Page 99 of Devil's Thirst

“What the fuck is this? You think you can hurt me and get away with it?” Panic raises the pitch of his voice, despite his effort to sound tough. “I’m a public figure. You can’t make me disappear without causing a stir.”

“Why would I want to do that? You’re an innocent man, right?” I say without a hint of emotion.

“I don’t kill people like your sort.”

“I’m glad you recognize the precarious nature of your situation because I am exactly thatsort.” I grab a heavy pair ofscissors from a table filled with tools. When I start toward him, Talbot’s tune quickly changes.

“Shit, there’s no need for this, okay? I can make your life easier—a friend on the other side of the fence.”

I yank his shirt out from the waist of his pants and slice the fabric from hem to collar. As the metal glides closer to his face, his sniveling worsens.

“Fucking Christ, don’t do this. Please, just tell me what you want from me.”

“We’ll get there soon enough.”

Once his shirt is nothing but scraps of fabric on the concrete floor, I do the same with the rest of his clothes until he’s completely exposed. I make sure to take my time. The suspense is half the fun, and judging by the bulging vein in his forehead, Talbot appreciates every tantalizing second.

“If you’re good here, I’m going to head out,” Tommy says after helping me secure my subject. He’s not a fan of torture, but not because of the pain it involves. He hates messes—blood splatter makes him twitchy. I think that’s why he’s so great with a sniper rifle and throwing knives. Minimal cleanup.

“Thanks, man. I’ll be in touch.”

While his retreating footsteps fade, I examine the sharp edge of the shears and slowly walk toward Sean, who is awake but in rough shape and silenced with a wadded-up rag in his mouth.

“Back in Italy, my uncle has a pig farm. What they say is true—those things will eat anything,” I muse as if talking to myself. “No pigs here in the city, but we have the next best thing.”

I click the lock on the giant barn door and slide it aside, opening the warehouse to the river several feet below. “Feeding someone to the fish may sound cliché, but it’s a classic for a reason.”

When I turn my stare back to Sean, he tries to scream at me. Looks like he’s not totally out of fight.

“Fuck, man. You’ve terrorized him enough. Look at him,” Talbot pleads on behalf of his cohort, but it won’t do any good.

I position the blades on either side of his pinky finger, then clench the scissors shut. Sean passes out while Talbot starts praying.

I pick up the discarded digit from the floor. Holding an inanimate body part for the first time is strange, but you get used to it.

“You’re a fucking psychopath, you know that?” Talbot spits at me.

“At least I target those who deserve it and not innocent young women.” I peg him with an icy stare as I toss the finger into the river.

“What do you want from me? I’m telling you that she came to that hotel voluntarily. Her own mother set it up.”

I make a tsking noise and angle my head to the side. “See, that’s the thing about statutory rape—even if she had consented, which we both know she didn’t—it’s still. Fucking.Rape.” Unchecked violence bleeds from my words. I can handle a lot of shit, but hearing this twisted asshole trying to paint himself as anything but a pedophile seriously pisses me off.

When I head back to the table, I swap out the scissors for a battery pack and clamps. Talbot is noticeably freaking out, but he doesn’t know the half of it until I attach that shit to his shriveled dick. He tries to thrash to shake off the clamp but hisses in pain and stops.

I have news for him. It’s going to get much worse.

Not as bad as I’d like since I can’t leave any marks, but sometimes less pain for longer intervals can be even more effective.

I ignore his worthless pleading and flip on the battery, savoring his screams.

The big bad attorney general openly sobs when I turn off the machine. “What do you want? I can’t undo the past.”

“No,” I agree. “But you can suffer for your actions.”

His watery, hate-filled stare lifts to mine. “Doesn’t that make you just as much of a monster as me?”

“Possibly.” I shrug indifferently, then turn on the battery again. I give him about twenty seconds to endure—enough time that his clenched teeth look like they might give way at any moment—then turn it back off.

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