Fury From Hell (2 page)

“Purrfection.”

After only four other Halloween masterpieces, he still couldn’t believe the rush it gave him.  He was erect again and wanted her for the final time.  He angled himself and raised the knife.  This was going to be his first time doing this.  He could barely contain himself.  He throbbed painfully, and gave Seymour a stroke to calm him down.

“Lady, you are so good!  So strong, resilient and well-toned — not like the others!  You deserve to have this special honor of my first double-entry.”

Fear clouded Kyma’s eye as understanding dawned.

He used his knees to push her inert legs away from her bloodied and torn core while leaning back so he could aim the knife over her heart with precision.  Taking a deep breath he pulled back his arm and his lower body.  With an astounding quickness, he thrust forward with both weapons.

Kyma’s last scream echoed off the inanimate construction equipment.  The sound filled the air with the last eighty minutes of her desperate anguish and suffering.

Her assailant startled by the scream’s intensity looked all around him.  Her scream was strangely amplified.  It seemed to reverberate against his eardrums a dozen times before dying away.  He gazed around wild-eyed trying to pinpoint what was spooking him.  He felt a rush of wind gust past him at the same moment as her fingers raked his cheek, gouging him deeply before it fell back, lifeless, onto the hardening glasphalt.  Her hand dripped blood from them both.

***

The High Priestess felt when the Veil tore and released the Fury with a loud squawk.  She felt it zooming down to Earth at a furious speed but its forward movement slowed.  The Priestess felt the Fury veer and fly away just as she sliced the neck of the goat.  “No, Fury!  We are here!  WE have called you! Come back!  Come BACK!!”  Within seconds, the Fury’s presence could no longer be felt.  It was gone.  All of the women stopped their gyrations and chanting.  Slowly they moved towards their leader and stared as they watched the High Priestess double over the dying, bleating, goat sobbing into its crimson streaked snow-white hide.

***

The Fury inspected Kyma’s attacker and sniffed him good when it swooped past him.  Quickly, it turned and possessed Kyma before she lost all of her life essence.  The Fury grabbed onto Kyma’s soul and rapidly asked if she would make a deal to avenge her wrongful death.

With the increasing fog surrounding her, Kyma didn’t know what was going on.  All she knew was that the pain had stopped.  She felt immeasurably free.  She almost felt as if she could fly but this woman-like creature with wings and blood dripping from its crimson eyes wanted to avenge her by killing the beast of a man that attacked her.  However, the soft white light was beckoning.  The light’s soft music was worming its way into all of Kyma’s cold and broken places making it difficult to focus begging her to follow the light.  But, the creature needed an answer —
now
.  Kyma shook her head trying to clear the white brightness away which made the surrounding red haze from the creature easier to feel.  Kyma hesitated only a moment longer before deciding.

“Yes!  Kill him.  Do whatever you have to do, but kill him!”

“Can I have your soul as payment?”

“My…soul?  But…”

The soft white light was beckoning her but Kyma’s anger was rising turning her vision red.  It was almost as if blood were coming out of her own eyes.  The light flickered then waned.  Kyma made her decision.

“Take it!  But kill him!”

With a vile smile full of sharp tiny teeth, the Fury ensnared Kyma’s soul and sent it to Hell via a Harpie.  With Kyma gone, the Fury was trapped in the bits of Kyma’s essential fluids that were soaking into the almost dry glasphalt half-concealed by the blue tarp.  The Fury was familiar with the ways of humans and knew someone would come to see about the dead woman.  As the Fury watched Kyma’s killer stumble away only to fall to the ground again, it knew it only had to bide its time.  The man would surely pay for his heinous crime.

Kyma’s killer, scrambled up from where he tripped and felt for his gun to protect himself from whatever was out there threatening him.  He pawed and dug in his pants pockets and threw a frightened glance at Kyma’s broken body.  He tore his gaze away to look all around him.  He wanted his gun but he felt watched.  Hunted…by something older and more evil than he could ever be.  It was almost as if the hounds of Hell were stalking him.  With a gurgled scream, he fled the construction site leaving his perfectly weighted Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 380 pistol there at the construction site.  He much preferred to get away from whatever was spooking him this All Hallow’s night.

The Fury looked around to see what the killer had been searching for and its bloody eyes gleamed when it caught sight of the compact gun.

