Twelve children tucked in bed. Twelve children sound asleep in this one room. And not one of them was Cory Blanchard.
Then again, Samantha wasn’t surprised. As she stood, watching the children whose names she didn’t know slumber, the Slayer somehow knew her son wouldn’t be among them. Las Vegas authorities took Cory to Child Protective Services after her arrest, but of course he wouldn’t still be here.
He was probably given to a foster family. Sweet little boy that he was, it probably wasn’t very long until a family was lined up, and off Cory went to be loved and held and everything a child should have with his family.
Only Cory wasn’t with his family. Michaela Starnes saw to that. Her husband’s blood was still on Samantha’s hands, as was her own with the glass she broke when breaking into the CPS building. She knew her entrance would trigger a silent alarm, and that the police would be by soon.
But Samantha would be gone before they arrived.
“Cory,” Samantha whispered, her lower lip quivering in the first sign of human emotion the Slayer exhibited in several weeks. Atia had taught Samantha well – so well, the Slayer sometimes seemed less than human. Almost as if she were more monstrous than those the Powers That Be charged her with slaying.
The Slayer wondered what the parents’ names were. Whether Cory had any brothers or sisters. Were the parents as loving as the Watkins’? Better? Worse? The answers didn’t really matter, because Samantha knew she would never see her son again. Not after breaking out of prison and killing as many as she did. The minute she showed up, the police would be all over her, and for as strong as Samantha was, eventually, she would be outnumbered and either thrown back in prison or killed.
Just as well, with her son officially out of her reach for good. But Samantha wouldn’t go down without a fight.
A tear trickled down Samantha’s cheek, then another. The ache in her chest felt foreign, as if she’d never experienced it before. Seeing those children in their beds, sleeping the night away, the Slayer remembered the short time she had with her own son before everything went so tragically wrong.
The ache grew steadily, and more tears began to fall. Soon, the Slayer found herself quietly sobbing among the children, silently glad her pain wasn’t near loud enough to wake them. Her heart pounded in her ears, and for the first time, Samantha considered killing herself.
No. She wouldn’t. The world would never drive her to that. If Samantha was meant to be dead, the world would have to take her itself. They’d already taken her son; what else was left?
The Slayer wiped at her eye just as she heard the first siren in the background. Without looking over her shoulder, Samantha dropped to a knee, producing a stake from her back pocket. Dirty, mangle blonde hair hung over Samantha’s face as she placed the stake on the floor, breaking off small pieces and placing them along the floor in a nondescript pattern.
The Slayer then pulled out a silver Zippo, opening it before pouring the lighter fluid on the ground. Leaving just enough in the lighter, Samantha then grabbed a larger chunk of the wood, setting in ablaze with the lighter before discarding both to the floor. She stood motionless as the sirens steadily grew louder, watching the fire spread and grow. Soon, the flames would engulf the entire room, then the building.
She would never see her son again. And while some other family was probably tucking him in and kissing him good night, no one else would be able to do the same with any of these children. Innocent victims they might be, but Samantha was determined not to let anyone else experience what she couldn’t.
The fire reached the first bed, quickly eating at the sheets and setting the girl underneath ablaze. The flames called to the sky as the ceiling sprinkler clicked, trying to come on but failing to do so. On the other side of the room, one of the boys stirred in his bed and woke to the flames, screaming in fear.
Samantha watched the boy as he pleaded for help in a voice so loud, a few of the other children began to wake and panic as well. The first girl to burn never screamed, killed in her sleep. These children would not be so fortunate.
As screams turned bloody and the fire consumed more innocence and life, the Slayer jumped out the window, disappearing into the night before the authorities arrived at the scene.
They would find the children, but they would never find her.