Sin Eater (42 page)

Vinnie and Jasper bound Damien’s hands behind his back and tied his feet together using neckties. They left him face-down on the floor once Vinnie assured them he was likely going to have a slight concussion but otherwise he’d be fine.  As she stood next to Jasper, with Vinnie double-checking Damien’s breathing and pulse, a strange calm came over her. Sure, Claudia was still in some kind of mental prison, but she’d be fine. There was a bald boogie-man out there that they had no idea how to handle, but that would come. She looked up at Jasper, but he was staring down at Damien. He hated the guy, it was obvious. She had a slight thought that if they let him, he would kill the guy in a second. And yet she had the insane impulse to take his hand.

She shook the thought from her head and perched on the edge of an armchair that was draped with an afghan. Her focus shifted back to Claudia, and her poor friend’s
laboured breathing and obvious agony. Claudia was still making sounds of tortuous pain. But again, Iola was sure they could fix it.

“What do we do to help her?” She asked almost calmly as Vinnie knelt before Claudia and opened one eyelid to check her pupils.

“This is so weird. Her involuntary responses are normal, her voluntary mobility is … shut off.” Vinnie was muttering quietly as he pulled on an arm, patted a cheek.

“Have you seen this before?”

“It’s like she’s in a coma. And her body is trapping her in this position somehow.” He tried to lift one arm by the elbow but it wouldn’t budge.

“Do what you did to me,” Iola suddenly said, and Vinnie’s eyes flicked to her. “To break the fever. Do that.”

He clearly wasn’t sure that it was a good idea, but he also had genuine concern for Claudia. He put one hand on Claudia’s quaking shoulder, the other on the side of her face. He furrowed his brow in preparation for intense concentration, and then closed his eyes.

Iola held her breath, and Jasper behind her did the same, because something was definitely happening in the room. It was like someone had turned on an old-fashioned tube TV, there was a sharp electricity running through the air. The hair on her arms stood up. She felt suddenly very awake.

She wanted to cry, because it felt wonderful. She felt alive and energetic and ready to take on anything. It was such a beautiful sensation, Iola knew she’d never forget it. When she looked at Jasper, she knew he felt it too. A new crop of tears rushing down his face, and he hung his head, unabashedly sobbing.

He knelt on the floor next to her, and she stroked his hair absently, watching her gorgeous neighbour’s face grow slack, the pain sliding away, her body relaxing to its natural, exhausted posture in the dining chair.

And then a beautiful sound. Claudia’s voice, weak but aware, stammering out … “W-w-where’s … where’s Iola?”

In his meditative state, Essum was able to rejuvenate the old brain-battery, reflecting on what was driving him to usurp an eternal lifetime from his dear old friend. It wasn’t a lust for power, or sex, or money, or anything other than … revenge.

The system sucked. The system was cruel and it made every player – even the pathetic human pawns – nothing more than notches made in the sand by two kids on the school ground. He could cause such a disruption that it would all grind to a halt for at
least
a couple millennia.

He could give a shit about Voro personally, and his respective
frustro-decipio
package deal. It wasn’t them; they were a means to his end. Even Jasper with all his extra add-on parlor tricks. Essum wasn’t sure how it would help the good guys if a
decipio
could eat sins. But then again … perhaps there was a reason. And with his luck, Essum would find out at the last fucking minute in the worst possible fucking way.

Better ch
ange thought patterns. You need to be sharp and calm. Think of something
happy
… something soothing. But no.

Daphne. Poor Daphne
.

He’d been absolutely powerless t
o stop her death. The truth was
frustros
never met a good end. It was always violent, painful, and before their time. There had not been a
frustro
in history that died of old age. They were all slaughtered by the
decipio
eventually, who in time inevitably would go mad and off themselves and the world would say, “Well, he
was
crazy. Remember how he killed that poor woman/man?” Essum knew the facts. He’d done his research since his own sad chapter came to pass. It was how the game worked.

Daphne was no different. She was killed cruelly at the hands of the man she meant to marry, and Essum had watched in the vapor form that trapped him now. Impotent. Useless.

Essum could not physically close his eyes against the images burned into his memory … he tried to shut them down and couldn’t.

After his demise at the hand
s of young Mr. Cromwell, Essum had been serving time re-acclimating in his natural environment. When he’d been able to, he began to watch over Daphne. She was preparing for a wedding, she was excited, but troubled in her sleep by nightmares of the Sin Eater that had accosted her; the one Thomas had killed to defend her from.