***

November 1, 2:40 A.M.

Jennifer Holden sat at the scarred table in the break room scratching a
Win for Life
lottery ticket.  Slamming her hand against the old wooden table she ripped the ticket in half and whipped another scratch-off game out of her blue uniform shirt pocket scraping the side of her hand on her badge.  Back to furiously scratching once more, Jennifer didn’t notice when Detective Betty Feinster walked in.

“You never quit this, do you?”

Jennifer glanced up and back down, but didn’t stop scratching.  She had just uncovered the six play spots and had already scratched the top game — nothing; not even the two bucks she spent for the game.  She took a breath and whipped out another scratch-off game card.

“Oh, so you’re not even speaking now?” smirked Feinster, “Thought we got past that point.”

“Betty, you know by now that I like to concentrate when I’m playing.  It’s part of my system.”

“Some system!  You buy scratch-off tickets like all the schmoos in the world, and you lose just like all the schmoos in the world.  Great system.”

Her friend, and sometimes partner, plopped down next to Jennifer kicking up her police issue thick-soled black shoes onto the scarred wooden table.  She placed her booted feet near Jennifer’s scratching hand.

Jennifer paused, her rapid movement and looked over at Betty with a look of incredulity.  A smile was spreading ever so slowly across her slim mousy face; a face that hadn’t seen a drop of make-up in years.  With her nondescript black individual braids pulled back in a tight bun, Jennifer looked like a young schoolmarm.  Her small button nose, the cutest feature in her countenance, looked out of place among the other unremarkable features.  Her cheeks were not well-defined and her eyes were neither expressive, nor memorable.  Her eyes were roundish — not quite owlish — normal dark brown eyes however they boasted a few flecks of lighter brown from some long-forgotten Anglo-Saxon ancestor.

The lighter brown flecks in her eyes brightened her whole countenance especially when she was animated — which was rare.  But now, her eyes were lit up as if fired by some internal power source.  Jennifer’s eyes glowed, a rich dark tawny shade, which made one ignore the rest of her.  Her boyishly slim physique hardly made any bumps in her uniform especially not over her 32A cup bra.  What she did have going for her were her tight abs, slim waist long, shapely legs that were currently sheathed in the heavy dark blue NYPD issued uniform pants and her pore-free skin the color of ground cocoa.

Betty pulled her feet down and leaned forward, her own smile forming as she shoved a few stray dark blonde wisps out of her green eyes.

“What?  Did you finally win something?”

With flourish, Jennifer scratched one long swipe to reveal the bar code.  Betty grunted and put her elbow on the table and pressed her fist against her cheek.

“I know this part of your
system
— you won something.  From your stupid grin, you won a lot.  How much?”

“Fifteen hundred!  Bottom game,” Jennifer held it up in front of Betty’s face.  “So what do ‘ya think of my system now?”

“It still sucks but today, you got lucky.  How long have I known you now?”

“Why do you keep forgetting?  Six years,” grumbled Jennifer re-pocketing her winning ticket.

“Right, right.  So, in all those years this is the biggest win you’ve told me about.  So, what does that make your profit?  Hmm...that’s $250 per year.  Shall we divide that by the number of days per year, or shall I be nice and do it by month?  Be nice?  Okay, that’s $20.83 per month for every month I’ve known you!”

Before Jennifer could retort, her radio squawked.  “Detective Holden, report to State and Hoyt Streets.  Female victim, DOA.”

“Holden, this is your golden day.  First, the lotto win of $20 bucks a day for the last six years and now your very first solo murder case,” smirking Betty pushed herself up with a sigh.

“Solo?!”

“Such a shame I’m off the clock now and can’t help you…”

“You evil little —”

“Now, now.  Don’t keep your newest client waiting,” Betty said in a saccharine-filled sotto vocce.

Barely suppressing a growl, Jennifer got to her feet making her chair fall backwards in the process. She stalked out of the break room without glancing back at Betty.  Laughter trailed after Jennifer as she smashed on her brimmed hat and passed her locker to pick up her crime scene kit.  On her way out of the precinct Jennifer stopped at the Command Desk.

“Sargeant?”

“Yeah, Holden?”

“Am I being assigned a partner for the Hoyt and State Street call?”

The large cop, a veteran of twenty years guffawed.

