Aero
My boss is in his office when I approach the room, the smell of expensive cigars and Bourbon already lingering in the dimly lit space.
“Is it done yet?” he asks, not even looking up from his stack of papers.
A dry laugh leaves my throat as I approach the desk, excitement stirring beneath my flesh. I sit back in the large leather wing-backed chair facing his desk, throwing both of my leather combat boots on top of it, tossing his pictures and papers across the surface.
“There’s an art to this, Al, but I bet you hear those words more often than not.”
He scowls, grabbing a fallen frame. “That there’s an art to being as unhinged and disrespectful as you?”
“No.” I rest both my hands behind my head, tossing him a demonic smirk. “Is it done yet?”
“Aero, I didn’t assign you to this so you could fuck around. There’s a check waiting—”
“Do I look like a guy who gets off on money?” I snap, standing abruptly.
He swallows, sitting back in his seat, knowing my temperament well enough.
“Just because you let money bend your morality doesn’t mean it affects mine,” I retort.
“You dislike money?” He scoffs. “This is the first I’ve heard. I pay you an arm and a leg for the work you do.”
“Don’t act like you’re not happy to have someone willing to do your dirty work. Gotta keep those politicians’ hands clean, am I right?”
I’m the only one with dirty hands here.
Alastor Abbott was scouring the prison system for a criminal to his liking. One who wasn’t only heartless, but intelligent and ruthless. He found me, knowing I was the bastard child of one of the richest men in town, using this alliance, and paying off the system to release me for his own personal use. Like his own secret weapon to be used as needed, in exchange for my freedom from the life sentence I was given for the crimes they say I’ve committed. No one knows I’ve been released, few even know I exist. Cal made sure of that.
“You know I’m thankful for your service,” he says in all seriousness.
I roll my eyes.
“Especially considering the client.”
“Taking lives is as easy as it sounds. It’s dealing with the weight of that conscience that seeps deep into the bones of the weak that’s difficult to conquer.”
“We all have our talents, our chess moves that put us in a position to win.” He shrugs. “Yours has always been the lack of a soul.”
“Happy to be of service.” I smile, eyeing my ring. Religion. A joke.
“You have a week,” he says with a heated tone, collecting the papers scattered across his desk. “Your father wants this taken care of.”
“That man is not my father,” I seethe, slamming my fist onto his desk.
“Don’t raise your voice at me because you were born a bastard,” Alastor replies. “Say what you want, but you still have his name, and that well-known bone structure. A week.”
I place both of my hands on the edge of the desk, leaning forward, causing his eyes to widen and his breath to catch. I love the fear I produce from him. As bad of a man as he is, he’s still scared of me and I get off on that. I grin at him through the black hair that’s fallen into my eyes.
“Then I shall take my sweet, sweet time with this one.”
The possibilities are endless. I’ll have her screaming for her God, begging him for redemption, not knowing it’s me there to save her.
“Do what you need to, Aero. Just finish her. I need the contributions before the next election. Cal Westwood is paying a pretty penny to have her vanish without a trace now that the church dropped the ball.”
I grind my back teeth at the mention. I’d assumed correctly.
Alastor tips his head at my expression, assuming I don’t know what happened.
“He thinks his own son messed that up by attempting to ruin the Induct ceremony himself, not realizing his father had already paid off the deacon to end her.”
I love it. They put the blame for the fire that started on poor little Saint. What a fucking mess they’ve created just to off this chick. A mess that’s becoming my new favorite obsession, and my new course for vengeance against the men who ruined me.
“What did this bitch do to have all these men losing their shit, anyway?” I ask, already knowing.
“A woman advancing in the religious world?” Alastor cocks his brow. “What’s next, Aero? Politics? I think not.” He laughs at the absurdity. “End her, and do it cleanly. I’d hate to pay the police off again if I don’t have to.”
“I thought you knew?” I cock my head before pulling a bloodied switchblade from my pocket and tossing it on his desk. He backs away abruptly, complete and utter disgust slapped across his old, wrinkled face. “I don’t do anything clean.”
He glares up at me from his chair.
I place my hand in the other pocket, making him cower. Chuckling, I pull out a box of matches and take one out, placing it in my teeth. Toying with the tip, I make the sign of the cross with it as I step backwards until I’m out the door.
A week. So much fun can happen in a week.
She’s wearing that goddamn crucifix again.
How badly I want to rip that from her delicate little neck, cutting into her flesh in the process, just to see the bright red blood leak from her perfect porcelain skin.
My beautiful little doll.
I can’t wait to watch her break beneath me.
Running my fingers along the skin of her soft arm, I watch as the hairs rise in reaction to the sensation. There’s nothing like enjoying the fact that her body reacts to mine, even when unconscious. She’s so unaware of the signals her body is throwing at me. Leading her down to the devil’s lair by breaking her pure and innocent way of life will be my ultimate delight.
I stand straight again above her sleeping body curled on her side of the bed. I’ve become slightly obsessed with her purity since the weeks I’ve been stalking and studying her. Wanting to coat that clean face with a beautiful mixture of cum and tears is my mission. I want her to get off on her fears until she becomes a dark and twisted creature like me. She’s not like them. She can’t be. She has a real potential for vengeance. I just need to open her mind to the possibility.
Her hair is sprawled along the pillowcase above her, black as the color of my soul. Grabbing the knife in my back pocket, I flip it up with my thumb. Taking some of her hair between my fingers, I slide the blade, slicing a good three inches off the end. I bring it to my nose, feeling high off the smell of her. She awakens that primal beast within me with her scent, and immediately I need it covering me.
In due time.
I rub the cut hair down my neck and over my Adam’s apple, contemplating keeping it before I dig into my pocket and pull out a ripped page. Laying it on her dresser, I place the hair on top of it.
Gazing at her supple breasts that rise and fall beneath her flimsy tank top with every deep breath she takes, I see the outline of her perfect pink nipples that lie beneath it, untouched. My jaw tightens as my nostrils flare with the utmost restraint. Not until she begs.
Toying with the end of the match that stays between my teeth, I toss the freshly cut rosebud into her trash can. My calling card of sorts; a poetic message of death before the awakening. I take the knife and stab it through the cut hair, through the page, and into the wood of her nightstand. Her lashes flutter open at the sound, but before she can orient herself, I’m already on my way out.
We’re very alike, the two of us. Calculated, intelligent, aware. What I can’t seem to understand is why she’s playing the role when, deep down, she must know it’s all a lie.
Her curiosities are pushing her towards me. I just need to wait until they’re eating her alive.
