Tsea (7 page)

The dripping sound of water from a leaky pipe pierced my consciousness. I stirred, drowsily touching a hand to my head. My hair was wet. Why was my hair wet? I sat up and straightened, peeking one eye open to observe my surroundings.

Exposed brick walls filled with green morass formed a narrow hallway of sorts.  A large black door waited on the end of it. I sat on grimy cement, damp to the touch. The small room must be underground which could explain why a pipe was leaking. I felt a cold drop against my skin and glanced up. I had been reclining beneath another dripping pipe.

But how had I gotten here? Why was I…

With horror, I recalled the man on the sidewalk, the cloth against my nose, and the sudden bout of darkness that swept up when I inhaled a harsh chemical scent. My heart stopped for a moment and then kicked up with a vengeance.

The Executioner was here and I was his next victim.

“You’re up,” a shadow moved and drew closer to the light. The man revealed by the harsh bulb dangling from the ceiling was of average height, with a closely shaved head. He was bare to the waist. His broad chest and huge muscles spoke of his dedication to working out. It was hard to appreciate the sculpted mass of him when my eyes drew down to the needle he held in his hands. And also when I thought of his expressed interest in killing me.

I swallowed. “Sir, you’ve got the wrong girl. Please, let me go.” My voice cracked as I pleaded with The Executioner.

“You, Jade Hunter,” his voice brought chills to my skin. He spoke with absolute authority, “are right where you belong.”

This guy is mental
.

I shuffled away, in a frantic effort to escape him. Something cold and strong jarred me back. I glanced down in horror. My legs were chained to the floor. This was not good. The Executioner slowly approached. His dark brown eyes gleamed black in the dim light. Without warning, he stuck the needle into my thigh. I seethed at the sharp pain as he injected the serum into my bloodstream.

“Don’t worry,” he rubbed my hair away from my face. “That’s going to help calm you. I need you to be quiet, okay? The other girl was far too loud.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I warbled, as my limbs suddenly grew heavy.

He stooped low with an expression dancing dangerously close to sympathy. “Why are you doing this to
yourself
?”

“Doing… doing what?” I licked my lips.

“Your body is a temple. Have you not heard this before?” He asked.

It sounded like a phrase I’d learned from classes at my Catholic primary school.

The Executioner smiled. “I see in your eyes that you have.” He stood and paced away from me.

My eyes widened at the image on his back. Dark black wings sprawled on his skin, spanning from his shoulders to the low slung waist of his torso. It seemed to gleam against his bronze tone, frighteningly apparent.

He whirled around and caught me staring. “Do you want to ask?” I didn’t. I wanted to get out of here, but maybe if I kept his attention away from sawing my head off, I could buy Carlos and the police time to rescue me. Hope was the only thing keeping me alive.

“Why?” I weakly nodded my head in the direction of his large tattoo.

“I’m a fallen angel. These are my wings.”

I managed to laugh through the haze. “Yeah, right bucko.” The rustle of fabric seemed ten times louder right now. What did this maniac slip me?

He knelt by my side, his eyes beaming a feverish glow. “I am. My penance is to rescue little girls, keep them safe and then maybe God will return my true wings.”

“You rescue girls by killing them?”

“Oh no,” he shook his head. “No, no, no. By setting an example, a road block so they never make your mistakes.”

“My… mistakes?”

“You offer your body to anyone who comes along, forgetting how exquisite you are, how priceless. You feed the lusts of men, degrading the sacrifices that so many have made before you, drawing them into sin.”

I struggled to follow his line of thought which would have been difficult even without the drugs pumping through my system.

“I used to be a… a little girl too. Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”

“You’ve made your bed,” he stood and brought a basket of items near to me. I noticed that he wore a fresh pair of gloves on his hands. He pressed a button and I winced, wondering if the moment had come when I would lose my life.

“No,” I moaned.

“Sh,” he grabbed my arm as the needle buzzed, “if you move, it will hurt more.”

Tears threatened to fall as I hesitantly asked, “what… are you doing?”

“They need to know. This life is dangerous. What it does to your body, what it does to your soul. Little girls need to know.” I whimpered as he pressed the tattoo machine against my skin. The whirring filled my head and the area that he worked on spread fire through my entire body. I wanted to hit him but I could barely lift my arms.

“Please,” I sobbed, “please, stop.”

He ignored me and continued to move the tattoo machine with precision. “
Tsea
,” he breathed, and lightly rubbed my arm with his gloved hands, “do you know what it means?” He didn’t wait around for me to answer. “It means ‘soiled’ in Hebrew. That’s what you are. So, so filthy.”

I shook my head, crying from the pain and the realization that this was the end for me. No one was coming. “Please,” I tried one last time, as darkness spotted my vision.

“Don’t worry. Through your death, I will bring life.”

It was the last thing I heard before I allowed the pain to overcome me.

The girl had fallen limp. Stoker ran a hand down her beautiful skin. It was so, so soft. He could well imagine a mortal man falling prey to her spells. Her curly hair splayed out beneath her head and her precious eyes were tightly shut, a flutter of eyelashes resting against prominent cheeks.

