Page 91 of Natural-Born Cullers

Myers smile never faltered, but Gray would have been disappointed if he had given himself away so easily.

The tags around the dogs’ necks caught his attention. “Or we can talk late Skaldic poetry,” said Gray. “Because I have a feeling his Blood Eagle art, that came from you.” One Doberman carried the nametag of Ymir, and the irony wasn’t lost on how instead of Ymir himself being the one to suckle on a cow’s milk in Norse mythology, this Ymir fed his milk into man. Gray shrugged. “Seth idolised you, and that brings in the sacrifice to Odin, hm?” Cal had been wrong: it had always been about sacrifice to Norse gods, or the perception of. “He gave you Odin status with all the sacrifices he made. But you, you clip the wings of those who don’t kill creatively enough in your name.”

Myers gave a heavy sigh. “You know, Seth… he struggled to readRomeo and Julietin college. Kids today have no appreciation for the classics. So the promise of a good debate over them with someone who does will always be our downfall, right?”

Gray nodded. Only he was well past the point of talking.

“Then c’mon.” He gave Gray a look up and down. “Just…. You, you stay a few feet back from Ymir here. He’s like any dog soldier: always out to mount any alpha who threatens his space. If you go beyond talking, Mary there will hold you down and see him mount you for as long as I demand. And I’m known for my longevity.” He edged the shotgun towards the door. “So come talk to me, Profiler. You tell me who youthinkI need protecting from.”

As Myers pulled his wheelchair and dogs back, Gray walked on through.

He wore no leather gloves, but then he really wasn’t in the mood for talking anymore, just tick…

Fucking tock.

“Out.”

Phone in hand, Simon kept his look levelled on the darkness of the road ahead as a tap came on the passenger window.

“C’mon, sweet cheeks.” Someone rested against the side panel, and Simon caught their fold of arms. “Don’t be shy.”

After slipping his laptop to the floor, Simon eased the door open and stepped out.

A rough grip met the back of his neck, and he was spun headfirst into the car before the coldness of a gun barrel pressed into his skull.

“Hands behind your head, sweetheart.”

The man was slim, and unlike the woman he’d heard talk to Gray, no Irish accent drifted over. The same professional manhandling came through, though, and Simon eased his hands behind his head as he jerked into how the man kicked his legs apart.

A moment later, someone patted his jacket down as the gun pushed him forward, making sure he stayed still.

Simon kept his breathing even, his look focused on the woods over the road, but as a touch slipped his waist and the man came in close behind him, a nip came at Simon’s ear.

“Hey—hey.” The man dug the gun harder into his skull, stopping Simon from shaking him off. Cherry stained his skin with the rough breath, and Simon deepened his breathing, knowing Seth had favoured cherry Tic Tacs. Gray liked his mind games, so he knew Myers would too, and scent… scent stayed around for years in the mind with a victim. It had with Jack over Jan’s cologne. Did Myers infuse it with his killers? Giving them all one scent as they mauled who they held beneath them? Oh that meant Cherry here wasn’t only a guard, but….

Simon frowned. Stilled.

He was one of Myers’ Red Room killers.

“There we go, there we go,” said Cherry. He dusted a touch over Simon’s cock, and his breath brushed Simon’s ear again. “Just passing the time.” It came so quietly as a flip of clasp came at Simon’s belt. “Just letting your boss know who touches who and—”

The shrill cry of a dog cut across the blackened landscape, scattering birds from the trees, and Cherry stopped and jerked his look back towards the grand house. Gun pressed harder into Simon’s skull, Cherry tugged something from his belt.

“Mary?”

Static hit the air from the radio call, then… nothing.

“Fuck.” Cherry grabbed Simon off the car, then—“Huh—”

The fall of a stone to his feet had Cherry staggering back, and Simon ducked, covering his head as a shot was fired, more accidently from how it bounced off the dirt by their feet, almost mating with the stone that had been thrown. Cherry staggered back, holding his ear, and a confused look went to the stone rocking close to where the bullet had hit, then he shot a glance to the trees opposite before he looked at the blood staining his fingertips.

“You bring friends?” Cherry came at Simon, and before he could withdraw his own firearm, Simon hit the floor as Cherry’s slammed the gun into his head. “Stay fucking down, whore.”

Simon tried to get up, but slumped back down, his head spinning, not quite understanding how a second pair of feet ghosted up behind Cherry in that moment, so fast and bloody up close and personal….

“Not his friend….”

Cherry ended up on the floor close by, and Simon caught a flash of silver hair beneath a black hood as someone else crouched close by and grabbed Cherry’s leg.

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