Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (10 page)

Martin said nothing as he roared again, and lunged forward.
 
He swung once again, but Jack blocked with his arms easily.
 
He grabbed the bat from Martin's grasp and swung at his knees.
 
Martin stumbled, but didn't quite fall, so Jack struck him again.
 
And again.
 
He didn't stop until Martin was curled in the fetal position in the middle of the basement.

Jack dropped the broken bat to the floor and once again took in his surroundings.
 
He noticed the tray of various torture tools, scalpels, pliers, hammers, against one wall.
 
A collection of cleaning supplies were in another corner, but there were still spots of blood here and there.

This was nearly Tina's fate.

Jack had killed more living creatures than Martin could ever dream of achieving.
 
Vampires, werewolves, witches, goblins, ghouls, Nazi scientists, bank robbers, rude parking attendants.
 
He didn't discriminate.
 
He killed for many reasons.
 
He killed to achieve a goal, remove an obstacle, or sometimes simply in rage.
 
But the sexual torture, the need to kill to fill some kind of sick emptiness, Jack couldn't grasp.

Between the two of them, he wondered who was the bigger monster.

He looked down at Martin, who continued to moan at his feet.

"You know, I was serious when I said I'd take you to the police.
 
I'm a father now, you see.
 
And I figured I can't just kill the way I used to."
 
He smiled.
 
"I have to cut back, like my sister once told me.
 
But with you…"
 
He knelt next to him to look Martin in the eye.
 
"I've changed my mind."

*****

An hour later Jack sat in the passenger's seat of Martin's car in the garage.
 
Martin sat behind the wheel next to him.
 
He was unrecognizable.
 
His nose was broken, twisted to the side.
 
One eye was swollen shut.
 
There was more blood on his face than visible skin.
 
His breathing was labored and splashy, from a punctured lung.
 
He couldn't run, even though his life depended on it.
 
Both of his tibia were broke, as well as the fibula, which protruded through the skin.

Every window in the car was up, except for a small crack in the driver's side.
 
A piece of flex hose was pinched in between the window and frame, with plastic covering the gap, and the other end was hooked to the exhaust.

Jack laced his hands behind his head, lounging.
 
If it weren't for the fact he wanted to speed things up by sealing the windows, he'd hang his feet out the side.

"Well, you couldn't ask for a better way to die, right?
 
I'm taking it easy on you, compared to what you did to your girls."

Martin struggled to talk.
 
Jack wasn't sure if it was the beating or the carbon monoxide doing its thing.
 
He didn't care.

"You'll…die too."

"Actually, I won't.
 
But thank you so much for the concern."

"What are you?"

"One could ask you the very same question."

"The police…they'll never think…this is a suicide.
 
They'll find you."

Jack laughed.
 
"This is just to throw them off, really.
 
But, to be honest, they won't break their necks looking for your killer when they see what you did in there.
 
Even if they did, I own half of them anyway, including the chief of police.
 
It's kind of sad, but it's the way of the world.
 
If you have enough money, you can pretty much do whatever you want.
 
And I happen to have a lot of money."

"I…don't want to die."

"I don't care.
 
You should consider this a favor I'm doing you.
 
A nice, clean death.
 
If I had more time, I'd put you through a fraction of the pain you did your victims.
 
Maybe even call an acquaintance of mine who happens to control demons.
 
But I have plans tonight."

"I just wish…I could smell her…one last time…."

He slipped off into a sleep he'd never wake from.
 
His head slumped to the side.

Jack took a breath.
 
"And those were his final words."

He climbed out of the car.
 
Everything went differently than he'd planned, but the result was the same.
 
The children of his town, more importantly Tiffany, were safe.

Jack looked over himself one last time in one of the many mirrors in the bathroom.
 
He'd always kept a spare set of clothes in his truck.
 
He ran his fingers through his hair, pleased with his appearance.
 
He looked like any other mortal.
 
His hands were the biggest concern, but he'd scrubbed the blood off and shoved his old clothes into a workout bag.

"Hot damn," he told his reflection.
 
"You are one good-looking bastard."

He left the bathroom and stopped as he set foot in the teacher's lounge.
 
It was empty when he first walked in, but now an older teacher sat at one of the small tables, reviewing notes.
 
She drank what looked like tea and munched on some chips.

"Hello.
 
Can I help you?" she asked.

"Well, you could have two minutes ago," he said, gesturing to the door.
 
"But I think I handled it okay."

She wasn't amused.

"I don't believe you work here.
 
You're not supposed to be in here."

"Oh no.
 
You'd better call the teacher police.
 
Maybe I need a spanking with a ruler."

She rose to her feet.
 
"Sir—"

"Holy shit.
 
Sorry, I didn't mean to make you stand up.
 
Go ahead, sit back down.
 
Ease those bones.
 
I'm leaving.
 
Promise."

He slung the bag over his shoulder as he left the lounge.
 
He cast one last look behind him as he walked down the hall, shaking his head at the teacher.
 
His heart went out to her students.

The halls of the school were empty.
 
The lights were on, but there was no noise, no activity.
 
It almost could have been called eerie, if Jack believed in such a thing.
 
Every footstep left an echo.
 
Some of the lights flickered.

Jack saw his first person as he rounded one of the corners.
 
A janitor mopped the floor outside the cafeteria.
 
He gave a Jack a friendly nod as he passed.