He gently lay her on the cement floor and drew a tendril of hair away from her shoulder. The tattoo on her arm puffed with red irritation and he blew against it.

She did not stir.

He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. The time of her execution was fast approaching. Stoker felt excitement stirring in his stomach. What a fitting ending. A young woman, separating her body from her common sense, had followed her basest instincts only to end up here. She had lived her life in pleasure and she would die in pain.

Stoker rose to his feet and blew her a kiss. His last
tsea
. Surely he had accomplished his mission by making examples of these fornicators, these harbingers of sin. This road of wickedness led to death. He had simply accelerated the process. The world would know that women of the night were meeting their just punishments.

He smiled to himself as he opened the black door and stepped into the chamber in which he stored his sword. It hung on the wall, recently sharpened and cleaned after his last sacrifice. He thought of the last girl. What a strange name she’d had.
Essence
. He chuckled as he grasped the hilt in his palms, feeling the weight as comfortable as it always was.

The weapon had been specially designed for beheadings. It was quite a feat that he’d found it when he had. It was almost… divine. The sword was delivered with a mission to save the little girls and as such, he felt that success was eminent.

A thump resounded in the quiet space. Stoker froze. Something wasn’t right. He moved slowly, turning on his heels as the thumps merged into a clatter of footsteps. No! It couldn’t be. Men in black suits bearing flashlights and rifles suddenly barreled into his sanctuary.

Stoker wielded his sword, urging them backward. They wouldn’t understand. They’d let her live, knowing who she was.

“Put the weapon down!” A man dressed in a black vest commanded.

Stoker lowered the hilt and stared at the ground. These men stood between him and his mission. He glanced up, pulling the sword from its case. It separated with a metallic clang. “No.”

Immediately, shots rang out, singing the exposed walls and clicking against the cement floor. The sword fell from Stoker’s limp hands. He warbled backwards, remaining on his feet for an incredible amount of time before he finally fell, face first.

“
Tsea
,” he whispered on his last breath. 

“
Jade! Jade! No! This is not the way you’re leaving me. Do you hear? I know you’re too stubborn to give up like this. You’ve got to breathe.”

Frantic words pierced the darkness.

Carlos?

“
Come on, Jade. You’ve got to take a breath. Just breathe with me.
”

I felt hands pressing my chest, air bubbling through my nose. I coughed and my eyes flew open. Carlos’s dark brown eyes gazed down. “That’s right,” he coaxed, “take it easy.”

I looked past him to the EMTs and police officers gathered around me and roaming The Executioner’s hideout. I tried to speak but found that I could not.

“Just rest, Jade,” he held my hand. “Just rest for a minute.”

I ignored his request. “He’s here,” I croaked, “he’s here.”

“He’s dead.” Carlos assured with an edge to his voice. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

The words rushed over me and I began to cry. Carlos captured me in his arms and cradled me close. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

After a few minutes, I moved my shoulder in an effort to read the tattoo imprinted on my skin. The area was still sore and it hurt to touch but I traced the unfamiliar letters anyway.
Soiled
. No one but the people involved in this case and those who spoke Hebrew could recognize the phrase.

But I knew what it meant and the thought that some part of that man would forever be on my body sickened me.

Detective Sheldon stooped down. His wrinkles seemed especially exaggerated in the harsh light. “Ms. Hunter, when you’re up to it, we’d like to get a statement.”

“She’s been through hell, Officer.” Carlos snapped. “Can’t you give her a minute?”

“It’s okay,” I sniffed and wiped the tears.

“Don’t move.” Carlos cautioned.

“You can stay right here.” Detective Sheldon said with more kindness than I’d expected. He brought a notebook from his pocket and rested it against his knees. “Just tell me what happened.”

I told him the details that I remembered but after five minutes, Carlos set his foot down and insisted that I get out of there. A few minutes later, I was strapped in his car.

“How did you find me?” I asked, closing my eyes in exhaustion.

Carlos sent me a worried glance. “The police found strains of Prezidone in Essence’s body. It’s a drug that leaves no trace. Usually.”

“Is that how you found him?”

He nodded. “They followed the clue to the drug stores in San Pedro, linked the purchase to a Ramero Stoker, a runaway from the asylum in the city. It was easy to link him to an old property in his name next to the Black Lagoon.” He ran a hand through his hair, “but we almost didn’t reach you in time.”

I nodded weakly and leaned on Carlos as we walked into his house. “How much did it cost you to get that information?”

He shook his head. “I took out another loan.”

His words made me smile. I was glad that I’d taken Carlos up on his offer to crash with him. I needed to be with someone I could trust.

Carlos helped me get settled in the bedroom I’d used that morning. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He said, squeezing my hand.

When he turned to leave, I called for him. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?” He whirled around, achingly handsome in the glare of the hall light.

“I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Manuel…”

“No,” I shook my head. “I don’t want Manuel.” I pushed off the bed, seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time. “I want you.”

He stared at me and then slowly nodded. I made room for him on the mattress. Carlos held me in his arms and it was only then that I was able to sleep.