Sin Eater (19 page)

“Get out of my house. Just take what you want, and get out of here.” To her own horror she began weeping when Charlie took a step towards her. “Please …
please
just get out of here.”

“We will,” the talker said, but all she could see was Charlie’s face as he came towards her. Then she got an image … a picture in her mind of what he was going to do to her, and that’s when she started screaming.

Voro was stepping out of the shower when he just felt …
something
… very strange. He put a hand to the centre of his chest, and his vision swam for a moment. Then he caught a smell and one word came to mind …
Portia.

He swayed against the bathroom counter, then squeezed his eyes shut to steady his vision. Oh God … she was in trouble, wasn’t she? She was hurt. She needed him.

This was strange. He never got neural transmissions from people that weren’t with him at that moment. Especially if he wasn’t reaching out to them. And Portia … Portia must have reached her house by now. But … he was still partially linked to her because of the fucking, right?

That had to be it. But … what the hell was happening to her?

He tried to sort through the torrential emotion raging through him. She was scared, she was absolutely fucking terrified … she was mad. She was … in great pain.

He was dressing as he sorted through this. He’d seen the terrible things people to do to each other, but to have the victim’s point of view being forced
into his brain … he couldn’t deal with this. As he headed for the door, keys in hand, the room titled and moved on its own, and he put a hand out to the wall to orient himself again. Then he rushed back to the washroom to throw up.

He had to help her. He had to get to her and help her … immediately.

He made it down to the elevator, through the lobby and out into the parkade. He had a moment where he couldn’t remember where he’d parked, so he flashed the lights using the fob on his key chain. His BMW flashed its lights in response, as if saying “Over here, dumb ass.”

He more stumbled to the car than walked to it. To anyone else he would have looked too drunk to drive, but luckily no one was around. He sank
into the seat and drew a few calming breaths. It was no good for him to go rushing off worked up. Portia was a good twenty minute drive away. He was going to have to speed to get there.

But he
had
to. She needed him. She really did.

He sat on the stairs, listening to the screaming in the front living room. No matter how tightly he covered his ears, he was hearing everything clear as day. Not only because there were no sound-proof doors between him and what was doing in the other room.

He could hear
her
. As tightly as he tried to batten down his hatches, he couldn’t block her out. She was absolutely suffering right now. And just behind her utter torment, he was picking up on Charlie’s crazed passion as he raped her.

He covered his head with his hands.
I don’t want this,
he repeated, nearly unable to hear his own thoughts.
I changed my mind. I don’t want any part of this insanity.
Now if he could just gather his stones enough to go in there and help her.

A hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Oh son, you can’t help her now,” came that calm, cold voice he was beginning to hate. “Trust me, by this point, she’d just as soon die as live.”

He tightened his arm tighter around his own neck.
Fuck,
he could feel it. She wanted to die. She was giving up the fight. He felt the choking grip that Charlie had on her, he felt the way the lights were diming out. And he could still feel the pain of the rape.

“She is going to the good side, though. She’ll be happier there. She wasn’t terribly happy here, you can sense that, right?”

Shut up. Shut up – stop trying to make this okay.

“As you wish. You’re such a tender thing, considering the power you’re going to have when this is all done.”

He raised his head to look at Essum. “I can’t take this. She’s in my head and this is wrong and … I can’t.” His tears started to run, and he covered his head on his knees again.

“Take this as a training exercise. Try blocking it.”

“I can’t!” He snapped, sitting upright and sending spittle flying. “She’s in my head, I’m trying to pull her out but she’s dug in with all ten fingernails. The more I pull the more she rips out of me. And that fucking degenerate of yours … I can
feel
him. I can feel how she hates it and he likes it and it’s
fucking me up
.”

“You can … you can hear Charlie clearly?”

“Yeah. He’s a fucking mess … I can’t stand having him in my head.”

“You understand him? The mentally ill are harder to read. They lack focus and - ”

He groaned and clutched his stomach. The woman had passed out but she wasn’t dead, and Charlie was losing his erection so he was pissed off and cutting her … cutting off her left breast. He was going to throw up.

“He’s focused alright,” he answered Essum weakly. “He’s pretty fucking lucid.”

