Page 3 of Bloody Quarter

“Wha…wha….” The man on my shoulder tried to speak, but the mix of sedative and paralytic I’d given him would keep him immobilized and confused for at least another thirty minutes. Dropping him down on the ground, I unfastened the latches that kept the massive coffin in the center of the room in place. With a hard shove and a rumble, the coffin moved off to the side and produced a set of stairs that descended into more darkness. Not that I could see them, but I knew they were there, just like I knew every corner of the crypt and who had found a tragic end there.

There was no longer any reason to be quiet, and using my boot, I pushed the asshole into the gaping hole in the ground. When I heard the thud and groan as he hit the floor, I wandered down the stairs and pulled the decorative coffin back into place. The air was damp and musty. The scent of earth was strong in my nose, but what would turn most people off had me taking deep breaths.

Pulling out my lighter, I lifted the lid on the oil torch attached to the wall and lit the wick. The soft glow was instant and cast shadows that danced like they were doing a ceremonial ritual for the sacrifice they were about to receive. Grabbing the guy—I still had no idea what his name was—by his arm, I dragged him across the stone floor past the other rooms that had everything from more of my tools to massive, old coffins in the center. I walked to the furthest cell before closing the metal door. I hadn’t had to install much when I decided to turn the crypt into my work area. The metal door was here already like it had once been used to hold people. I couldn’t imagine what those held down here felt when the area flooded. Locked in a dark hole, feeling the water seep in with no escape and knowing that you were going to drown, you still couldn’t help but keep your face out of the water for as long as possible.

I shivered with excitement, my cock thickening in my jeans at the thought of purposely putting someone down here with a camera and watching them in those final moments. But then they’d get into my shit and mess it up like rats, and that would piss me off. I tried to push away the feelings of excitement. That was the old me, the impulsive me who wanted to do that. The new me was more controlled with my kills, but fuck, that was tempting. Hearing them scream for help….

Shaking it off, I unlocked my tool drawer, pulled out my custom knife, and sheared the material from his body. I’d taken a moment to dress the dick before I carried him out of the house. Oh, to be the fly on the wall when his girlfriend or date—or whoever she was—woke up and found him gone. Tossing his clothes to the side, he shivered as I clipped the metal shackles into place around his ankles and then pulled his arms behind his back to do the same thing.

With my prey now secure, I took the time to prepare the rest of the room. I loved candlelight and took my time lighting the dozens that circled the room before changing out of my clothes and putting them into a sealable plastic bag for safekeeping. I was just doing up my black leather pants when my victim jerked, making the shackles rattle.

“What…what the fuck,” he asked, his voice still groggy.

Ignoring him for now, I wandered over to my shrine, which held several items, but the centerpiece was the skull of my first victim. Closing my eyes, I thanked the spirits for my prey and offered his soul to them as payment for protection to continue doing my work.

“Hey, man? What the hell is happening? Why am I in cuffs?”

Pricking the tip of my finger on my blade, I wiped it on the front of the skull. The hair stood on the back of my neck as the air charged around me. I wasn’t a witch or mage or anything else. I didn’t practice voodoo or any of the other spiritual rites that were popular in this area, but I did believe in the spirit world. I knew respect, and I practiced it faithfully.

“Hey asshole, can you hear me?”

Putting my blade between my teeth, I walked to the far side of the room as the guy wiggled around like a worm on a hook, trying to watch me. The chain swung out, where it was easy to clip the cuffs around his ankles.

“Can you speak? Are you stupid? Hello? Let me go? What the hell is your problem, buddy?” It was a manual crank-style hoist and a shimmer of sweat coated my body when I finally got the dick strung up off the ground upside down. “Do you know who the fuck I am? Or what my lawyers will do to you? When they’re through, you won’t have a pot to piss in.”

“Do you know where that saying originated,” I asked as I picked up his discarded clothing and searched it until I found his wallet. Walking over to Giles, I kneeled and showed him his driver’s license photo. “Do you?”

“What the fuck does it matter if I know? Let me go.” He jerked around on the chain like an idiot, making everything flop. Totally obscene.

“I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you. In the nineteenth century in England, poor families used to pee into pots and sell their urine to tanneries. That’s to tan animal skin, in case you didn’t know. Those that did this to survive another day were considered piss poor.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Get me out of here.” I jabbed him hard in the stomach, and he groaned.

“Don’t interrupt me, it’s rude.” I rolled my shoulders. “As I was saying. But there were those who were so poor they didn’t even own a pot. They were considered the lowest of the low, hence they didn’t have a pot to piss in.”

“Great, is storytime over? Can I go now?” Why were guys like him all the same? Rude, stupid, massive egos, and small dicks.

I ignored his ridiculous question. “I assume your name is Giles, and you live at that address.” I tapped the card that showed a different address than from where I’d abducted him. “That’s a pretty fancy neighborhood compared to the shithole where your mother lives. You couldn’t even be bothered to pick up all of her groceries. Tell me, why were you forcing her to carry the bag in the first place?”

“I don’t know who the hell you are or why you know about my life, but I’m going to nail your ass to the wall when I get out of here,” he snarled, and I smiled.

“What makes you think that you’re getting out of here?” Dragging the tip of the blade down his cheek, it made a scraping sound against the stubble on his face. “I’m curious what is going on in your mind, Giles? Do you think this is a hoax? What kind of friends do you have that would do that?”

The mice were running full speed as he thought over my question, and the reality of his situation slowly seeped into the deep recesses of his brain.

“Do you really think that I stalked you all day, watched you eat dinner and fuck that woman, and then drugged you just to bring you here and let you go because you spew a few threats at me? Tell me, do I look worried?” I could see it in his eyes, and as the horror slowly began to creep in, my heart pounded harder in my chest.

That’s it, Giles. Put the pieces together. Give me your fear.

“Okay, look. What do you want? That’s what this is about, right? You want money?”

“Wrong again, Giles. Wrong again.” Standing up straight, I put his wallet with the rest of his belongings before dragging the V-bottomed trough, with large collecting bottles, over and placing it directly under his head.

“Then tell me what you want!” Giles’s eyes never left me as he fought against the restraints, but they didn’t budge. All he managed to do was wear himself out. His chest heaved with every breath. “What are you doing?” Giles’s voice was shrill as he looked at the knife in my hand.

The corner of my mouth turned up. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to skin you alive, of course.” Giles’s eyes went wide, and he thrashed harder against the chains.

“Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you,” he said, trying to bow his body away from me as I walked closer.