Soultaker

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“I want to kill her.”

Zack Bishop, Rockville High’s starting quarterback and prom king, set down the issue of Maxim he’d been reading and looked at his girlfriend. “You shouldn’t talk that way, Cin. People might think you’re serious, then you’d be in even more trouble.”

Cindy Wells stood in front of the mirror above Zack’s desk, regarding with disgust the imperfect image reflected there. The bandage affixed to her nose marred an otherwise flawless countenance. She had a beautiful face. A model’s face, as so many had told her, with high cheekbones, big blue eyes, a graceful jawline, and imminently kissable lips. Until this morning, her nose had been perfect. Narrow and graceful. Now it was a bent, broken thing, a boxer’s nose.

The rest of her still looked wonderful. Her clothes, a sleeveless, lime green top and a sleek miniskirt, showed off her svelte body to stunning effect. She had a long, slender neck (which her mother variously described as “swanlike” or “like Audrey Hepburn”), long, shapely legs, and a perfectly contoured figure. All topped off by a flowing mane of lustrous blonde hair. She’d been the school’s reigning beauty.

But not anymore.

Now I’m a beast, she thought.

Until now, Cindy had never considered herself shallow. She was self-aware enough to know she was exceptionally beautiful, but she’d accepted this as a simple fact of her existence, an asset, certainly, but not a thing that elevated her above other people. She took more pride in her intelligence and academic achievements. Her GPA was a rock-solid 4.0. She was gifted in math and science. She also had a passion for literature, and she’d displayed talent as a writer of fiction. She had long been torn between, on the one hand, accepting a scholarship at a school renowned for its science programs and, on the other hand, attending a school known for producing accomplished artists and writers.

None of these things mattered at the moment.

She applied the tip of a finger to her damaged nose and winced. Her upper lip curled, further marring the image of beauty. Anger flared inside her again. And the real thing, not just teenage petulance. Raw, burning fury. She imagined her hands wrapped around Myra Lewis’s scrawny neck and she clenched her fists. She could almost feel that fragile flesh collapsing beneath the force of her righteous wrath. This frightened her, mostly because giving herself over to anger was such a new and strange thing for her, but she was close to embracing it.

She glanced at the stacks of Maxim magazines next to Zack’s bed. She’d always regarded the beautiful, busty women on the covers with a mixture of pity and disgust. Women who displayed their bodies for profit, whether they were Parisian supermodels or porno “actresses,” were little better than whores. Or so Cindy had always believed.

Beauty is power, she thought.

The truth of it struck her hard. Her looks had made her special. They had made her better than all the other girls. And they had granted her some degree of power over nearly everyone she had ever encountered. Extra-special emphasis on the past tense, however, because fucking Myra Lewis had ruined much of that power with one blow.

She turned away from the mirror. “I mean it.” She stalked over to the bed and stood glaring down at Zack. “I want to kill the bitch.”

Zack frowned. “You’re scaring me a little, Cin.” He sat up, clasped hands with Cindy, and drew her near. He sighed. “This isn’t easy to say, but…look, I know you told me you didn’t provoke Myra in any way, and I want to believe you, but it just doesn’t make any sense. I can’t believe you’d get a suspension for no good reason.”

Cindy fumed. It took all her willpower not to strike Zack. “What are you accusing me of, Zack? Are you saying I’m a liar?”

Zack flinched. “No. I’m just…well, not exactly.”

“What!?”

Zack swallowed a lump in his throat. Cindy thought she saw fear in his eyes. A part of her, she was stunned to discover, enjoyed seeing it. It made her feel powerful again. It was particularly gratifying that the man in question was Rockville High’s king stud. She wondered how he’d react to a backhand across the face. The thought stunned her-but only for a moment.

And Zack sensed the hostility. He let go of her hands and scooted backward on the bed, putting some distance between them. “Jesus, Cin, relax. Obviously I’m not calling you a liar.” He shrugged, and looked at her with a helpless expression. “Maybe…I’m sorry, I know I’m not saying this right. But maybe you offended her in some way you don’t know about. Some offhanded comment she took to heart, maybe.”

Cindy sneered. “Are you fucking serious? You dick. You’re calling me thoughtless.”

“No, I’m not.” Zack seemed to become a little more sure of himself. “And I’m really about done talking about this. You’re in some weird kind of denial, Cin. I think you did say something to that girl, maybe something really out of character for you, something mean. And maybe you feel so guilty about it you can’t acknowledge the truth. Christ, Cindy, girls like you don’t get suspended without a really good reason. And now this crazy talk about wanting to kill Myra. It scares me.” His voice had grown solemn. “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a few days. Just until you’ve had some time to really think and deal with all this.”

Cindy gaped at him, unable to believe what she’d just heard. Sudden tears welled in her eyes. “Zack, no…”

He looked away from her. “I’m sorry, Cindy. But it has to be this way. Please leave. Now.”

