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A spark of life. The man roused up, his shoulders tensing, his teeth clenching. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”
She was dealing with pure stubbornness, someone who couldn’t conceive that anyone else could understand their master plan.
“Doubt it. Found you here, didn’t I?”
The man began to twitch. His fingers suddenly jerked in hyperactivity. He buried his weight further into the ground. He was about to erupt and Ella knew it. She stepped closer, ready to cuff him at the first opportunity.
“The Book of Job,” she said, laying it all out. “You wanted to find a Job of your own, didn’t you? Someone who accepted faith in times of suffering? Well, you must be new to the world of Christianity because, for one, you’ve been saying it wrong. It’sJobe,not Job.”
The stranger’s frown turned into a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, buddy. You poisoned Joanne so she’d miscarry. You manipulated David into some investment. You burned Gary’s house down. You even attacked poor Melissa with acid. All for your stupid game.”
Ella spotted a purse of the lips, flicker of curiosity. “How’d you find out?” he asked.
“Perfluoroalkyl. You used it on both Joanne and Melissa. The other two? I don’t know, but I filled in the blanks.”
“Put the gun down. Fight me properly. If you win, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Ha. You see, I’m used to dealing with murderers. I don’t mind putting you people behind bars until your dying day. But taking someone’s baby,” Ella said as she moved closer, pistol trained on the man’s forehead. “Well, I’d have no hesitation in killing you in this room.”
One year in the field, Ella’s body count was a respectable one. She’d only taken a single life, but face to face with this human monster, she was willing to add another one to the list.
“Kill me and you get nothing. No explanation. No confession. Is that what you want?”
Ella had heard enough. Her fury reached critical mass, so she threw her pistol behind her, towards the door and assumed her fighting stance. If this son of a bitch wanted a fight, he was going to get one.
He suddenly came at her lightning fast, thrashing his blade, slicing through the air. Ella was ready. She sidestepped him, reached out and clutched his wrist, then she sunk her knee into his abdomen with every ounce of fury in her body. The man bent over and spluttered up phlegm, then Ella grabbed him and flung him across the room, smashing into the far wall and collapsing him to the floor.
This maniac had the size advantage. He had to be fifty pounds north of her, but no one was immune to the right attacks. She mounted him, burying her knuckles into his face, professionalism be damned. This guy had purposely destroyed at least four people’s lives for his own twisted games, so he deserved every single punch that came his way. Her attacks became relentless and merciless, not ceasing, not slowing down for anyone or anything.
He fell limp, eyes frozen still in a parody of life. Ella caught her breath, the furious beatdown having depleted her energy supply. She worried for a moment if she hadn’t killed the man, but he stirred and hummed beneath her. A little reassurance came. She reached for the cuffs in her back pocket, but the demon beneath her suddenly resurfaced from the bowels of hell.
Ella cried out. Her thigh throbbed with searing agony, as though it was being burned from the inside out. The sensation spread through her body like a wildfire, numbing her nerves, scorching her muscles, sending her nervous system into a sudden panic.
The man dislodged a bloody knife from her flesh, and Ella knew that a second thrust was only a breath away. She rolled away from her opponent, finding herself outside the bedroom now. She was on a landing illuminated by the bedroom light. Visibility wasn’t in her favor.
Her heart began to beat at a rapid pace, her breath short and shallow. She clambered to her knees as a rush of footsteps signaled her opponent’s arrival. A heavy boot connected with her skull, knocking the vision out of her, sending her into a realm of pure blackness. She felt herself being hauled up by a pair of thick hands, and so she fought by instinct, aiming for the key areas: eyes, groin, spine. She furiously flung her feet at whatever body parts might be in front of her, and a groan of pain and shower of spit told her that she’d hit her mark. She landed on her foot and again threw punches wherever she could, sidestepping to avoid any oncoming knife attacks.
Vision began to return, slowly but surely, and Ella retreated across the landing to somewhere with more space. Her attacker wasn’t far behind, clawing at her, hounding her every step. A sudden push sent her slamming into the door at the end of the landing, prizing it from its hinges, planting Ella into a second bedroom. Two French doors let in light from the streetlamps, and Ella welcomed the increased visibility.
Before she could compose herself in any way, this so-called messenger of God came thundering in from the rear. Ella rolled to one side, swept his leg, and downed the man to one knee. In the minimal light, she saw the trail of blood that had followed her in here. It was worse than she thought, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on pain. That always came later.
Ella’s focus was the blade. Remove the blade, remove the biggest threat. She surged from behind, wrapping her forearm around the man’s neck and gripping his wrist. She tried to crowbar the knife from his fingertips, but she found her energy fast waning. She got one finger loose, two fingers, but then her opponent rose to his feet with Ella still clinging on by the throat. She tightened her grip in an attempt to choke him into submission, but the lack of oxygen sent him into a violent, superhuman frenzy. He charged backward, smashing Ella’s spine into a wall. It sapped the air from her in a sudden heave, but Ella maintained her chokehold. All she had to do was ride the bull, hold on until the life drained from him.
But the stranger didn’t seem to have an ounce of quit in him. He briefly dropped to his knee again, but then began stalking the room like cornered prey, hunting for something sturdier to bounce against Ella’s spine.
Ella peered up as a beam of light from outside spotlighted their battle. Ella sensed the man’s intentions a mile off. If she was in his position, she’d do exactly the same. It was almost inevitable.
The glass doors.
Ella rode the wave, unable to let go, unable to do anything but brace herself for impact. He strode towards the glass without any hesitation, gaining speed and traction with every step. Ella tried to free herself but he had her locked in place with his free arm. The glass beckoned her, invited her to test its durability, to taste its pleasures. It loomed closer still, the moment playing out in slow motion. This wasn’t Ella’s first journey through a pane of glass, and she felt the full-body sting before it had even happened.
Then a collision came. Spine first. Shattering the door into a million pieces and raining crystal shards down from the heavens. Over her short career, she’d been beaten, stabbed, shot, and burned, but a million miniature cuts across her back, arms, shoulders, and neck was a sensation even the most hardened masochist wouldn’t endure.
Their end destination was a wooden balcony, now littered with painful and prickly debris. The impact had broken their embrace, but Ella was now at the man’s mercy. She couldn’t move from her position. Her nervous system was in the throes of shutdown, so all she could do was look out at the quiet street around fifteen feet below.
He had her by the neck. Pulled her to her feet and rested the tip of his blade against her heart.
