The Rest of The Novel

Here is the rest of my novel. I changed the name from The Reluctant Killer to Clandestine Covenant, but the text is the same. It's a rough copy with some errors corrected with a red line through them. The correction is right next to them, mostly spelling. I was tired but wanted to post it now.

I'm sending a clean copy to Amazon KDP for sale, also setting up a paperback. Mostly I want a good copy for myself. It's a matter of completing a project rather than making money. 

  

Clandestine Covenant

 

 

Decent Into Darkness

 

 

 

 

John M. Anthony

 

 

 

 

 

COPYRIGHT © 2021 by John A. Mallozzi

All rights reserved.

 

This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever.

without the express written permission of the author

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental,

and not intended by the author.

 

CHAPTER ONE

“In each of us there is another whom we do not know.

It comes over you like the night,

with black shadows.”

-Carl Jung

 

 

Tom Bianco walked down the street to his lover's apartment, cellphone to his ear, a package of flowers and a box of chocolates held in his other hand.

 "But we were supposed to get together at seven."

"I'm not ready to see you yet.  It'll take me about another hour or so," said Darsey.

"How about I wait in your apartment, if that's okay with you."

"I don't know. Just don't snoop around or touch anything."

"But I can't wait to see you. I think about you all the time."

That’s nice. Look, I better get ready."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic. in fact, you sound annoyed."

"You mean so much to me; being in love and getting me out of my depression. Maybe it's a little bit of an exaggeration, but you saved my life," he said.

“Oh, okay. Let me get ready. I can't argue with you right now. Maybe we can discuss our relationship after dinner.  Listen. I'm not going to drop you right now. I mean not just like that. We need more time together."

"What do you mean by 'drop me right now'?"

"Nothing, it's the first thing to come to mind. It really doesn’t mean anything."

"I'm not trying to be a pest, but you mean everything to...," she hung up.

"Maybe I'm being a little too sensitive," he muttered to himself.

 

The front door of her apartment building is always unlocked, so Tom walked in. The doorbell and speaker intercom were on the right-side wall.

"You're here already?" she said, buzzing open the inner door's lock.

Tom ran up the 2 flights of stairs to her  apartmenther apartment and knocked on her door even though it was open.

"Let yourself in."

'I brought you flowers and box of chocolate. Do you have a vase and some water for the flowers?"

"Just leave them there on the table.  I'll get to it later."

Tom took a seat on the sofa. He fondly remembered how they made love there. He looked around the apartment wondering what he could do to pass the time for an hour besides playing with his cellphone.

There was a dark leather covered diary on the living room coffee table.  It had a lock built into the front cover. The key was still in it.

Although he felt guilty, he hoped that by looking through it, he could learn more about her and why she was becoming so cold to him.

On the first page in her own handwriting was a quote in large decorative letters.

"Love does nothing but make you weak!

It turns you into an object of pity and derision,

a mewling pathetic creature no more fit to live than a worm,

 squirming on the pavement after a hard summer rain."

Teresa Medeiros

The quote just made Tom even more eager to read the diary. Next, he quickly flipped through the pages. On the top of each page was someone's name, first and last;last, with a small photo beneath it .Heit. He imagined they must be old classmates or people from work or maybe some sort of club. But Itit was odd that all the photos were of men, no women.

The information written on each page included the date they met and the date they broke up.  Below was information about profession, income, possessions, etc.

Tom found it hard to believe she was a gold digger with an obsession for details.  On the last several pages the photos had a thick black magic marker line diagonally through them. 

Even more embarrassing at the bottom of each page was an evaluation of the relationship. His own information was on the third page. The date when the relationship was over was not filled in.  But it meant she was still dating the two men ahead of him.

More personal information was included.  The man on the first page was. easily susceptible to obeying her and putting her in charge of the relationship by command or by deception.

Other information included warmth and friendliness; sexual ability and finding him attractive.

One was crossed out because he is clumsy with sex and not as wealthy as she would like.

Up front was a good prospect. He was a rich man but maybe a little older than she would like. His money still kept him in the running.

As to Tom's evaluation, she wrote that his adoration to her was amusing, and he had good skill with sex. Not sure yet how wealthy he was.

Her plan was to string him along and let him fade away, while she simultaneously tried several other prospects.  If he rejected her first it would be okay. There were the others she was working on.

As soon as Darcey was ready to go, Tom confronted her with the diary.

What the hell is this notebook? You are collecting lovers and comparing them until you find the most profitable and amusing. We are supposed to be a couple. You are nothing but a cold-hearted gold digger."

"I'll just have to cross you off my list" she said shrugging her shoulders and smiling.  He meant nothing to her.

Tom saw how she was not upset at all about the end of their relationship. He knew it was hopeless.

Tom ran out of the apartment before she could see his tears forming.

All he wanted now was to go home.

He decided to spend some time in the bookstore he passed every day on the way home after work. He wanted to calm  and distract thoughts of the best way to kill himself.  He would never actually do it but the old suicidal feelings he once had were coming back.

 

This bookstore was not one of the large chain stores with bright lights, coffee shop and couches.  It was a small independently owned store.

The faded and chipped gold lettered sign on the door of the bookstore was barely legible.  Aba...don...d Boo...s was all that remained of the intended Abandoned Books lettering.  Sleigh bells attached to the inside of the glass-paneled door jangled loudly when he pushed the door open and stepped up into the store.  A thin shorthaired teenager wearing wire framed glasses sat behind the cash register at the counter.  He briefly looked up then returned to his reading.

The worn badly scuffed wood floor creaked with every step.  The owner had constructed shelves from old planks of scrap lumber placed close together making it difficult to squeeze through the aisles.

The weight of the books bowed down some of the shelves so much that the slightest nudge could cause them to crackcrack, sending the books tumbling to the floor.

A few tables covered in dust displayed the larger books.  The whole place was cluttered and sloppy.

He rubbed his nose, which burned from the strong musty smell of damp decaying paper.  He smiled.  The bookstore’s name was appropriate.  It only offered old unpopular books mostly used.  Some were leftovers from other bookstores.  While the prices of these books were surprisingly low, the problem was in finding something worth reading.

Walking through most of the aisles, he found his way to the back of the store.  He laughed when he saw the sign above the last section of shelves handwritten in pencil on a piece of warped white cardboard: “Self-Help”.  He believed a more appropriate title was “False-Hope”.

He read the book titles recognizing most of the popular fad therapies from the past that had gone out of style.  At one time or another, he read most of them.  The memories of his past as a sad desperate reader went through his mind.

"If I can only find a book to point me in the right direction, I'll be able to turn my life around.  I'll find how to make my life have meaning and discover true happiness.  I'll be rid of this black cloud of sadness.”

It was the same as all the other times.  He believed his compulsion to look for a solution in self-help books was pathetic.  Many times, in the past, he looked for the one book that promised to make things better.

When he thought he found the book with the answer to his prayers a feeling of hope would temporarily soothe him.  After trying the suggestions, he did feel better.  Even though the depression was gone, nothing had changed.  It was all an illusion.  He needed the delusion that he was in control doing something to make his life better.  Then when the depression returned, the way it always did, he realized once again that he was fooled into having false hope.

He was certain that behind his sadness there was a real evil that was somehow hidden from him.  It was not all in his mind.  Some evil reality was there.

For a while, he was not even reading the titles; only looking at the different heights, colors and thicknesses of the books.  Some were in good conditioncondition, almost new.  Others were ripped, stained or had broken spines.  They all began to become a blur.  He stood staring into space as if in a trance.

Unable to find a book that interested him he shoved a book he was holding back onto the shelf.  From out of nowhere there was a woman standing several feet away from him.

She pushed the book she was holding down on the same shelf.  It was placed in an odd way with the spine down and the pages up, wedged in tightly between the other books.

Tom could not look away from her deep blue-green eyes.  She had straw-colored blond hair that almost hung down to her shoulders.  She stared back at Tom and smiled.

He began to walk towards her.  She turned and ran.  All he could see was her firm athletic body as she left the store and went down the street.

Curious, he took her book off the shelf.  It was about an inch thick with a smooth black leather binding.  The page edges were gleaming with beautiful gold leaf.  It felt pleasantly heavy with a strong scent of leather and old incense.

Engraved into the leather of the front cover in vivid colors was a large dragon.  It was curled in a broken circle with its open jaw reaching for its tail.  There was a stream of fire coming from its mouth shooting towards its tail.

When he looked for a title or author, he found none.

He opened the book to the introduction page that began with an explanation of the image on the cover.  According to the anonymous author, the engraving was a variation of an ouroboros, a serpent eating its own tail to symbolize the eternal cycle of Nature.  It was Nature re-using the minerals from dead animals and plants to grow new life.  It meant creation from destruction, of life from death.

However, on this cover instead of the serpent eating its own tail to sustain its life there was a dragon destroying its own tail with the fire spewing from its mouth.  It symbolized the destruction of the universe, putting an end to itself and everything else.

Tom looked at the back cover. Taking up the entire space was a large gold letter “Y” on a deep blue background.  This letter was different from an ordinary “Y”.  The side pointing to the left ended in an arrow while the side pointing to the right was blocked.  It ended in a short horizontal line.  He skimmed through the book but could not find an explanation of its meaning.  For now, he was more interested in exploring the rest of the book.

He turned to the first chapter titled “Beginning”.  There was an illustration with the viewpoint from behind, looking over the shoulder of a man holding a blank sheet of paper.  The man’s left hand held the paper steady on a dark wooden desktop while his right hand held an old wooden fountain pen with a metal nib, its point about to touch the paper.  It was like a painting he once saw but could not remember where, maybe in a museum or a book on art history.

Looking up for a moment to see if anyone else was in the store Tom saw the young man behind the cash register was still reading.  Except for the two of them, the store was empty.

The first chapter explained the author’s philosophy and reason for writing the book.  Not in the mood to study the details, he read quickly through the chapter.  After a few pages he was a bit confused, but he understood the point; we cannot always be sure of what is real.

Attempting to sit on the floor to read more, his legs started to cramp.  Because the store had no seats, he made his own seat by piling up a few books and sitting on them.  It was easier than standing.

While he skimmed through the pages, he found many beautiful illustrations in vivid color done in pen and ink, framed in gold leaf.  With the book opened flat these illustrations always appeared on the left page with the chapter headings on the right page.

In a chapter titled “Seduction” there was an illustration of two young lovers sitting on a bench holding each other close and kissing.  This struck a chord with Tom.  What he really needed was someone to accept him as he was.  He needed someone who loved him and wanted to share her life with him.

The problem was his anxiety around others.  He hated being alone yet that was when he felt most comfortable.  When he forced himself to be with others, he saw how uneasy he made them feel.

Tom became used to only a few dates before the woman was gone.  A few drunken nights together did not make for much of a love life.

He returned to his reading.  A chapter on “Well Being” began with an illustration of a naked young man with a strong muscular body in top physical condition.

A servant helped a man into a coach in the chapter titled “Fortune”.  The man was well dressed.  He had a sack of gold coins in his hand.

He turned to the second chapter titled “True Freedom”. The chapter began with the assertion that everyone is born with a conscious force or spirit of nature.

This force was supposed to protect the man or woman from the opposing forces of evil.  Without this protection the temptations of evil were too strong for an ordinary person to resist.  However, the author argued that even though this was a necessity when people were ignorant the modern educated person has no need for this outdated protection.  In fact, the force interfered with the amount of freedom and opportunity open to him.

"What a load of crap," Tom muttered.  He was tempted to stop reading and put the book back but was curious.

The author went on to describe the dire effects of this interference.  As he continued reading the chapter Tom was amazed at how accurately the author seemed to be describing his present situation.  Freedom to have more control over his life was what he needed.

What he read next perplexed yet excited him at the same time.  The author insisted that to have true freedom to live a better life he must willfully take an action that might seem wrong at first.  Nonetheless, this action was the first step in taking back control of his life.  Not sure what it meant he continued reading what seemed more suited for the introduction to a fantasy video game than a work of non-fiction.

The author insisted the reader take the book without paying for it.  He claimed that willfully taking this action was the first step in taking back control of his life.  He explained that the reader would understand after discovering the secret that he was going to describe later in the book.  Tom continued reading.

“I no longer have the need to make money.  My only motivation is to help the few select people who are wise and brave enough to learn how to use the secret I am about to reveal.  These are the people who deserve to know what I know and when enough people learn the secret, we will meet sometime in the near future to form an elite society and join forces to change the world.”

Even though it seemed irrational, even silly, Tom thought it would be fun to play along and take the challenge.  The risk of being caught excited him.  His pulse raced with the danger and the guilt of doing something wrong.

Tom looked for security cameras.  Then he thought about it.  If the storeowner was too cheap or too poor to buy decent shelves, he was certain he could not afford an electronic security system.

By the cash register, the young man was still preoccupied with what he was reading, completely ignoring him.

Tom unzipped the top of his shoulder bag.  He always had this black leather bag with him wherever he went.  It was a comfort for him, a sort of security blanket.  Its many zippered pockets and slots, more than enough for pens and memo pads, gave him a false sense of being organized.

Giving in to the impulse, Tom slipped the book into his shoulder bag, put the bag’s strap over his shoulder and quickly left the store.

Once outside he laughed to himself.  It felt good to get away with the crime.  He never shoplifted before and was not eager to start now.  He rationalized his behavior by telling himself he was going to return the book the very next day, no harm done.  His mood magically changed from despair into excitement and hope that come with a new adventure.  This alone was worth the risk.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

After leaving the bookstore Tom headed for the Bus Stop Diner where he usually had supper.  It was on the way to his apartment.

Snow began to fall with a cold wind blowing the icy snowflakes in his face.  He wiped the melting flakes away from his eyes as he squinted to see.  The diner was only half a block away.  By jogging he was soon at the front door.

The familiar smell of stale coffee and greasy food made him nauseas.  Standing inside the doorway he stopped for a moment.  Across the street was Café de France, a restaurant he always avoided.  It was too expensive for a student like himself with a part time job and an ever-growing student loan.

The excitement of getting away with stealing the book put him in the mood to take a chance, to try somewhere new even if he could not afford it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?"  He asked himself.

He went back outside into the cold to cross the street.  Pushing his way through the heavy wooden doors of Café de France, he found himself in the vestibule.  It felt good to be inside away from the cold snow.  When he passed the second pair of doors a comforting warm burst of air filled with the sweet aroma of various foods deepened his hunger.

A tall attractive woman in her late forties dressed in black greeted him at the door.  She looked him over doubtfully a few times.  Then she asked him if he had a reservation.

“Well, I didn’t plan on coming here.  That’s why I didn’t make a reservation.”

“I don’t think we can seat you,” she said.

“The place is half empty and it’s snowing out there.”

“I’m sorry but,” she began to ask him to leave when a waitress came to the door and whispered something to her.

The waitress was about his age, in her mid-twenties.  She was attracted to him when she first saw him come into the restaurant.  He reminded her of a lost dog that needed to be rescued.

“Oh, all right but I don’t see why you want to bother with him.”

The woman reluctantly escorted him to a small table at the far end of the restaurant near the kitchen.

“We usually save this table for one of the staff when they take a break, but I’ll let you sit here.”

She tossed a menu on the table before turning her back, returning to the front door.  Tom managed to catch it before it slid off the table.  When he opened the menu, he saw it was more thanthan he could afford.

The waitress who got him past the woman at the front door came to the table with a smile.  For a moment he forgot why he was there.  Everything in the room faded away until it was only the two of them.

“Do you like what’s on the menu?  You have a choice of an appetizer, a main course, and a dessert.  The house salad and bread come with the meal.  Tonight’s special is a roasted Cornish hen with the chef’s special sauce.  We also have salmon or the usual steak.  Can I bring you something to drink?”

He loved the sound of her voice; not paying attention to what she was saying, only listening.  She was not a blond, blue-eyed cliché.  Her smooth white complexion was framed by wavy, shoulder length, almost black hair.  Her eyes were dark blue, dark enough to appear black in dim lighting.

“What’s your name?”  Tom asked in a firm yet friendly tone.

He was surprised at himself.  He usually spoke in a low, almost inaudible voice.  His boldness in coming into an expensive restaurant, his confidence when speaking to a beautiful woman, he wondered if stealing the book was somehow responsible.

“Angela.  What’s yours?”

“Tom,” he said.  He loved how well her name suited her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tom.”

“Angela, I have a bit of a problem.  I’m a part time student with a part time job and a large student loan.  Anyway, I’m not sure why I even came in here.”

“I know how it is.  I’m a student too and I work here part time.”

“Listen if you can’t do it, I’ll understand.  I’ll quietly leave.  I don’t want to cause any trouble, especially for someone as nice as you.  You see I only came in because I pass this place every day.  I was curious.  I didn’t realize how expensive it is here.  Is it okay if I only get some coffee with a small piece of dessert?”

She gave him a warm smile.

“Let me talk with the chef.”

Tom watched her walk past the swinging door next to his table, which led into the kitchen.  He got ready to sneak out, but she returned just as he stood up.

“Going somewhere?” She smiled in a teasing lighthearted manner.

“Well, I…”

“Sit down.  You’re very lucky tonight.  Mr. Snider, he’s one of our best customers but he’s also hard to please sometimes.  He ordered the Cornish hen then changed his mind.  Now he wants salmon.  The chef is fussy.  He’d never cook the hen then warm it up again if someone decides to order it later.  It would be a waste to throw it in the trash.  Besides, part of my pay includes having whatever is left over in the kitchen.  He agreed to let you have a meal on the house.”

“You saved me much embarrassment.  How about having dinner with me sometime to thank you?”

Tom was prepared to accept her rejection gracefully.

“I’d love to.  How about tomorrow?  It’s my day off.”

“Sure…”

“Excuse me Tom, Mr. Snider wants me.  I’ll be right back.”

It seemed too good to be true.  She was going out with him next night.  He realized it must only be pure chance but, in a way, taking the book did lead him into this restaurant, which allowed him to meet Angela.

Angela smiled at him while gracefully balancing a stack of dishes on her way back to the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

She was back a short moment later.  Her speed impressed him.

“Here is your salad and bread sir.  I hope you don’t mind I put the house dressing on the salad, a light sweet olive oil and vinegar mixture.  And here is small plate with olive oil to dip the bread.”

“Very good.  Will the appetizer take long?”  Tom said playing along, pretending to be a demanding customer.

“I’ll bring it out right away sir.  Sorry for the delay.”

“What about my drink?”  He askedasked, feigning irritation.

“Again, I must apologize.  What would you like to drink?”

“Oh, nothing; the water will be fine.”

Angela smiled, and then playfully smacked the back of his head.  He reached for her waist, but she was too quick for him, disappearing through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Surprised and pleased with his new personality, Tom was sure the only difference that could account for this change was the book.

Angela brought out the appetizer of three types of cheese and the Cornish hen at the same time.

“It’s slow tonight so I can sit with you for a few minutes.”

“Great, I love your company.”

She smiled.  Taking his fork, she helped herself to a piece of cheese before taking another piece and bringing it up to his mouth.  When he opened his mouth, his tongue reaching for the cheese, she pulled it away.  They both laughed.

She took a tiny nibble from the end of the cheese before bringing the fork toward his mouth again.  This time he was quick enough to bite the cheese before she could pull it away for the second time.  Again, they both laughed.

“Here, I’ll let you eat in peace,” she said handing him the fork.

“I’ll be back with dessert and coffee.”

It was one of the best meals of his life.  Angela made it special.  She sat down with him for coffee and dessert.  They exchanged phone numbers.

“Angela,” Tom hesitated for a moment, losing his train of thought.  He loved the sound of her name, gazing into her soft welcoming eyes, and...

“Yes?  What were you about to say?”

“Oh…ah… I mean you live so close to me; I wonder why we never met before.”

“I know.  It does seem a bit strange at first, but we work different hours and go to different schools.  This is the only time we had a chance to cross paths, that’s all.”

She walked with him to the front door.  He pulled her close, gave her a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek.  The softness of her skin against his lips and the sweet scent of her body filled him with passion.

He expected her to pull away from his embrace, tell him the date was off, and maybe even slap his face.  Instead, she hugged him back and lightly pressed her lips against his cheek.  Her dainty hug, the touch of her lips, their physical closeness, all increased the fire in his soul beyond anything he had ever experienced.

They slowly pulled away from each other.  Tom took her hands in his.  She smiled, slightly blushed then looked away for a moment before gazing deeply into his eyes.  They were both lost in a state of wordless fascination.

She watched him leave the restaurant.  Once outside he hugged his shoulder bag with the book inside close to his heart.  It brought him such good luck.  He planned to go back to the bookstore in the morning to explain how he “forgot” to pay for it.  Only instead of returning the book, he would keep it after paying what he owed.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

It was not snowing when Angela left work.  Instead of going straight home, she took a slightly longer way through a nearby park.  She enjoyed the walk in the park during the day.  Now she had a chance to see it at night.

She walked past a playground to a small pond set aside for sailing toy boats.  During the daytime, this section of the park was full of activity from children and their parents.  The loud screeching, laughter and occasional crying of children would fill the air.

In contrast, the playground was now silent and dark.  The sounds of street traffic were all she heard.  Beyond the playground was Prospect Park Lake.  It was too far into the park and away from the street for Angela to feel safe.

Angela imagined how good it would be to find someone who loved and needed her.  She always found it hard to flirt with a man but this time she surprised herself.  With Tom it was different.  Physical attraction yes but she was never so at ease with a man after first meeting him.

She wondered if Tom felt the same way or if it was only an infatuation, something to enjoy before finding the right person.

 

Tom followed Angela into the darkness of the park.  He was curious to see Angela walk home.  He was not stalking her, only watching from a short distance.  Once they were out of the park and at her apartment, he intended to let her see him but for now, he was more comfortable only following her.

This behavior was more a compulsion than a choice.

"Follow her quietly.  We'll figure out why later," Tom told himself.

He hoped she was not meeting another man.

 

Alone in the dark, bundled up tight in her woolen coatcoat, Angela turned her back to the wind.

“Hey lady, do you have the time?”

Angela inhaled a short gasp of freezing air.  The man’s sudden loud request was startling.  She had no idea he was so close behind her.  The way he painfully grabbed her on the shoulder frightened her the most.  He was a tall husky man.  By the way he looked at her; she knew he was up to no good.

“It’s eleven thirty,” she told him the time without looking at her watch.  This way she could avoid looking away and so keep her eye on him.  One of her friends taught her this trick if she ever found herself in such a situation.

“Come on pretty lady, don’t be so shy.  Give me a little smile.”

Angela turned and began jogging away.  Afraid to look back, she could not tell if the man was still following her.  After jogging a little further she stopped and turned to see that the man was there, watching her from a short distance behind.  When he saw her looking, he slowly walked in her direction.  Angela walked faster.

In this section of the park, there were fewer streetlights.  The ones that remained were spaced far apart.  After a while, the only light was from the dim gray sky.  Angela saw a shadow or blurry movement from the corner of her eye.

She stopped again to see if the man was still following her.  At first, there was no one in sight.  There was no sound of footsteps.  She feared he might be quietly stalking her from somewhere in the dark.

She left the park hoping it was safer out on the street. Then she saw some movement by a bush.  Then something moved behind a tree.  Then again, there was some movement next to a parked car.

Her heart raced.  She tried to make some sense out of what she saw.  Was more than one man following her or was it her imagination?  Maybe the man was gradually getting closer.  Angela quickly resumed her fast walk, breaking into a jog for a brief time then back into a walk.

