Alekto Thanatos (spoiledflesh) wrote in deceptpercep, @ 2010-08-30 04:37:00 |
|
|||
Who: Alekto Thanatos, Bradley Adair.
NPCs: Milton and Dorothy Adair, Thomas 'Tommy' Adair and Marcus Blackthorne. Yes, you read that right.
When: Saturday night? (What is the last day of this week?)
Where: Adair house, Lybvian.
What: One chapter ends, another begins.
Rating & Warnings: NC-17 for murder, blood, fighting, spirits, etc. Cut me some slack, okay? This wasn't easy to write.
The tabloids weren't what had tipped Alekto off about the existence of unknown Blackthorne offspring. Out of all the voices that surrounded her, one new, unknown voice had emerged, that Alekto immediately had pegged as a new spirit. Anger wasn't terribly unheard of for those new to the spiritual realm, nor was unfinished business. And oh, he had been a smooth operator this one, had never left her presence during the past week, and always whispering in her ear. 'I need someone who will kill, quickly, ruthlessly and leave like a thief in the night,' he had finally told her. Add to that a good amount of flattery, and not even Alekto was immune to Marcus Blackthorne's slick ways. She'd watched them, that happy, little family, closely. The elderly neighbor in the house next to them, had been killed without much thought. Closed curtains did the rest; Alekto quickly learned to ignore the stench of the decomposing body in the upstairs bedroom, and was grateful for the fact that it was winter. Old people hoarded food, so she quickly learned, and everything else. The bottoms of closets were filled with unpacked presents, some drawers were full of unused, expensive perfume, others were stuffed with the most useless things you could think of; for Alekto, who until recently hadn't even owned anything, this was ridiculous, even bordering on insane. But from behind closed curtains, she saw it all; the grandmother who loved to order from TV shopping channels and generated an endless stream of boxes into the house, the grandfather who didn't have much of a spine and who moved the lawn once in a while; the spirit that lurked near her, looked down upon them with disdain. But it was the the girl, slipping in and out of the house in the evenings and late mornings, who got most of his scrutiny. Useless, he called her; a waste of the ground and air she occupied. And the boy, oh, he got even more of his knife cutting criticism. 'Better off dead. All of them', so he had claimed. 'Finish it.' She'd met the child and his mother ever so briefly. He'd dropped something, which Alekto had picked it up and called after the boy. It was a piece of paper, with colorful scribbles and a name. The boy's name, she assumed. The child had come back for it, as his mother looked on and thanked her for it, before running off again. And once more, the voice spared them no criticism. 'Not worthy of my blood.' And Alekto had tilted her head, only to see the child be picked up by his father. Not worthy, huh? Interesting. It only took her one more Saturday for her to confirm that this was a ritual; on Saturdays, the child went to his father and grandparents, a light would go on in one of the bedrooms and the mother would say until that light was turned off. Not long after, Alekto suspected she would leave as previously and Bradley's truck would come up the driveway. How much more time did she really need? How much longer did she need to wait? In and out, that was the plan. Inside long enough to get the child, the mother, the grandparents and wait for the boy as soon as he came home, strike again and then she would be out and en route to Byron. The girl could be a later mark, she'd quickly decided that. There was no strict routine that this Lori adhered to, which made that rather difficult. Taking care of the dogs had been easier than anticipated; cookies laced with a variety of crushed pills from the neighbor were thrown out of the window and into the neighboring garden, which the dogs had happily gobbled up. While she didn't know what had been in them, both dogs slowly but surely had sought out a nice, comfortable spot to either go to sleep or to die - either suited her just fine. And since then, she had waited for the cover of the night. The boy left the house in his truck, a couple of hours later the mother and the child arrived. And then, it was game on. She slipped through the back door and immediately realized that despite recurring protests from the woman upstairs, the TV's volume was far, far too high, which worked in her favor. Her gloved hand reached for one of the knife block on the kitchen counter, the biggest of the set and without pause, moved into the living room, where both grandparents still were unaware that an intruder was in their home. The knife in her hand struck with precision; before they managed to even get a look on her, the scent of their blood filled the air, quickly flowing over their chests. Slashed throats, severed vocal chords, stabbed hearts; it was quick and brutal and already had yielded more blood than this particular neighborhood had seen in centuries. And it wasn't over. She got the mother in the hallway, her movements always calculated, quick and deadly. She was long dead when she moved toward the child's bedroom. 'Put them into position', the voice had told her. And so she did. The mother was dragged to the bathroom, thrown into the tub and the water left running. One gesture later, and the corpse was melting away in the tub. A plastic mug filled with water also was blessed and Alekto barely took the time to disfigure their faces. 'Wipe out the memory,' he'd said. So, she did. She lit a match. The intent was for the fire to spread,but then, an engine was killed, a door slammed and the front door's lock was turned. Brad hadn't even taken a step inside, or Alekto's free hand pulled him inside, only to slash him with her knife. But what hadn't been counted on, was on the boy knowing how to fight back. Instinct took over for both; she was fast, he was just as fast. Both were equal matches and in his movements, she detected skills that only could have been taught in arenas and street fights. Recognizing his skill, she wanted this to be a fair match. Finally she threw him the knife she'd been holding, and then quickly pulled out another knife from inside her boot. Brad knew nothing else but to pick up the knife that this person had tossed to him, but it didn't happen quickly enough. During that very moment, Alekto launched a round of kicks on him, where upon he was pushed through the door and into the living room. A scream escaped Brad when the fire kissed his arm and left an angry burn in its wake. Smoke, fire and the smell of blood and burned flesh confused him long enough to glance at the sofa, where he recognized his grandparents, but only barely. He stared at them for what seemed like an eternity, but it was only after a few seconds that he jumped back up. "I put them out of their misery. I hope you don't mind." He was certain that he'd never forget that voice. Scratchy, rough, almost guttural; the voice of a woman who rarely spoke and most of the time, was too angry to do so. But then his head jerked up. Tommy. Brad moved forward, too quickly and too suddenly for Alekto to react, grabbing her arm with one hand, only to push her body with his foot. His other foot did the rest; the bone broke under the pressure and this time, it was Alekto who let a scream escape. But then he was back down on the carpet, blinking up at the ceiling, coughing and wheezing at the lack of air. And then the knife shone orange before it was brought down on him. Three vicious slashes over his heart, before the knife moved to his forearm and shoulder. She made a grab for the plastic cup, only for her to dump the remaining holy water down on his shoulder. It wasn't much, but it surely was felt, judging by his screams. "Marcus says hello," Alekto told him, only to freeze. 'Let him live.' Only then, Alekto lowered the knife, only to cut herself deeply in the soft flesh of her forearm, and forced him to drink her blood until he almost choked on it. In a rare moment of sympathy, she wiped the blood off his face and then forced his mouth closed. Swallow it, he would. But then Alekto stared down at him, only to lift his foot up. She could feel the bone in his leg break, and a rare smile came over her face. Now they were even. No more screams, no more fighting. "Sleep tight, young Bradley." He'd be out for a day at the least, which was perhaps for the best, considering the damage that had been inflicted upon him. "Who says I can't be kind, huh?" But then she put her arm over her mouth and nose and ducked into the hallway, the other route into the kitchen and the back door. But she didn't flee. Instead, she moved back into the neighbor's house, to wash up quickly, to put the knife into a zip-lock bag and to change into fresh clothing. And then, gasoline was poured over the house, and this one set on fire also. Only then, she disappeared into a maze of gardens and streets, and was long gone before Bradley Adair was moved into the hospital. Two burning houses. Five murders. And only one survivor, who wouldn't remember a thing. |