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“Grabthe lighter fluid from under the sink, would you?” I asked, remembering we were out of gasoline as I made my way to the shed, skin itching. The pain in my abdomen, a symptom of the withdrawal, stronger now than it had been this morning. I grimaced through the pain, a muscle in my right arm spasming as the reaching hands of my darkness raked at the back of my skull, demanding to be fed.
Tonight, it would dine on the dirty soul of a pedophile.
But…it whispered. Dan the Man was only a phone call away. I could fix it. I could almost feel the chemical burn of cocaine on the back of my throat. Could almost fucking taste it.
I could skin Ghost’s mother alive for doing this to me, but that wasn’t a call I could make. My girl had promised me vengeance once our lives in Thorn Valley returned to a semblance of normal, and that was good enough for me. For now.
I unlocked the shed and stepped inside, the lingering scent of bonfire filling my nose. I breathed it in deeply, clutching the edge of my work table and shutting my eyes to get a hold on myself. I dug in my back pocket, drawing out a cigarette with shaking fingers to put it to my lips.
The flame danced on the top of my Zippo, an inch from the end of my cigarette as I froze in place, staring down at the surface of the table in front of me.
There, atop a torn slip of paper was a small black bag. Round and bulging. Knotted at the top.
The words were an afterthought, and I had to force my eyes to leave the familiar baggy to read them.
You’re welcome.
That was it.
No.
Fuck.
I blinked hard, hoping that when I opened my eyes again, it wouldn’t be there.
But it was.
“Rook,” Grey called from outside and in a knee-jerk reaction I snatched the eight-ball of coke from the table and shoved it deep into my pocket, flicking the paper away.
“Hey, you good? We need to get back,” Grey said, appearing in the door. “Got the lighter fluid.”
I grabbed my busted up red toolbox and lifted my blowtorch from its nook with a pinkie. “Yeah. I’m good.”
* * *
We got backto his house before he returned home, parking the Rover in the trees a little farther down the road.
The afternoon sun, so warm and so fucking bright, was at odds with the dark rising within, making me froth at the mouth as I waited, crouched low behind a boulder near the end of his driveway. The black ball in my pocket feeling like it might burn a hole straight through.
My knuckles rubbed over its outline through my jeans, and I gritted my teeth.
I heard the car coming and nodded at Grey through the living room window, tensing the thin length of rope between my fists. It was going to be hard not to end him right away, but filth like Mr. Williams deserved to suffer first.
The rope bit into my fingers as I stretched it to its limits, a shudder rolling down my spine as the images from his computer screen replayed behind my shut eyelids. I’d only had the pleasure of slaughtering one other monster like him.
The one I really wanted dead, the counselor from Barrett’s Home for Boys, bit a bullet before I could get to him. Though I had a feeling I knew who’d done the job for me, and I was glad it was one of us. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that he would have seen Grey’s face and known the reason he was there. Who he was getting justice for.
Didn’t change the fact that I wished I’d done it myself, felt robbed of the chance to get my revenge, but now. Here. Tonight. I would get my revenge for others who never could. Never would. Not in the way that they should.
My teeth clenched, baring in a snarl as tires turned from the choppy road to the smooth pavement of the drive, slowing.
A car door opened, and I rose from behind the boulder in one swift movement, grinning as I stalked around the back of his car on silent feet, my shadow lying over him as I approached.
He started, seeing it a second too late. I wrapped the cord around his throat twice, pulling it tight until my biceps strained. Williams choked and spluttered, clawing at the thin cord around his throat as I sent him to his knees, not letting up until his clawing hands turned to useless deflated lumps of flesh and began to sag.
I squeezed one last time before shoving him forward onto his face, releasing the cord. I kicked him hard in the side, and he replied with a coughing breath, going back to a limp stillness as he passed out. Couldn’t have him suffocating before we’d had our fun, now could we?
Another car was coming, and I cursed, bending to lift the dead weight of his body onto my shoulder, the bullet-wound in my leg protesting the extra weight. I groaned, carrying him around the other side of his car until the other vehicle passed by.