Now the sound of footsteps coming from behind drove her to run faster.  Even then she doubted herself.  She wondered if she was only running away from the echo of her own footsteps.  She could not stop now.  The man might still be coming after her.

Angela stopped to catch her breath.  Again, she felt the man’s painful grasp on her shoulder.

“Let go of me.  What are you doing?”

“Don’t be bashful.  You know you want this as much as I do.”

She spun around to look at the man.  He had a tight grip on her shoulder.  She also saw something moving behind the man, but his head blocked the view.

The man turned his head to see what she was looking at.

“There’s no one there.  Don’t worry we’ll have our privacy.”

Angela tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.  Then she tried to kick him in the groin, the way her father taught her, but the man anticipated her move and shifted in time to avoid her knee.

“Oh yeah I love it when they want a little rough foreplay,” he said in a tone which seemed to brag about his expertise in molesting women.

Before she could scream for help, his hand covered her mouth.  Before she could poke him in the eye, he turned his head away.  He was always one step ahead of her.  He withdrew his hand before she could bite him.  Then he punched her hard in the face.

Everything began spinning.  Her legs became too weak to hold her up.  She saw the filthy smirk on his face, the trees whirling, and the sidewalk coming up to her face.

 

As Tom reached them, he saw a dark shadow reach around and grab the man’s legs causing him to lose balance and fall.  At first, he was afraid but his rage at someone trying to hurt Angela was too much to resist. With a heavy rock Tom smashed the man’s head repeatedly, unable to stop himself. 

 

When she awoke, she saw Tom.  She let out a sigh of relief when she realized she was okay.  Except for her terror, the pain from where the man punched her was her only injury.

"You're okay Angela.  I took care of him."

"How did you get here?  Were you following me?  Why didn't you catch up with me so we could walk together?  I'm glad you rescued me, but I don't understand."

"You were lucky I happened to be here in the park," Tom lied as he hugged her softly.

He did not tell her how good it felt to smash the mugger’s head with a heavy rock.  After repeated blows the man’s head cracked like an egg with blood and brain seeping out.

"Did you call 911?" she asked.

"We can't do that."

"Why not? Aren't we supposed to let someone know so he won't try it again?"

Tom looked away.  He was not sure he could trust her.

Angela became silent.

"Listen to me Angela.  I'm usually not like this.  I mean I never hurt anyone but when I saw what he was doing to you, I lost it.  I lost all control.  I don't even remember what I did.  I could not stop until he was still."

"Where is he?"

"I'm pretty sure I killed him, so I put the body behind the trees near the bushes."

"What?  You killed him?  This is just too much.  Why did you have to kill him?"

Tom hugged her tightly, hoping she would keep the murder quiet.

"You saved me.  I don't want to get you in trouble with the law. He got what he deserved.  If he's dead he won't be hurting anyone else," she said as she pulled away from him, trying to rationalize what he did to the man.  Maybe it was just an accident.

"That's the way I feel.  Why go through all that grief when nothing good can come of it?  It will be our secret," he said.

Little was said as Tom walked her home.  They did not hold hands.  Once at her apartment she gave him a brief hug before going inside and locking the door.

Tom knew she would need some time alone to sort things out.  He could not blame her for being a little distant.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

Back at his apartment, Tom immediately returned to where he had left off on chapter three, "Initiation Ceremony".

The illustration was of a man on a road that ended.  There it split into two paths.  The path to the left was wide and straight.  It gently sloped downward.

The path to the right was narrow and had several sharp turns.  It was a steep climb.

On this Y-shaped road, the man headed down the path to the left.

The chapter began with the reassurance that if he later changed his mind and believed the new direction in his life was not right for him, he could easily go back.  The following chapter held the key to reversing the ceremony.

Tom decided to read over the next chapter quickly to be sure it would be possible to change his mind.  Even though he did not believe that anything in the book was real, he was curious.

He was having such good luck; meeting Angela, an expensive gourmet meal for free, rescuing her.  Tom felt it would be foolish to stop now even if his good luck was only a series of coincidences.  He was enjoying himself.  Why should he stop?  He continued reading.

The author explained the ritual. It was more a matter of giving the reader the courage to be on his own.  However, it still required that he set the proper atmosphere.

Tom closed the blinds to block out the streetlights because the room had to be dark.  There had to be complete silence.  Luckily, the other tenants in his apartment building were mostly older retired people who went to bed early.

When he read the next paragraph about the need for candlelight and a certain type of incense, he feared the ceremony would have to wait for another night.

In frustration, he turned to the back of the book.  The last pages were stuck together.  When he took a closer look, he found a crack between some of the stuck pages and the loose ones.  His thumbnail barely fit into the crack.  By using more force, he was able to pry the pages apart.  He carefully rubbed the seam hoping he had not damaged the book.  It formed a tightly fitting box.  Soft red felt lined this hidden compartment.

One item at a time he carefully took the contents out of the compartment and placed them on the kitchen table.  Everything he needed was there; candles, candleholders, incense, a razor blade, a white rag, and a round cloth that opened into a circle about one yard in diameter.

Imprinted on the cloth was the same image of a serpent that was on the front cover of the book.  The back of the cloth had the symbol that was on the back cover of the book, a large letter “Y” altered in the same way.  The left fork ended with an arrow while a short horizontal line blocked the right fork.

Underneath the cloth at the bottom of the compartment was a small clear glass vial half-filled with a dark blue liquid.  He closed the back of the book to continue reading where he had left off.

Following the directions was like playing a game for him.  It was a different type of game.  It was not a computer-generated game nor a board or card game.  The novelty of the procedures lured him into the ceremony.  He wondered what would happen.  How would it feel?  What was next?  He slowly went ahead with the ceremony.

As instructed, he took off all his clothes then sat on the floor of his living room.  The book with all its contents was now on the coffee table.  The side of the cloth with the altered letter “Y” was facing up.

Tom hesitated when he read the next section.  It required him to cut his left palm with the razor blade.  He must smear the blood from this wound along the bottom of the “Y” and then continue up to the left fork of the letter.  After the blood soaked into the cloth, he was to turn it over, so the serpent side was facing up.

Tom paused for a moment before continuing.  The razor easily cut deep into his hand with only the slightest pain, but when he smeared his blood on the cloth an intense heat went from his hand up his shoulder, past his neck and into his head.

"Damn it!  There must be something on the cloth."

He knew it was too late to wash his hands.  Any damage would have happened by then.  Besides, the instructions forbade it.

He used the white rag from the book as a bandage.  The heat instantly stopped.

Tom continued with the ceremony.

He placed one candle on the dragon’s head and one on its tail.  The dragon’s fire destroying its own tail symbolized the end to Tom's old ways to make room for the beginning of his new life.

At first, he could not get the candles to light.  Down to his third attempt he was about to give up.  He believed the candlewicks were too damp to take the flame.

Tom tried another match.  Both candles simultaneously shot up flames over a foot high filling the room with an intense skunk-like smell.

Gagging and nauseated by the overpowering stench he blew hard into the flames.  At first the flames jumped up even higher almost setting his eyebrows on fire.  A moment later, they died down to a more normal size. The skunk-like scent changed into a pleasant creamy aroma.

Inhaling the creamy scented smoke from the candles, he forgot for a moment where he was and what he was doing.  Tom realized he was intoxicated by whatever was in the smoke from the candles.

He continued the ceremony by placing the black inch high incense cone in the center of the cloth.  He touched the tip of the cone with one of the lit candles. Instantly, the cone hissed sending sparks flying in all directions.  A thin black line of smoke rose straight up.  It hit the ceiling forming a huge mushroom shaped black cloud that spread out in all directions.  When the cloud floated down to the floor, Tom did not choke or cough on the heavy fumes.  Instead, he enjoyed being light-headed.  A moment later, the smoke detector beeped.

Inebriated by the fumes Tom staggered into the kitchen where the detector was in the ceiling.  The chair he climbed on swayed back and forth while he twisted off the top of the device and pulled out the battery.

Back on solid ground, he opened the window to let the smoke escape.  The rest of the black smoke was in the living room making it difficult for Tom to see where he was stepping.

The smoke's scent reminded him of an old church he once visited with his parents when he was about six years old.  It was after the funeral for a friend of the family.  His parents wanted to say some prayers before leaving for home.

At the time, a quiet peacefulness came over him as the sun began to set.  The sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows on the right side of the church.  There was a lingering scent from the incense used in the ceremony.

The slowly changing light of various colors coming in through the stained-glass windows passed over the casket.  Long dark shadows forming behind the casket from the setting sun fascinated him as they crept in overtaking the entire church.  An evil power seemed to force out the holiness.

He panicked, grabbed his mother’s arm,  andarm, and began to cry.

“It’s okay.  Don’t be afraid of the dark.  They’ll soon turn on the lights.”

Even now, the memory of evil dark shadows creeping in to overtake the holiness occasionally came to mind in a fleeting moment or in a nightmare.

Next, Tom examined the vial.  It held about a tablespoonful of dark blue liquid.  The vial itself was made of clear glass.  It was embossed with the image of a serpent wrapped around the vial until its head faced its tail.  Etched fire came from its mouth.

The vial had no label, which worried him.  It might be some narcotic.  But he did not want to stop now.  As far as he knew, one vial of dope could not get him hooked.

Tom unscrewed the cap and carefully smelled its contents.  The stench caused his nose to burn and his eyes to sting.  After a moment, the irritating fumes changed into a pleasantly soothing vanilla-like scent.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swallowed the sweet liquor.  Nothing happened for a moment.  Then all at once, it hit him hard.  The room began to spin.  He planted his hands firmly on the floor to keep his balance.

His vision began to fade.  The words in the book became blurry.  He tried to focus his eyes by squinting.  It did not work.  In a panic, fearing the liquid might have permanently damaged his vision, he ran to the bathroom sink to splash cold water into them.  After a moment, he realized there was no reason to try flushing the poison from the outside.  The substance was working from inside his body.

“What if there was something poisonous in the vial?  Methanol can blind you if taken internally,” Tom questioned himself.

“If my vision is affected it might be too late to do anything about it now.”

He could only hope his partial loss of vision was temporary, that it would pass when the effects of the liquid wore off.  He had come this far.  He decided to complete what he started.  He returned to his place before the book and candles on the living room floor.

He felt the presence of evil in the room.  In the darkness, he saw something move but he could not be sure because of the dimness of his vision.

“Who’s there?  Get out now.  I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it,” he bluffed.

Before he could get up to look for the intruder a fine high-pitched ringing in his ears increased in volume until it was unbearably painful.  Tom covered his ears then shook his head until it stopped.

Assuming there was no one else in his apartment he returned to reading by candlelight.  The words were barely legible in his present state.  He read several passages aloud.

In a dreamlike state, he heard the loud clang of a cathedral bell.

“Why aren’t you at work?” An echoing voice thundered through the apartment.

Seeing only darkness, he realized the blue liquid from the vial in combination with the incense and smoke had now completely blinded him.  Instead of fear, he could care less.

He heard himself mumble something incoherently.

“You sound terrible,” the thundering voice reverberated.

“Why don’t you take the day off?  I’ll put you down for a sick day.”

Tom dreamed he got up and walked down a long corridor still naked from the ceremony and still in a state of bewilderment.  How he found himself in this corridor was a mystery.

His vision was returning.  He was able to see blurry shadows.

Tom realized he was hallucinating but could not stop it.  It just felt so real.

There was something he was intent on doing yet had no idea what it was.

Then he saw himself outside in an open field.  Behind him from a distance, the indistinct shape of a flying creature with glowing fiery red eyes came ever closer.  Tom ran.  The creature kept getting closer until it changed into the form of a dragon.

It flew slowly flapping its wings.  The air swished with every slow flap.  Tom screamed out in pain as the dragon’s flames burned his back.  The flames engulfed his entire body until all he could feel was pain before losing consciousness.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Through tightly closed eyelids, Tom saw some light, a good sign.  He was not completely blind.  He opened his eyes.  The clear image of the cloth with the serpent on it was the first thing he saw.

He felt relief at not being blind, yet he was angry with himself for taking such a risk.  He looked around the room.  On the floor of his living room were the burnt-out candles, incense, and empty vial.

“It looks like a crack addict lives here.  What would Angela think if she saw me now, naked and stoned?

He looked for the book, but it was gone.  It was not on the coffee table where he left it.  Searching for the apartment, he found it sitting on the open windowsill in the kitchen.

He assumed he must have put it there when he was wandering around his apartment in a drugged state.

Tom reached for the book.  A gust of wind sent it flying down to the sidewalk three floors below.  Still naked he ran down the steps.  He was outside in less than a minute.

Even though he did not actually believe it, he felt inside that if he lost the book, he might not be able to reverse the ceremony.  His feet were numb from the frozen sidewalk, and he shivered uncontrollably from a wintry gust on his bare back.  When he picked up the book, he was surprised it was not damaged, not even a scratch or dent.

“What the hell are you looking at?” Tom yelled at a lady passerby.  Surprised at seeing a naked man standing on the cold street she turned her head and quickly walked away.

A moment later, he was once again in his kitchen looking through the book for the chapter.  He was in a hurry to reverse the procedure.  He was sure the entire experience was due to whatever was in the blue liquid from the vial.  Even the smoke from the candles and incense had an effect.  All he wanted now was for everything to be back to normal.

Tom thought about how sometimes everyone performed some small ritual to ease their anxiety.  Some people knock on wood.  Others cross their fingers.  He wanted to read the chapter so he could reverse a spell he did not genuinely believe in.  It. It would make him feel better about the whole experience.

But when he looked for the chapter, it was not there.  There were several blank pages between the chapter before and the chapter after but nothing where the chapter should have been.  There was no drawing, nothing but blank pages.  That was when he feared he was in for some trouble.

His pulse raced, he broke out in a cold sweat and felt an intense tightness in the pit of his stomach.  He was not sure if it was the aftereffects of drinking the vial of liquid or if it was only fear.

All he wanted now was a new start with Angela.  He put on his clothes, grabbed the book, and ran down the stairs.  He was on his way back to the bookstore to set things right.

On his way to the bookstore Tom passed a gas station with a combination donut, ice cream and sandwich shop inside.  He decided to go in for a quick breakfast.

He walked up to the counter and passed several other customers wandering through the store.  The man behind the cash register seemed bored and angry.

“I’d like a jelly donut with coffee and some orange juice please.”

“We only have orange juice in a quart or half gallon container.  The donuts are on a rack on the side wall.  The coffee is in the center aisle.  A few tables and chairs are by the window.  Grab what you need, and I’ll ring it up.”

Tom imagined smashing his book into the man’s face splattering blood in every direction.  The vivid images came to him unexpectedly and involuntarily.  He closed his eyes and shuttered in horror.

“Are you alright or what?” The cashier asked more annoyed than concerned for Tom’s wellbeing.

Tom did not answer.  He gathered what he wanted, paid for it and then took a seat at the last table in the corner by the front window.  After a sip of coffee and a bite of the donut, he took the book out for another look.

He hoped that somehow the instructions on reversing the ceremony were still in the book.  He checked to make sure if a printing error may have resulted in the chapters not being in numerical order.  No, only blank pages were where the chapter once was.

Frustrated he began reading the next chapter titled Guiding Forces.  The illustration was of a man walking down an alley with the light source coming from behind projecting his shadow in front.  Other shadows in lighter shades of grey came from different directions.

"A new guiding force will soon come into your life.  This force will help you realize all the options now open to you.  It is up to you to follow the new path your life will take."

 

Tom took another bite of his donut, washed it down with some more coffee, and then returned to the book.

 

“This guiding force is sometimes experienced as a new thought or idea.  Often it is only a vague feeling, one that would never have occurred to you.

Sometimes the feeling that someone is watching might precede the thought.  At other times, you may see a vague image moving from the corner of your eye.  However, after turning your head you will see nothing there.”

 

Tom was sure the entire description was nonsense.  The author might be using the power of suggestion to make him believe that the changes in his life were happening.

 

“Your senses are now heightened.  Your reflexes are quicker.  You have precise control of your actions.  You will need to use these powers in your new life.”

 

Finished with his meal of caffeine, sugar, and fat; he discarded the remnants in the trash.  The bookstore was down the street.  He was eager to put an end to his involvement with the book.

At first, he walked right past the bookstore without seeing it.  He stopped at the corner and retraced his steps until he found a bookstore, but it was not the same.

A red-lettered sign on a black background displayed a new name for the store, A Band of Books.  It replaced the faded and chipped gold lettered sign on the old door, Abandoned Books.

Through the window he saw couches and chairs.  Sturdy wood shelves replaced the rickety shelves he saw the night before.  The well-lit store had a tall ceiling with the usual security cameras hiding behind the obvious black half-globe covers. In the back of the store was a coffee shop.

An electronic beep replaced the jangle of sleigh bells as he stepped up into the store.

“May I help you?”  The woman behind the cash register asked him.  She was an attractive woman in her late thirties.  Her tight skirt and low-cut blouse revealed a firm athletic body.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve improved the store.  Last night it looked like a dump.  Now it’s brand new.  When did this all happen?”  Tom asked.

"What do you mean?”  She seemed puzzled.

"We’ll be here for three years, come this December.”

"That’s not possible. I was here last night.  All this was not here.”

She gave him a strange look.

“Maybe you were somewhere else.”

Tom was not sure what to say.  He was sure he was in this store the night before.  Instead of continuing to question her, he decided to get down to the business of returning the book.

“Are you the manager of this bookstore?”

“Yes I am.”

“Well last night I left the store and forgot to pay for this book.  It wasn’t until I got home that I remembered,” he tried to put a nicer spin on his shoplifting to prevent any trouble.

She took the book from him and turned it over to look at the front and back cover.  Then she cracked the book open for a moment before slamming it shut.

“This is not one of our books.  Perhaps you forgot to pay for it at some other bookstore,” she said, putting an emphasis on the word “forgot”, implying Tom was dishonest.

Tom could not concentrate.  He saw the woman’s lips moving but could not respond.

“Hey, wake up.  I said this is not one of our books.  Are you listening to me?  I’m busy.  Take the book and leave.”

Still there was no response from Tom.

“Please go now.  I’m busy.  I can’t stand here trying to get an intelligent response from you.”

“How can you be so sure?” Tom asked.

“We don’t stock diaries or journals.”

Tom chose not to insist.  She must have seen the blank pages where the missing chapter was supposed to be and assumed the entire book was blank.

“Sorry to have bothered you.  I’ll check the other bookstore.”

“I’m sure you will,” she said emphasizing the word “sure”.  She rolled her eyes in disbelief.

In a hurry to get ready for his date with Angela he shoved the book back into the pocket of his shoulder bag then headed for home.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

Tom showered, shaved, put on his nicest shirt and corduroy jeans.  After checking the time, he ran down the steps and out on to the street.  The book was still in his shoulder bag.  If he did not hurry, he would be late for their first date.

Angela lived only a few blocks away from his apartment.  He thought again about how strange it was that they had never met before last night.  A strong gust of wind pressed the book into his side, as if pushed by someone, as if bringing to his attention its part in helping them meet.

He arrived at her building early, but he did not want to appear overly eager.  Besides, she might still be getting ready.  As he waited, Tom leaned against the building and watched the cars as they passed.

“Hey mister, want to buy some flowers?”

At first, he saw no one, only hearing the hesitant voice of a woman.  He looked down to see a poorly dressed elderly woman.

“Only five dollars,” she said.

Some flowers for Angela would certainly make a good impression.

Tom felt the book press into his side again as if being jostled by someone pushing by him.  When he turned to look, he saw no one.

In a fit of rage, he imagined punching the old woman hard in the face, breaking her nose, blood pouring down.  Even though the image was only in his mind, he winced at the brutalitybrutality, closing his eyes in disgust.

The woman showed him roses, carnations, and daisies.  All were wilted with most of the stems bent or broken.

“Yeah, this will make a great impression.”

He laughed to himself but felt sorry for the woman who most likely picked the flowers from a trashcan.  He gave her a ten-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

She smiled.

He entered the short hallway leading into Angela’s place and then stopped at a glass-paneled door.  It was locked.  A security camera attached to the ceiling faced directly at the entranceway.  He looked for Angela’s name on a row of a dozen buttons on the wall to the right of the door then pressed her button.

“Who is it?” Angela’s sweet soft voice answered.

“It’s Tom.  Are you ready?”

"There’s no elevator.  You’ll have to take the stairs.  I’m on the third floor, apartment 3B.  I’ll unlock the door when you get here.”

She buzzed the electronic door lock.  Tom entered the dimly lit hallway.  He was about to walk up when he thought he saw something in the shadows underneath the stairway.  The silhouette of a man darted into the darkness.  Taking the chance that it might be someone dangerous Tom walked towards the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

He walked deeper into the darkness looking for the source of the shadow.  At first the shadow did not move.  Then it slowly blended into the background with the other shadows until he could no longer see it.  When the headlights from a passing car lit the corner all the shadows below the staircase vanished except for what he thought was the shadow of a man.  When he approached the silhouette, it became smaller until it too seemed to disappear into the corner.

“Now the damn book has me seeing things.”

He told himself it was only the shadow of a passing car, but he was starting to worry.  His experience with the dragon last night, the image of hitting the cashier at the donut shop, images of beating the poor old flower lady, dark figures lurking in the shadows; Tom felt violent disturbing changes in his thoughts and feelings.

He ran up the staircase to the third floor.  The flowers were now completely bent with petals falling everywhere.  In a fit of rage, which was way out of proportion and not the way he usually behaved, he flung the flowers hard against the wall.  They made a splat leaving a wet green stain.  Afraid of his overpowering rage, he stopped for a moment to calm himself.

Her apartment was to the left.  After taking several deep breaths to quiet himself, he knocked.  The door slowly opened, and he caught a glimpse of Angela running into her bathroom wrapped in only a towel.  She covered her breasts with her arm.  The towel rode up exposing half her bottom.

“I’ll be out in a minute.  Can I bring you something to drink while you’re waiting?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

When Angela finally came out Tom lightly embraced her at first then hugged her firmly, pulling her close.  She lightly brushed her lips against his.

“You’re so beautiful.  Is that the bruise from last night?"

"Does it look bad?"

"It's not too bad.  I only hope I won't get arrested for beating my girlfriend."

Angela pretended to slap him.

"I'm joking.  No one will see it unless you point it out to them in a bright light."

"Did you mean what you said about my being your girlfriend?"

"Of course."

When they looked into each other’s eyes time seemed to slow into a dreamlike pool of wordless awareness. 

“Well, are we going out?” She whispered quietly, seductively.

“What?”

“Are we going out now or would you like to sit for a while?” She askedasked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

She led Tom to her sofa.

"First we should talk about what happened last night.  We must get things right about this.  It was terrible yet in a way it brings us closer in a very short time," Tom said.

"As you told me, I didn't call the police.  I owe my life to you.  My hero," she said with a warm smile hugging him close with her head on his shoulder.

Tom petted her hair.  It was still a little damp from her shower.  He breathed in the lavender scent of her shampoo.

"Do you trust me?  That I'm not a murderer just because I went too far and killed a man to rescue you?"

"Of course, I trust you."

"Can I trust you not to go to the police?"

"I don't want to get involved with long police procedures.  Besides, I wasn’t hurt much.  But you know what’s strange?  In the news on TV this morning there was no mention of a murder last night," she told him.

"I don't know why they wouldn't report it.  Maybe they haven’t found the body yet."