Thomas himself was having troubles coming to terms with the taking of that life. Of course, it didn’t help that Essum himself was planting nightmares in his mind
, immature revenge tactics. So stupid and beneath him. And poor Thomas also took to drink with great enthusiasm: always at night when he was scared to sleep, always when he was alone, and always to the point of blackouts.

The night before their wedding Essum had been watching Daphne prepare her hair for the next day. She had bathed in water infused with rose petals, and the scent would rise with every brush stroke as she sectioned her hair and wound it around rags to give her gorgeous tresses curls when dry. She was thrilled, humming with excitement. She loved her fiancé and was anxious to be his wife. Anxious to be a
woman
as well. Essum could see her skin flush at certain times when she would get lost in thought, brush stopping mid-stroke as she daydreamed.

He
still couldn’t read her thoughts, and at that moment he was glad for it.

A tick-tick brought her from her vanity to her window which overlooked the courtyard. She pushed aside the panes of wavy glass, squinting
into the darkness to see what had caused the noise, her face breaking into a stunning grin as she spotted Thomas on the flagstone below.

When he saw her, he immediately climbed the ivy trellis to her window. It was sturdy enough to hold him, and Daphne showed no concern that he might hurt himself. Essum wished he could push the trellis over. But of course, one needed a body to do that.

Thomas reached the window and rested elbows on the sill to gaze up at her.

“Daphne,” he said softly, as though he was seeing the work of God before him. “You are so beautiful.”

“What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I know. I had …” he paused awkwardly, and Essum’s alarm bells went off as Thomas frowned to get his thoughts back.

He’s drunk off his barge,
Essum thought, just as Daphne insisted that Thomas climb in lest he fall to his death.

Thomas all but fell to the floor, making Daphne giggle even as she was shushing him to be quiet. Thomas stood uncertainly, took a single glance at Daphne in her dressing gown, and immediately wrapped her up in his arms while pressing his lips to hers aggressively.

Essum’s hackles were already raised, but at the sight of that he wanted to kill something. He wanted to knock something off the walls, break a mirror, anything to scare them back to reality. But what could mist do?

Daphne melted against her suitor, thrilling in the way his arms travelled up her slender back before pushing
into her damp hair, holding her as close as he could. She gave a moan as she clenched the lapels of his jacket. Thomas scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

Essum stood in the way to no effect. That this man would rut against the beautiful Daphne like any other whore infuriated him. He should marry her properly,
then
she could be his.

Daphne was silent the whole time, and yet as he laid her on the bed and crowded her into the mattress with his entire body she broke the kiss, gasping.

“Thomas … wait. We can’t. Not yet.”

His lips were greedy on her neck, and as she pushed at his hands Essum’s anger went from warm bath to gushing volcano. Forgetting himself, he tried to grab Thomas’s coat with invisible hands. No result. He kept trying in a futile effort, merely flapping imaginary limbs.

“No .. Thomas. No.”  Daphne’s voice wasn’t impassioned or teasing. It sounded as though she was scared.

Essum came back to himself, realizing Thomas had pulled her gown open, revealing Daphne’s form under a thin nightdress. It didn’t hide her shape in the least.

Thomas Cromwell made a most ungentlemanly sound as he shoved a hand roughly under the bottom of her gown. Daphne was struggling now, still not wanting to wake the household. She really didn’t think he was going to hurt her.

When he opened the fly to his trousers, she drew breath to scream. One of his hands clamped down on her mouth, and that’s when she really started to fight.

Essum had never seen such naked anger and aggression. She fought like a tiger, scratching, biting Thomas’ hand, trying to get a knee into a good spot. But in his drunken desire Thomas was truly beyond pain, even as his own blood flowed from the hand that she had bitten into. A stream of scarlet traced down her cheek to the pillow.

He knew when the penetration happened. There was a muffled, strangled sound of pain, then Daphne’s eyes closed and she just … stopped. Shut down completely.

Thomas noticed it, too. But it caused him no guilt. He seemed to want a reaction from her. So he let go of her mouth, and wrapped both hands around her snow white neck.

Her eyes flew open again, wet with tears and she stared at him in shock. As he fucked her, he squeezed the life right out of her.

Essum couldn’t leave. Couldn’t stop it.
Couldn’t do anything.
He watched his
frustro
as she was soiled and strangled. Essum was disgusted. Furious. And powerless.

In that moment his resolve had flooded his nerves like cold steel. He was going to find a way to stop the
frustro-decipio
horse shit. He wanted the playing field leveled.