“Holden, you’ve been on the force long enough to know that on Halloween no self-respecting murder cop is on duty.  You’ve got this one.  If you need backup for a stiff after all your years on the beat,” he paused as he smiled mirthlessly, “maybe you need to change jobs and work in a bodega.  Then, you wouldn’t have to go too far to get your lotto fix every day.”

“Yeah, well at least I believe in some
thing
, Sarge.”

“You?  Believe?  In what?  You’re a friggin’ atheist —
Holy
Holden.  That’s why you pull Halloween each and every God-damned year.  That, plus the fact you ain’t got kids.”

Jennifer lowered her head and glared at him through her lashes but held her tongue as she always did.  She stiffened her 5’2” frame and slid on a poker face as she turned on her heel.  She marched out of the precinct with her back ramrod straight as he laughed raucously at her…as he always did.

***

November 1
^st
, 12:09 A.M.

Police Officer Saks heard the distinctly feminine scream that chilled his blood.  Without thought, he ran in the direction of the woman’s distress knocking a rather large man to the ground in his haste not noticing the streaks of blood on the felled man’s face and hands.

“Get outta my way, man!  Police emergency!”

Saks got to the construction site and knew this was where the sound had emanated from.  He found the makeshift hole in the wire mesh fence ducked through and ran towards the darkest part of the site.  When he got there the smell brought him to the lifeless woman’s body.  He pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on.  His mouth dropped open as his bile surged upwards but he tamped it down and pulled out his radio.

“We’ve got a while female DOA at the construction site at Hoyt and Schermerhorn.  Request immediate back-up.”

“Ten-Four. First on scene?”

“Yeah.”

“Name?
”

“P.O. Saks, 84
^th
precinct.”

“Copy that.  Help’s on the way.”

“Ten-Four, out.”

The Fury watched as Officer Saks walked around the body.  The demon noticed he avoided any contact with the dead woman’s body nor did he disturb anything nearby. With a shudder, the Fury wrinkled its reptilian face as it tried not to breathe in the officer’s male scent. The cloying testosterone-filled air bespoke the great amount of energy the demon would have to acquire and utilize just get the male to do its bidding.

With an inaudible sigh, the demon dismissed the male as a potential host.  Gnashing its teeth, the Fury settled back in to await another, more suitable, host.

November 1
^st
, 12:42 A.M.

With butterflies stomping around in her belly, Jennifer reached the crime scene in under twelve minutes.  The brisk walk made her perspire even though it was a cool night.  There were several officers milling about.  Jennifer walked under the police barricade and headed towards the back of the site where the bulk of cops congregated.

She took a deep breath and said to the nearest officer, “I’m Detective Holden and I’ve been assigned this case.  Who was first on scene?  And what do you know?”

The false bravado seemed to ring true to the officers in the vicinity and they jerked to attention mumbling the name
Saks.

Holden was feeling pretty good until they turned, looked around and saw her.

“Oh…Holy Holden.  It’s just you,” said Saks, a rookie barely a year out of cadet school.

Jennifer cringed inwardly at the moniker but kept her poker face intact.  Her already fraying nerves unraveling just a hair more.

“I was first on-scene.  I heard a blood-curdling scream and came running down the block — I was on Hoyt but closer to Schermerhorn.  By the time I got here the perp was gone and the girl — dead and totally jacked up.  I mean unrecognizable.  Her ID says she’s Kyma Barnes and she
was
a looker.  Perp played with her for quite a while before he did her in.  She’s a bloody mess!”

While he was speaking, Jennifer drifted closer to the body.  Just as he finished, she caught the first glimpse of the victim.  Jennifer’s hand immediately went to her mouth.  Her stomach heaved.

“Six years on the job and she’s like a damned rookie.  Watch it boys, the Detective in Charge is gonna to blow,” said Saks.

Shaking her head from side to side, Jennifer was oblivious to the comment as she tried to get away from the body so she wouldn’t defile the remains any further.  Images flickered shutter-like in front of her eyes.  Her uncle ripping her orange coat with the pumpkin buttons.  Him, above with her knees spread wide. Blinking it all back but losing badly, Jennifer tried to swerve around the body and tripped on the blue tarp flapping in the slight breeze.  She fell just above the victim’s head bashing the side of her own face.  Jennifer was near enough that the victim’s bloody hand was splattered with vomit.