“Poor Charlie. He’s incapable of orgasm it seems,” Essum chimed in thoughtfully after a pause, almost like he checked in on him as well. “You could really make his day by sending one right to his brain.”

“What?”

“All you have to do is
think
the sensation right at him, and he’ll be totally convinced that he just came. Oh, that would really make his day.”

He stared at Essum as though he couldn’t figure out what the asshole was even saying. “Are you insane?”

“Get in there and give him one. Please. He’s been so loyal. He really needs this.” The please was said as though Essum knew he really didn’t have to add it.

Still, he opened his mouth. “Fuck that - ” then he froze, hands going to his throat. Something had hold of him, and though Essum hadn’t moved, he knew Essum had taken over the puppet strings and was giving a good hard yank.

“Get in there, and get Charlie off already. You can have a go when he’s done, if you like. That shit you pump out won’t even show any DNA. You’re above CSI now, son!”

He was being frog-marched by invisible hands down the stairs and to the entry to the living room. Thank God the lights were mostly off; the only light came from the street lights through the living room window.

As soon as he saw the scene he wanted to start screaming, but Essum had a hold of his tongue so it seemed.

That’s why she got quieter,
he thought absently. Charlie had cut off her tongue and put it back in her mouth the other way around. There was blood everywhere, and Charlie’s knife work was spraying red all over the cream-coloured silk furniture.

He thought he was going to pass out. The scent o
f sulfur in the room was repellent. It even covered the smell of all her blood. Charlie looked up with him with eyes that were red from crying. “Why can’t I finish? What do they do to me that makes me like this?”

Yep, he was going to pass out. Pass out and think this was all some fucking ridiculous dream, and he won’t be able to sleep for a month because of it.

Oh god, that sounded good. Just to have it all been a dream …

Charlie, he’s going to help you with that. Just relax.

“No,” Charlie said. “I don’t like men, I like women - ”

Shut up. I know that. But he can do it just by using his mind.

He
felt
Charlie’s dick harden. Saw it on the way Charlie was looking up at him. And … he felt his own erection swell as well.

What the fuck –

“Just send it to him.”

He closed his eyes as Essum’s voice … it was like a soft, warm touch, right on his …

Oh Jesus. Oh Christ.

His neck stiffened and his head went back, making his jaw crack along the way. He saw white light, and then felt his dick twitch in his pants as it did its messy business.

Charlie grunted, cried out on the floor in front of him, jerking and going stiff over the woman’s dying body.

He wanted to cry. He
wanted a shower. He really wanted to throw up.

“Very good,” Essum declared, clapping his hands. Then he sent a thought to Charlie. Time to clean up, Charlie.

Charlie was still panting, h
is eyes still closed where he rested his head on the woman’s carved up chest. He had an ecstatic smile on his face. “Okay,” he said blissfully. “Thank you … thank you masters.”

“Put your hand on his head,” Essum commanded.

“Fuck no.” He didn’t want to touch him. He needed out of this room, this house …

Of course, there was no disobeying Essum. His hand found its way to Charlie, sitting flat on his greasy hair as his body continued to twitch with delight. He felt bile rise up the back of his throat, but as Essum forced his hand
into Charlie’s hair he stopped worrying about the rape and murder.

Fuck … what is this?

“It’s Sin Eating,” Essum explained in a low and reverent voice. “This is what I will soon be back to doing. You find the shameful, dark and buried memories of all the terrible things people have done to others for their own enjoyment.”

As Essum was saying it, he was seeing all the women Charlie had killed this way. He saw them like translucent images on a huge screen in front of his eyes. He felt Charlie’s excitement, frustration, blinding hatred. He saw and felt all of it.

“Now that you’ve found his sins, bundle them up, like moving them all to a file folder. And then just hit
delete
.”

It just … happened. Exactly how Essum said. The sins blipped away … and then he
felt them. He carried them. It seemed as though they became
his
memories. And instead of feeling like he was going to throw up he … felt
stronger
. He stopped fucking crying, that’s for sure.

“What is this?” He repeated with a more confident voice. “Don’t they go away?” He put a hand to his chest, but it wasn’t hurting.

