Page 59 of Freaks Of Nature
Slipping the flex cuffs out of my hoodie’s front pouch, I straddle him from behind and grab his wrist.
“What the fuck?” His head jerks up, but before he even knows what’s happening, I have his hands restrained at his back.
“Who the fuck are you?” he bellows, his body bending to look over his shoulder at me as he tries to wrestle me off.
He’s bigger than me still. He twists and squirms under my weight, but I made sure I’d keep the upper hand.
Pressing my forearm into his back, I lean down, and flick my blade open. “Time to pay up, Ely.” I wag the tip in front of his face. “The devil has come to collect your soul.”
“What?” His voice is hoarse, and I catch the deep crease between his brows as his eyes lock with mine. He doesn’t understand what’s going on yet.
But he will.
“Johnathan and Thomas are dead, and you’re next,” I clarify, listening to the muffled screams coming from the other room as Ash is carving up Ely’s second henchman.
My guy hears it too. His eyes swing to the open bedroom door before returning to me, and I see a glimmer of realization sparking. He knows I’m not bluffing.
But he still doesn’t grasp the reason I’m here. “Why?” he has the fucking nerve to ask.
I stab my knife into the pillow beside his head. Rage shooting through my veins, I rip my mask down and growl, “Remember me?”
Ely refocuses on my face, then his eyes widen. “M-Mason,” he stammers.
I reach into my pouch again, getting out the garrote. I don’t want this to be quick. I need him to suffer.
Gripping the little wooden handles at each end, I loop the wire around his neck and pull.
Ely’s muscles jerk as the line draws tight, and I cut off his carotid artery. I want to feel the life drain out of him.
My tension on the garrote jitters under the force I’m putting up with every second that ticks by. The wire slices through the skin at his jugular, and blood stains the white sheets before he loses the fight and goes limp.
Unwinding the line, I tuck it back into my sweatshirt and lift off his body to flip him around under me. I switch into autopilot. I can’t stop myself from ripping the knife free and plunging it into his chest.
Again and again I stab him, my gloved grip slick. All I see is red. I can’t stop.
I hear a shot go off but ignore it still stuck in my blind rampage. I’m drenched in Ely’s blood.
Then Ash is beside me. “Mace…” He yanks on my shoulder. “Mace, stop! That’s enough. He’s dead.”
I turn and see him shove a hand gun I’ve never seen before into the front of his waistband. Then both his hands are pulling me. “Let’s go.”
I sheath my blade and climb off Ely’s mutilated corpse to follow Ash into the kitchen. When we pass the other two bodies in the living room, I notice the bullet hole in Thomas’ forehead.
“Where did you get a gun?” I ask, reaching for the bottle of cheap vodka on the counter.
Is it the man’s own? I don’t know if he was packing or where Ely stashed his.
“DeMarco.”
I pop the cap on the liquor as Ash continues his rifling. Drawers and cabinets slam. “You know they can match that shit, right?” It’s why I prefer knives. We leave nothing behind.
“Relax.” He sets down two more bottles he found tucked away. “It went right through. I picked up the slug and the casing too. The cops won’t match shit.”
I pour a trail from the kitchen into the living room, dousing the bodies there for good measure while Ash stuffs rags into the two additional bottles.
“Here.” Meeting up with me, he hands me one.
I pull out my lighter and watch the rag catch fire before launching the bottle through the open bedroom door. My aim ensures it smashes against the wall to disperse the flammable substance properly.
