Women Scorned (6 page)

Kneeling down, she leaned into his face, his acrid breath burning her nose, and whispered, “You didn’t see that one coming, did you, old man?” She petted his forehead. “No, you sure didn’t.” Blood trickled from his mouth.

“Bitch,” he managed through gasps. Red saliva sprayed from his lips, a shower of rubies when he spat his last word, and spattered on her face and hair. She wrapped her fingers around his throat and squeezed, feeling her hands slick over his blood, sweat, and grime. His Adam’s apple moved up and down, berating her palm as she applied more pressure. Not having much life left in him, the old man could only manage one feeble attempt to push her away before his eyes rolled back in his sockets, reflecting the moon in his pupils as he stared into nothing.

Aludra had remained calm as she throttled him, her sleek muscles working, contracting, bringing the force of her grip around his windpipe. “Sleep now,” she said when he died.

The moment his life departed a bright light stabbed through the dark, illuminating the old man, but nothing else. Long, luminescent tendrils reached from the darkness above and sank into him. When they came out, they dragged with them a glowing shadow that took on the vague shape of the human form from which it was pulled. The shadow raged, thrashing and glaring at Aludra as the tendrils pulled it away.

She gazed at the lit form, mouth hanging open. “Wow,” she whispered. His spirit. The tendrils retreated, bringing the soul with them. Then the light that had shown down on the man was gone. She stood, wiped her bloodied hands on her clothes, and continued on her path, occasionally looking back at the place where they had appeared and the spirit-shadow had vanished. So, that’s where they’re all trapped. All the beings she and her coven sought to free. She then disappeared into the trees on the other side of the road.

Her path through the forest led her alongside the very road the old man once guarded. Dawn crept over the sky, lighting Aludra’s way. She yawned, then squinted against the glare. She’d never seen such bright light. The early-morning sun burned.

Rory continued to elude her as she bent her thoughts in that direction. Frustration made her tense. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, pulling at a loose thread. It seemed the spirit was further and further away every day. She was already pushing herself to her limits. So tired. Maybe she wasn’t sending her signal correctly.

She tried again, forcing the push, broadcasting the signal that would draw Rory to her. After several minutes she gave up again and continued looking for a place to rest. Maybe with more energy she could make it work.

Eventually, she came to a house and observed from the tree line as a woman crouched among many plants, stabbing at the earth with some strange tool, her back to Aludra. She’d seen the tool before but never had seen it used in this way. She emerged from hiding, unaware that blood still spotted her face and stained her hands.

She stood behind the woman, watching. Finally, exhausted and curious, ready to try something new, she said, “Excuse me.”

The woman jumped then spun around. Her blue eyes widened and she gaped at Aludra.

“Have you experienced the pleasures of pain?” The High Priest had often preached to her about the pleasures of pain, had taught her how to transform any sensation into something exquisite. She knew this woman wasn’t capable of feeling what Aludra could feel, but she thought it might be fun to play with her a bit. She’d never played with another person and wondered what it would be like. Aludra’s grin widened and her eyes blazed. “I could show you new levels of pleasure,” she said and reached for the woman, the blood from the road man bright on her pale skin.

The gardening woman screamed and ran toward the back of her house. This was going to be more fun than Aludra had anticipated.

She laughed as she followed her new playmate.

Aludra reached the woman as she struggled with her back door, apparently unable to work the knob in her frenzied state. Just as she succeeded in opening it, the dark virgin laced one arm around the woman’s waist then put her free hand around her mouth to stifle any screams, squeezing the struggling woman against her. She dragged her inside.

The woman’s legs relaxed and she went to her knees. Aludra grunted as she fell with the weight, but regained control quickly and hauled the woman up. She kicked the back door shut and found herself in a lit room with two large machines off to one side and a basket full of clothes.
Such colorful clothes,
she thought. She looked around, almost forgetting what she had come into the room to do.

When the screaming lady bit her hand, Aludra almost dropped her, allowing the woman to get hold of her long braid and pull, but this only lasted a moment. She used stockings that were draped over one of the machines to bind the woman. Once she was restrained, Aludra examined the mark left on her hand.