Essum tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. You’re not a Sin Eater. I have no idea what’s going to happen to you.”

Voro was at a stop light when he felt the tension and fear in his chest stop and melt away. Instead of feeling relief, he covered his mouth and closed his eyes, leaning against the steering wheel. He got his breathing in check.

Then … she’s dead
. It’s not that she wasn’t transmitting because she wasn’t hurting anymore … it’s because she died.

It really shouldn’t hurt like this
, he reminded himself.
You’re not human. You don’t mourn the deaths of other humans. You have
never
cried.

But he felt pressure squeezing his chest, like something was trying to wring it out of him. And when he touched his cheeks, they came back wet.
Shit. He
was
crying
.

Most of the deaths he’d witnessed had been evil doers passing
into the abyss, and he couldn’t mourn them. He didn’t know them. And he didn’t fraternize with humans enough to miss them when they died.

Except lately,
he reminded himself.
You attached yourself to Portia, telling yourself it was for money. And now … now you want to do the same to Claudia just to be near Iola
.

Maybe it was time to take a break. Essum was right – six hundred plus years was a long time to keep this shit up. He was turning human, wasn’t he?

Okay, that thought terrified him.

Horns were honking around him. The light had turned green.

He drove through the intersection and pulled over in a parking space to decide what he should do. Then his blood ran cold as another, slightly less sinister and more self-serving set of implications made themselves aware.

Shit
. Her car was parked at the hotel. His room was in her name. Her … oh
shit
, her blood was on the carpet, wasn’t it? She cut her foot on that glass … he couldn’t be found at that room. Couldn’t been considered as part of her life at all.

A new panic flared. He couldn’t go back there. And this car … in her name, registration and all.
Fuck him
. He was screwed.

What was he going to do for money? He couldn’t use a dead woman’s credit card. Shit.
Shit shit shit
.

How much cash did he even have? He took out his money clip and counted out three hundred dollars. Not much. He could check
into a flea bag motel for a while. But just the thought of downgrading his accommodations made him itch.

He could mentally influence people to give him whatever he wanted, of course. He could walk up to a jewellery counter, select any watch and get the employee to just
give
him the watch. He could check into another hotel and let them book a room to John Smith, and then they just wouldn’t ask him for money when he checks out. It’s not hard, and by the time people start wondering what went wrong he’s long gone.

But this was just less time consuming, and buying stuff, even if it wasn’t with
his
money … well, it made him more …
human
.

Fuck. He was done, wasn’t he? If he got kicked back to the Other Side now … could he even assimilate?

Voro forced himself to focus on more pressing concerns. He didn’t want to get caught in Portia’s car. Sure he could convince the cop that he or she saw it wrong. Or that they didn’t even see him; he was just a figment of their imagination. But these days there were in-dash cameras and the cops sometimes ran the plate with their dispatch
before
they even approached the car … the thought of all the work gave him a headache. He turned the engine off, left the keys in the ignition, and walked away from the BMW … as much as it made him want to cry. It was a gorgeous car …

Voro emptied the change from the tray so he could take the subway somewhere, and left the fine example of German engineering unlocked at the curb with its four-ways blinking
, keys in ignition. Someone else could explain why they were driving a dead woman’s car.

“Dispatch to Car 67.”

“Go ahead, Dispatch.”

“Just got a call about a lot of screaming coming from a house on Southerland Crescent.  Number 815. They said the noise stopped about fifteen minutes ago.”

Claudia raised an eyebrow. “What a concerned citizen.”

“Want back-up, Car 67?”

“Yes please. Don’t want to walk
into a domestic by myself.”

Claudia switched on lights and sirens, pulled a U-turn an
d then headed back the way she’d just come, accelerating to a decent speed, relieved when cars were actually pulling over to get out of the way. Then again, this was an affluent part of town. People had respect for law enforcement here … in theory anyway.

The house at 815 sat beyond a wide yard that was almost as long as a football field. It was a huge stucco monstrosity in an odd peach colour with white trim. The lights were all on full inside, the front door stood open.

Claudia frowned as she eased partway up the circular driveway at a cautious speed. This was odd … her instincts were setting off all kinds of bells. And she usually didn’t ignore them.