Walking out of her apartment and down the stairs Tom saw something approaching them from behind.  Angela turned to look when she saw him turn.

He distracted her by taking her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“McQuade’s Tavern, it’s quiet.  A lot of college students hang out there.  They have surprisingly good food for a fair price.  We can get to know each other a little better.  After dinner we can catch a movie if anything good is playing.”

Once at the tavern Tom opened the door for Angela.  A tall man, his eyes half closed from too much alcohol pushed passed them before she could enter.  Angered by the man’s rudeness Tom headed towards him in a rage.  In a way, it felt good to him.  The chance to hurt the man was exciting.

Angela stopped him.

“Let’s not let him ruin our time together,” she said gently squeezing his hand.

It took a moment for him to calm down.  The strange thing about the incident was how he overreacted.  It would have never bothered him so much before.

Tom led the way to a booth in the back of the tavern where they would not be disturbed.  He took a seat.  Angela sat next to him on the same side of the table.  She slid over and took his hand.  Their bodies made soft contact.  The warm comfort of her touch put him at ease.

“What would you like to drink?”  He asked.

“I don’t really drink much.  Most of the drinks burn my throat and taste bad.”

“How about trying a sweet wine?  It has a mild taste.  It may not be that good to a wine expert, but I like it.”

After a few glasses of wine and some food, their conversation became easy and open.  However, Tom was still visibly upset.

“Is something troubling you?  Why don’t you tell me what it is?  It might make you feel better to share it with me.  If not, just tell me it’s none of my business.  Was it what happened last night?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You don’t have to tell me all the details but maybe it will help us feel closer knowing we can trust each other.”

After another glass of wine, Tom decided to give her a general idea of his problem.

“I’m upset with this book I’m reading.  It has something to do with free will.  It claims there are powerful forces released when turning away from traditional spirituality.  It’s all nonsense, yet it bothers me.”

“It’s only a book.  So, stop reading it.  You’ll forget about it,” Angela said.

“It’s not just a book.”

He went on to tell her some of the details.

After another hour they were half finished with the second bottle of wine when he decided to let Angela in on a little more of his secret.

“Well, how can I explain it?  My thoughts, feelings; even my actions are somehow different.  Sometimes I feel something is following me urging me to do things I would never dream of doing before.”

They were silent for a moment before Angela spoke.

“When I used to go to church at Saint Michael’s I really loved Father Alphonsus.  He was kind and helpful when he heard my confessions.  Go have a talk with him.  Maybe he can help ease your mind.”

Tom felt Angela was the woman he was searching for his entire life.  He knew he was being overly romantic, maybe because of the wine but it was like being reunited with his long-lost soul mate.

Angela looked through her purse shuffling papers, looking for something.

“Here it is.  I have Father Alphonsus’ card.  He gave it to me when I was having some problems with an old boyfriend.  Take it.  Give him a call.  Tell him I sent you.  You have nothing to lose.”

Tom took the card to humor her.  He never intended to call this Father Alphonsus.

“It’ll be Halloween soon,” Angela said, trying to keep up the conversation.

“Do you like Halloween?  Do you get dressed up?” Tom asked.

“No.  I was curious to see if you liked it.”

“I think it’s for kids. We pretend at scary events where you can laugh afterwards is silly.  There’s nothing to laugh about with real life horrors like  warslike wars and murders.  People are killing and torturing each other all over the world.”

“I didn’t mean to make you angry. I was only curious.  What about the other holidays coming up, Thanksgiving and Christmas?” Angela asked.

“My mom and dad passed away.  I’veI’d lost touch with the rest of the family, so I stayed home.  Sometimes I go to any restaurant that’s open then go home and watch TV.”

“We have a lot in common.  When my parents were divorced, I stayed with my aunt until I was old enough to be on my own.  We never got along.  Now I never hear from any of them.  I sometimes spend the holidays with a friend or stay home like you,” she said.

“We can spend the holidays together,” Tom said.

“I’d love that.  We can make them special.”

They talked about many things and the time went by quickly.  Before long, it was too late to see a movie.  Tom suggested she come by his apartment for coffee and more conversation.

When they stood up to leave Angela stumbled.  She grabbed on to Tom’s jacket to prevent an embarrassing fall.  Unaccustomed to drinking alcohol she could barely walk without leaning on him.  Tom intended to bring her safely back home after some coffee and time for the effects of the alcohol to wear off.

Once they were outside Tom thought he saw the strange dark shapes again.

Angela held on tight to Tom’s jacket.  She focused on not falling and did not notice how upset Tom was becoming.

He told himself it was only his imagination.  That it was the aftereffects of the wine combined with the nervousness of a first date.  What he wanted most now was to be free from the commitment he made to the book.

Tom turned his attention to helping Angela walk.  He almost had to carry her to his apartment.  She dragged and tripped over her own feet.  Once inside he sighed with relief.  They were now safe from the shadows of the night.

He sat her down on the sofa ofin his living room.  She seemed so helpless, so foolish to trust a man she hardly knew.  A wave of pure lust came over him.  All romantic caring feelings he had for her were gone.  This was so different from his usual personality.

“Angela, while the coffee is brewing would you like to try a bit of liquor?  It’s sweet orange in taste.  I'll mix it with some ice.  It’s very refreshing.  It may help wake you up,” he lied.

He poured the drink, fantasizing about being naked with Angela on the couch.  It was a normal healthy daydream, which soon turned into something unspeakably evil.  Little by little, they drank one glass after another until the fantasy turned into a hellish nightmare.

The lust raging through his body became uncontrollable.  Plans on how to dispose of her body after he raped her forced themselves into his mind.

Tom pressed his hands hard against his temples until the thoughts stopped.

When Angela passed out on the couch, he lost all control.

He rolled her on to the floor face down, loosened her belt and pulled her skirt down.  She wore a paper-thin red panty, which he pulled down with a quick tug.

He pulled up her blouseblouse, undid the back of her bra and turned her over onto her back.  Her breasts and soft nipples easily slipped out when he pulled down her bra.  Angela quietly moaned.

It was all happening too fast.  Tom imagined he was only watching himself in a porno movie not actually doing it.

“I love you, Tom.”

She did not in the least way resist.  But he could not go on with it.  He could not take advantage of the woman he loved.  He wanted her to be sober and willing not drunk and helpless.

“I love you too.  I’ll make you a little more comfortable.”

He gently put her perfect breasts back into her bra and fastened the back.  Her blouse, panties and skirt came back in place; Tom sat her on the couch and began massaging her feet.

“That feels so good…Tom…”  She sighed.

“I only want to make you happy,” he said.

“Tom, did I fall off the couch?”

“You fell alright.  I straightened your clothes.  Now we’ll have some coffee before I take you home.”

“You’re so good to me.”

“Not at all and I mean that.  I’m not good at all.”

 

When they finally made it back to her apartment Angela could not get her key into the door lock.  Tom opened the door.  He picked her up and carried her to her bed.

Angela loved the feel of Tom's muscular body as he lowered her onto the bed.  She wondered how he could be so strong yet so gentle.

"Why didn't you take advantage of me when we were in your apartment?"

"I'm not sure," Tom whispered as he sat on the edge of her bed.

It was all happening so quickly.  In only a few days, Angela was in love with him.  This frightened her.  She asked Tom again.

"You could have easily turned this into a..." Angela was not sure what to say next.

The bedroom was quiet for what was for her an uncomfortably long time.  She held back her tears.  She wondered if maybe she was not his type that he did not want to become too involved with her.

"I want to have a serious relationship with you, not some one-night stand," Tom said.

"Give me a kiss goodnight before you go," Angela whispered as she put her arms around him.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

Father Alphonsus sat alone behind his desk at the rectory deep in thought.  He remembered his life before he entered the priesthood.  It was when he was married.  Even now twenty years after her death he often thought about his wife.  A stroke took her from him in an instant.  He was grateful she did not suffer a long illness, yet the shock of her death meant the end of his former life.

Religion always played a major role in his life.  Before he met his wife, he intended to join the priesthood.  They met in college while taking the same course onin philosophy.  As her death happened in an instant so too did their falling in love.  It seemed to him so long ago, more a dream than a reality.

When he chose marriage over the priesthoodpriesthood Father Alphonsus felt psychiatry was the best alternative.  At one time mental illness was believed to be a form of demonic possession.  Gradually it became an accepted illness that responded to treatment.  He would serve God by helping the sick of mind instead of helping people spiritually.

After her death, he gave up his psychiatric practice to join the priesthood as he first intended.

Though at times being alone was painful, he was sure he could never find another woman to take her place.  All he wanted now was a quiet life.  Celibacy in the Church seemed the best way of living, freeing him from the distractions of money, family, childrenchildren, and sex.  Yet he often wondered if his decision to leave everything behind to begin a new life as a priest was the right one.

Father Alphonsus went to the window overlooking the backyard of the church.  Sparrows gathering by a hanging birdfeeder reminded him of Saint Francis who saw all of nature as a mirror of God.  Saint Francis believed he was a brother of all that was alive.

A story about Saint Francis came to mind.  Birds of various kinds were feeding on the ground near the monastery where the saint lived.

Saint Francis spoke to them about praising God who clothed them in feathers, gave them wings to fly, provided them with pure air and cared for them without any worries.  The birds came to him instead of flying away.

All Father Alphonsus wanted now was to be like those birds free from the cares of life.  He laughed.  Whenever he walked up to the birds, they flew away in fear long before he could take a step closer.  They knew he was far from being a saint.

He returned to his seat behind the desk to continue brooding.  When he first entered the priesthood, he found the quiet peacefulness he desired.  That only lasted a short time.  One day the bishop came to Saint Michael the Archangel Church to give him a special assignment.  The conversation about his assignment played in his mind, more like an imaginary happening than a reality.

 

“Father Alphonsus, I want your expertise in psychiatry to fill an important need for our parish.”

“I’m honored and will gladly do what I can.”

“If you knew what I want you to do you might not be so eager.”

Father Alphonsus’ curiosity peaked.

“With the illness of Father Jones, he is taking an early retirement and I want you to help our new exorcist.”

“But I’m a psychiatrist.  I believe such matters have a physical bodily cause and can be treated with medication and counseling.”

“Well, that’s the reason I want you.  I want you to use your knowledge of psychiatry to help determine if a person is in fact possessed or the victim of mental illness.  You will not treat him.  You will refer him to a local psychiatrist.  If, however you can find no medical explanation you will refer him to our exorcist.”

“First of all, I’ve told you already that I do not believe in demonic possession.  Secondly, I have no idea how an exorcism works.”

"As to the first objection, you are a priest and there are many references to exorcisms in the New Testament.  ‘He gave the power against unclean spirits, to cast them out’ (Matt. 10:1) is one example.  You must try to have faith in this. 

The second point will be resolved by firsthand experience.  I’m certain that when you encounter a true demonic possession you will see how it works.”

“I’m a psychiatrist.  I’m sure these cases are due to epilepsy, hysteria, schizophrenia, or some other physical and psychological disorders,” Father Alphonsus protested.

“Yes.  But not all.  That’s why we want you to make sure the person is really possessed before we send him to the exorcist who will perform the ritual.”

Both Father Alphonsus and the bishop were quiet, not sure what to say.  The bishop spoke first.

“Everywhere people are afraid of demonic possession.  They don't know much about it but still they fear it.  They look to us for answers.  Even though the entire subject is not clear we must help them.”

“But how?”

“We can’t say we have no idea what to do.  You have more of a belief in psychiatry than in exorcism.  Once you learn what to look for, once you are sure psychiatry will not work then you'll know when to send the afflicted soul to the exorcist.”

Father Alphonsus paused for a moment before deciding.

“I’ll do my best.”

 

There was always one point that troubled Father Alphonsus.  When he possesses someone against his will, the devil attempts to scare and force the person into giving up his soul.  In effect, the victim has not chosen to be with the devil.  He cannot be totally to blame.  Prayer and exorcism can save his soul.

On the other hand, he could never understand why anyone would freely choose to give up his eternal soul for a temporary gain.  Why would anyone sell his soul to the devil knowing he must spend eternity in hell?

Father Alphonsus believed a more likely scenario was to seduce the man gradually into committing ever-increasing acts of evil in exchange for what he desires.  As the sinner becomes closer to Satan, he begins to reject God.  He finds himself at home with the devil and other evil doers.  He becomes like a member of a gang.  The result is the same.  In effect, he has sold his soul to the devil.

In such a case, an exorcism was of no benefit because the devil has not entered the person's body.  Instead, the man is fulfilling his part of the agreement in exchange for the benefits Satan can give him.

How could he solve such a case?  He was sure there must be a way to invalidate such an unwritten contract, but he did not know how.

Father Alphonsus checked his watch.  It was almost time to hear the confessions of his parishioners in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  This always made him anxious.  He calmed himself then headed for the church.

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

Tom took a cab to Saint Michael the Archangel Church.  It was not because of any strong spiritual beliefs.  He was desperate.  It was worth a try. He promised Angela he would see Father Alphonsus.

Assuming the priest might have an office somewhere in the church he looked there first.  The church was in the style of a great medieval cathedral only on a much smaller scale, a miniature cathedral built of stone and stained glass.

Over the large wooden doors leading into the church was a statue of an angel.  The angel’s wings were spread out behind him for balance.  He was pushing a long sword into the chest of a horned demon lying on his back with his hands unsuccessfully trying to deflect the sword.

“Almost as good as Spiderman,” Tom mumbled to himself as he pulled open the door.

The light coming in with him sent shadows in every direction.  When the door closed behind him, the shadows vanished.  They were replaced by a dim light coming from several lights encased in tall hexagonal glass fixtures.  The lights were held up by chains strung down from the high ceiling.  In a moment, his eyes became accustomed to the dim lighting.  He could see the daylight pressing against the many stained-glass windows.  The light was held back by the thick glass.

Except for an old man sitting in the front pew the church was empty.

There was a statue of Saint Michael by the altar.  This time his sword was inches away from the chest of a serpent-like demon instead of the horned devil in the statue above the front doors.

When Tom saw beams of red and blue light landing beside the statue, he turned and went back outside.  It was too much like the lights that frightened him in a church when he was a young boy.

He looked for another way to see the priest.  Then he noticed a covered walkway towards the side of the church that led to a modern brick two story building.  Reaching the door, he read the note taped to its window.

“Confessions from three until five.”

It was a quarter to five.  Tom went back into the church.  This time the old man sitting in the front pew was gone.  Wanting to get it over withwith, he decided to find Father Alphonsus in a confessional if he must.  He could not wait until five.

There were four confessional areas built into the walls on each side of the church.  They had closed wooden doors flanked by deep purple curtains where the penitent would enter.  By looking closely, he could see that only one confessional was dimly lit.  Above. Above the door was Father Alphonsus’ name engraved on a small rectangular wooden board that slid into a metal holder.  Tom pushed past the curtain.  Inside there was a padded wooden plank for kneeling facing a dark double-screened window that concealed the view.

“Father Alphonsus, are you there?”

He believed he saw a wood panel slide open removing one of the screens. He could see an obscure shadow on the other side of the screen.

“Are you Father Alphonsus?  I need to talk with you about something which has me deeply troubled.”

The shadow moved.  Then he heard an indistinct mumble or hum or rasping sound, which Tom assumed was the priest.

“A friend recommended I see you about a problem I’m having.  You see I’m reading a book that has me troubledtroubled me.  Following the author’s instructions, I took the book without paying for it.”

He listened for a response from behind the screen but only heard the same mumble or hum or rasping sound he heard before, which he took as a sign that the priest was listening.

“Then I performed a ceremony involving candles, incenseincense, and a vial of blue liquid, which I drank.  It was all only a game for me.”

The same mumble or hum or rasping sound came from behind the screen.

“It has to do with free will and forces released when turning away from traditional spirituality.  And well, I’m not sure how to explain it.  I want to put it all behind me.  But now I’m haunted by terribly evil thoughts, nightmaresnightmares, and shadows.  I’m sure it all has to do with having a guilty conscience.”

This time there was only silence from behind the screen.  Tom wondered if he might have shocked the old priest.

“Father Alphonsus, are you listening to me?  What do you have to say?”

More of the same mumbling sounds which Tom wished he could understand.

“I know it was wrong for me to take the book and experiment with spiritual ceremonies I know nothing about, but can you help me get back some peace of mind?”

Again, there was no response, only the sound of wind passing by the confessional.  When Tom looked through the screen separating him from the priest the dark shadow moved to one side.

“Why don’t you have the decency to answer me?”

Still there was no response. In a fit of rage, he left the confessional.  Tom was determined to find out why the priest behind the closed door did not respond.  He tried the doorknob.  It was unlocked.  The door flew open.  It was pushed from inside.  When he looked, there was no one there, only an empty chair.

Terrified that he was either being haunted by evil spirits or completely losing his mind he ran outside.

“This is all due to a guilty consciousness.  Maybe I’m more religious than I thought.  That’s what it must be.  The guilt must be driving me crazy.”

Hoping the old priest had the answer that would set his mind at ease; Tom left the church and headed back to the rectory.

He pushed open the door to the rectory and went inside.  There was a large desk set at an angle facing the door.  A grey-haired woman sat behind the desk.

"I must see Father Alphonsus right now.”

"He's very busy.  You must have an appointment to see him.”

"If you don't get him out here right now, I'll go back there and get him myself.”

"I'll see what I can do,” she said more out of being frightened by his wild demeanor than having any true compassion for him.

A portlyAn overweight priest with a red face came out from the next room.  His brown eyes were partially hidden behind a pair of large wire framed glasses.  He was wearing the customary black suit and white collar.

"Hello.  I'm Father Alphonsus.  Step back into my office where we can talk in private,” he said in a gentle soothing voice.

Tom followed the priest into a large room with an immense desk, twice the size of the receptionist’s already large desk.  The desk was set against the wall, which had the usual paintings of Christ and Mary.  There was also a painting of Saint Michael, this time with huge wings that could easily power a small plane.  He was standing on a man with hoofed feet and a long tail.  This time there was a different shorter sword plunged deep into the creature’s chest.

"Now how can I help you?"  The priest asked, closing the door.

He sat behind the desk.  Tom took a seat on the leather chair facing the desk.

“Father Alphonsus I’m having some difficulty with feelings of guilt, nightmares, evil thoughts.  A friend told me about your ability and I ah…”

Nervous, he could not concentrate, for a moment unable to explain why he was there.

“You said you are bothered by guilt.  What did you do to make yourself feel this way?”

“Well, I sort of; well, I shoplifted a book.”

Father Alphonsus looked at him for a moment before speaking.

“There is much more to this isn’t there?  Take your time and explain it as best you can.”

The old priest swiveled his chair to the side then cupped his hands as if in prayer.  This time his thumbs were under his chin, his fingers encircling his nose, his head bowed, and his eyes closed.

“I found a mysterious book.  It has no title and no author.  There’s a serpent engraved on the front cover.  The serpent is sending fire towards its own tail.”

“I see.  Except for the fire it’s a variation of an ouroboros.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Okay, continue.”

“Well, I shoplifted it, the way the author suggested.  I believed it was all an interesting game, a sort of playacting.  Later that night I performed the ceremony described in the book.  It was fun.  The back of the book opened into a sort of box that contained all the items I needed.  I even drank the vial of blue liquid that was included.”

“What went wrong?”

“There was supposed to be a chapter to reverse the ceremony.  I made sure I saw the chapter before doing the ceremony.  After the ceremony the chapter was gone, only blank pages in its place.”

“Continue please.”

“Now, I see strange shadows come and go.  I have terrible thoughts and urges.  I almost raped my girlfriend.  I want it all to stop.  I want to start over.  I don’t want special freedom or knowledge.”

“You said you almost raped your girlfriend.”

“We were both drinking.  She was so drunk she did not resist.  She didn’t even realize what was happening.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I couldn’t go on with it.  I couldn’t take advantage of her.  I wanted her to be sober and willing, not drunk and helpless.”

Father Alphonsus looked up and then turned his chair to face Tom.

“You did the right thing.  Perhaps we can have a formal confession where we can try for reconciliation.  Even if you do not intellectually believe in the spiritual reality something deep inside you feels this reality and needs to make amends so you can be at peace.”

Tom felt relieved that the priest understood his predicament.  He wondered if it was possible to have religious feelings on a deep emotional level even though intellectually, he did not believe.  He hoped the priest was right.

“Tom, if you’re not ready right now we can have the confession at some other time when you feel the moment is right.”

“Yeah, that might be best.”

“Let me have a look at the book.  Maybe I can help you better once I’ve seen it.”

It was strange.  He was sure he put it in the pocket of his shoulder bag before leaving his apartment.  Tom got up and searched all the pockets of his bag.  The book could have slid into one of these pockets.  Tom checked each pocket twice, but the book was not there.

“Father, I must have left it at home.  I hope I didn’t lose it.  Usually, I have it in one of the pockets of this shoulder bag.  I don’t know how it happened but it’s not here now.”

“Well, bring it in tomorrow.  I’ll be free after lunch.  Meet me here at about one. In the meantime, perhaps we can say a prayer together.”

“I’m not sure.  I mean I don’t want to pretend at something I’m not sure I believe in.”

“Do it to humor me.”

The priest came out from behind his desk and then pulled up a chair facing Tom.  He took Tom’s hands, placed them on their now touching knees and covered them with his hands.

"I don't feel comfortable doing this.  So, if you don't mind, I'll just leave now."

"Okay, I understand," Father Alphonsus walked Tom to the door.

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

 

Once outside the rectory, Tom’s cell phone rang.

"Hi Angela."

"How did it go with Father Alphonsus?"

"Okay, I guess.  I couldn't find the book.  I was sure I had it in my shoulder bag, but it wasn't there.  It's very strange."

"I can't wait for you to tell me all about it.  Are we still going to meet at McQuade's?"  Angela asked.

"Sure, I’ll catch a cab.  Give me about half an hour.”

A cab came around the corner by the church and pulled up to the curb.  The driver was an enormous man with a large round face and short crew cut hair.  He was too bulky for the cabcab, almost taking up the entire front two seats.

"Need a ride?"  He shouted, peering at Tom over a pair of tiny wire framed glasses.  It was more a statement of fact than a question.

Tom was just able to enter the cab and close the door before it sped away.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you where I want to go.”

The driver slammed on the brakes causing Tom to bang his head against the thick clear plastic partition separating the driver from the passengers.  He twisted around in his seat leaning back until his head protruded through a small window in the plastic divider.  Only inches from Tom's face, the driver’s breath reeked of garlic, onion, tobaccotobacco, and beer.  Tom sat back to escape the stench.  The driver stared over his glasses, which sat down low on his nose.  They were more of a decoration than a practical visual aid.

“Well then where would you like me to take you?”  He asked with an angry knowing smirk before sitting back down in his seat.

Tom heard the man mutter under his breath.

“I know where I’d like to take you, to hell with me.”

“Take me to McQuade’s Tavern.”

In case there was any trouble, Tom took note of the driver's name on the license underneath his photo, “Levi Osami”.

 

"McQuade’s Tavern,” the driver shouted as he slammed on the brakes.  This time Tom put his arm up in time to prevent banging his head.  He jumped out of his seat on the driver’s side.

“How much do I owe?”

“What?”

“How much do I owe?”

“You owe much more than you can pay for with money dickhead.”

With that, he sped away before Tom could pay him.

“Now who’s the dickhead?” Tom shouted back.

The shadows by the tavern shifted from the passing car headlights.  He believed he saw a detail in the shadows that did not make sense.  One long shadow did not move with the others.  It remained in a fixed location.  Then when he moved closer to get a better view the shadow appeared to run behind the building and then it disappeared.

