Page 88 of The Hunted
Santino remembered the files he poured over in his research. How the Poet always left behind little tid bits of why they did what they did. How vile thevictimhad been when they were still breathing.
But the Reaper?
That had been a thing of beauty. There was no real indication on what put the VICs in their path. They were just like Santino in that way, though he was sure someone like Amra would have their theories.
Something happened in childhood. They were probably abused physically, verbally, and sexually.
Or maybe we are who we are, and our circumstances only helped push us there.
Santino paused, wondering when he started feeling a sense of kinship with the Reaper, because that’s what his musings were starting to feel like. He’d come across serial killers before because of his job. He could admit to admiring some of their work in regard to how they killed, but he’d never felt any connection to them.
Not the way he did to the Reaper.
The sound of a high-pitched scream had Santino ducking his head and grinding his teeth. “Son of a fucking bitch,” he grumbled, reaching a gloved hand for the doorknob and turning it. He hesitated, hoping he wasn’t walking into a trap, but the sob following the scream had him rushing into the home.
He pulled up short when he saw Sarah Brown tied to her kitchen chair and someone in all black standing over her with a kitchen knife in a gloved hand.
Holy shit.
“Reaper?” Santino couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice when the person’s head snapped up.
They had a skeleton mask on the bottom half of their face, black make up around their brown eyes, and a beanie covering the top of their head. They were a little shorter and less wide than the person he’d seen creeping into Chester’s house but was almost as tall as he was.
They both stood rooted in place, each one sizing the other up. Santino had wondered when this would happen. If it would ever happen. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling nor could he get his body to do anything but stare.
Sarah’s pleas broke the silence and staring competition they were locked in. The Reaper looked down before bringing a gloved finger to their lips to make theshhsound. “The grown-ups are talking.” The Reaper’s voice was distorted, almost computerized.
Interesting.
They both fell into another staring contest. The night sounds seemed so loud compared to the silence filling the cabin. He half-expected the Reaper to run or rush him, but the fact that neither one of them moved told him they both hadn’t expected this face-to-face so soon. Now they were recalculating everything.
“I had nothing to do with the body at the coffee shop.” They both blurted out at the same time, like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.
Given we probably shouldn’t be here, I guess we are doing something we shouldn’t.
Santino fought to keep the smile off his face.
What the hell is happening?
“So there is another then?” The Reaper’s head cocked to the side. Their eyes seeming familiar and cold all the same.
“What’s with the voice?” he questioned, taking a step forward and narrowly missing the knife sailing at his head.
Fuck, they were fast. They still had the kitchen knife in their hand.
The Reaper shook a gloved finger at him. “Didn’t say you could move, Midnight Strangler. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt by being stupid.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” He crossed his arms over his chest, wondering if he could make the distance before they threw something at him he couldn’t dodge. He wasn’t sure what their final showdown would be like, but he wanted to come out of it unscathed.
“And I’m not going to. At least not yet.” They looked down at Sarah and sighed. “I had planned on sending you a message and clearing my head with this one.”
The computerized voice was making him twitch. He wished they would ditch it but wondered if they couldn’t. Who knows what they’d gone through. This might be the only way they could continue to communicate.
“But I guess you’re here for the same reason. At least we both know we weren’t behind the latest kill.” They chuckled, and the sound creeped him out. It sounded like an old toy that had been popular in the nineties that was rumored to talk and laugh without any batteries in it.
“In any case. Our game is still in place, and for this round,” the bottom of the skeleton masked pulled up, letting him know they were smiling, “I got to Sarah Brown first. I won.” They winked at him before slowly starting to back up. Santino took a step forward.
“Don’t do it. You won’t survive it. What I plan to do to you will make you beg for death, and it will just piss me off.”