Thomas at some point realized what he had done, and rose from the bed shaking and screaming like a psychotic in an institution. And when the family arrived, they had the same thought. Daphne’s brother threw him down the stairs, and even though his back was broken in the fall he survived, to spend the next ten years in a hospital, refusing to eat until he died. The doctors said his organs shut down, then cannibalized themselves.

Essum had to stop his recollections at that point. It was too painful. Had he any tear ducts he would be blubbering like a babe.

Then everything changed. He heard a buzzing, like the universe had scrambled his brains then turned on a vacuum cleaner. Essum’s trap had been sprung.

Claudia’s body relaxed gradually, like she’d been vigorously weight lifting for about a week straight. It was obviously painful, and as she stretched her arms she grimaced.

“We should really get out of here,” Jasper said, looking more and more twitchy.

Claudia was startled by the voice, and at the sight of Jasper she tried to scramble to her feet. She was even able to form her hands
into fists, but her leg muscles weren’t tuned in yet and she lurched forward. Iola caught her, stroking her hair.

“He’s okay, don’t worry. There was something wrong with him, but now he’s on our side. We have … a
lot
to explain to you.”

“But not here. We have to get out of here,” Jasper repeated, his head shaking from side to side as though listening to something no one else
was hearing.

Iola had the same feeling he did. She was overly anxious to bolt, too. Once the warm glow of Claudia’s awakening faded, she felt like fire ants had taken up residence under her clothes. She really wanted out of that apartment.

“What about him?” Vinnie nodded to where Damien was still out cold.

Claudia’s face grew cold as she recognized him. “Leave him. Call the police. I think he’s a murderer.”

Iola was shocked, and gave her friend the appropriate look. “Are you serious? How did you find out?”

“His car belonged to a victim that we found a few days ago. I’m pretty sure he’d been her … well, lover. Gigolo. Whatever.”

Iola looked at the handsome man face-down on the floor. She couldn’t believe it.  Yes he seemed dangerous … but psychotically homicidal? He was too functional, wasn’t he?

“How did he even find you
?” Claudia was wondering.

“He must have followed us,” Iola concluded. “Maybe he was at our building.”

Jasper had silently slipped out of the room. Iola hadn’t even realized it until he reentered with a handgun.

“Hey, what the -” Vinnie was cut off as Jasper cocked the pistol and aimed it at Damien, his hand not shaking in the least.

“Jasper? What are you doing?” Iola thought she said it at normal volume, but it was more likely that she had whispered it. Her entire body had frozen in position.

“I’m going to kill him. He has to die.” Jasper looked up at her then, and Iola backed away a step, aware that Claudia had stood and pushed her way in front of her.

Jasper’s eyes had turned blood red. Not glowing, not shining with the light of a thousand suns. They were red like a fire hydrant, like raspberry juice.

“What the fuck.” Claudia muttered.

No one moved. Jasper was still grinning in his macabre way, like every horrifying circus clown you’d ever seen. Vinnie had raised his hands slightly in a non-threatening way and was also glued to the spot.

Iola’s twitchiness understandably worsened. How had they forgotten how Jasper had attacked Claudia? No matter how sorry he had seemed back at Iola’s apartment, here was a reminder that he was dangerous.

Jasper’s right
, a thought came to her. It wasn’t a voice, it didn’t use words, but suddenly she was aware of what had to happen.
This is what has to happen.

No it’s not
.

Iola and Jasper both flinched, covering their ears. The cold, familiar voiced boomed through their skulls like a rock concert. Jasper even dropped the pistol, which Vinnie scooped up. Jasper didn’t even notice, he now looked terrified.

That’s when Iola knew it was Essum talking to her, and she felt the icy realization that Essum had been in her head before, too. But who the fuck was he?

Go ahead and kill him. It’s what you’re meant to do.

Jasper was shaking his head. “Get out. I can’t … if this is you making me do this … I won’t. I refuse.”

I just told you. It’s not me. This is what you are supposed to do. Now … where’s Charlie?

At that, Iola knew Jasper had lost his mind. Because he rolled over on to his back, and he … was he laughing? How the hell could he be laughing?

Jasper’s voice was hoarse in its screaming. “I took him far away … and he’s not going to be here to help. You fucking
bastard
!”

Iola could see that Claudia was speaking to her, concerned. But she was about as clear as someone talking under water.

Jasper, kill him. Kill the fucker, then Iola is all yours.
Even though Iola heard it, she knew it wasn’t meant for her.

Iola frowned, meeting Jasper’s gaze. He was still covering his ears, but his jaw slackened. His eyes were still red, and he was … gone. On auto pilot. She saw the moment his logi
c and personality evaporated; his eyes went vacant and turned to her.