A customer left the tavern a moment afterwards sending a dim stream of light across the parking lot.  This would explain why the long shadow disappeared except that it disappeared before the door was opened.  Tom assumed the discrepancy was only due to his mind confusing the entire situation.

When he reached the glass door of the tavern, he saw his reflection in the glass along with the reflection of a man right behind him.  Tom entered then held the door open for the man.  There was no one there.  Again, he wondered if these visions were all due to being tired or if there was more to it.

Once inside it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tavern.  Angela was sitting at the far end of the tavern in the same well-hidden booth where they sat the night before.  When she saw him, she got up to give him a tight hug and a soft kiss.

“How did things go?”  She took his hand and led him to the seat next to her on the same side of the booth.

"Did you like Father Alphonsus?"

Tom was about to speak but stopped when he saw Levi the cab driver come into the bar.  Tom imagined him to be a gigantic beach ball with a huge round head balanced on top.  He wondered if the cabby was looking for him to pay for the ride.  Levi sat at the bar.

“Hey asshole can I get a beer or what?”

“No need to get rude,” the bartender replied.

“Get me a beer, whatever’s on tap.”

“We have several…”

“What are you stupid or something?  Pick anything.  Bring it to me right now.”

Even though Levi obviously did not exercise to keep fit, carrying all that weight gave him tremendous strength.  In a fight, the bartender would be no match for him.

Tom walked towards the bar intending to pay the cabby what he owed.

“Going somewhere?”  Angela asked.

It reminded him of what she said when they first met at the Café de France.

“I have to pay for my cab ride.  The man didn’t wait for me to give him the money.”

Tom turned around to look at the bar.  Levi was gone.  He must have left the tavern or sat somewhere else.  In any case, Tom was relieved that for now he did not have to confront the man.

"Tom, did you have a chance to speak with Father Alphonsus?” Angela asked, wondering why Tom seemed disoriented.

“Yeah, but like I told you, I didn’t have the book with me.  I’m sure I put it in my bag but when I looked for it, it was gone.  Maybe it’s somewhere in my apartment.  Anyway, I’ll meet with him tomorrow at one.”

“I can come with you if you like.”

“I don’t want you to go to so much trouble.  I’ll take a cab.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“I don’t really need a car.  It saves me a lot of money.”

“I’ll pick you up and take you to the church if you like.  I can come in with you or I can wait in the car until you’re done,” Angela offered.

“Well, I could use the ride and moral support.  You wouldn’t mind waiting in the car?”

“Not at all, I’ll do some reading.  Besides I’m eager to see that mysterious book of yours and find out what Father Alphonsus thinks about it.”

“I’m not so sure I want you to see the book.  Not until Father Alphonsus has a look at it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure.  I mean it would make me feel better if Father Alphonsus saw it first.”

“I understand.  You can show me the book only when you’re ready.”

Angela leaned against his side.  He reached overover, putting his arm around her waist.

“It’s getting late.  Why don’t I drop you off at your apartment?”  She asked.

“Your apartment is close.  Why did you drive?”

“I’m still a little scared from the other night.”

When they left the bar, Tom looked for the cab driver again.  There was a cab parked outside.

“You don’t need to look for a cab.  Remember I have my car,” Angela said watching Tom stare at the cab.

“I know but it’s the same cab that I took to get here.  The driver is a weirdo.  I don’t understand why he didn’t even wait for me to pay for the ride.  Anyway, I appreciate you taking me home.”

Angela’s car was at the far end of the parking lot.  Tom was glad he was there to keep her safe.  He was finally with someone who seemed to care for him the way he cared for her.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TEN

  

 

Too intoxicated to drive, Levi Osama left his cab parked by McQuade’s tavern and walked home.  He usually parked his cab on the street in front of his one room apartment located in the basement of a three-story building.  It was a sectioned off area of the basement by the plumbing pipes, electrical wireswires, and heating system.  Two one-foot-high windows created the dimdim lighting and a view of the sidewalk.  One room with a cot, stove and shower made up his living area.

Even though he had more than enough money to live better it was all he wanted.  He had no need to keep the room neat or even clean.  His few pieces of clothing were hung on a stand under one of the windows.  He only changed what he was wearingwearing, when necessary, usually if they became too stained and smelly.  There was no need for the stove because he only ate out at a fast-food restaurant or a pub.  For. For Levi this was home.

Earlier that night when Levi took Tom to McQuade’s tavern he followed Tom in.  Levi. Levi ordered a beer at the bar before going into the dining area on the other side of the tavern where it was dark and hidden.  He was comfortable in the dark where he could watch without being seen.

Tom was on the other side of the bar having dinner with Angela.  Levi watched.  If Tom was not with Angela, he might have taken a chance on followingto follow her outside.  There would be no need for small talk.  What he wanted was simple and straightforward.

Levi did not understand why anyone would ever want to get married.  Trying to have children baffled him.

“Why go through all that trouble just to get laid?”  He always said.

He was not sure if he wanted to go to a strip club or rent a porno disk.  He was too tired to visit one of his prostitutes.

“Hey dumb ass, how much are you going to soak me for tonight?”

The waiter reluctantly came to his table with the bill.

“Here, take this and keep the change.”

“Thank you.  This is very generous.”

“Shut up.  Stop the bullshit.  Easy come, easy go.  I make so much money I have no idea how to spend it.  I don’t have to go around kissing everyone’s ass to pay the bills.”

The waiter could not understand how Levi made so much money driving a cab.  He was sure there was more to it.

Levi pushed the waiter out of his way as he headed for the door where he paused for a moment, then walked back to his table and sat down.

“Hey dumb ass, come join me for some conversation and hard drinking.”

“I’m not allowed to drink while I wait tables.”

Levi got up knocking the table over with his belly.

The door leading to the tavern office was at the back of the bar.  Levi pushed the locked door open bending the hinges and cracking the doorframe.

“Here’s some money.  I’ll be drinking with your dumb ass waiter so don’t fire him or I’ll come after you.”

The manager thought it best to humor him.  The money helped make up his mind.

Back at his table, Levi ordered drinks for his waiter and himself.  After a short while, both slurred their words and had difficulty keeping their eyes open.

“Listen…Ah…What’s your real name?”

“James.”

“Well James, if you make me happy, I might be able to let you in on what I have.  I mean how I make my living.  There’s plenty of money and very little effort.”

“What is it?” James asked.

“Are you a religious man?”

“I’m about as religious as anyone.”

“You’ll have to give it up if you want to do this work.”

“I don’t think I can."

“Well let me explain how it is with me.”

Both men were quiet for a while until James spoke.

“You were going to explain something to me.  I forgot what it was, but I think it had something to do with church.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.  Now this is how it is for me.”

Levi paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Why did God make me big, fat and ugly; with no control of my emotions?”

James raised his eyebrows.  He was not sure how to answer.

“Well, I say fuck him.  I’ll stay with the ones who understand and accept me as I am.  They put me in an important position, to help Lilith.  She’s my beautiful companion, not a girlfriend but someone important who needs my protection.  I help her eliminate the newcomers who refuse to keep their promises.”

“Newcomers for what?  Is this a club or something?”

“If you want to be part of whatever it is we’re doing you'll have to renounce your religion and join us.”

“But I can’t give up God.”

Levi passed out, his head on the table.

“I need some help here,” James called out to the bartender.

“I see your companion has had enough for the night.  Do you know where he lives?”  The bartender asked.

“I have no idea.  Listen, can you help me get home?  I can’t drive like this.”

“Sure, I’ll take you.  But what do we do with him?  We can’t leave him here,” the bartender said.

“How about if we leave him in his cab?  When he wakes up, he can drive himself home,” James said.

 

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

The next day it was almost ten before Tom finally woke from another night of fitful sleep interrupted by vague nightmares.  He put on a pot of coffee and poured himself a bowl of cereal.  He was not sure if it was corn, wheat, or whatever kind of flakes or squares.  It really did not matter to him.  They all tasted like pieces of cardboard and Styrofoam coated with sugar.

Clumps of foul-smelling semi solids came from the container of milk.  Tom decided it was best to skip making breakfast.  There were several fast-food restaurants on the way to the church.  He was sure Angela would not mind stopping for breakfast.

After a quick shower, he went outside to wait for her, this time making sure the book was in his shoulder bag.

“We’re early,” Angela said as she drove up to the curb.

“Good, we can stop to get something to eat.”

Tom checked his shoulder bag again to make sure the book was there.  He knew it was there, but he had a strange feeling that it was somehow trying to escape.

“What’s wrong Tom?”

“I’m a little nervous.  That’s all.”

“You met Father Alphonsus yesterday.  Didn’t you like him?

“He’s okay, I guess.  It’s only that I’m not that religious.  I’m only playing along, humoring him.  I seriously doubt he can do anything to help me.”

Five minutes later they were at the Train Stop Café.  From the outside it was a typical 1950’s style diner but with the appearance of a railroad dining car.  Inside the original diner was remodeled into a miniature restaurant.  A few tables set close to each other replaced the old booths and barstools.

Angela parked in one of the only three spaces left.  A short walk across the graveled lot, up the steps, then Tom held the door for her.

“I have a seat in the back by the window.  Is that alright?” The waitress asked.

While they looked at the menu, Tom noticed a woman sitting at the table across from theirs.  Her sparkling blue-green eyes and straw-colored blond hair that almost hung down toon her shoulders fascinated him.  She stared at Tom while smiling playfully, obviously flirting with him.

Angela turned to see what he was staring at before giving him a questioning look.

“I can’t help it.  It’s only a physical response, like a reflex,” he whispered hoping the other woman could not hear.

“Yeah, right; some reflex,” Angela whispered back.

“But it doesn’t mean…”

“I know.  I’m only giving you a hard time.”

"I recognize her.  I saw her at the bookstore where I found the book.  She was the one who put it back on the shelf."

The blond smiled at him again and then crossed her legs, her short skirt riding up high on her thighs.  The edge of her blue panties was just visible.

"Why are you staring at her again?  If you’re so attracted to her, why don't you go sit with her instead of with me?"

"It's just that I recognizerecognized her from the bookstore, and she had the book before I did.  That's why I'm looking," Tom lied.  He felt a strong attraction to the woman, but it was not just a physical attraction.  There was a mysterious almost spiritual fascination.

“Are you two talking about me?” The blond asked, giving Tom an alluring wink and a smile.

Tom found it funny.  She was being too obvious and silly.  He shook his head in disbelief.

“Ah, no; not at all,” Tom said.

“Are you two lovers or only friends?  Because if you’re free I’d like to meet with you sometime.  My name is Lilith.”

“We’re in a relationship,” Angela said in an angry tone of voice.

“I wasn’t talking to you sweetie.  Let the man speak for himself.”

“I’m flattered but she’s right.  We’re going out.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.  She's delusional if she thinks you won't drop her to be with me," Lilith said.

"You're the one who's delusional.  We have something special that no one can ever stop," Angela yelled back.

Tom spent the rest of the meal trying not to look at Lilith.  He could tell from the corner of his eye that she was still staring at him.  When he took a chance on a brief look Lilith fondled her breasts over her blouse slowly moving her hands up to her bra straps pretending to adjust them.

“Come on Tom let’s get out of here.  We have an appointment to keep.”

Angela took his hand and led the way.  As they stood up Lilith jumped to her feet and bumped into Tom causing him to drop his shoulder bag. The book was now on the floor.

"Here's your book," Lilith said.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure," Lilith said as she surreptitiously kissed a note and slipped the lipstick covered scrap of paper into his pocket.  Following Angela to her car Tom glanced at the note.

“Lilith Veil.  I know about the book.  Call me.”

On the other side of the scrap of paper was her phone number.

 

Angela was quiet during the short ride to the church.  Tom also remained quiet.  His thoughts alternated between wondering what Lilith had to do with the book and his appointment with Father Alphonsus.

Angela parked at the curb.

“Tom that woman at the diner is up to no good.  I have a strong feeling about this and I’m usually right.”

“You have nothing to worry about.  I’m with you.”

“Don’t forget the book,” she said, handing him his shoulder bag.

Tom walked up to the rectory.  Before going in he hesitated for a moment to look back at the car.  Angela nodded encouragement, motioning with her hands to go inside.  He took a deep breath, pulled the door open then went inside.

“It’s nice to see you again,” said the same receptionist he rushed past on his last visit.

“I’m sorry if I was a little rude last time,” said Tom.

“Don’t worry about it.  I understand how difficult life can become.  Father Alphonsus took me under his wing.  He made a real difference in my life.”

Tom put on a polite smile.  He wondered if she was being paid to drum up business for the priest.

“How much will it cost to see Father Alphonsus?”

“He doesn’t accept money.”

“Really?  I thought he was once a psychiatrist.  He must charge something or require a contribution to the church.”

“He insists on no discussion of money at any time.  He only wants to do God’s work.”

Tom decided to stop the conversation before she tried to recruit him into the faith, “The Armed Forces of the Church”.

Her enthusiasm stopped when she saw the expression on his face.

“I’ll tell him you’re here.”

A moment later Father Alphonsus appeared.

“Good to see you again Tom,” he said giving him a firm warm handshake.

“Let’s go into my office where we can talk in private.”

Father Alphonsus pulled the chair out from behind his desk so they could be face to face without the barrier of the desk between them.  Their knees almost touched.

“How about a short prayer before we begin?”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d rather not."

The priest looked a bit disappointed.

“That’s fine.  Now have you brought the book that’s been giving you so much trouble?”

First Tom explained the details of the ceremony he performed.  Then he took the book out of his shoulder bag and handed it to him.

“Fine leather, gold leaf page edges, the ouroboros etching on the cover.  This is a beautiful book.  The ouroboros is a bit odd because it’s shooting fire towards its tail instead of eating it.  It must mean destruction instead of renewal.

On the back cover of the book, I see a letter ‘Y’ that’s been altered.  The side pointing to the left ends in an arrow while the side pointing to the right ends in a short horizontal line.  I’m not sure what this letter ‘Y’ symbolizes.  I’ll have to look it up but for now let’s concentrate on the book itself.”

Father Alphonsus gently ran his fingers across the gold edges of the book.  The back of the book gradually opened allowing the empty vial, candleholders and serpent illustrated cloth to fall to the floor.

“A hidden compartment!  I see what you mean,” he said with the innocent excitement of a child finding a new toy.  He put everything back into the compartment.

Tom took the book from him and opened it up to the missing pages.

“See here is where the chapter on reversing the ceremony is supposed to be.”

"Yes, I see it's blank."

Father Alphonsus sat back in his chair and slowly turned the pages.  Tom watched the priest’s face as he slowly studied each page one after the other.  The expression on his face changed from curiosity to an extremely troubled look.

"This is the book that is giving you so much heartache?"

“Skim through some of the pages to get a general idea.  The illustrations are good.  The instructions tempt your curiositycuriosity, urging you to read more.  It seems like play acting; only a game but after leading you into the ceremony there’s no way back out.”

“Why did you drink the liquid in the vial? It may have been a hallucinogen.”

“Look at the directions in chapter three the Initiation Ceremony,” Tom said.

Father Alphonsus adjusted his glasses before looking closely into the book.

“Reconciliation was supposed to be the next chapter.  As you can see it’s missing.”

Father Alphonsus brought the book closer to the desk lamp, his face closer to the book and began thumbing through the pages.  Tom remained silent for a while to let the priest concentrate on the text.  It was taking longer than expected.  Tom could not wait.

“Well?  What do you think I should do?  I mean do you think you can help me?”

Father Alphonsus’ face now took on a sad look of sympathy.  He looked at the book then he looked at Tom.  Then he took a deep breath and let out a long-troubled sigh.

"See I told you it was bad.”

The old priest remained silent.

“I know it’s not some magic spell,” Tom said.

Father Alphonsus was about to speak.  He stopped when Tom continued.

“I want you to help me get passed the guilt.  I think the guilt is making me lose touch with reality, making me believe that what I read in the book is true.  You even said to yourself that someone can stop believing with their mind but still believe deep inside.  I need someone to help me sort this out, to help bring me back to my normal self again.  You were once a psychiatrist.  You must know a way to help me."

The priest paused for a moment before speaking.

"My son, this is nothing but a blank book.  There is nothing printed on these pages.  It must be some sort of diary.”

Tom took the book from him and looked at the pages.  He was right.  They were all blank.

“Listen, don’t panic.  I don’t practice psychiatry any longer, but I can help you find someone to evaluate what’s happening to you.”

“Father Alphonsus there could be another explanation.  I don’t believe in the supernatural powers of the book, and I don’t believe I’m insane.”

“Don’t misunderstand me.  I never intended to imply that you’re insane.  There are many possible explanations.  A psychiatrist can help explain a delusion caused by too much stress, a fever, lack of sleep or depression and anxiety.  During the ceremony, you drank the blue liquid that was in the vial.  It may have contained a hallucinogen.”

“Someone could have gone into my apartment and switched books on me.  He could have taken the original book and replaced it with a book containinghaving only blank pages,” Tom said.

“Isn’t that explanation a bit far-fetched?”

“There was a cabdriver who seemed to know something about me.  He didn’t even wait for me to pay him, saying I owed much more than I could pay for with money.”

“But that doesn’t mean…”

Tom interrupted the priest before he could finish.

“Then there’s the woman at the diner who gave me this note.”

Tom checked the note to make sure her writing was still there.  He did not want a repetition of disappearing text.

“It says her name and that she knows about the book,” Tom said as he handed the note to priest.

“I see it does, but it can also have many other meanings.  Perhaps she learned about your shoplifting the book.”

“I don’t know.  I’m so confused.”

The old priest took Tom’s hands in his.

“It won’t hurt to see a psychiatrist.  At the very least, he can give you something to ease your anxiety until everything is straightened out.  I have the names of a few doctors who practice nearby.  One of them can help you.”

“I guess I can try.”

Father Alphonsus wrote the names of the psychiatrists then handed the note to Tom.

“I’ll check up on you in a day or so to see how you’re doing.”

Tom thanked him, took the bookbook, and went back to Angela waiting in the car.  He entered the car without saying a word.

“What’s wrong?  I can tell it didn’t go so well,” Angela said.

Tom shrugged his shoulders as he looked down at the book on his lap.

“Can I see the book now?”

“There’s nothing to see,” he said, handing her the book.

Angela thumbed through the pages of the book.  When she saw nothing, she rolled down the car window and held it in the sunlight.

“Tom there’s nothing in this book, only blank pages.”

Angela stared at the open book on her lap.

“Angela, what are you thinking?  Do you think I’ve lost my mind?  Someone could have switched my book with a blank book.”

“I’m confused.  The book is blank, but you truly believe there was something in it.  But then again you seem to doubt this is the same book.  I don’t understand.”

“Well, you’ve perfectly described my present predicament.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone switched my book with a blank one.  Either that or I’m losing my mind.”

“But who would do such a thing and why?  Who would even know you had the book or even care?” Angela asked.

“The cabdriver seemed to be angry with me.  He must know something about it.  Then there’s Lilith, the woman at the diner.”

“What can she possibly have to do with all of this?” Angela was still upset about how Lilith flirted with Tom.

Tom showed Angela the note with Lilith’s name and phone number.

"That bitch!  She's trying to steal you away from me.  You are with me, right?"

"Sure I am.  But maybe it’s all part of anthe initiation.  They’re following me to make sure I’m worthy enough to join them.  They keep switching books on me.  First, they switched it with a book missing the chapter on reconciliation.  Then when they saw, I was going to the priest for help they switched it again but this time with a completely blank book.  That way I couldn’t give away their secret society.”

“Tom, what did Father Alphonsus say about it?”

“He gave me the name of a few psychiatrists.”

They both burst out laughing.

“Tom this sounds very strange.  The vial of blue liquid could have brought on this completely delusional experience.  Tell the psychiatrist.”

“Yeah.  Why not?  What else can I do?”

“I’ll be here to help you.”

Tom leaned over trying to give her a warm kiss.  Angela hesitantly puckered her lips keeping her mouth closed.  His lips encircled her lips, his tongue coming to a stop.   

Angela started the car and drove off without saying anything.  She was worried about Tom, but she was also worried about herself.  She was not sure why she wanted to stay with him, why she let herself get involved with such a man.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

Back in his apartment, Tom took the book into the bedroom and sat in front of his computer on the small desk next to his bed.  He looked out the window for a moment lost in thought.

Before giving in to a compulsion to open the book he looked at the note Father Alphonsus wrote for him.  It listed the names and numbers of the psychiatrists he recommended.  Which one of these doctors would help him the most?  His future relied on a random selection.

When he opened the book, he saw a gray haze come over the pages.  He blew the vapors away then gasped in astonishment as he saw that the text was back on the pages.  The chapters were the same as before.  But the chapter on reconciliation was still missing.

Thoughts raced through his mind too fast and chaotic to comprehend.  He closed his eyes for a moment then looked out the window to calm himself.  It worked for a while.  The cars going down the road distracted him, slowing his agitation until a cab pulled into a parking space by the curb in front of his building.

Tom could make out the silhouette of Levi.  He was sure the cab driver was following him.  He ran to the door and locked it.  Looking out the window, he saw the cab was still there, but Levi was not.  With the door locked, Tom felt safe.  He put his cell phone on the desk just in case Levi broke in.

After a moment, he turned his attention to the computer and began searching the web for the names of psychiatrists.  He wanted to find one on his own; someone who could give him an impartial opinion and not someone who might be influenced by Father Alphonsus’ religious beliefs.

All at once the web page of a psychiatrist who treated problems like his popped up on the screen.  The website had a black background with gold lettering except for a rectangular area in the upper right side of the screen.  In this rectangular area was the image of an open book.  On the page to the left was a drawing too small and hazy to make out.  On the page to the right, the word “Reconciliation” was set diagonally.  He read the text.

 

“Do you find yourself in a bind where you ask yourself if your problems are only in your mind or if there is something actually wrong?  Is your distress due to a bad mental state or to a real misfortune?  I specialize in such cases and am always available to help you.  The first session is free.  Call me or send an e-mail.  Please fill out the form.

Doctor Carlton.”

 

The site provided the usual form asking for name, address and so on.  In a section describing his present predicament, Tom explained as best as he could.

 

"I'm not sure of what is really going on in my life.  Is it all in my mind or is it real?  It started with a strange book I found.  There was a vial of blue liquid in a hidden compartment at the end of the book, which I drank.  Maybe that is what is causing all my problems.  The effects should have worn off by now, but I feel worse than I've ever felt in my entire life.  In a ceremony described in this book, I made a commitment to change my life and follow the suggestions that would come to me.  Now I see strange shadows and have horrible evil thoughts."

 

The final section of the form requested a choice of several personality traits that best fit him and how he learned about it.  Tom checked off the section about being an introvert.

 

"The introverted person can be outgoing in some situations but usually stays to himself.  Extroverts are usually more outgoing.  Both the introvert and the extrovert depend on the circumstances to determinedecide which will do better.

Introversion is marked by several different sub-traits:

Very self-aware

Thoughtful

Enjoys understanding details.

Interested in self-knowledge and self-understanding.

Tends to keep emotions private.

Quiet and reserved in large groups or around unfamiliar people.

More sociable and gregarious around people they know well.

Learns well through observation."

 

It was a familiar description.  Almost the exact same way that his high school counselor described him.

Five minutes after he sent the email Tom received a phone call.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Carlton.  Is this Tom Bianco?"

