, she made sure she had gotten visual documentation of the hard to capture glass... then she paused when something caught her eye. She zoomed in to full capacity on one of the photos.

She stared at it, noticing a tall, dark reflection in the clear canister. Her heart sank deep into the pit of her belly as her anxiety skyrocketed. Before she could spin around, her gun in tow, all she could do was muster a stunted scream that pitifully escaped her gaping mouth, silenced when a large hand covered her lips. She slid into his firm grasp as everything went black, floating into the peculiar, hazy world of complete unconsciousness...

Xzion leaned casually against the table, his jean covered legs relaxed as he looked at his precious capture from various angles, and deliberated. He’d tossed the make-up soaked towels aside, and was now fully able to appreciate the prize. That was his first rule of thumb right after he tied her up...
remove that damn make-up.
He was supposed to be planning her death at this very moment, but instead, he was fixated on her, though he wasn’t surprised at his repeated derailment of his own tasks.

His right eye zoomed in on her body, slumped and tied to his dining room chair. Her perfume filled his house with a light, airy sweetness. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared for it, but because it was a part of
her
, something that had been on her flesh, as he wished to be, he found himself drawn to it—envying the fragrance for being allowed to be so close to her. He softly patted his lips, recalling how he raked them over her neck as she fell into his arms once he removed the chloroform soaked cloth from her nostrils. Turning, he slowly walked over to his small radio, jamming the ‘On’ button. Gwen Stefani came on, singing, ‘Luxurious’.

He smiled upon recalling hearing the song for the first time while in a club in
Cuba, strangling an egotistical man named Juan Ramirez in a filthy restroom dotted with sprayed piss from local drunkards and jerk-off juice from the same undesirable ilk. The Kingpin had attempted to shoot Xzion square in the head and met his demise in the way of three bullets to his own dome, followed by a swift kick to the throat, the last act of violence being simply for Xzion’s own personal satisfaction...

Xzion began to pace back and forth. He picked up a crooked wooden staff he’d chosen in
South Africa, patting it against his palm as if it were a baseball bat, and this was his last chance at a home run. He paused, watching her slowly rouse to awareness after two hours of being knocked out cold...

One long, slender leg moved, then the other. Her long dark lashes fluttered. She whined helplessly as she became fully alert, looking to and fro at her bound arms and ankles, her wig hanging half off her head, and in a state of utter confusion.

So pretty...damn...I want you so fucking bad...but I can’t have you. Seems such a waste to kill something so exquisite, so strong, so sweet...if I could just get one tiny kiss before I take your life, you’d make me so...what’s the word? Happy...yeah, that’s it.

He laughed and turned away from her, ignoring her screams as he casually walked over to a hidden panel on the side of the wall. He knew she was watching, and he loved it. He put the house on complete lock down...no way back in or out...

She was trapped.

****

At least an hour had passed, of that was she was certain since she first awoke. He’d left the room and now, he was back. She had drifted back into a deep, woozy sleep, struggling to keep a grasp on reality. Jayme screamed louder, her vision returning as the fuzzy, tall dark image became clearer. He was standing there...his shirt off...wide shoulders, arms ripped, dipped in swirled, threatening dark ink, and his sheeny, olive skin illuminated—glistening—as each muscle contorted. He briefly turned and faced her again, just long enough for her to see more of his tattoos displayed on his broad back.

She looked at him closer, noticing his jeans and missing shoes and socks. He rubbed on his jaw as he regarded her. The daze still clouded her mind.

Oh Lord, God...

“What are you...going to do with me?” she asked, her voice slurred. She was trying to keep her cool, but her body was already at the point of no return. Goosebumps covered every square inch of her anatomy. She surveyed her wrist—the skin had become ashen under the arctic harshness and cool, ropey restraints.

Xzion turned to her, smiled and glanced down at the floor before looking back up at her. She didn’t like his face. She didn’t like his expression...

He was smiling—smiling while she crumbled inside.

“Well, I think you know the answer to that, Officer Knight.” He huffed and crossed his arms.

“You don’t want to do anything foolish. I’m a cop.” Then she remembered he’d already killed at least two of her kind and more than likely didn’t see her any differently than the ones he’d slayed. For good measure, she kept talking. “And, I’m with the FBI so you better...”

He interrupted her with a boisterous laugh and dismissive wave. “Yeah, I already checked your wallet. I should’ve known they were behind this shit, too chicken shit to come after me themselves, as usual.” He looked down and worked a piece of dirt out from under his thumb nail, his grin even broader. “They always fail, send in a pawn such as yourself.” He sighed and looked back up at her. “I gotta hand it to them though—they are persistent, that is for sure. Can’t say I blame them with all that’s at stake.”

She listened intently, urgently trying to follow his breadcrumb trail of logic.

“Anyway, I’m going to ask you some questions and you better answer me correctly, Officer Knight, or I will make your death painful, so unnecessarily painful,” he said, impassive.

Jayme remained straight-faced, her head still whirling from the drugs in her system.

“I don’t want to make it hurt, I want you to go peacefully, but if you disobey me, then you’ll leave me no choice but to, well,” he shrugged and sighed indifferently, “you’ll see if you try to take me there...” He rose leisurely from the steel table and bent down by her knee, his eyes boring into hers.

Jayme stared back at him. His eyes were drawing her in. It seemed to her that he may be stalling, calling his own bluff.  His words were threatening, but something else was there, something she had trouble getting a grasp on in her current state. She hurriedly turned away, feeling like a trapped rat in a cage.