Page 27 of Alamort
“What the fuck, Ben?” Crew yells. Looking back in the rearview mirror, Saint smothers a smile and shakes his head. I smirk, throwing the car in reverse. Gravel spins up from beneaththe tires, losing a little traction. All of us go flying backwards when I hit the gas, bouncing from the deep potholes all over again. Have to make sure I hit the “one” I missed, according to Crew. Laughing like a maniac at the panicked look on Saint’s face and the small smile on my brother’s face. Their happiness makes my heart a little lighter than it has been in months.
Trees and bushes cover the overgrown pathway. The turn is barely noticeable in the dark. Driving slowly, I shut off the headlights. Better not to have him know we’re here. It would ruin the surprise. My eye twitches when the rough texture of sticks scratches the side of the car, like nails on a chalkboard.
“Come on, you’re getting ready to kill someone, and you’re cringing at the noise?” Crew complains.
Giving him the side eye, “Your car deserves better than a reckless, heartless owner like you. Poor baby,” I coo to the car, rubbing the steering wheel. We pull up to a literal abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere, about the size of our ensuite bathrooms. Stealthily, we get out of the car a little ways away from said shack.
My brother hands us each a pair of leather gloves. “Ben, you’ll go in through the front door. Malice through the back.” Leaving him to make sure our target doesn’t get out from the sides. It’s dark enough where mostly everything is a darker mass in the night. Since we’re in such a dense area, I decided the best course of action was night vision goggles. Also, I justreallywanted to try them out. Sliding them on, I bring down the binocular contraption. This is sick. I love it. Silently, we get into our positions.
Everyone has 30 seconds. It’s an unspoken rule. I ready my weight against the center panel of the old wood door, decaying with time, and giddiness rushes over me as I push forward with my shoulder. The door splinters with acrack,making its way around the otherwise silent night. Wings flutter from animalsthat inhabit the unoccupied space. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of rotting wood, mildew, and human piss. Debris covers the entire shack. The room is a mess, empty cans of unidentified drinks strewn about in every corner. An old mattress that’s blackened with age and grime lies on the floor, pushed up against the wall with a figure slowly sitting up. Disgusting. I open my mouth, but Malice beats me to it. He slinks from the darkened shadows. I remove my night vision goggles at the same time Crew flips on a lantern.
“Hello, Martin.” Crew greets, followed by an ominous thud of our leather bag filled with goodies.
Everything after that was quick, the thrill of being in action after being dormant for so long. Malice grabs Martin by the back of the neck. While I make quick work of the rope Crew handed me when we switched cars. I bind the rope tightly behind his back, wrapping it around his wrists, following suit for his ankles, ensuring he can’t get out. Malice enjoys the struggle too much as he tosses the trembling pedophile on the ground. He lands on his shoulder, screaming from the harsh impact. That will be the least of his worries soon enough.
“Do you know who we are? Why are we here, Martin?” Crew asks unbothered. Like Martin is wasting his time by being here. Martin shakes his head. Straight to denial, predictable. Who would admit they’re a fucking predator?
Tsking, Crew continues. “You know the answer to at least one of those questions.”
“The girl.” Martin whispers.
A genuine smile splits across Crew’s face. Happy with his admission. He nods to Malice, but Martin took it as a sign to continue.
“B-But her parents were asking for it. Who leaves their child unattended at a playground? There are monsters everywhere,” he stutters but picks up with conviction.
My brother wears the matching scowl of my own.
“Monsters like you?”
The coward nods, not realizing that was the answer that sealed his gruesome fate. The zipper of the bag is loud over his labored breathing. I guess we’re not the only ones dying of suspense.
“I’d give you the same courtesy you did for little Ellie. But unfortunately,mymonsters are hungry.”
Tension fills the air. I’m foaming at the mouth for it. The metallic tang of blood in the air. Unable to contain myself, I let out a whoop for what’s to come.
Malice squats, impatient with Crew’s mind games. He grabs a fist full of his hair at the roots and faces him towards us. The lantern’s flickering light casts an ominous aura over Malice, giving him a sinister appearance. A demon coming to collect a soul.
A pair of pliers are placed in my hand. Where to start? I could take off his nails one by one. Hands and then feet. We purposefully left his face without tape to hear his screams. Beg us to stop for his life, just like Ellie did. My heart beats a little faster at the thought of a helpless girl begging for her mom. Or her brother, like I did.
Before I can pick a place to start. Crew eagerly lands the first punch square on Martin’s jaw. His head snaps backwards, and he groans. Mal takes his knife and pushes it into the piece of shits skin. Only one gash, shoulder to elbow and fixates on the blood slowly trickling out of his wound, before dripping off of his elbow. Without fanfare he’s dropped to the dirty wood floor. A steeled toe boot lands a perfect kick to his ribs. I cringe, that has to of broken something. My twin doesn’t stop there. He beats Martin until he’s an unconscious, bloody pile on the ground. His face is unrecognizable. Both eyes are swollen shut. Teeth aremissing and his breaths are loud wheezes. His nose sits on his face at an awkward angle.
There’s only one word to describe it. Beautiful.
Malice pulls out smelling salts, leaving Martin to startle awake. A smile stretches across my face. My turn.
The cold metal of the pliers seep through my leather gloves, sending a delicious shiver up my spine. His pinky first, all the way to his thumb, exposing the nerve-rich nail bed in its wake. Only to repeat the process on the next hand.
There is something about the way the fragile skin underneath the nail gives away that brings me pleasure. With each nail I pull, Malice leaves another cut on the man’s skin. I don’t know if he feels anything at this point, but I do. After his nasty toenails are done. I step back to admire our work. He’s still alive, barely. He won’t be as soon as Malice is done with him.
“Do you know who we are yet?” The thick British accent sounds menacing. A groan is the only response he gets. Mal hums his displeasure.
“We’re the Demons.” He slices, stabbing his blade into the bloodied leg before jerking it out, only to jab it into his right leg. A blood-curdling scream reaches all four corners of the dark shack.
“And we’ve come to collect your soul,” he whispers darkly into his ear.
“Ooh, that one gave me shivers.” I say to no one in particular. The man’s wailing intensifies when the blade is yanked out once again. Aware he will not make it out in one piece. If I’m being honest, not even two.
While he’s blubbering on the ground. Crew reaches inside the leather bag with our work tools to grab a bone saw. This elicits a weak fight-or-flight response from Martin. He struggles in Malice’s grip to get away from Crew. I grab his hand in a death grip and apply pressure to his bloody fingertips to keephim immobile. The saw is the shape of an ‘L’, easily held. He grabbed his fancy one for tonight. The sound of the saw cutting through bone bounces around my brain as he brutally removes his pinky finger. Bloodied bone is visible through all the flesh parts, allowing us to see it clearly. Leaving us surrounded by the acrid scent of burnt skin and seared hair, fill my nose when I cauterize the wound to keep him from bleeding out too quick. The high I’m riding on is better than any drug could give me.