“Yes, it is.  That was fast. Were you waiting online for someone to email you?

“Not at all, I had a feeling someone was trying to reach me."

"You had a feeling?"

"Why yes, intuition can be a powerful tool."

Tom thought the doctor's belief in intuition was strange, but he still set up the appointment for the next morning at eleven.

A quick look out the window gave him some relief.  The cab was gone.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

Lilith lived alone in a large cape-cod style house.  It was at the end of a long curved rose bush lined driveway.  Tall trees all around the house caused it to be for the most part always in a dark shade.

Levi parked on the street at the end of the driveway.  The house could not be seen from the road, but he was familiar with its location.  He visited Lilith regularly for what he called his "instructions".

They both had one deep need, to find someone to commit murder for them.  They met at a local college public lecture about serial killers.  There they learned the details of Charles Manson's life. Just as he was never actually found guilty of committing the murders himself, he was still responsible.  This time instead of a cult following, Lilith and Levi intended to set things up; quietly and safely enjoying the results from a distance.

“Open up.  It’s the fat assed, bald headed pizza boy with your pies,” Levi pounded on the front door.

“Don’t worry, it’s only me,” he said.

“Put the pies on the dining room table while I get the wine,” Lilith said as she opened the door allowing him to squeeze his large body through the entranceway.

“I got the large pie with extra cheese and meat for me.  I have your small pie with extra sauce and very little cheese.  I guess we both have to watch our figures!”  Levi did what he almost never did, he laughed.  It was a loud laugh, a wild angry laugh.

"Tomorrow’s plan is to get Tom as he leaves his apartment and take him to Doctor Carlton,” Lilith said.

“But he’s a waste, a piece of crap.  Why not just let me take care of this as I usually do?  We can’t use him.  Just chalk it up as a failure then look for someone better.”

Lilith took a slice of pizza and blotted off the surface oil with several paper towels.  Then she took a nibble.

“It’s different with Tom.  I have a feeling he’s the same inside as we are,” she said.

“He’s trying to dump us like garbage,” Levi shouted.

“A little more time to adjust, that’s all he needs.”

“But why bother with him?  He wants to go back on his agreement.  Now it’s my turn to make him pay.”

Lilith had to find a way to convince Levi that Tom was not a threat.  She was sure that Tom loved her.  In her mind it was "love at first sight." The way he looked back at her with desire was her "proof".

Levi took several bites then swallowed the rest of his slice.  He gulped down his wine then filled another glass.

“Let me do my job.  Don’t waste time.  Doctor Carlton will not be able to convince him,” Levi insisted.

“But I need someone.”  Lilith's eyes began to tear.

For Lilith this need for a personal closeness was completely unexpected.  Being alone never bothered her before she met Tom.  She was not sure what to do.

At the diner she knew she made a fool of herself by trying to flirt with him, but she could not help herself.  She remembered how Tom laughed at her.

"Damn it!  I'm such an idiot.  I have no idea how to do this.  If I could only convince Tom to accept me," she yanked her hair and squeezed her eyes shut.

It was not the sex.  Lilith could have as much sex as she wanted.  She was young and attractive.  With Tom it would be different.  They could be close lovers helping each other, spending time together.

Levi kept eating and gulping down winewine, seeming to ignore what she was saying.  He stopped eating for a moment to look at her.

“This is a chance to have my own soul mate,” she said.

“If you’re so horny, why don’t you just go play with yourself?  If you like I can help,” Levi said seriously.

“Thanks, but I need someone who’s just like me.  Someone who’ll understand me.”

“I understand you,” Levi said before picking up another slice.

“I know and I’m grateful to have you but we’re not lovers.”

“What the hell are you talking about?  Love? Come on now.  You know we’re best friends and I want to help you.  If you turn into a saint, I don’t know; it would be hard for me to kill you,” he laughed his loud wild angry laugh.

Lilith remained quiet.  She was in no mood to laugh at Levi's silly joke.

“I know where you can find all types of young studs with all kinds of fetishes.  Just tell me what you need.”

“Levi, it’s not the same.  I want him to be with me because he truly wants me.

“What does that mean?”

“Tom is the way I was when I first started.  I feel for him.  He’s just as lost as I was.”

“So what?”

“I want him to be with me, so I won’t feel so all alone.”

“I still don’t understand but I’ll do what I can to help with this fantasy of yours.  Then when you get tired of him, if he still doesn’t join us, you know what I’ll have to do.”

Lilith ate half of her pizza and gave the rest to Levi.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

The next morning it was ten o’clock before Tom woke.  He neglected to set his alarm clock, which forced him to hurry to be on time for his appointment with Doctor Carlton.  After a quick shave and shower, he ran down his steps hoping to grab a quick breakfast on his way.  He was not sure if he had turned off the shower but kept running.  Wasted water was not that important to him now.

“Hey, what’s your hurry?”

It was Lilith.  He felt his pockets.  The note she gave him with the marks from her lipstick was still there.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m on my way to an appointment.  I can’t talk.”

“My car’s right here at the curb.  If you’d like I can take you there.  We can grab something to eat on the way.”

“Yeah.  Sure, why not?  It’s better than being late.”

Images of Lilith ripping off her clothes as she went into the back seat flashed through his mind.

“Aren’t you going to open the door for me?” She said as she stepped off the curb and stood by the side of the taxi.

“I thought you said you had a car.”

“Don’t be silly.  Isn’t this a car?”

“Yeah, but it’s not your car.”

“What’s the difference?  It’ll still get us to Doctor Carlton’s office.”

Tom held the door open then followed her into the cab.   She sat in the middle instead of sliding over to the far end of the seatseat, forcing him to lean against her side when he entered.

Just as the cab pulled away from the curb, she took his hand and held it in her lap.  Tom tried to move his hand away, but her firm grip held it in place.

“Wait a minute.  How do you know where I live and how did you know I was going to see Doctor Carlton?”

“He’s a good friend of mine,” Lilith said.

“What ever happened to patient confidentiality?  I don’t want the whole world to know I’m going to see a psychiatrist.”

“He only told me, your closest friend,” she said.

“I hardly know you never mind being my closest friend.”

“Well, I know you.  Look we’re involved in this thing together.”

“No, we’re not and I still want to know.”

Tom pulled his hand away.  Lilith put it back in her lap.

When the cab stopped at a traffic light Levi turned to face them.

“Hello, dickhead.  Stop asking so many questions.  Why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the ride?”

“What’s going on?  Now you even know this asshole?” Tom asked.

Lilith shrugged her shoulders and giggled.

Tom felt trapped.  If all these people were involved with the book, then what did it mean?

"I found Doctor Carlton on the web at random so how could this be possible?"

"When we get to the doctor's office you'll understand," Lilith said.

“Tell me one thing.  How do the words in the book appear then disappear?  Is someone switching books on me?”

“Don’t be afraid.  The Doctor will help you.”

“Yeah dickhead.  It’s all in your fucked-up mind,” said Levi.

"Lilith, how do you know Levi?  He can’t be your boyfriend,” Tom whispered.

“I’m glad you asked.  Maybe when you get to know us better, you’ll be friendlier.”

She whispered softly to him as she came closer, only inches from his face.

Tom resisted the impulse to put his lips to hers.  The same fiery red lips that kissed the note she gave him at the diner.  He turned his face away.  He felt her warm breath against his neck.  Her short blond hair rested on his collar. It was soft and smooth, causing goose bumps and shivers.

“Okay, I’m listening,” Tom pulled away.  He wanted to be with Angela, but Lilith was making it difficult.  He found it difficult to look away from her blue-green eyes.

“Levi is always angry and ready to get into a fight."

“But why?”

“It’s just his natural disposition.  Maybe something happened to him as a child.  I don’t know.  He won’t say.  But this is what causes people to reject him.  When they reject him, he becomes even angrier.  He can hardly control himself.  He’s been in trouble with the law, in and out of prison.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Not when he’s with me."

“Does he love you?”

“Not really.  I don’t think he’s capable of love.  He feels accepted by me just as he is.  I keep him out of trouble with the law.  In return, I have his help and protection.  It’s more of a brother and sister relationship than anything else.”

“What about you?  How did you get involved in this weird situation?”

He saw Lilith turn away so he could not see her tears.

“What the hell happened?”  Levi stopped the car, turned around and grabbed Tom by the neck.

Tom could not breathe.  His face turned a deep red.  He. He felt his eyes about to explode from his face.

“It’s okay Levi.  Tom didn’t mean to upset me.”

Levi did not let go of Tom.  Instead, he lifted him up out of his seat.  Tom heard a popping sound from his neck.

“Levi, let him go!”

Tom fell back on his seat.  His head ached and he could not speak for a moment.

“Don’t worry Tom.  You’ll be fine.  Levi would never hurt you without my permission.”

“Well, what do you call this?” Tom managed to whisper.

“You hurt my feelings.  We are not weird.  It’s the world that’s weird.”

 "I didn't want to upset you, but this is all so confusing.  Are you trying to make me believe in a...," Tom lost his train of thought.

"Now that you've made a commitment by using the book you are one of us," Lilith said.

"What the hell does that mean?  I can see it as a fantasy game, but do you want me to believe it's real?"

Lilith began crying.  Tom was not sure what to do.  He put his arms around her and hugged her.  . She put her hands between his legslegs, grabbing him as she laughed.  Tom pulled her hands away.  He wondered if she knew the difference between tenderness and raw sex.

Levi turned around to see what was happening until Lilith rubbed his shoulder to let him know she was okay.

“Can’t you see?  You’re evil inside just the way I am.  We need each other.  I love you for yourself and for the evil in your soul.  . We were made for each other.”

Tom made a face.  He was about to tell her he was not going to believe such an obvious over-acting attempt to convince him.  . When he saw Levi watching from the rearview mirror, he stopped himself.

For a moment, Tom wondered if she could be right.  He never really fit in with other people.  . He was miserable.  But Angela was his hope for a better life, not Lilith.

 

“Stop here Levi, by the donut shop so we can grab a bite to eat,” Lilith said.

She was happy now.  . Her mood had suddenly changed from a desperate pleading for Tom’s love to a cheerful lightheartedness.

“Bring me back a large black coffee and a few donuts.  . Bring me different kinds,” Levi said.

“Come on Tom let’s go.  . You don’t want to be late.  We can eat in the cab,” Lilith said.

With mixed emotions, Tom followed her into the donut shop.  She had a firm athletic body yet balanced with soft feminine curves.  Her smooth cat-like walk fascinated him.  If he was not already involved with Angela and the right situation came up, he knew how easy it would be to give in to his lust.

“Hey bad boy we can do that later,” she said seeming to read his mind.

Tom blushed when this time she held the door open for him.

“Now it’s my turn to watch you move,” she said.

Once inside the donut shop Lilith stuffed a bag with about a dozen donuts.  . Tom poured the threethree mugs of coffee.

“Don’t say a word.  . Follow along with what I’m doing.  Okay?”

“I guess so.  Do you need some money?"

Lilith did not reply.  She walked up to the cashier to ring up the purchase.

“My dad will pay for this when he finishes picking what he wants.  He’s the gray-haired man by the coffee machine.  Here he comes.  . Is it okay if we take these out to the car?”

The man behind the register smiled back and nodded his head.

“You don’t know that man,” Tom said once they were back in the cab.

“Hey dickhead, watch this,” Levi said.

He slowly inched the cab away from the curb.  . The donut shop cashier came out spotted the cab then ran towards them.  When he reached the car door the roar of the cab’s engine masked what he yelled.  Muddy water from a nearby puddle sprayed the man soaking his clothes and face.

Levi put his arm out the window of the cab and held up his middle finger.  Tom watched in silence while the two of them broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

 

Levi parked in front of an immaculately clean three-story brownstone building.  Lilith walked Tom up to the front door.

"I'll wait here for you.  Try to do what the doctor tells you."

Tom went inside and down a short dark corridor.  He came to a partly open door.

“I’m here to see Doctor Carlton.”

“Come on in.  in. I’m Doctor Carlton.”

He was a thin frail man with neatly cut blond hair and light brown eyes.  Tom found him lying on a leather couch next to his desk.

“I’m here about a problem I’m having.”

"I know why you are here. Let me explain.  There's some part of everyone's mind that is evil but kept in place by feelings of morality.  When someone's evil traits are strong enough it only takes a push to let them take over.  This can easily be accomplished using drugs and the power of suggestion.  The power of suggestion is very important.  Outside corroboration that the hallucinations and delusions are real is necessary.  In your case this is just what is happening.  After your evil self is revealed, you will no longer need the hallucinationshallucinations.  Then you will join Lilith and Levi in their operation."

“But I was led to believe I could reverse the procedure.  The only reason I performed the ceremony in the first place was to have a little fun then stop and go back to the way things used to be.  It was only a game,” Tom tried to explain.

"Let's be honest here.  You accepted the agreement because you wanted to get the power.  You thought you would be clever and get just enough to satisfy yourself then stop.  Well, it isn't so easy.  You should have stopped right away but there is some strong quality of evil in you.  That’s what was unleashed when you performed the ceremony.

Who would do such a thing to me?"

With a smooth motion, Doctor Carlton sat up on the couch then swung his legs on toonto the carpet.

"I can't deal with this.  I can't tell what's real and what's in my head."

"Oh, this is real all right.”

"But why do I have to be dragged into this?  Why can't you let me go?"

Doctor Carlton laughed before continuing.  He stood up and sat in a chair behind his desk.  He was quiet for a while then told Tom how it was going to be.

In his mind, Tom saw the doctor’s eyes take on a strange fierce glow, almost not human.

"I want to get out.”

"Oh no, my friend,” Tom heard Doctor Carlton’s voice bellow in an animal-like growl.

Tom heard the doctor's demonic laughter as he ran forto the door afraid to look back.  He made it out of his office past the waiting room and out onto the street.  He knew he was not safe.  He would never be safe again.  He knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with him.

He ran out of the building and jogged past the cab where Lilith and Levi were waiting for him.  Lilith ran after him.  No matter how fast he ran, she was catching up to him.

He turned at the corner hoping to escape down a side street.  The sound of her footsteps followed getting closer with every step.

Up ahead he saw the blurred image of a man running in the same direction.  Tom was sure he knew him and was sure the man had something to do with his present predicament.  He needed to find out how.

The sound of Lilith’s footsteps became louder as Tom got ever closer to the man up ahead of him.  He heard the man’s footsteps and heavy breathing.  The sound of his steps fell in rhythm with Tom’s steps and his breathing was in sync with Tom’s breathing.

Down the block, the man ran across the street to the left stopping to check for passing cars.  That was when Tom had his first clear look.

“It can’t be,” he mumbled to himself.

The man was his mirror image. Tom ran diagonally across the streetstreet, nearly running into a car.  He was determined to have a closer look.  When his double ran past a couple walking hand in hand by a large glass storefront window the man had no reflection.  The couple’s reflection was clear but there was no reflection of Tom’s double.

With all his strength, Tom caught up to his double and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.  When the man turned his head, Tom saw his own face as if looking in a mirror.  That was when he lost consciousness.consciousness. 

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

When Tom awoke, he found himself down on the sidewalk.  Lilith was kneeling over him, her warm moist lips on his.

“It’s okay Tom.  I’m here.  I’ll take care of you."

Tom opened his mouth taking in a deep passionate kiss.  Her tongue gently caressed his.  At that moment he desperately needed the soft soothing emotions she brought to him.

Lilith helped him to his feet.

"Take this it will help," she put a blue liquid capsule deep into his mouth causing him to gage for a moment before swallowing it.

“I'm here to help you adjust to your new life.”

Tom wanted no part of this new life.

It was the middle of the night.  Lilith walked with Tom arm in arm.  She supported most of his weight.  She leaned him against the window of McQuade’s Tavern.  Pleasant memories of the night when he was there with Angela came to mind.

"Angela," he whispered.

Lilith wedged her knee between Tom’s legs.  She kicked him hard.

Tom gasped for air as the impact forced him to double over in pain.

"Forget about her.  Angela is from your past.  You have me now."

Lilith supported him before he could fall.  She began kissing him.  Tom did not resist.

Sexual arousal, fear, pain, anger; he needed to break free so he could sort things out.  This time when Lilith let him go, he was able to stay on his feet.  But he was having trouble with his breathing.  It was not only from Lilith's kick but also from a confusion of emotions.

“I can’t murder anyone,” Tom managed to say while catching his breath.

“It’s not that hard." 

The capsule she gave him was working.  That was when he saw a demon.  A transparent black haze about twice his size formed itself into a blurry figure.  Suddenly everything became silent as a wave of deafness came over him.  It was frightening and strange yet all too familiar.

The image flickered then swelled coming closer to Tom for a moment then moving away in rhythm with his breathing.  The resulting vertigo caused him to sway in time with the changing image.

It had no real faceface, only what can be described as a swirling glob of flesh-like evil.  In the middle of where a face should have been, was a black void that seemed to suck his life away.

“Tom, look away.  Don’t resist or his power will kill you,” she said turning him away.  It was working.  She was gradually turning him into a killer.

“Remember the agreement.  You gave him permission.  It’s too late to back down.”

Tom fell to the ground, unconscious.

When Tom regained consciousness, he found himself several blocks away from where Lilith left him.  He was no longer in front of McQuade’s Tavern.

Filled with an uncontrollable hunger, which he could not understand, Tom ran down the road looking for something he knew nothing about.  The fallen leaves crackled and stirred with each step.  He tried to soften his steps, quick yet quiet.  That was what he needed, to be quick yet quiet.

Up ahead a young woman stood walking down the dark street.  She turned to see what was making such a loud swishing sound.  She saw nothing so she continued walking assuming it was a gust of wind.

Tom hid behind a tree holding his breath.  He watched her.  Then he silently followedfollowed, making sure she was unaware of his presence.

She was an attractive woman about the same age and build as Angela.  Her shoulder length light brown hair could not be mistaken for Angela’s almost black hair.  Tom was sure it was not her.

The woman turned around the corner.  Tom continued stalking her.  Now he understood how a wolf, hawk or wildcat must feel as it hunts its prey.  It was one of the most exhilarating feelings he had ever experienced.

The road she was taking led back to McQuade’s Tavern.  He remembered he was supposed to meet there with Angela later that night.

Tom knelt close to the ground on all fours peeking around the corner.  He waited a moment to allow her to put some distance between them. The time was not yet right.

He felt the demon in his body.  It now had complete control of his being.  He felt he was only a spectator.

Maybe he was fooling himself into feeling this loss of control.  It was a way to ease his conscience.  If he was not the one taking action, then he could not be to blame.

He wondered how he could enjoy the excitement, the compulsion to go through with the hunt.  He was ashamed and disgusted with himself, yet he continued.  Tom decided to forgive himself.  He had no choice.

He leapt into action.  Heavy breathing turned into a rhythmicrhythmic panting.  He let out a loud scream of excited angry power.  Faster than he believed was possible he was there.  The startled woman turned.  She saw Tom’s face inches away.

In her eyes, Tom saw what he believed to be the reflection of his own eyes.  Looking closer he saw the reflection of something else, something evil, something hideous.

He watched her terror grow into unbearable pain.  A moment later she fell to the ground.

Tom began to shiver with fear.  He was in disbelief as an unexpected sexual passion grew in him until it overcame his fear.  Orgasmic pleasure erupted.  He panted to catch his breath.  Then he fell toonto the road in exhaustion.  Again, he lost consciousness.

 

When Tom awoke, he was on his back.  Next to him on the ground was the woman he was stalking lying on her side facing away from him.  He tried to get to his feet.  The road seemed to spin too much for him to endure.  He fell back down.

He looked at his hands.  They were soaked in blood.  The taste of blood and bits of steak-like shreds were wedged between his teeth.  He explored the inside of his mouth with his tongue.  It felt like the remnants of some barely cooked steak.  He wiped the blood from his lips on the arm of his jacket staining it bright red.

He sat up to see if the woman was okay.  Blood was dripping from her head creating a small puddle of blood on the street.  He could only see that much in the dim light.  He sat up to have a closer look.

He saw her white blood-stained teeth shining through what remained of the left side of her face.  The flesh was ripped off but her lips, painted in dark pink lipstick, were still intact as if nothing had happened.

Vomit instantly erupted too fast for him to stop.  He turned his head to avoid throwing up on the woman.

“Yes, she’s dead.  Scared to death,” Lilith startled him.

Tom tried to make sense of what happened.  His jumbled thinking only made matters worse.

“But how?  I mean I did not do this.  I’m sure of it. I was already passed out.”

Lilith responded with a smirk.

“She was dead before you had a chance to kill her.  The woman was scared to death before you could kill her in a more direct way.”

“Did I actually do this?” Tom asked again, afraid of what the answer would be.

“You can’t take all the credit.”

Again, Tom looked at the woman.  The sight of one side of her face missing and her flesh torn away was too much to bear.  He looked away.

Tom wiped more blood from his mouth.

“But I had no choice.”

“You didn’t complain when you bit into her face.  Don’t worry. We’re not cannibals.  It’s all symbolic.”

“What’s that on her head?”

Lilith bent down to pull the coin from the woman’s forehead and showed it to Tom.

“On the face of the coin is the ouroboros dragon. On the back is what looks like a large letter ‘Y’.”

Tom looked closely at the bloodstained coin and asked her what it meant.

“The ‘Y’ symbolizes the path someone chooses in his life.  The right path symbolizes good.  The left path symbolizes evil, the path you’ve chosen.  The ouroboros with fire symbolizes the destruction of existence.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

 

Angela hurried.  She was almost half an hour late.

“Hi, it’s me, Angela.  I’ll be a little late.  I lost track of the time.  It took me a little longer to get ready,” was all she could think of saying while leaving a message on Tom’s cell phone.

She hoped Tom did not think she was an unreliable airhead or that she was playing hard to get.  She worried her message might be too repetitive or sound “lame”.

On her way to McQuade’s she tried to understand why she was in love with a man she just met.  Her experiences with the men in her past were disappointing superficial games.  Not one of them wanted a meaningful relationship.

She decided to protect her feelings by taking a long time to get to know a man before opening her heart to him.  In a way her plan worked.  However, it made her appear cold and aloof.

It felt different with Tom.  She wished she could believe it as much as she longed for it to be true.

Up ahead the flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance interrupted her thoughts.  Something was happening at McQuade’s Tavern.  Yellow tape cordoned off an area near the entrance to the tavern.

“What’s going on?”  Angela asked a policeman.

“Back off.  It just happened and we’re looking into the matter.”

“I have a date to meet someone at McQuade’s.”

“It’ll have to wait.  For now, the pub is closed.  Go home.”

Angela tried to see through the crowd.  There were more onlookers than police and rescue workers at the scene.  She was worried that it might be Tom.  Something could have happened.  An accident, a robbery, it could be anything.

A man who was standing closer to the scene backed away.

“What happened?”  Angela hoped that the man had a close enough view to let her know.

“It’s terrible.  The poor woman, no one should have to go through such a thing.”

Relieved that it was not Tom, Angela was curious.

"Is she hurt?”

“She’s dead,” he said before hurrying away.

Angela looked through the crowd hoping to find Tom.  Tom was not there as far as she could see.  She saw no one familiar at first until she saw Lilith.  What was she doing here?  Was she still trying to get between her and Tom?  Angela tried to sneak away without being seen.

“Angela, it’s me Lilith.  Remember me?  I’m Tom’s new girlfriend,” she ran up to Angela.

“Well, I have a date with him tonight and I’m sure he’d rather be with me than some rude tramp,” Angela said.