“Maybe you have experienced the pleasures of pain,” she whispered, then licked her wound, shuddering with closed eyes. She propped the woman up against the corner, sat on her legs, and took out her dagger. She held the blade up to the light and admired how it gleamed across the curved surface. Her new playmate cringed when Aludra wiggled the razor sharp edge before her eyes.

“How does this feel?” She dragged the tip across the woman’s cheek, relishing the scream, the sight of fresh blood welling, then spilling over. Tears ran down the woman’s face, mingling with her blood as she struggled.

She dipped her finger in this new mixture and tasted it. “No, you have to focus on the sensation. Focus and you’ll see pain is the only way to know you’re alive. Here, let me show you.” She placed her hand between the woman’s legs and pressed, massaging. The woman squealed and tried to pull away. “Like this.” She moved her hand in a circular motion while cutting the woman’s face again.

Screaming, thrashing her bound body from side to side, the woman tried to pull away and kick her feet.

“If you act like that, you will never know the pleasures of pain. Now focus,” Aludra hissed. She ground her teeth as she grabbed the woman’s breast and squeezed. “Doesn’t that hurt so good? Isn’t the pain beautiful? Do you want more?”

Her head thrashed from side to side, eyes wide and full of venom, never leaving Aludra’s.

Suddenly, Aludra was filled with an odd sensation as a vision that was more like a tidal wave of feelings engulfed her. She cocked her head as if listening to something far away, her face becoming expressionless.

Rory speeding, flying toward her, lost in the dark, getting closer, closer, the smell of dirt, of road, of rain, of trees, sound of wind and machine and music like what they played in the manor, darkness suffocating, the feeling pushing her, filling her. The One was near. It stopped. Not far now. Not far.

She came back to herself, shook her head, looked at the soiled blade in her hand. She turned her attention back to the sobbing woman under her.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll have to… cut… this lesson short, my love,” Aludra told the blubbering woman. “It seems I have other business to which I must attend.”

The woman screamed a muffled, “No,” over and over before Aludra cut her throat. The blood spouted from her artery and ran down her front. The slash in her neck looked like a fancy choker, accenting her tender skin. The woman’s eyes glazed over as they lost focus.

Aludra stood, wiping her blade on her pants. She put the knife away, then rubbed her hands on her shirt.

Without warning, the bright tendrils appeared again, plunging into the woman’s body to rip her spirit into the ether. Aludra watched in awe, having never experienced something so incredible before leaving the manor. And now she’d seen it twice. The woman’s spirit was stronger, clearer than the road man’s broken being. The glowing shadow reached for Aludra, hands like claws, as the tendrils dragged it into the point of origin. Just before the vines of light and the spirit vanished, a scream split the silence, bursting through her head. She pressed her palms over her ears until it vanished.

“You’ll be free soon enough, my love,” she said as she left the house feeling exhausted but satisfied. This would only be for a short time. Find the spirit, then rest. She sighed, looked again in the direction of the hidden gateway to the manor and muttered, “You’ll all be free soon enough.” She looked toward the trees, toward the direction of the spirit she hunted. She headed where she was drawn, along the dead man’s road, but stayed hidden behind the shrubs and bushes.

She skipped along her way, whistling a haunting tune. After a while, when the light in the sky became almost unbearable, she stopped. Across the road, a path covered in broken rocks led away from her, twin ruts marking something’s passage. Rory was up that path. And it wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

Aludra looked around for a darkened area - in the forest, on the side of the road - however, everywhere was too bright. She sat at the base of a tree facing the rocky path and took off her bag. She pulled out another shirt, put it over her face, and leaned against the bark, asleep before she had time to think about resting.

Chapter Four

Finally home, Libitina sat in her SUV, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Taking the body from the morgue had been less work and not as messy as digging one up, but that didn’t rid her of the queasy knot twisting her stomach. She flinched at every pair of headlights she saw in her rearview mirror on the way home. Early morning light glowed around her house, but darkness crowded her mind, and fear made her see pursuers around every corner.