Cindy’s anger surged back to the surface, burning through her tears and setting her hand in motion before she knew what she was doing. Her palm smacked hard across Zack’s jaw, snapping his head to the side and leaving him dazed long enough for her to continue the assault. She picked up the magazine he’d discarded, rolled it up tight, and battered him about the head with it until he at last managed to snatch it away from her and seize her by the wrists.

“What’s wrong with you!?” he screamed.

Cindy struggled in his grip. She ached to strike him again. Slapping him had felt good, but it hadn’t been enough. Swatting him around with the magazine had felt even better, but even that had fallen short of completely satisfying. The terror and confusion in his bugged-out eyes sent a pleas ur able shudder through her. This new urge to do violence was intoxicating.

No…that wasn’t quite the real truth of it.

Hell, she thought, it turned me on.

Her nipples had stiffened. And she was wet down there.

She recognized this reaction as wrong and probably crazy, but she didn’t care.

She loved it.

She thrashed against Zack and eventually managed to wrest one hand free. Her thumb and middle finger went to his eyes and began to press. Zack yelped and leaped away from her. He picked up one of his athletic trophies and brandished it like a club. “You stay away from me, you crazy bitch!”

Cindy got off the bed, clasped her hands behind her back, and began to move toward him, rolling her hips and arching her back so that her breasts jutted. “Come on, Zacky baby. You’re not afraid of little ol’ me?” She laughed. “Are you?”

Zack’s expression was grim. “Don’t take another step. I’ll bash your brains in, I swear to God.”

Cindy shook her head in mock disappointment. “Look at you. A big, strong boy like you waving that trophy thingy at me. Don’t you bench-press two or three times my weight, Zack? What could I do to you?”

Zack took a step backward. His back met the wall. “You’re a fucking psycho. What an actress you are, Cindy. I can’t believe I never saw how completely fucking nuts you are.” His voice grew hoarse with emotion. “I loved you. Please…don’t make me hurt you. Please stay back.”

Cindy eyed the trophy. She smiled. “I don’t think you could do it. You’re too much of a good guy to really hit a girl with that thing. Oh, you’d want to, if I really came at you, but you wouldn’t. You’d hesitate.” Her smile broadened. “Yes, you’d hesitate, and I’d be digging your eyes out before you could do anything.”

Zack was shaking now. His grip on the trophy was slipping. He looked defeated, like a beaten, broken thing. Big, bad Zack. King stud.

King pussy, more like.

Cindy giggled at the thought.

Zack scooted sideways down the wall, getting into position to bolt toward the door. But his gaze never wavered from Cindy. “Stay away from me.”

Cindy licked her lips. “You really are pitiful. But you don’t need to run, baby. I’m leaving. I’m gonna go find a more challenging foe. Myra Lewis. And I’m really gonna do it, Zack. I’m gonna kill the cunt.”

Zack’s horrified expression almost made her laugh again. She shrugged. “C’est la vie, baby. I’m leaving now.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll meet again. Soon.”

Then she left his room and descended the stairs to the first floor. Zack’s mother, a pleasant-looking woman with short, permed hair, greeted her with a smile in the foyer. “Leaving so soon, dear?”

Cindy’s own smile was just as pleasant.

So Lizzie Bishop was likely shocked when her favorite son’s golden goddess of a girlfriend slugged her hard in the stomach. The blow expelled the air from her lungs and made her double over. Cindy pounded a fist against the crown of the woman’s skull, sending her to her knees. She lingered over the woman a moment, contemplating ways to inflict further damage.

Then the logical part of her mind reasserted itself for a moment. The fragile thing that had masqueraded as her conscience was gone forever, utterly destroyed. But her self-preservation instinct remained intact. She shouldn’t have assaulted Zack’s mother. Not because there was anything wrong with what she’d done (Cindy was quickly reassessing all her previously held notions of right and wrong), but because the woman might call the police to report the attack.

Cindy heard footsteps behind her.

Then a horrified screech.

“Oh my God! What have you done?”

Zack brushed by her and knelt next to his stricken mother. The woman was sobbing. She was curled up in a ball on the floor, hugging herself and shaking.

“Mom? Mom, are you okay?”

Cindy cast her gaze about the foyer. She spied something that might be useful, then glanced down at mother and son.

Zack glared up at her. “You crazy bitch! You were wrong, Cindy. I will fight back. You’ve gone too far.”

He started to rise.

Cindy drove the toe of a high-heeled shoe into his stomach, sending him back to the floor. Then she swept past Zack and his mother, grabbed the pruning shears Lizzie Bishop had set aside upon returning from her garden, and pounced on Zack. She buried the blades in his throat and felt a more intense ripple of the same pleasure she’d experienced in Zack’s room moments ago.

She punched the blades into his body again and again, dozens of times.

On and on, ripping his body to shreds long after he had died.