“Thanks for the compliment.  I don’t see him with you now.  Did he stand you up?”

Angela could not think of a reply.  She watched Lilith laugh with excitement jumping up to have a better view.

“This is great.  Look at them.  They’re all eager to have a look.  They love the excitementexcitement.  They’re hungry wolves waiting for the leader of the pack to have his fill before they join in.”

“Lilith have you seen Tom?  I don’t see him anywhere in this crowd.”

“The poor little girl is afraid for her ex-boyfriend.  Maybe he got hurt at the playground,” Lilith teased her.

“Tom is with me and not you, unless he tells me himself.”

“I’ll tell you the truth.  The only reason you were attracted to him was because I let it happen.  You should be over it by now.  The enchantment should have ended.  I guess it takes a little longer for some people.

“What do you mean by ‘you let it happen’?"

"I saw him first.  It was at the bookstore," Lilith said.

“You mean with that book he’s worried about?”

“That's right.  I can’t go into any more details,” Lilith said and walked away out of sight into the crowd.

Angela walked away angry and worried.  She was not sure.  Tom may have dumped her to be with Lilith.

She had to see Tom right away.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

 

The kill was over, and Tom was not sure what to do.  He waited for Lilith as she came running down the street away from the crowd at McQuade’s Tavern.

“Tom let’s go this way.  My house is nearby.  You’ll come in for a while to get yourself together before you go home.”

Tom shrugged his shoulders and followed her.  What could he lose?  He did not want to be alone.

Lilith pulled Tom’s hand, holding it firmly while they walked like lovers going for a pleasant stroll.  She walked close to him softly contacting his body.

“Listen to me Tom.  I know how it is.  My life was just like yours until I found the book.”

Lilith stopped for a moment to pull him close for a warm lingering hug.

“I found the book while I was at the Overlook Park subway station.  I was thinking of throwing myself in front of the next train that came into the station.

Yeah, I know.  It is a bit overdramatic, but I was a teenager.  I could picture how romantic and dramatic it would be.  It would get more attention and it was a lot easier than trying to jump off a building.”

She stopped walking and reached up to kiss him before continuing.  It was a brief kiss only touching lips for a moment.  Then she continued her story.

“I sat on a bench next to a man so involved with reading that same book of ours that he did not notice me.  The man was upset with what he was reading.  Twice he tried to put it down but each time he could not resist.  A moment later, he put the book between the pages of a newspapernewspaper, trying to hide it.  He seemed ashamed.

At the time, I wondered if it was pornography.  The man got up to go to men’s room.  That was when the book slid out from between the newspaper and fell to the ground.

What happened next seemed strange to me back then.  Now I know better.  The book took a hard bounce off the concrete and landed on the bench inches from my lap.

I was about to yell out to tell him, but he was gone before I could say a word.  I decided to skim through the book until he came back.  You can guess what happened next.  I kept the book.

I took his place.  I was now inside the train instead of jumping in front of it.  In a strange way, it felt good to watch him desperately look for the book while the train pulled away.

You see we’re the same.  Life’s been rotten for us.  Some of it due to bad luck but the rest due to our own personal weaknesses.”

Tom did not say a word.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe this is the way his life was headed.  He tried to imagine what it would be like.  How would it feel if he began killing on his own without help or encouragement?

Once in her house she had Tom sit on a sofa where she pulled him close.  They began kissing and fondling each other until Tom stopped and got up.

“I want you badly, but it wouldn’t be fair to Angela.”

“You’re an idiot.  You’re not married for god’s sake.  You hardly know her.  She’s probably getting into some other man’s pants right now, while you’re here trying out for sainthood.  Grow up.”

“But I love her, not you.”

“Angela belongs with people like herself.  You belong with me.  Don’t feel sorry for her.  She’s beautiful.  She won’t have any trouble finding someone else.  She won't want you after she finds out about the murder and how we made love.”

Lilith got to her feet and stomped into the kitchen.  After a few moments, her anger was replaced by an overly friendly manner.

“Tom, I’m bringing you some wine.  Hey, I’m sorry I yelled at you.  I must respect your decisions if we’re going to be close friends.  We are going to be friends, aren’t we?”

Considering all they had in common, their experiences with the book and their struggle with depression;depression, at first Tom believed it was a good idea.  He was flattered by how much she wanted him.  Yet he still had some doubts.  He was sure she was up to something.

“Sure, we can be friends.  Maybe we can find a way to escape from that damn book.  You do want to be free, don’t you?”

Lilith remained silent.

Tom hoped that by playing along he could find a way out.  She returned with two large glasses of champagne.  This time she took a seat on an easy chair across from where he was sitting on the sofa.

“Champagne?”  Tom asked.

"We’ll celebrate our friendship,” she said.

What friendship, he thought.  Tom took a large gulp eager to feel the soothing effects of alcohol.  It would feel so good to get drunk.  He was surprised at how the fastfast the drink affected him.  It eased his tension with the first swallow.

“What’s the name of this champagne?  It’s kind of strong.”

“I don’t know.  It’s from Coney Island.”

“I didn’t know they made champagne in Coney Island," Tom realized she knew nothing about wine.

“It is a little different, but I like it,” she said.

“What’s on the label?”

Suddenly Lilith got to her feet and ran into the kitchen.  Tom followed close behind.

“Let me have a look at the label,” he said.

There was no label.  That was when he noticed the wine in Lilith’s glass was clear while the wine in his glass had a blue tinge to it.

“Hey, my wine is blue.”

“Oh, ah, yesyes, it’s supposed to be blue.  I took yours from a bottle of rose`.  I think they leave some red grapes in there to give it a pink color or something like that.”

“But this wine is blue not pink.”

Lilith laughed at him.

He felt more disoriented as the moments passed.  He forgot what he just said.  It was a strange yet familiar feeling.

Lilith laughed harder.

“Mine doesn’t have any blue in it.  Maybe yours is from the stuff in this vial that I put in your glass,” she said waving the vial near his face.

That was when Tom realized what she had done.

“This makes you completely relax.  You'll still be awake but not able to move.  It works fast.  You should see the look on your face!”

Tom reached for the vial, lost his balancebalance, and began to fall.  Lilith caught him then dragged him into the living room.  She let him fall onto the sofa.

In a panic, he tried to get up, but he could not move.  He was trapped by whatever was in that wine.

“Tom, are you okay?  Can you hear me?”

He mumbled something incoherently.

“For a moment I thought I gave you too much.  That stuff is strong.  I want to give you only enough to relax you but still let you be awake.  That way you can enjoy what we’ll be doing without struggling.”

Lilith unbuttoned his shirt, removed itit, and did the same with his undershirt.

She undid his belt, rolled him over and pulled his pants down from behind.

“Do--back--yet--not--- Angela!”

Tom made no sense but saying Angela’s name angered Lilith.

“Damn it.  What the hell do you see in her?”

With a hard tug, she removed his briefs then turned him over onto his back.  It was all happening too fast.

She undressed herself then straddled him.  Her body, her voice, her being in control; he could not help lusting for her.

He could not move.  He was afraid.  She could have easily killed him if she wanted.  He was not sure what she had in mind.  Would he become another victim like the woman he just killed?

“Now what are you going to do?  Do you really think she’ll want anything to do with you when she finds out?  Your first kill and now I’m fucking you.  Will she really believe that I forced you and that you didn’t enjoy it?”

Tom was helpless.  Not only now, on the sofa with Lilith but with getting his miserable life back.  Maybe it really was too late to be with Angela again.

“Who knows what tomorrow will be like?  Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight while we’re here.  Lie back and give in to your feelings.  Our future will be together."

Tom tried to say something but all he could do was to moan in protest.

When she left him alone and walked into her bedroom Tom tried to move.  He managed to roll off the couch onto his knees.  Walking on all fours, he made it to the front door.

"You don't really want to leave and miss all the fun," Lilith said as she dragged him into her bedroom.

"We'll have more room in here."

Tom was becoming anxious.

"Don't be afraid," she said as she sat him in a chair next to the bed.

"What do you want?"  Tom managed to whisper.

"I want you to admit that you love me.  You know we have something special together.  Angela is different.  She's what they call normal.  But we're better than that.  I love you more than she could ever love you."

Tom wondered if she was right.  He had to admit he was different.  He never fit in with others on a deeper level; merely having acquaintances, no true close friendsfriends, or lovers.

Now he was a murderer with an evil mind.  Maybe it was the influence of the book and the substances used in its ceremony.  More likely, he felt he must have been evil all along, and the recent events freed his true nature.

Lilith used duct tape to bind Tom's wrists and ankles.

"I have to do this now before you get too much of your strength back."

Tom was so lost in thought that he did not resist.

"How about cutting the duct tape off me."

"I can't trust you enough."

She looked into his eyes with what Tom felt was soft comforting love.

"Someday soon, when you accept your fate, I'll explain what this whole thing is about."

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

 

After a night of fitful sleep, Angela ate breakfast, took a quick shower then headed to Tom’s apartment.  She had to know if he was safe even if it did make her look desperate.  She had a strong premonition that something was wrong.  Angela was sure Tom would not cut off their relationship without saying a word.

A relationship, Angela laughed at herself.  Was that what it was, a relationship?  Plans were never discussed.  Only two dates do not make a relationship.

She wondered if Lilith was right.  Maybe Lilith and Tom did belong together.  But she needed to hear it from Tom before she could believe it.

Once at his building she ran up the steps to his apartment instead of waiting for the elevator.  A bit out of breath, she stopped for a moment before opening the stairway door.  She still had a chance to go back and save herself from embarrassment.  She pushed the door open and walked down the hallway to his apartment.

His door was not locked.

“Tom, it’s Angela.  You didn’t show up at McQuade’s and you never returned any of my calls.”

There was no response.  She slowly opened the door, stopped for a moment then entered.

Even though it was morning, the thick curtains made the apartment dark.  It was difficult for her to find her way until her eyes became adjusted.

“With the murder at McQuade’s I was worried about you.”

Angela heard the shower running.  She was sure that was why he had not answered.  While she slowly moved closer to the bathroom door the scene from the movie “Psycho” came to mind.  Standing inside the bathroom door, she watched the mist from the shower fill the room.

“I can see you’re okay.  How about going out for lunch?  We can make plans for another date.  I mean if it’s okay with you.  If not, I’ll understand.  I’m not a baby.  If you want to stop seeing each other let me know.”

She walked out of the bathroom.

“I’ll wait in the living room until you get dressed.”

“What’s taking him so long?”

Angela walked back into the bathroom to have a peek at Tom in the nude.  It would break the ice.  They would both get a good laugh out of it.

She pulled back the shower curtain.

“Wow look at that body…”  Angela stopped when she saw he was not there.

She turned off the water and went back into the living room.  That was when she saw Tom’s cell phone on the floor.  Hoping she was wrong; she searched the apartment for his body.  He could have been murdered.  That was why he never returned her calls.  That was why his door was left open.

She found his wallet on the bed.  His credit cards and money were still inside.

His desk was cluttered with papers, unopened lettersletters, and a wrinkled undershirt.  Angela sat at his desk and looked through the drawers.  It was an invasion of his privacy, but she needed to learn more about him.

In the top drawer piled on top of each other were a stapler, tape dispenser, paper clips and the usual office supplies.  It would be difficult to sort through the mess to find what might be needed.  Tom was not very organized.

On the desktop, she saw a clipboard holding several sheets of paper.  The top sheet was titled “Fitness Log”.  It was a record of the week’s aerobic and weight-training sessions.  The next sheet was the “Action List” which was a to-do list.  Like most to-do lists this one listed many uncompleted tasks.  The following pages had his schedule and budget.  All these pages were mostly empty.

Angela could see that he lacked self-motivation.  She was puzzled why he was not using a computer to organize himself.  When she turned the clipboard over, she found out.  It was a reminder he printed on the board with an indelible marker in capital letters.

“PUT NOTHING PERSONAL IN LAPTOP.”

“So, he’s a little paranoid.  Let me see what else I can find out,” she thought.

There was a photograph on his desk of a man and woman who appeared to be in their fifties.

“It has to be his parents.”

On the wall above the desk was a mahogany pendulum clock.  The pendulum was detached and leaning against the back of the clock box.

Turning her attention back to the desktop, she lifted his old undershirt to find a legal pad.

On the first page, 'Check bank then pay bills'.  A dollar sign was at the end of the line.

Angela liked what he put on the second line, 'Meet Angela at McQuade’s'.  There was a large heart drawn and circled at the end.

The last note was a question about what to do with the book.  He put a large exclamation point after it instead of a question mark.

Again, Angela wondered if looking through Tom’s personal items was wrong.  But she wanted to know as much about him as she could.  Was there someone else in his life?  Was he a criminal?  Was there anything that would interfere with their relationship?

A stack of magazines under his bed caught her eye.  She went down on her knees and carefully slid them out.  By putting them back exactly the way they were, she hoped to prevent him from discovering her detective work.  The dust under the bed left a clear trace of the magazine’s original position so she had to be careful.

On the top of the stack was a religious booklet about how to survive in a sinful world now that the end was coming.

She wondered if he was a religious fanatic.

The next set of magazines was a varied set of pornographic materials from the socially acceptable Playboy to several collections that containedhad mostly naked photos.  Under that, there was a leaflet entitled "What You Should Know about Fetishes.  Finally, at the bottom was a paperback "Enjoying a Good Old-Fashioned Spanking".

She tried to imagine how it would feel being over Tom's lap for a spanking.  Would she be held in place by brute force, uselessly kicking her legs to try to escape or would she meekly accept her punishment?  Even if she accepted her punishment, she might kick her legs in reaction to the pain.  Which would be worse, to be forced or to submit?

Angela wondered how spanking Tom might feel.  She could not physically overpower him.  She needed to trick him.  Letting her bind his hands, maybe even his legs, would work.  On the other hand, if he accepted his punishment; most likely reluctantly, it would be easier for her.

She knew that the slap of her dainty feminine hand would not hurt him as much as his masculine hand would hurt her.  A hairbrush would turn the tables.  That would hurt him much more than his bare hand could hurt her.

Angela read part of the introduction.

 

"The sexual pleasure of a spanking can be compared to the pleasure of eating a spicy meal.  The spices hurt and as the heat builds up so does the pleasure."

"Maybe I can try it, but I don't see what's so exciting," she whispered to herself.

Angela could not decide which was worse, a religious fanatic or a sexual pervert.  She hoped it was only his curiosity.  The trail of dust showed he had not looked at the material for a long time.  She put the collection back in place, in the same order and with the dust fluffed up as best as possible.

The bottom drawer of his desk held files and folders in disarray.  An envelope caught her attention because it was stuck on its side between the files.  In her attempt to retrieve the envelope it fell to the bottom of the drawer.  She was able to pull it out after sliding the files back and forth.

There was no address or label to show what was inside.  Angela pulled out two doctor’s letters about Tom’s application for military service.

“So, Tom wanted to be a soldier,” she thought.

It had never occurred to her that Tom wanted to serve in the armed services.  He did not seem to be the type.  She saw him as a loner not someone who needed to join a group.

She read the first letter. It was from a psychologist addressed to a psychiatrist:

 

“Chief Psychiatrist of the Selective Service System,

Local Board No. 35, 271 Cadman Plaza East.

Dear Doctor:

Mr. Tom Bianco has been in psychological counseling with me for two years.  He is extremely shy, reclusivereclusive, and withdrawn.  He speaks with difficulty in a low voice and finds it impossible to express normal aggressive feelings.  He has no close friends.  In addition, he experiences severe periods of depression, which often lead to masochistic episodes.

Since he is barely getting along in civilian life, I fear that military life would prove to be catastrophic for Mr. Bianco.  Furthermore, I believe his presence would be detrimental to the morale and efficiency of any military unit to which he might be assigned.  Therefore, I recommend that he be given a thorough psychiatric examination before any final decision is made regarding his fitness for military service.

Sincerely yours,

Leonard A. Carline, Psychological Counselor,

Department of Counseling, Brooklyn College.”

 

The letter seemed to be describing someone else, not the Tom Bianco she knew and loved.  Tom must have been having problems back then, but Angela was sure Tom was better now.  He seemed fine to her.

The next letter was more troubling because it was from a psychiatrist:

 

“Gentlemen:

“I have examined Tom Bianco and the following are my findings:

He has always been an isolated, withdrawn, fearful and anxious person who has adapted minimally.  Symptoms include extreme shyness, social isolation, infantile sexual adaptation, masochistic fantasies, tension symptoms such as muscle twitches and bodily preoccupation.  He has been in psychotherapy for three years.

Diagnosis is anxietyan anxiety state, in a schizoid personality, severe.  While no evidence of psychosis was elicited on this examination, because of the severity of his disorder, it is possible that a more extensive examination would reveal it.

I think it unlikely that he could adapt to the stresses of military experience as all areas of function, except for intellectual, are markedly limited.”

Sincerely, yours,

Ruth Levites, M.D.

Certified by the American Board

Of Psychiatry & Neurology”

 

Could both doctors be wrong?  She saw no evidence of any psychological problems.  He was outgoing not shy.  He was not anxious.  He was fun to be with and romantic.  Most likely, what the doctors saw was only a phase he was going through.  She was sure he was normal now.  The only problem was that strange book he found.

Angela looked through her purse until she found Father Alphonsus’ business card.  She thought it best to speak with the priest before getting involved with the police about a missing person.  She suspected Tom’s disappearance had something to do with the book.  It would be too difficult to explain this to the police.  Father Alphonsus would know what to do.

“Let me speak with Father Alphonsus.  It’s an emergency,” she told the receptionist.

"Hello, this is Father Alphonsus.  How can I help you?"

“Father I’m not sure if you remember me.  My name is Angela...”

“Yes, you’re Angela," he interrupted.

"How could I forget someone with such a heavenly name?  I remember the talks we had.  I love the sound of your voice, but you seem to be upset.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Tom.  He’s not in his apartment.”

“A man named Tom Bianco came to see me the other day.”

“Yes, he’s the man who spoke with you about a book he found.  I’m going out with him.”

“Tom has an appointment with me for this afternoon,” the priest said.

“I'm in his apartment right now.  He wasn't answering any of my calls and he didn't show up for a date we had for McQuade's last night.  His door was open, so I went in.  The shower was running, and his cell phone and wallet were still here.

I don’t know what to do.  If I tell the police about the book, they’ll say I’m crazy.  I’m worried.”

"It’s good that you called me first.  You’re right about the police.  They won’t understand.  First, let's see if he keeps his appointment with me this afternoon.  Then we can take things from there."

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

 

Tom awoke on Lilith’s bed, naked and alone.  He put on his clothes and looked for her.

"Lilith," he called out.

He quietly moved from room to room.  There was no sign of her.  The front door was locked with a deadbolt, no key in sight.  He ran to the windows one by one.  They were protected by heavy metal bars and locked tight.

He would call for help but his cell phone was not clipped to his belt where he always kept it.  There was no phone anywhere in her house.

He went into the kitchen and sat at the table with his head resting on his crossed arms.  He planned what to do next.

Looking up he saw it.  The book was right there sitting on the table.  There was a note on top.

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours.  I want you to study the pages I bookmarked for you.  It’s important you know the best way to do it.  I’ll test you when I get back.  We can go through some routines together.  Help yourself to breakfast.  Love, Lilith.”

 

In an odd way, it felt good to have his hands on the book again.  The book that made so much trouble for him was now a comfort.  The soft leather, the gold edged pages, the fine illustrations; even its scent was soothing and somewhat erotic.  He began reading the pages Lilith bookmarked.

 

“There is something impersonal about using a gun or for that matter any projectile to kill.  Guns, arrows, spears, and stones; they all kill from a distance.  Poisons are no better.  Blows to the head or crushing a skull are usually either too slow or too quick to enjoy.  The same is true for other blows to the body.

They produce little excitement because they are too easy or unpredictable.  Getting up close to slice an artery, cut a deep vein or strangle allows you to feel the victim's reactions; so sensual and erotic.”

 

When he started reading the section Anatomy, the anatomy he found was just what he expected.  The text and illustrations only showed the area’s most vulnerable to attack.  The book showed exactly where and how to cut in certain places.

 

"Severing the femoral artery in the thigh will cause rapid spurting blood loss, in time with each beat of the heart.  This will lead to death after several minutes.

Slicing the carotid artery in the neck will kill in the same way only quicker.

Cutting the jugular vein in the neck will cause a steady blood loss and death in several minutes.

Slashing the aorta, located deep in the center of the abdomen and coming from the heart will kill in several heartbeats.

To hit the heart stab right under the sternum and aim slightly upwards and directly towards the spine.  It is not actually necessary to hit the heart.  Slashing the nearby descending aorta or the vena cava or the pulmonary arteries will work."

 

Tom continued reading.  His curiosity was much greater than his nausea.

 

“Stabbing through the back is less likely to kill because the rib cage, shoulder blades and spine are in the way.  Instead, from the back stab upwards below the ribs to severe the kidney and renal artery.”

 

The non-severing lethal techniques were covered next.

 

“Blows to the body and head, will not be used because they require a prolonged period of training and depend on how well the victim was trained in the martial arts.  We want you to be more lethal because you are now quicker, faster and stealthier than your prey.  There are many examples from nature.  The bear rips its prey with its claws.  The lion bites down on the neck of its victims with powerfully sharp fangs and teeth.  They do not box, wrestle or do acrobatics.”

 

Tom learned that the best way to kill was without the victim realizing what was happening.

 

“Strangulation is much more effective when using a ligature rather than the bare hands.  Ligature strangulation uses a cord, wire, shoelaces or other string-like device.  More strength will be applied if the wire is wrapped around the neck in a way that allows you to pull your hands away from each other.”

 

There was an illustration clarifying this technique.

 

“Obstruction of the blood flow to the brain by occlusion of the carotid arteries and jugular veins will cause unconsciousness in ten to fifteen seconds.  Death will require keeping the blood flow stopped until enough brain cells have died.  Keep checking the pulse.

Note that compressing the airway may result in the victim making choking noises, which will hamper your invisibility.  Also, if suffocation with a pillow or plastic wrap is used care must be taken that no detectable sounds are heard.”

 

There was also a list of weapons from everyday household items to professional military weapons.

Tom found another note Lilith used as a bookmark.

 

“Study this section very carefully.  Here are the instructions on how to carry out a killing in a practical way.  It shows how to get the most satisfaction yet be safe from getting caught.  It tells how to commit a clean kill.”

 

The idea of having pleasure at some poor victim’s expense raised feelings of guilt but Tom could not help himself.  He was too curious to stop reading now.  It was more than curiosity.  He realized he was enjoying it a little too much.

He began reading the next section Modus Operandi:

 

“Now that you know the basic anatomy of the body’s most vulnerable areas and how to use the various weapons to inflict a lethal attack, it is time to learn the best ways to carry out the hunt.  This section will describe several important procedures necessary to be successful.”

 

Tom eagerly concentrated on the text.  It all seemed natural.  Not sick or deranged.  Instead, it was a natural part of reality.

 

“First, a suitable victim must be found.  She will be almost asking for it.  You will know her when you see her.

Until you become an expert look for someone easy, someone weak.  She should be alone.  Look for signs of preoccupation.  Depression is best.  Someone who is lost in her own mind with thoughts so distracting that she will not see you coming.

It is natural for a hunter like the lion to seek out wounded or crippled prey.  In fact, you will be putting an end to a painful existence.

When you become more skilled you can look for the challenge of more powerful victims who enjoy their lives until you step in.”