"Hey, buddy," the janitor said.
 
"You okay?
 
You lost?"

"Nah," he answered with a frown.
 
"I know exactly where I'm going."

He navigated the halls until he found the room he was looking for.
 
He stood outside the closed double doors and took several deep breaths, trying to gather his strength and nerve.

Jack had done it all over his long life.
 
He'd hunted evil, both mortal and supernatural, sometimes out of sheer boredom.
 
He even had a hand in saving the world a few times.
 
Vampires, packs of werewolves, demons, had all fallen before him at one time or another.
 
There were some things he'd done that pushed him to the limit, such as watching a date movie with Erica, or shopping for clothes with Tiffany.
 
But even those challenges were met and defeated.

He could handle what was behind the double doors.
 
He'd gone close to two centuries without sleep, and he'd survived that.
 
There was nothing he couldn't handle.

"Piece of cake," he said, and pushed open the doors.

A woman looked up at him from behind a podium at the front of the room.

"Ah, Mr.—"
 
She adjusted her glasses to see him better.
 
"Kursed?
 
I heard you might show up tonight.
 
Have a seat anywhere.
 
We just started the PTA meeting."

Jack sighed, and his shoulders slouched.
 
He could feel his resolve starting to wane.

Mrs. Galloway, the school principal, stood behind the podium.
 
Jack didn't like her, and not just because she was mortal.
 
It didn't take someone with his power of perception to see she didn't like children in the least.
 
Jack disliked them as well, but he didn't seek out a job where he'd be surrounded by them.

He tried to hide his amusement as he took in the other parents around him.
 
They didn't want to be there, either.
 
He didn't blame them.
 
The only reason he was present was the lovely teacher sitting with her colleagues off to the side.
 
Erica gave him a short wave as she smiled at him.

Some parents played with their cell phones, clearly disinterested in Mrs. Galloway's words.
 
Others fidgeted in their seats, checking the time and looking about aimlessly.
 
A man and woman sat near the back, whispering to each other.
 
Jack's talent for reading lips gave him a hint at their conversation, and the many perverted things they were going to do to each other.
 
He wondered if either of their spouses, who weren't present, would have something to say about their plans.

The only available seat was in the middle of the gathered parents, which annoyed him.
 
Jack liked to be on the outside looking in, not in the center.
 
He squeezed in between a woman who needed a bath and a mother who was on the other end of the parent spectrum.
 
She hung on Mrs. Galloway's every word, nodding in agreement, and even taking notes.
 
He tried not to laugh.

Jack liked to believe he wasn't like mortals, but found himself just as bored as the rest of them.
 
He only half listened to Mrs. Galloway's droning, some of the words slipping through.
 
She spoke of a different lunch menu, the upcoming Halloween assembly, some changes in the bus schedule.
 
She told a joke of some kind, drawing a few laughs.
 
The parents not paying attention laughed along out of politeness.
 
Jack did no such thing.

He decided to at least pass the time indulging his eyes, and gazed at Erica.
 
It was after school hours, so she wore a pair of jeans with a white blouse.
 
Her legs were crossed, her foot tapping the air restlessly.
 
She'd finally changed her hair, wearing it back behind her ears, no longer caring about the large scar on her cheek.
 
She was whispering something to the teacher next to her, but Jack couldn't see her lips clearly to eavesdrop.
 
It didn't help that staring at her lips tended to distract, and his eyes traveled over the rest of her body.
 
He admired her bright smile, fine curves, the way the legs of her jeans pulled up slightly, giving him a peek at the flesh he was hoping to experience later.

She caught him.

Erica flashed him a mock angry glare.
 
Jack simply shrugged, and went back to ignoring the school principal.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed.
 
Maybe a half hour or so.
 
The woman next to him was still vehemently taking notes.
 
A quiet snore caught his attention, and he looked down the aisle to see a man resting his head on his wife's shoulder, drooling on her shirt.

Jack admired the scene, and couldn't think of a better way to pass the time.

He pulled the pocket-watch from his jeans.

A wave of emotion, joy mixed with relief, washed over him as he ran a finger along the magical trinket.
 
He wasn't sure if that feeling would ever go away.
 
He kept it on him at all times.
 
It was a gift from the witch, Kevin Mishnar.
 
Two centuries without a second of sleep was behind him.
 
He wasn't sure how the trinket worked.
 
He didn't know how Kevin made it, or how he linked it to him.
 
Jack didn't care.
 
All he cared about was that it worked.

The watch's hands always remained at twelve o'clock.
 
Winding it would start a countdown backward in time, and instantly put Jack to sleep.
 
Setting it to twelve thirty would let him sleep for half an hour, three o'clock would grant him three hours, all the way to eleven hours fifty nine minutes.
 
He could use it as often as he wanted, and once, while Tiffany was over a friend's for a weekend, he'd slept for twenty-four hours straight, with only the single break to start the countdown again.
 
He dreamed, and it was one of the best times of his life.

Mortals, even supernaturals, took sleep for granted.
 
It came, whether they wanted it or not.
 
But not Jack.
 
He almost felt a tear coming on as he stared at the antique pocket-watch.

Casting one last look to Erica, he saw his girlfriend's attention was elsewhere.
 
He leaned toward the smelly woman and opened his mouth to whisper, but thought better of it.
 
Reversing direction, he gave the note-taking lady next to him a light tap on the shoulder.