“What have I done?” she whispered, thinking of what could happen. The hospital had never caught her when she’d snuck in but this was different. Sure, she was still dressed as a man. The cameras would show Burly Joe stealing a body. They wouldn’t know to look for a woman. With a sigh, she got out of the car.

“Well, what’s done is done. I can’t take her back.” Libitina opened her trunk and flinched when she saw the corpse. It had shifted during the drive and the white sheet no longer covered its face.

“She looks like she’s screaming.” She shuddered and ran to the side of the car to let Cerberus out. He yipped and jumped around before seeking refuge in the house through the doggy door.

Back to her task. Libitina’s hands slipped over the slimy surface of the dead woman’s flesh. She shuddered then lifted the body out of the trunk. As she carried it inside, she buried her nose in Jane’s hair, smelling the decay. It wasn’t a strong aroma but it wasn’t unpleasant either.

The trees provided a dense cover. No one could see her home unless they were right next to it. She had no reason to worry about anyone observing her.

Once safely inside, she pulled the corpse into the kitchen and through a narrow door in the far corner. Steps led down through the black emptiness at a steep angle. This was her basement, her autopsy room.

Halfway down the stairs, the body lodged against the hand rail. Libitina pressed herself against the wall, shifting her heavy burden, her sleeve turning gray with dust. Blood between its rigid legs squelched when she squeezed the thighs to keep from dropping it. Jane Doe was petite and light but awkward with the stagnant weight of death.

At the bottom, she yanked the chain hanging from a bare bulb to light her macabre setup. Against the far wall, a sink and hospital-use chemicals called to her from a dusty set of shelves. She arranged the dead woman on the table in the middle of the room and flicked on the halogen operating light. She waved her hand over the empty eyes, close enough to catch the lashes, shutting them. She could feel the dead gaze and the cold emanating from the body and couldn’t stand it anymore.

Libitina shivered, rubbing her arms for a moment, then turned away. She scrubbed her hands in a deep sink then used a large, orange sponge to wipe the sticky coating covering the lifeless skin. She took special care to clean the blood from the woman’s crotch, removing all but the tiniest traces of coagulated clumps. She didn’t understand why the blood wasn’t already dry. It seemed fresh, as if it was still oozing from the wounds. But that wasn’t possible, so she ignored this thought. As she worked, her face was set, serious, her bushy eyebrows coming askew as the glue failed. Once she finished washing the body, she stepped back and smiled, wiping the back of her sleeve across her forehead.

“There. Time for a shower and food.” She ran upstairs and removed her disguise, putting all the pieces in their proper places, then took a shower. As the warmth streamed over her body, she felt her anxiety ebb away and filter down the drain. This would be okay. A simple Jane Doe. No one would miss a Jane Doe. In fact, they probably secretly thanked her for taking the body off their hands. She should just quit worrying and do what work she could while everything was fresh.

After her shower, she prepared a cheese sandwich. Her kitchen looked gray in the brightening rays of the sun. Her black curtains and black table and chairs made the room seem darker than it really was. Her t-shirt clung to her back beneath her wet hair. As she munched, she headed back towards the stairs, ready to start working again, but stopped just at the top, one foot hovering over the first step, listening.

A soft noise crept up from the basement. She stared down into the yellow light. From her angle she could see the corpse’s feet but nothing else. The noise sounded like movement. She waited, watching.

The right foot twitched. It was the smallest motion but it was there. Libitina dropped her sandwich and licked her lips, swallowing hard, one hand pressed over her mouth. Her eyes grew as she leaned forward, all attention on the foot. It twitched again. The toes wiggled.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Oh, god.” The foot twitched yet again and Libitina flinched. But the Jane was dead. Libitina crept down the stairs, catlike, fixated on the moving foot. At the bottom, she peered around the corner at Jane’s face. As Libitina watched, the dead woman’s eyes popped open. The brown color looked rich and alive as the dead woman stared around the room, but she wasn’t moving. Libitina pulled her head further back around the corner and watched as it sat up.