 

The idea came to Tom that in a way maybe Mother Nature needed the services of a serial killer to fulfill some mysterious purpose.  Why else did she allow it to happen?  It was a crazy idea.  He knew it was a rationalization for doing evil.

He continued to read.

 

“Next study the victim carefully.  Where does she live?  What routes does she use to get home from work?  Whom does she socialize with, when and where?  You must know all the victim’s routine activities and schedule in as great a detail as possible until you know where and when she will be alone.

For now, you must look for anyone who might get in the way.  Later with more expertise, taking a victim in the midst of other people can be attempted ‘right from under their noses’.”

 

Could someone become skilled enough to take a victim while other people are nearby?  Tom was fascinated.

 

“The third thing to consider is choosing a weapon.  As stated before, an up-close personal weapon is more rewarding than poison or projectiles like bullets.  Learn and practice the skills needed to become proficient.”

 

This was a frightening thought for Tom.  There was more chance for something to go wrong when using a weapon where you must be in physical contact with the victim.

He understood why it was important to be skillful.

 

“The fourth point is that the scene of the murder must be carefully chosen and tested.  Find the best way to isolate and trap the victim.  Be with her at the scene of her upcoming death.  Even make physical contact but do not do anything yet.  Just go through the motions.  Time your steps.

Take notes for the time of day, what she is wearing, who is nearby.  Time how long it will take to kill her and escape unnoticed.  Do not be concerned if the prey gets to know you.  It will not matter after she is dead.

Animals hunt and kill for a reason.  They need to eat, protect their young, defend their territory and fight for a mate.

Hunters kill in a socially acceptable way.  The excitement of the murder of wild animals is their main goal.  Eating the prey is only an excuse.

Humans kill humans for many emotional reasons like anger, revenge, jealousy and so on.  Countries make war and kill their enemies for the same reasons but on a much larger scale.  Mussolini once commented that there would always be war.

You will kill to satisfy a different less emotional necessity.  It will be your cold-blooded special need to kill.”

 

Tom stopped reading for a moment.  He allowed the instructions to be etched into his memory.  The desire to learn how to kill frightened him.  At the same time, he was eager to learn more.

 

“The dry run is very important.  Again, the idea is to be as cold blooded as possible and not let any emotions cloud your thinking.  Allow time for removing the body and cleaning the area if you wish to make all signs of the killing disappear like a magic trick.

Remove all evidence that could link the hunter with the prey.  Take away with you anything you brought to the area like gloves, weapons and anything else that you used to complete the kill.

Before returning home, it is best to have a workstation where you can destroy any evidence.  You should burn shoes and clothing.  If well-hidden the garage makes a good workstation.  You must also dispose of the ashes.

Another more rewarding ending is to leave the victim with a token of your identity on her body.  This way she will not disappear anonymously.  The mark identifying your creation will be there for the public to admire.  If you leave the victim at the scene of the murder, even more care is necessary.

Finally, we come to the act of ‘getting away with murder’.  Now it will be your plan of escape that matters most.  You are now the prey.  If skillful enough you will be free to murder again.  The successful escape has its own rewards.

Make sure you do not overlook some small yet important detail that could jeopardize your attack.  Do not let your emotions cloud your thinking.  The smooth execution of the kill will be much more rewarding than a rough emotional attack.

Special Note:

If you keep careful notes, you can stalk several subjects simultaneously.  When ready you can finish the victims in quick succession over several days sometimes even more than once in a day.

To summarize:

1. Find Victim

2. Study Victim

3. Choose Weapon

4. Find Scene of Action

5. Dry Run

6. Plan of Escape. Get away with murder, now you become the prey."

 

Next Tom read about the rewards of murder.

 

“You have the power over life and death. There is the excitement of the hunt.  Watching the victim’s reactions will bring another dimension of satisfaction.  You will experience her expression of fear, her struggle to escape and finally when she realizes that nothing can be done, her acceptance of death as a welcome end to her terror.”

 

The need to kill overwhelmed Tom.  It was impossible for him to think of anything else.  He kept seeing the image of the dead woman with her face torn open and her bloody teeth showing through the missing flesh.  Remembering the taste of her flesh as he chewed and swallowed it disgusted him.  He wondered how he could even think of enjoying such a murder.  Yet he had to admit the feeling of excitement was there.

Tom heard Lilith unlock the front door.

“Hi.  It’s me.  What’s the matter?  Don’t I get a hug?”

Tom ran for the door.  Lilith slammed and locked it before he could make his escape.

“Look what I bought for you.  I set them up in your shoulder bag.”

Tom did not say a word.

“I removed your laptop computer to make more room.  You won’t need it.  I put your sharp new knives here, each in their black canvas holders.  Plush cotton cloths to wipe away the blood go here.

Here is a wire cord with wooden handles at each end.  It’s used for strangulation.  I rolled it up and put it in the black pouch that came with it.  This other cord looks the same but is a sharp-edged saw on a wire.  It’s able to neatly slice through bone.  It comes with a small leather pouch, which can even fit, into a shirt pocket.

“What, no gloves?  You didn’t give me gloves to hide my fingerprints,” Tom said sarcastically.

“Don’t worry.  Levi will take care of any fingerprints.  You just concentrate on the hunt,” Lilith said.  Tom’s sarcasm went unnoticed.

“But how?”

“I can’t go into the details because I don’t really understand it myself.  Levi has a way to cover for you.  Fingerprints, security cameras and anything else; he'll be close-by to help.  You won’t be able to see him, but Levi will be there.”

Tom listened as Lilith continued.

“Be quiet. Let me show you the knives.  This one with a bent tip is called a gut-hook.  Here are a skinning knife and a very short-bladed knife next to this very long one.   Read the directions about how to throw these weighted knives. Three came in the set. Then we have two different serrated knives.  One with small teeth spaced close together and another one with deep teeth spaced further apart.  It’s also sharp enough to cut through bone.  It's an improved version of a civil war amputation instrument.  You can even fold it closed and use the tapered heavy metal edge at the end of the handle to break bones.

Finally, several different sized scalpels for delicate jobs.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the rolls of duct tape.  Duct tape is a lot more practical than handcuffs or rope. You won’t have time to play with the cuffs or tie pretty knots,” she explained.

“Don’t you think this is a little crazy?  You just keep going on.  When are you going to shut up?  What’s wrong with you?”

Lilith’s mood quickly dropped from overly excited joy to deep sadness.  She turned away trying to hide her tears from him.

“Listen, Lilith.  I don’t have anything personal against you.  It’s just that I can’t accept your lifestyle.”

“But you’ve already killed,” Lilith said.

“I know but I want to stop.”

“After all the trouble I’ve gone through you still don’t want me,” Lilith sobbed.

“I can’t help it.”

“I’m not crazy.  There is nothing wrong with me.  It’s the world that’s crazy."

“I didn’t mean those things I said.  I’m just tired and confused,” Tom lied.

Lilith grabbed Tom around the waist giving him a hug as she cried.

Tom comforted her.  He was not sure what else to do.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

 

Tom walked through the neighborhood between Overlook Park and Greenwood Cemetery.  It was symbolic.  It was an area between the life of a park and death in a cemetery.  Angela assigned this area for him to carry out his first practice kill.  He would be on his own.  It was only a practice kill.  No one would be murdered.

Lilith hoped it was a way for Tom to get his feet wet, to see if he could someday become an assassin with her as a couple.

To his own surprise instead of resisting, he agreed to try it.  A new world of excitement opened for him.

He believed he found the ideal location to kill at the bottom of a stairwell leading down to a subway station.  After reaching the bottom of the stairway, the victim had to make a sharp turn through an area that was hidden from view at both ends.

His plan was to wait for the right victim to pass by.  He leaned against a wall watching as several people walked past him.

An elderly man with a cane limped past but more people followed him before Tom could take action.

An attractive young woman went past but again there were other people close behind her.

Finally, there was a break in the flow of pedestrians.  He heard the footsteps of two people coming down the steps.  Their steps were heavy indicating either overweight or athletically strong people.  He knew they were men because of the rhythm of their steps.  As they got closer, he could tell they were two very athletic men.  Tom decided to relax until a lone person came by.

When the two large men approached, Tom knew he was in trouble.  One man held a baseball bat, the other a knife.

“Give me your wallet,” the man with the bat demanded.

Tom was angry with himself for having to learn this lesson the hard way.  He should have followed what he read in the book about carefully studying the victim.  From this moment on, he vowed to follow the techniques he learned as closely as possible.

He prepared himself for his escape.  The problem was two husky men against one average sized man.

He knew how he was going to stop the man with the bat but the second man with the knife would be out of his control.

He must make his disarming of the first man gruesome enough to scare the second man.  In that moment of hesitation, Tom would have time to change weapons and take care of the man with the knife.

This was not a martial art, which required training.  This was using the heightened senses, strength and agility that he gained from the substances Lilith fed him.

“I said to give me your wallet,” the man with the bat repeated his demand.

In one motion, Tom took his wallet out with his left hand while his right hand went into his shoulder bag.  When the man grabbed the wallet, Tom did not let go.  Instead, he pulled it back forcing the man to extend his arm to maintain his grip on the wallet.

Using the improved Civil War surgical tool, he struck the man’s wrist with the end of the tool's heavy handle.  The audible pop reassured Tom that the wrist or some bone near the wrist was broken.  The end of the knife’s handle was specifically designed for this purpose.

Before the man could pull his arm away, Tom flipped the knife over to its cutting edge.  In one motion, he used the saw-like serrated blade to amputate the man’s hand.

Watching his partner’s severed hand land on the concrete the second man holding the knife stopped his advance towards Tom and pulled back.

This was more than enough time for Tom to drop the serrated knife and take out a thicker shorter dagger.  He stabbed it into the inside of the knife wielding man's upper arm dissecting a large artery.

Both men would have enough time to reach an emergency room.  Tom escaped before other people came down the steps.  He did not want to be caught.

His only regret was that two victims were wasted.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

Tom stood outside the First Street Diner looking for the victim Lilith set up for him.  The diner was larger than most.  It had a counter with stools and the usual booths each with the typical coin operated miniature jukebox.  It was nothing special.

This time he was determined to make it work.  His attempt in the subway was a fiasco but he learned something important about his need to kill.  Killing a man would be an ordinary job.  He must find a female victim for a more satisfying outcome.

He reasoned that since he was sexually attracted to women the killing must have a strong sexual component.  That would explain the orgasmic release he experienced after his first killing.

After about an hour his prey appeared.  As she walked into the diner, Tom smiled at her, and she smiled back.  She was in her late twenties, full figured but not overweight.  Tom found her attractive especially her dark inviting eyes.

He followed her in and sat at a table across the room.  She sat alone by the front door.  He studied her routine.  It was easy because she always came to the diner at the same time and sat at the same table each night.

After several days, she looked back at him and smiled.  He gave her a sort of half smile.  Then he went back to writing his notes in a small pad.  This time he planned to make his attack perfect.

Tom checked his watch, wrote something more in his pad then stood up.  Never taking his eyes from her, he walked up to her table.

She sat up straight seeming to be eager to meet him.  As he walked past her table, Tom looked away and left the restaurant.

When finished with her dinner she crossed the parking lot the way she always did on her way home.  Tom assumed she lived nearby because she never got into a car.

The next night after dinner, he walked up to her table.

"Hello, my name is Tom.  I noticed you come here every night for supper.  Would it be okay if we sat together tomorrow?"

"Of course.  I'd like that.  My name is Cindy."

After a minute or so of small talk, he excused himself and walked away.

Once on the other side of the lot she looked back and saw Tom watching her.  He was leaning against a car on the far end of the parking lot.  He smiled and politely nodded his head before looking down to write in his pad.

The next night after having dinner, Tom walked with her across the parking lot.  At the end of the lot was a thick row of tall hedges.  There was a space where a bush died and was never replaced.  They walked together up to the opening.

"How come you go through these hedges instead of using the sidewalk?"  Tom asked her.

"It's a shortcut and it feels a little naughty."

Tom pulled her through the opening and before she could protest, he had her mouth tightly sealed with duct tape.  He taped her wrists together.  He did not tape her legs.  She used her legs to try breaking free.  It did no good.  She was now as helpless as a fly caught in a spider’s web.

Tom was well prepared.  The day before he cut a six-inch length of duct tape then put it back on the spool in the opposite direction.  That way he was able to pull out the exact amount of tape to do the job.  He folded a thin strip over itself at one end to make it easier to grab the tape.  A quick tug was all that he needed.  He did the same with another spool of duct tape this time cut into an eighteen-inch length.

He was calm as he watched her fear.  When she struggled to get away, he made no reaction except to hold her more tightly.  In a strange way for Tom, this felt like a soothing hug.

In that moment of watching her panic, time slowed to a stop.  He wondered what was going on in her mind.  What would he do next?  Would he rape her then run?  She saw his face.  He would never let her live to testify against him.

He imagined that if her mouth were not taped shut, she would try to talk him out of it.  Stop him from doing what he intended to do.  She would beg him to let her go promising to say nothing.

Tom went into action.  He raised his knife high over his head.  As the knife came down, she flinched, closed her eyes and held her breath.  The knife missed.

“Damn it.  I need to be more accurate.  Now I’ll have to try something else.”

He put the knife he was using back into his shoulder bag.  It was a knife with a very sharp and pointed tip to provide easy skin penetration to start the cut.  It was not suitable for what he needed to do now.

In its place, he pulled out a shorter knife with a finger groove behind the point.  This would provide a good place to locate his index finger and make the knife stable.  It was designed for one-handed use, which would enable him to use his other hand to hold her and position her body.

Cindy tried to make a run for her life.  Tom bent down and grabbed her ankle throwing her off balance.  He lifted her leg causing her to flip over on to her back.  Her shoulders hit the ground hard.  He watched Cindy brace herself for the rape he knew she expected.

Her leg held high Tom heard the knife rip through the cloth of her pants under her thigh.  It continued through her flesh.  With the precision of a surgeon, he dissected her femoral artery.  Tom pinned her down.  Blood gushed from her leg while he straddled her.

He watched as she slowly lost consciousness.  He knew the last thing she felt was a dull ache and ripping sound, the tearing of flesh from her face.  After she felt something round cold and metallic on her forehead darkness followed and then it was over.

Tom began to shiver as sexual passion grew in him until orgasmic pleasure erupted.  He panted to catch his breath.

He calmly removed his clothes exposing the second set of clothing he wore beneath the now blood-soaked outer set of clothes.  He placed the bloody clothes into his shoulder bag and calmly walked away; wiping the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

“The hunter becomes the prey after completing his kill.  His escape takes as much preparation and planning as the kill itself.”  The text was clear on this point.

After leaving the scene of the murder, Tom closely followed the lessons from the book.  He was virtually invisible as he returned to Lilith’s place.

He tried the door.  It was not locked.  All the lights were off.  He stepped over the threshold and made his way to the couch.  Tom was exhausted after having quenched his lust for murder and blood.  That was the only way he could explain it, a lust for blood.

"Peace at last," he said out loud.

Lilith watched him fall asleep on the couch.  She sat across from him watching him fidget and mumble incoherently.

At first, he was only another newcomer for her to train but with Tom, it was different.  She loved him and understood how he felt.  They were meant for each other.  She felt that deep in his soul he was evil the way she was evil and that he was slowly beginning to realize this.

The problem was Tom’s feelings for Angela but if she had Angela, killed Tom would find out and leave her.  She wondered if she could scare her away or make her stop wanting Tom.

After an hour or two of fitful sleep, Tom awoke with a start.  He rolled over and sat on the edge of the couch.  Details of his two kills kept flashing through his mind no matter how hard he tried to stop them.

“You did well today Tom.”

A startled Tom jumped to his feet ready to run.  When he saw it was Lilith he sat down.

“Lilith you have to let me go.  I can’t do this anymore.  I’m not like that.  I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“You have thoughts of killing.  The urge to kill is there.  Let me help clarify your new life,” Lilith began to explain.

Tom was not listening.  Instead, he clenched his eyes tight then grabbed his head pulling down hard on his hair.

“I can’t stop!  My god damn thoughts, they won’t stop.”

“Admit it Tom.  It’s not only your thoughts.  What else do you feel?”

“I have a hunger but it’s not for food or sex.  Instead, it’s for violence.  I need to kill.”

Lilith waited for Tom to calm himself and sit back on the couch.  She knew what his questions and requests would be.  She was sure they were the same questions the others she helped indoctrinate asked.  Most accepted their fate.  A few like Tom required a more intense persuasion.

“Let’s go over some of your doubts and see if we can’t make this easier for you.  I’ll ask you some questions.  Try to answer them as honestly as you can.  Okay?”

Tom shrugged his shoulders, nodded his head and looked down at his feet.  He expected her to come up with some lame excuses for killing.  Humor her that was what he planned to do.  Humor her then escape the first chance he could.

The possibility of Father Alphonsus being able to help him escape from his new dreadful life gave him hope.  The priest was a psychiatrist.  Tom hoped that prayers and medication might work.  He planned to plead with the priest to save him.

“Ready for the questions?”

“Is it interesting to look for someone who may possibly be a good victim, just to look for her, not to do anything?”

Tom had to agree.  There was nothing too bad about just looking.  He nodded his head.

“Next question: Is setting up the scene, going through the steps in your mind, planning the sequence of the actions enjoyable?  You haven’t done anything to her.  It’s like watching a thriller or horror movie in your mind.  Am I right?”

“I guess there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Lilith smiled.

“Now let’s consider the pleasures of hunting.  Many men enjoy hunting for its excitement.  They do not need to hunt for food.  It's an exciting hobby.  Sometimes they let the prey go without killing it.  Some fishermen throw back their catch.  Now going through the motions of stalking your victim is exciting.  You must admit it.”

“If I’m only chasing her down and going through the steps but not doing anything; yes, it is fun.”

Tom was getting excited.  Maybe he could go through the motions like a game in real life.  The woman he was stalking would have no idea what he was up to.  At the time of the kill, he could bump into her and excuse himself for being clumsy, no harm done.

“When you get down to the final moment the prey is completely under your control.  Now you have the power over her life and death.  You choose if she lives or dies.  You must admit this is a scary yet powerful feeling.  Be honest.  Doesn’t it make you feel powerful?”

Tom was confused.  The way she went on systematically explaining it all until the moment of death; it sort of made sense.

“Well?”

“Yeah, of course.  Who wouldn’t feel powerful?”

“What if at this moment of death, a feeling of overwhelming emotion overtook you?  It’s a lot like sex now of orgasm.  How can you stop it?  Could you blame yourself if you could not help completing what you started?”

“If I?  I mean something uncontrollable…  I’m not sure,” Tom stumbled for words.

“No, I can’t do this,” he said after a moment.

"Well, what if you only kill people who are a threat to us.  It would almost be in self-defense."

“But I can’t just…”

“It’s perfect, a work of art.  A special exclusive creation set up for only you Tom Bianco.  The placement of the body, the torn face, the unique coin and your getaway, it's as if you were never there, as if it happened on its own.  This will scare away anyone who might threaten us.  Besides, you would only have to kill as a last resort, maybe once every several years.”

Tom could take no more of Lilith’s weird logic and pushy persuasion.  He ran out the door determined never to kill again.  That was the moment when the urge for the hunt came to him again.

“I can’t stop now.  Just one more time to ease the longing.  Maybe I’ll only start the hunt.  Maybe I’ll go through the motions just until I can satisfy some of this need to kill.  I’ll stop before any harm is done.  That’s how I’ll be free.  I’ll make it a game.  Enjoy it yet hurt no one.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 

 

Near Overlook Park, there is an outdoor station where the subway trains briefly come out from their tunnels.  There are two sets of tracks where the trains pass each other going in opposite directions.  Looking across the tracks the commuters can see the people on the other side waiting for their train.

When one of the trains comes out of its tunnel like a giant squeaking hissing caterpillar, it stops for a moment to ingest some humans and expel some others.  Then it continues on its way.

While she waited for her train, Elizabeth Jacobs enjoyed watching the people at the station going about their business.  She would wonder what they were doing and where they were going.  A high school senior, she took the train home from school every day after cheerleading.

Tom caught her interest when he began coming to the station every day.  She watched him from across the tracks.  At first, she saw nothing odd about his behavior.  He was waiting for his train like everyone else.

That was until she became aware of some peculiarities.  He never went into a train or came out from a train, so he must have walked into the station from the street.  He sat on the bench meticulously checking his watch then making notes in a small pad.  When a certain woman left the train, he followed her to the street above.

The woman was easy to spot.  She was a redhead in her late twenties who slowly used a cane to make her way to the exit.  There was no cast on her leg.  Elizabeth imagined a disease of some sort crippled the woman.

Elizabeth noticed that Tom never greeted the woman.  They never walked together side by side.  He followed close behind her but never close enough for her to notice him.  The other passengers walked past the both of them.

Elizabeth was curious.  She could not ignore what she saw.  Tom was stalking the woman.  It was not just any woman.  It was a thin lame individual with little chance of defending herself.  The same thing happened night after night.  She wondered why Tom never attacked the woman but only followed her.

The next night Elizabeth decided to investigate.  She crossed the station to sit next to Tom, determined to find out what was going on.

Instead of going to the police, she decided to play at being a detective.  There must be a rational solution and she was determined to find it.  She had a feeling Tom was not dangerous.  Besides, there were too many people nearby.

She could not come right out and ask him why he was following the woman.  That would spoil everything.  Telling the woman, she was being followed would also put a quick end to the game.

Elizabeth looked over Tom’s shoulder trying to read the notes he was taking.  Doing her best to be sly, she quickly turned her head when he looked up.

His notes showed several sets of numbers and some scribbling.  One set of numbers showed the time of day.  Another set had the time in seconds spaced out in groups.  Two parallel lines had to be the train tracks.  The numbers along a line attached to a square area could be the time it takes to get to the street.  Some other numbers could be distances.

Elizabeth was sure Tom had no idea she was watching him.  She fantasized about several possible outcomes all staring herself as the hero.  Using her cell phone camera, she could catch the killer in the act.  Spraying him with her mace would work.  When he realized there was a witness he would run.

The arrival of the train put an end to Elizabeth’s fantasies.  Now she prepared herself for action.  She kept her seat when the lame red-haired woman left the train.  Tom got up and slowly followed her to the street, same as before.  To avoid being seen Elizabeth followed from a safe distance.

She followed them through a parking lot passed the other commuters and out into a side street.  She wondered if the woman lived somewhere nearby or had her car parked on the street.

At the end of the next block, they disappeared around the corner behind a building.  Elizabeth ran to catch up with them.  She stopped by the edge of the building.  She was not sure when or even if she should make the turn.  She could hear nothing, no footsteps, no talking or screaming.  Carefully she peaked.  To her surprise, she saw no one.

Elizabeth ducked her head back behind the building.  How could they just disappear?  The streetlamp was bright enough to see anyone on the street.  She tried to think of where they could have gone.  Into a car parked by the curb or on the ground between parked cars were possibilities.

Deciding it was best to go back to the parking lot, she turned her back.  The streetlight went out.  A hand grabbed her by the waist and pulled her around the corner.  Before she could scream, a strip of duct tape tightly held her mouth closed.  Another strip of tape bound her wrists together.  The final strip held her ankles tight.

There on the ground on her back was the redhead.  Her throat was slashed open.  Her blood flowed slowly down the sidewalk.  By her side was the knife he used with its small curved metallic blade reflecting the light.  The curved blade made it easier to make the deep rounded slice severing the jugular vein on each side of her neck and cut the throat with the same motion.

