The Caller

Forty-Five

Less than two hours earlier

Suddenly, the demon’s gloved hands appeared above Cassandra’s head.

They weren’t empty.

His right hand held a regular, household-type metal hammer. His left, a six-inch-long masonry chisel with a nail-sharp tip.

Cassandra couldn’t see what was happening behind her. She couldn’t move her neck. She couldn’t turn around. All she could do was stare straight at her cellphone’s screen and into her husband’s eyes. This time, it was she who saw something that she had never, ever seen in them before — total and utter despair.

‘Don’t do this. Please don’t do this,’ reflexively, Mr. J pleaded, but his voice carried no conviction.

He had lost count of how many times he’d been in the demon’s place before, his mark helpless before him. They all pleaded. They all begged. They all offered him money, excuses, promises. It had never worked. Mr. J was never there to negotiate or to forgive. He was the last stop. The ultimate consequence to whatever mistake the mark had made. And Mr. J had recognized the same determination he carried with him in the demon’s words. In his actions. From his hotel room, miles away from his home, Mr. J knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do or say that would stop the demon from doing what he was about to do. He blinked at his wife again, and just before her vision was completely blurred by a new explosion of tears, she saw the anguish in his face. The sorrow. The helplessness.

Behind Cassandra, the demon placed the tip of the metal chisel on her head. He positioned it about three inches up from her forehead, and a little right from center.

Feeling the sharp tip touch her scalp, Cassandra’s desperate eyes shot up as far as they would go, as if she was trying to look at her own eyebrows.

The demon lifted the hammer.

Cassandra’s eyes came back down and she returned to doing the only thing she could do — look at her husband through her cellphone screen. His lips moved, but no sound came out of them. His diaphragm lacked the strength. All he could do was mouth the words: I’m so sorry.

BANG.

The demon brought the hammer down on to the chisel. As its tip ruptured through Cassandra’s skull, fracturing her cranium, her eyes rolled up into her head and her whole body jerked violently. Despite the paralyzing drug she’d been given, her body was still responding to motor nerve impulses.

In silence, and shaking with rage, Mr. J jolted in place. He found himself lost in a void so deep inside of him, he could feel his soul being consumed.

Then came the surprise.