Page 10 of The Hunted
Dear Midnight Strangler,
I’m two for two and you’re currently sitting at zero. I know it has to bother you that I got to them first. That I know your mind better than you do. Are you wondering how I knew you’d go after him and not some random on the street?
When was the last time you indulged with someone who wasn’t a stain on this Earth? I bet you I can name the next three on your list. I won’t write those names down, but maybe we should make things interesting?
I know you have to be bored. A wolf hiding amongst sheep and can’t let his fangs show. What would they say if they figured out there’s been a killer among them this entire time?
It would be a slap in the face for some of them. All high and mighty, knowing how the bad guys think and constantly taking them down but one waltzes right by them and they’re none the wiser.
Do you want to play a game? I think you’ll enjoy it.
Whoever gets to the next victim first wins.
A Sarah Brown with pretty black hair and insatiable need to exert her power over her favorite students.
I know what you’re thinking, how do you know I haven’t killed her yet?
You don’t.
Happy hunting,
Sincerely,
The Poet aka The Reaper.
P.S. You might want to get a move on it. I think I smell smoke.
A low rumble tore through Santino’s throat when the fire alarm blared to life. “Son of a bitch.” He crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, frustrated that yet again, he’d have to rush out of a crime scene. He had known better than to come in here, but he had to, if only so he could grab the note he knew would be left for him.
He shoved the piece of paper into his jean pocket and quickly dipped his head out of the bathroom, trying to see where the fire had been started. Smoke started to rise up toward him, and he slowly made his way back toward the top of the stairs, wondering how quickly he could chance making it out the front door without getting his skin charred. Knowing his luck, he’d run right into the fire department because the Reaper probably dialed 9-1-1 long before they started the fucking fire.
“This is getting ridiculous.” He bounced on the balls of his feet and shook out his hands to diffuse the nervous energy coursing through him. After all this time—all the people he killed and how careful he’d been taught to be—someone had found him out and was intent on playing this little game with him.
A game they wanted him alive to participate in.
The smoke thickened around him and he realized his hesitation had cost him time getting out. He was going to have to run. He was half-tempted to let the smoke and flames consume him, just to see if the Reaper would make an appearance to save him since they insisted on taunting him, but he wasn’t suicidal. His ego was already demanding to hit back and go after Sarah Brown now, but he needed to be smarter.
He coughed into his shirt and moved, taking the steps two at a time to get out of the cabin before it collapsed on his head or fire got to him. He reached the front door and put his ear to it, half-expecting the Reaper or the fire department. When he didn’t hear anything and felt no heat coming off of it, he slowly opened the door wide enough to slip through before closing it behind him. His coughing increased when he got into the fresh air. He waited till it stopped before he jogged back to his truck. There were no signs of sirens in the distance, but he wasn’t going to stick around and wait.
Santino needed to take a step back and see the full landscape. Those he hunted, the Reaper hunted too. They had been aware of the list he kept—a list he recently started. This had to be someone he knew. It had to be someone he was connected to, but the question was, who?
He saw the flames light up the night sky—bathing an otherwise dark canvas an angry shade of orange that seemed to match his mood. He begrudgingly gave the Reaper their respects; currently, they were outwitting and out maneuvering him.
He was about to fix that.
ChapterFive
The Reaper watched from a close distance as Marcus’ cabin went up in flames, wondering if Santino Alvarez was actually going to come out or if they would have to go in and retrieve him. What good would this game be if one of them were dead before the grand finale?
“Come on,” the Reaper whispered. They held off on calling the fire department, knowing Alvarez would see the smoke and leave before the walls came down around him. The Reaper didn’t want him running out of the cabin facing law enforcement again. Not only was that first time a warning of how close they really were, but they also didn’t want to seem predictable in their taunts. But the fire was burning brighter—the flames ascending toward the sky in a hurry to reach the heavens, and Alvarez hadn’t come out yet.
What the hell was he doing?
Had he given up already?
Was he waiting to be rescued? Trying to push their face-to-face up to an earlier timetable?
The Reaper moved from their hiding spot, determined to drag him out if they had to, when the front door finally opened and Alvarez stood there looking like death. Even in the darkness of the night they could see the way he scanned his surroundings looking for something out of place, looking for the Reaper.
