Jordan was enjoying this closeness too much, enjoyed making the Detective uncomfortable. She could have easily captured Rebecca’s mouth against hers, but she was enjoying the hunger that was building inside her even more than what she surmised would be a rebuffed advance anyway. She leaned in closer and when she thought Rebecca could take no more, she reached around behind her and grabbed the chalk.
She stepped back and heard Rebecca exhale the breath she had been holding since Jordan had paralyzed her with one glance. When she spoke, her voice was an octave lower and there was no mistaking the naked hunger in her husky voice or the silent challenge in her eyes. “I believe it’s your move.”
Five little words and Rebecca’s carefully constructed life started to tremble. It wasn’t the game Jordan referred to, although this felt like a game. Jordan was the hunter, and she was her prey. No, Jordan’s eyes spoke volumes and her carefully spoken words let Rebecca know that whatever happened next was indeed her move.
Jordan moved to the opposite side of the table, allowing her plenty of space. However, it took several moments of deep breathing before her heart slowed enough to allow her to even turn around and face her again.
Rebecca was certain she had gotten herself together, but when she leaned over to shoot, she sensed the slightest tremor in her left hand and when she shot, her line of fire was a hair off course. Her concentration was broken, from the game anyway. She was forced to admit it had found a new point to center its focus around. It was too much for her, and with a laugh that sounded entirely too forced, she set her stick on the table and smiled. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Scared huh?” Jordan teased. “You should be. I’m better than you think.”
Rebecca walked away quickly, leaving Jordan shaking her head in disbelief. A thought had sprung from somewhere in her subconscious and had started to grow, until for want of saving her sanity, she was forced to run before she did something she knew she would regret. She was forced to admit that Special Agent Gray had overstepped her boundaries in work and in pleasure, and it made her uncomfortable.
Chapter 7
It’s bone-chillingly cold tonight. I lean further into the entryway hoping it will block the icy wind that is rushing around me. Funny that the cold manages to break through my senses and register at all. Normally, my mind is so focused on the hunt that little else matters, although tonight the cold hits me, and I shove my hands into my pockets to warm them. They brush against steel and my focus returns. Tonight is the night, the night she will die.
I mentally stop my body from shivering. My teeth no longer chatter loudly and once again, I can hear the voice talking to me. Yes, tonight is the night. Tonight, she will pay for her sins. I repeat the words again. Tonight is the night, the night she will die.
She doesn’t know that I’ve been watching her, many months now. I see her face clearly at the moment, the lights of the deserted street casting an eerie glow over her features. It isn’t long before my nostrils get the first hint of her scent. She smells fruity, cloyingly sweet, and oh so overbearing. A mere intake of breath and my stomach is sick with her smell. I blink and try to clear my head, as I hear the telltale staccato of her heels pounding against the cold pavement.
If she sees me, she dismisses me just as quickly, another soul looking for shelter from the frigid cold. Had it been a warmer night, she might have felt the evil around her, shuddered involuntarily at the darkness that enveloped her, but not tonight. Tonight, she is focused only on the streets she hasn’t traversed yet, and she takes no notice as I slip from beneath the shelter of the narrow portico and begin the hunt.
I am a lone wolf, a hunter in search of the kill. Only the taste of death can quiet the voice inside my head. He speaks softly now, not wanting to drown out my own thoughts. When he speaks, I have to stop and focus and listen, and this does not allow me to move, and I must move. Tonight I must kill.
I sniff the air and the cold burns my nostrils. I am not close enough to cause alarm, but I can still smell her and her scent angers me again. She smells like her, and I hate her. My eyes have narrowed now. The only thing in my focus is my prey. A stranger bumps me as he emerges from a door, trying to catch a nearby cab. I can feel my blood begin to boil, but the voice speaks up, and I’m paralyzed.
He is not our prey. Do not lose focus of the prey. She must die and we both know why.
No, I know. I shake my head and reassure him that my focus has not been lost. I sniff the air once more, and I imagine I can smell her fear. She turned around at the sound of the scuffle and for a brief moment, I imagined a spark of recognition, but she turns around just as quickly, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
There will be no mistakes tonight, no interruptions. Tonight, my prey will die. I will make sure of that. She is close, and her life cannot continue. She cannot be allowed to give birth. She is not worthy. None of them are worthy. They are abominations, forsaking God’s natural plan for them.
Can’t they see it? Can’t they understand why they must die? Why God has chosen me to end their sinful lives? I am a hunter for God. He has chosen me and tonight he has chosen her for the sacrifice.
I can see her step falter. Perhaps she has finally realized that she is being stalked. I can see her speed up. My dear, you must know running is futile. I will catch you. You will be mine. My stride lengthens, and the gap between us narrows. The wolf is hungry tonight, silently stalking its prey. A low, guttural growl escapes from my lips and is carried off on the wind.
It is time. I can see ahead that she realizes what I am. I am death, and it is her time. She opens her mouth to scream and only air escapes. She is paralyzed with fear, and I feel my heart smile. She has seen my knife and knows that she cannot run, she cannot hide. I grab her around her bulging waist, and my hand feels the life within in her. A life brought about by her sin. She opens her mouth to scream, and I wrap my hand around her mouth to silence her.
She is fighting me. Her will to live has kicked in, and her will to protect her unborn child is strong. She wrenches away from me and starts to run, and I realize that tonight will not be easy. I spring at her with unearthly speed and let out a low howl. She tries to knee me in the groin, and I punish her with a backhand that sends her staggering to the cold ground below.
It is late, and the streets are deserted or certainly some unlucky passerby would hear us struggling. That last time this happened, he was punished for it. I cannot be deterred in my quest for retribution. I am kneeling over her, and the smell of her fear has made me hard. I can see her eyes that she knows what is about to happen to her.
“Do not be afraid. You are very special. You will get to atone for your sins.” My hand is clamped over her mouth, and she shakes her head from side-to-side with the fury of a trapped animal who knows it is about to die.
I brandish my knife over her and the low lights from the alley glint off of it. She sees the sharp edge, and her eyes widen, knowledge that these are her final moments dawning on her. She wraps her hands around her stomach, and I can feel her lips moving against my hand, begging for mercy. I am not the one whom she should ask for mercy.
I move my hand, and the edge of the knife slices along her neck, the first drops of blood steaming against her cold skin. I sniff the metallic scent and it lights through me like wildfire. I lean in closer and meet her scared eyes with my own dark gaze. A hint of recognition passes over her face. “Yes, you do know me. You must know now why you have to die.”