Then she turned her attention to Lizzie Bishop, who hadn’t moved.

The woman was smiling through her tears.

“My sacrifice.” She palmed some tears away and kept smiling. “I’m so happy.”

Cindy gaped at the woman. What she had done felt right. It was insane, she recognized that, but it felt right. Nothing had ever felt so right. Her entire life as she’d known it-along with all her extravagant plans for the future-was over. Something new, something breathtakingly, unexpectedly better had come along.

It was incredible, a startling revelation, an epiphany. Nothing should surprise her now.

But this-well, frankly the woman’s attitude was shocking.

Cindy had just butchered her son before her eyes.

And she was…happy?

It didn’t make sense.

“What the hell’s the matter with you, you fucking old hag?”

Lizzie Bishop’s smile still radiated unabashed joy. “I should’ve known all along. You’re special. You’re one of her chosen ones.”

Cindy shook her head. “Chosen ones? Who are you talking about?”

Lizzie seemed surprised. “Why, Lamia, of course.”

“I don’t know who the fuck that is.”

“You will, dear.”

“You know something? Don’t call me ‘dear,’ okay? I’ve always hated that.”

Cindy disengaged herself from Zack’s ruined body. She straddled Lizzie and flexed the blades. She leered at the woman. “Are you ready for this?”

She wanted to see terror steal into the woman’s eyes, but there was no fear there. Lizzie was still smiling. “I’ve never been so ready. Not for anything.”

Cindy frowned. “Stop that shit. You’re freaking me out.”

She went to work with the blades one more time.

Then she stood up and surveyed the carnage. The formerly immaculate foyer was awash in crimson. The lifeless bodies at her feet possessed a grisly beauty. She felt a strange kind of pride. She had snuffed them. The work of her own hands had splashed all this blood around.

She felt powerful again.

More than that-she’d never felt so good in her life.

And she shivered with delight at the knowledge that there was still one more thing that could make her feel even better-Myra Lewis dead at her feet.

The cunt’s face reappeared in her mind.

Cindy grinned.

“Here I come, bitch, ready or not.”

She opened the front door and stepped outside.

Then froze.

Myra Lewis was sitting on a white wicker chair on the porch, one leg curled beneath her as she nonchalantly smoked a clove cigarette. She looked at Cindy and smiled. “Hello, darling.” She glanced at the bloody shears and expelled a cloud of pungent smoke. “I see you’ve been busy.”

Cindy snarled and raised the shears high over her head. A delirious sensation of purest ecstasy swirled inside her. Her fondest wish was about to come true. And the stupid bitch was just sitting there, waiting for it. As if she didn’t have a care in the world.

I’ll fix that, Cindy thought. And pounced.

Or, rather, she tried to pounce.

She couldn’t move. Something had reached inside her and paralyzed her. She saw the flicker of amusement in Myra’s eyes and knew at once the bitch had done it. The sense of power she’d so reveled in moments ago was gone. Terror now welled inside her. She wanted to cry. Because whatever else Myra Lewis might be, one thing was clear-she wasn’t human.

Myra flicked the cigarette away. She unfolded the leg tucked beneath her and scooted to the edge of the chair. “You don’t need to be afraid, Cindy.” Her voice was low and earnest. And a strange thing happened-Cindy believed her. “I had a hunch about you. I thought I could provoke some interesting things.” She smiled and shot a glance at the open door behind Cindy. “Turns out I was right. I want you to join me, Cindy. I want you to help me kill them all. Will you do that?”

Cindy felt some of the paralysis slip away. Her legs remained frozen, but her upper body was under her own control again. The shears slipped from her hands and landed with a clatter on the porch.

“Yes.” She sniffled. “I think I want that more than anything.”

Myra smiled again. “Good. A change is coming, Cindy. A storm. Soon Rockville will be a ghost town. You’re going to kill a lot of people for me.”

Hot tears spilled down Cindy’s cheeks. “Thank you. Oh, thank you…”

“But now I need you to do something else for me first.” Myra’s eyes gleamed, and there was a new intensity in her voice. “A symbol of your subservience and devotion to me.”

Cindy’s legs prickled with a pins-and-needles sensation. Her body was fully under her control again. “What do you want me to do?”

A corner of Myra’s mouth twitched. “I want you to come to me on your hands and knees. And then I want you to kiss my feet.”

Only moments earlier the prospect of such a thing would have made Cindy sick. But now there was only pleasure and the desire to prove herself worthy to Myra. Before she could even consciously decide to obey, she felt her bare knees touch the cold concrete surface of the porch. Then she leaned forward and placed the palms of her hands on the concrete.

“Come to me,” Myra said.

“Yes, Lamia.”

Cindy almost frowned.

Why had she addressed Myra as Lamia?

You know why, a voice somewhere deep inside whispered. Deep down, you’ve always known.

But that was something to think about later. Maybe.

Cindy pushed the thought away and did as she was ordered.