Elizabeth watched Tom bend over the redhead putting his mouth on her face.  Twisting his head, he tore off a piece of flesh from her face.  That was when Elizabeth realized Tom was the man responsible for the recent murders.

She saw him chew and swallow before carefully placing a coin on her forehead.  He paused for a moment looking at the dead woman, admiring his work.

Elizabeth watched Tom calmly kneel on the ground and open his shoulder bag.  He removed a clean thicker bladed longer knife partially wrapped in a white cloth.  Then he put the knife on the ground on top of the cloth.  He acted smoothly and slowly as if he had plenty of time to complete his mission.

After a moment, Tom delicately lifted the thicker bladed knife and turned to Elizabeth.  He lifted her up onto her feet resting her against the building.  He looked her in the face waiting for a response.  Elizabeth squirmed against the tape unable to escape.  He smiled with satisfaction when he saw the intensifying terror in her eyes.

Putting the tip of the knife below her sternum, he pushed deep into her flesh cutting through the material of her blouse.  A button flew to the ground.  Pushing the blade up under the protection of her ribs, he dissected her aorta along with the nearby major blood vessels.  Then the blade made a slight turn on its way up to her heart.

As her blood seeped away from her body, he watched her life slowly pass away.  A few moments more and she was gone.  Tom pulled his hands away with a flourish imitating a magician’s hand motions at the end of a magic trick.

Elizabeth slid down against the building landing in a lifeless heap on the ground.  Tom pulled her along the ground until straight and neat.  He lined her up next to the other woman he killed moments ago.

His work was not over.  He bent down over her face but instead of a gentle kiss, he roughly ripped the flesh from her face.  He gently placed a coin on her forehead.

Tom began to shiver as sexual passion grew in him until orgasmic pleasure erupted.  He panted to catch his breath.

He wiped his knives off with a clean rag then put each into its own special place in a pocket of his shoulder bag. He wiped the blood from his face, licked his lips clean then calmly walked away at a leisurely pace.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

 

The low hum of the golf cart motor was the only sound as Mary Carpenter made her rounds through Greenwood cemetery.  It always seemed odd to her how quiet the cemetery was, considering it was in the middle of a highly populated area.

The cemetery’s caretakers worked together during the day.  They took turns working the late evening shift.  This week it was her turn to patrol the cemetery after hours.

It was her responsibility to ensure no one was locked in after the cemetery closed.  Usually, the cemetery was empty.  Sometimes a loved one would want to stay at the gravesite if possible, not paying attention to the time.

Rarely some teenagers would use the cemetery to get drunk, smoke pot, have sex or somehow get thrills from spending time with the dead.

Every few years a vandal would hide until everyone had left.  In such cases, the police quickly responded to a caretaker’s call.  The trespassers were caught before they did much damage.

Usually, the drive around the cemetery was only a boring routine.  Mary had been a caretaker for over ten years.  Although most people would hate to work in a cemetery near the dead in their graves, she appreciated the steady easy work.  The major difficulty of the job was in getting used to being in a home for the dead without constantly thinking about her own death.

When she first started working in the cemetery the question of when and where death would come for her was constantly on her mind.  She almost quit on several occasions.  As the weeks turned into months, she adjusted and gradually stopped thinking about her own death.

Mary often changed the directions and turns she drove in order to break the monotony.  Sometimes she drove as fast as the cart could go making sharp turns and short hard stops.  It was a silly way to patrol the cemetery grounds, but it hurt no one.  She only did it when the monotony became intolerable.

Many of the gravesites were beneath beautiful statuary:

There was a mother with a baby in her arms.

Another was of a soldier with his arm in a sling.

One had a cherub covering a tombstone with a blanket.

A dog sat on a flat headstone on the ground over his master’s grave.

Many had angels; some crying, some praying and some standing by the site.

Some of the inscriptions on the tombstones were etched in her memory.

 

“I think of you as watching from

A time and space beyond the sky,

A place where we might someday come.”

 

 

 

“Behold my friends as you pass by

As you are now, so once was I.

As I am now, soon you shall bebe.

Give thyself to God and follow me.”

 

“Death is only a shadow.

across the path to heaven.”

 

“No pain, no grief, no anxious fear

Can reach our loved one sleeping here.”

 

Mary’s favorite grave marker was an angel atop a tall obelisk.  It was a source of comfort for her.  The angel seemed to be looking out for her during her nightly ride, keeping watch to protect her.  She liked to think of it as her special guardian angel.

This evening something seemed wrong.  She could not think of a reason why she felt that way.  It was the same way she felt when she first started to work there ten years earlier.  Fearful thoughts of when and where death would arrive for her kept coming to mind.  Everything looked the same, yet she was sure something was different.

Up ahead she saw something move between two headstones.  It was on one of the corners of a turn in the road.  Mary took out her cell phone and a can of pepper spray just in case she needed them.  She brought the cart to a stop but stayed on.

“Excuse me but the cemetery is closed.  You’ll have to leave now,” she yelled.

There was no response.

She suspected they were some teens looking for a quiet spot to get high and have sex.

“Stop hiding or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

She heard no response.

“If you leave now there won’t be a problem.”

Again, there was no response.

There was the possibility that they were vandals coming to do mischief; maybe intending to spray-paint the gravestones and statuary with graffiti.  Carefully she left the cart to have a closer look.

Before calling the police, she wanted to make sure there actually was a problem.

Mary slowly walked to the area where she saw the movement.  It was between two headstones.  One that had a life-sized stone angel standing by the gravesite.  A short distance away was a smaller statue of Saint Francis with a sparrow in his hand.

There was no one there.  She got back on the cart assuming what she saw were the shadows cast from the cart’s headlights.

A short way down the road the cart jumped as if going over a bump or stone.  The roads in the cemetery were meticulously kept smooth.  There should not have been a bump.  Still nervous from her thoughts about death Mary did not stop to investigate.  Instead, she planned to tell her co-workers in the morning.

Shortly after the bump, the cart slowed, and the motor strained to keep up speed.  It was hardly noticeable but after being on the cart for so long, she could tell when the steady humming changed just slightly for a moment before returning to its usual quiet hum.

She knew from experience that this change in the cart’s performance was most likely due to the battery needing a recharge.  Mary hoped it would last long enough to reach the maintenance area.  She made a turn around the statue of the angel atop the obelisk on her way back to the maintenance area.

Suddenly she felt a sharp pain under her right shoulder blade.  Mary gasped for air.  She put her hand over her mouth not sure what to do.  A fit of rapid coughing brought blood to her mouth, which spilled out on to her hand.

When she twisted in her seat to see what was behind her, she saw Tom’s calm emotionless eyes watching.

He made a quick deep slash on the side of her neck, the side that was exposed when she turned to see him.  Tom’s cut went through both her carotid artery and jugular vein.

Mary watched the blood drain from her body for a moment before she became unconscious.  Her quick death followed.  Death had finally come to her.  She was now one with the other dead souls in the cemetery.

Tom pulled her body from the cart and dragged her to the obelisk with the angel on top.  Mary’s body left a trail of blood.  He carefully straightened her clothing as he positioned her on her back.  His bite ripped away the flesh on the left side of her face, leaving her lips still intact.  He placed the coin on her forehead.

Tom began to shiver as sexual passion grew in him.  He was becoming used to the feeling.  Orgasmic pleasure erupted.  He panted to catch his breath.

After wiping the blood from his lips, he cleaned the two knives he used to kill her and put each of them into its specific location in his shoulder bag.

Tom walked to the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the cemetery.  He tossed his shoulder bag over the fence before climbing over himself.

A couple turned the corner of the cemetery and walked towards him.  Tom greeted them with a smile as they passed.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

Tom did not go back to Lilith’s place after the cemetery murder.  He was repulsed by his own satisfaction with the cold execution of all the innocent women.  He thought about how things were before he found the book.

McQuade’s Tavern was just ahead.  It was his refuge.  A few hours spent there would buy some time before he had to act again.

The idea of ending his life came to him often now.  It was a familiar feeling, a comfort rather than something to fear.  In the past, it was only a state of mind.  If he waited, he knew it would pass but now he had a reason to end his life.  It would put an end to his killing.

Tom sat at the same table in the back where he sat with Angela.  The memory comforted him.  Yet it saddened him to imagine how their life together might have been.

An order of the largest burger with fries and a pitcher of sangria were useless to solve his problems but it gave him something to do to keep his mind occupied.  He tried everything to stop the thoughts echoing through his mind.

A second order left a puzzled look on the waitress’s face.  He was not actually hungry.  It was only something for him to do, something to stop his desire for the power over life and death.

The large quantity of fatty meat and fries washed down with two large pitchers of sangria could not physically stay in a man’s stomach.  The restroom was now his overwhelming desire.  He felt even this was better than listening to a mind helpless to resist evil.

A quick forceful release of the food and drink from his stomach into the toilet bowl; then he sat on the dirty urine scented floor.  He thought about how urine on the floor was a definite problem for men.

The direction of the stream of liquid was not precise especially when it first exited.  Even then, the force of the liquid when it hit the water in the bowl caused all kinds of splashes.

Then there was the twisting stream of urine.  He was not sure if it twisted clockwise or counterclockwise.  Maybe the spiral’s direction depended on if one was in the northern or southern hemisphere.

There was another problem.  It was the most difficult to control.  Sometimes the stream of urine exited as two separate streams going in different directions, one of which always missed the bowl.

He laughed at himself.  Enjoying thoughts of urination as he sat on a urine dampened concrete floor.  It was a distraction.  Tom was comfortable on the floor next to the toilet bowl of a public restroom.  It was a most appropriate place for someone as evil as himself.

When he got up, he noticed he did not have his wallet.  He could not care less.  Becoming intoxicated was his goal.

“Hey, feel better now good buddy?  I always feel better after a good puke.  It makes me ready for some more drinking.”

It was the voice of Levi Osami.  Tom was in no mood for a fight with the strange cabdriver.  On the other hand, he felt he deserved a good beating.  In his drunken state, Tom wanted to provoke a bad enough beating to leave him dead.

“What do you want?” Tom took a swing at Levi’s head then landed back on the floor.  The man was so much bigger than he was that he could not reach his face.

“No man.  Don’t get the wrong idea.  If I wanted to smash your head in, you’d already be in an ambulance.  No, I admit I was wrong about you.  I thought you never had it in you.  Now I really admire the way you’re adjusting.  I love your technique."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Levi continued.

"You're our new 'asin"

"You mean an assassin!"

"That's it.  You finally got it.  Come on let me buy you some drinks to celebrate.  We can sleep it off in my cab afterwards.  I’m parked out back right by the door.”

Levi helped him to his feet.  Even though Tom hated the man, he decided that for tonight he would go along with it and stop struggling.  For tonight, he would relax and enjoy getting drunk.

At the bar, Levi ordered several rounds of the most expensive whisky for himself.  Tom liked rum and coke.

“Listen Tom I have to tell you something.”

There was a long pause.

“You were going to tell me something,” Tom said.

“After all it’s out of your control now.  Why torture yourself?  Like the prayer says:

‘Hey serenity; accept whatever, wherever,

               You can’t change it now, no how,

So, relax and enjoy it.’

Amen.”

Tom smiled at Levi’s distortion of the prayer.

“That’s it, smile.  The prayer’s working already.  It’s a god damn miracle that’s what it is; a fucking god damn miracle,” he shouted loud enough to stop all conversation in the room.

With that, the bartender came up.

“I’m cutting you two off.  Pay up your tab and get out.  There’ll be no blasphemy while I’m bartending.”

Levi took a swing at the bartender’s face.  His fist grazed the man’s nose without doing any damage.  The bartender picked up a baseball bat he had laying under the bar.  The owner, Mr. McQuade came running out from the kitchen.

“Hold on guys.  Tell me what’s going on here.”

The bartender explained the situation while Levi leaned over the bar, his face coming just inches from the two men.

“There’s no need for this.  You’ll scare away the other customers.  Listen men I think you two have had enough for tonight.  We’re closing in a short while anyway.  The last round will be on me.  Then I want you to leave.”

Levi and Tom held on to each other while they stumbled out to the cab.  Levi opened the cab’s door and sat with his feet on the street.

“Well mister Tom I’m sure we’re going to be the best of friends.  I mean I really like you now.  We can even…” Levi passed out before he could finish.

Tom tripped down the street until he fell sliding into a deep puddle in the gutter, his hands grabbing for something to stop him.  He was able to hold on to what seemed at first to be a metal chain.

After coming to a stop, his clothes soaked in mud, Tom saw it was a large rosary he was holding in his hands.  It was the kind a friar wore attached to his cloth belt. The looped rosary was three feet long with a thick wooden crucifix attached to a heavy metallic chain.

Memories of his high school days at Saint Christopher’s Catholic school brought a feeling of comfort and safety.  The Franciscan Brothers taught him all about striving for a “Godly life”.  The rosaries they wore were a sign of strength, a sign of hope.

While Tom passed out in the gutter, he believed his grasp on the large rosary was a sign.  It was a lifeline.  He still had a chance to survive, a chance to get his life back. The life he hated so much but that now he would give anything to have back.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

Tom awoke with a gasp.  Ice water splashed over his face.  When he wiped the water away from his eyes, he saw the red taillights of a passing car fade into the darkness.  The set of rosary beads was tightly wound around his right hand still dripping with muddy water from the gutter.

He felt this night was the start of a new life for him.  Tom was going home to his own apartment not Lilith's.  He was through with her and that malevolent nameless book.

It took a few moments to get his bearings and a few moments more to regain strength enough to stand.  His apartment was only a few blocks away.  It was close enough for an easy short walk and far enough to allow him time to think.

Finding the book was a stroke of bad luck.  Tom believed making contact withcontacting the rosary beads was no accident.  It was a force of nature to balance the good and the evil.  The worst was over.  If he held on to the rosary beads, he was safe.

All the way home he saw no shadows follow him.  The walk was over before he could do much thinking, but he felt it was better that way.  Too much thinking would only complicate things.  He knew the direction he wanted to take.  For now, that was enough.

He walked up to the entrance of his apartment building.  It felt good to be home.  The entrance door to the building was open.

Tom looked for all the places a shadow could hide.  There was nothing unusual.  He took the stairs to avoid being caught in the elevator just in case the shadows were waiting for him.

All seemed clear until he reached the door to his apartment.  It was locked.  He knew he left it unlocked when he rushed out.  That meant someone must have gone in while he was away.  They could still be inside.

Trembling with anxiety, he looked in the corner of the stairwell where he had taped a spare key to the underside of the last section of railing.  He felt for the smoothness of the duct tape, his favorite type of tape.

He thought he saw a shadow move in the dark following the shadow of his hand.  The shadow seemed somehow familiar to him growing as he pulled the key away from it.  He knew it was not a hallucination.

The transparent black haze grew to about twice his size forming itself into a blurry figure.  Everything became silent.  A wave of deafness came over him.  The image seemed to flicker then swell coming closer to Tom for a moment then moving away in rhythm with his breathing.  The resulting vertigo caused him to sway in time with the changing image.

On an impulse, Tom held the rosary in front of him trying to shield himself from the oscillating shadow.  The image stopped for an instant.  That was all he needed.  Inserting and turning the key in one smooth motion he push on the door, rushed in then slammed it shut behind him.

The shadow slowly seeped under the door, in through the keyhole and around the seams where the door sealed itself against the frame.

Tom wrapped the rosary around both hands and touched it to all the places where the shadows seemed to seep in. The shadows pulled away.

He lay down on the carpet next to the sofa with the rosary clutched to his chest.  He felt safe at last.

 

The next morning after having spent the night on the floor, Tom slowly sat up and looked around the room.  At first, he was not sure where he was.  His hangover left him too tired and dazed to recognize his own apartment.  What he was sure of was the sense of security the rosary gave him.

He threw off his mud-encrusted clothes dropping them on the floor on his way to the bathroom.  Even in the shower, he took the rosary draping it around his neck.  Before leaving the shower, he washed the rosary carefully removing any remnant of dirt.

After drying himself and the rosary, Tom put on a clean set of clothes.  Examining the beads, he noticed one bead was larger and made of a different material than the other dark wooden beads.  Turning it over he saw it was a skull shaped bead located just above the crucifix.

The skull somehow absorbed the light in the room then gave off a warm translucent almost pink glow.  The heavy metal chain held the beads and crucifix securely leaving deep indentations in his skin after he gave it a long hard tug.  There was no way he could break it using his bare hands.  That explained how it remained in such good condition after being in the street.

The skull worried him.  He put all his hope in that rosary.  Now he wondered if the skull was a sign of evil.  Tom went to his PC to see what he could learn by searching the web.  He used Google and tried "skull rosary bead".

He found several results for sites selling rosary beads with skulls on them.

He clicked on a promising site: “The Meaning of Skull Rosaries: Why Do Some Rosaries Have Skulls?”

“Skulls on rosary beads are called ‘Memento Mori’ or ‘Remember that you must die'.  It is a statement that you should live your life remembering you will one day die.  You must do what is morally good.  That way you can avoid hell when you die.”

He saw a photograph of a rosary that was like the one he found.  It was about 2 feet long, long enough to come halfway down to the calf if worn from a belt.  The large crucifix was about 6 inches long.  Like the beads, it was made of heavy dark wood.  The ivory skull bead was just above the crucifix.

Once he knew what the skull symbolized the feeling of strength coming from the rosary returned to him along with a sense of relief.  Tom knew what he must do now.  He would go to the police and confess.  This was the way he would redeem himself.  He was ready for any legal punishment.  The enforcement of the law would be his repentance, his chance to be forgiven.  Father Alphonsus would hear his confession and give him absolution.  He would be ready for death.

First, he wanted to explain everything to Angela.  He rehearsed in his mind the words he would use to apologize for what happened and make her understand he had no choice now but to turn himself in.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

 

 

Tom draped the rosary beads around his neck and put his jacket on over them, allowing only the beads near his collar to show.  From the outside, it looked like an ordinary beaded necklace.  But he believed it was special and that it had the power to change his life.

He felt the bead’s contact with the skin of his neck and the way it loosely hung down to his waist was a force of tranquility.  Now he was safe at last and confident he had the strength to resist the urge to kill.

Tom hurried out of his apartment without locking the door behind him.  He tightly clutched his shoulder bag, which he used to call his tool kit of murder.

Once outside he went through the alleyway leading to the back of the building where the trash dumpster was kept.  Before throwing the shoulder bag into the bin, he paused, hesitating for a moment.  He was not sure he wanted to do it.

The memory of his adventures with the shoulder bag had a sentimental effect on him.  He was sure his old life was gone but giving up the power over life and death was almost too much to lose.

“No, it’s over now,” he shouted.

Then he hurled the shoulder bag into the trash bin.  Tom opened his jacket.  He pulled out the rosary beads until he held the crucifix in his hands.  He made the sign of the cross.  Then he kissed the crucifix and returned the beads around his neck.

Tom felt he was only pretending to be religious.  He wanted to feel and believe more than he did.  He wondered if it was a sin to pretend.

While walking to Angela’s apartment he went over his plans to be free from his need to kill.  His tools for killing: knives, duct tape and coins were now with the trash.  There was no preparation for choosing a suitable victim.  He had no notes for timing his attack with no plans for escape.

After saying goodbye to Angela, he intended to go directly to the police.

The most important thing that was helping him now, besides his love for Angela, was the set of rosary beads strung around his neck.  Concentrating on the skull called the “Memento Mori” or the “Remember Death” symbol would help him prepare for his execution or for spending the rest of his life in jail.  This was what he deserved.  God would forgive him.  That was what he had always heard.  He could not make up for the deaths he caused but he could repent and stop doing any more damage.

One thing puzzled him, why the police never caught him.  Were they so incompetent that they could not find and stop him from killing?  He felt that in a way it was partially their fault.  If they worked more professionally, they could have saved some of those lives.

Angela’s apartment was only one more block away.  Halfway down that block he noticed a woman no more than eighteen years old.  He saw how suitable a victim she would make.  She was alone, frail and seemed to be very sad.

He was immediately attracted to her.  Tom saw an innocent young woman with soft dark brown eyes, her pale face framed by long flowing brown hair.

As he went closer, she slowly licked her soft lips, her tongue following the outline of their bow-like shape.  He could not help being physically attracted to her, but he was more excited about seeing her as a victim.  The temptation was there.  He knew he wanted to do it.  To resist Tom pulled the rosary beads off from around his neck.  He made the sign of the cross and kissed the crucifix.  Instead of replacing the rosary beads around his neck, he wrapped them tightly around his hands.  They resembled a sort of holy handcuffs to prevent him from harming the girl.

Tom enjoyed imagining how he would approach her, and duct tape her mouth, hands and ankles.  It would only take a second or two to make her completely helpless and under his control.

He wondered where he would plunge the knife.  It could be a deep stab through a vital organ.  A direct plunge into the heart required the blade of the knife to be turned horizontally to find its way between the protective ribs.  It was a challenge to make it work correctly.  Tom found it impossible to block his thoughts.

The frustration of not having his “tools” brought him back to the present moment.  A moment filled with an urge much stronger than hunger or thirst.  A flush came to his face.  A wave of overpowering arousal came over him.

It was a clear sunny day with many witnesses and no way to escape or hide.  It made no difference now.  One more victim was all he wanted before turning himself in.

Tom tightened his grip on the rosary beads hoping the painfully tight grip would turn his attention away from murder.  He began rubbing the beads between his hands tearing at his knuckles until they bled.  Again, kissing the crucifix and making the sign of the cross made him feel hypocritical.  It was more a lucky horseshoe than a religious object.

Having no weapons or plan of attack Tom wondered what harm it would do if he only pretended to attack as he passed by her.  After bumping into her, he would apologize.  The encounter would result in at most a few minor bruises for the girl and a satisfying physical contact that would bring him some relief.

Tom looked down at his bloody hands.  He made another tug on the rosary beads.  In an odd way, the pain calmed him but only for an instant.  It was a brief distraction before the urge became even stronger.  Any hope for release from the torturing urge seemed unlikely.

When he approached the girl, his grip on the rosary beads caused a slow flow of dripping blood that stained his jacket.  Again, this seemed to calm him.  He felt a wave of relief flow over his body.  After all, he was not actually going to hurt the girl.  To his surprise the rosary beads were working.  Maybe there actually was some holy power in the blessed beads.

Just behind the girl, Tom relaxed and loosened his hold on the rosary beads.  He stopped himself from bumping into her.  With a sigh of relief, he watched himself whip the beads over the girl’s head and tighten them around her neck.  Instantly the girl gagged but not loud enough to be heard by the passersby.  She struggled unsuccessfully to escape.  She began kicking her legs in midair. Then she tried to force her fingers between the chain of the rosary beads and her throat.

Tom dragged her into a narrow space between the two buildings behind them.  No one saw them.  The space was too narrow for a passageway yet there was just enough room for him to work.

After a few seconds he felt the girl’s body relax when she lost consciousness.  To stop strangling her now would only allow her to regain consciousness with no real harm done except for bruises, fear and pain.

Tom continued causing the girls brain cells to die from lack of oxygen.  To stop strangling her now would be wrong.  She would be “brain dead” in a vegetative state.  Again, being in control of life and death gave him a sense of power.  He continued his strangle hold.

It was now a mercy killing.  In a few more minutes, she would be at peace.  To be sure, Tom checked her carefully before loosening the rosary bead chain.  There was no pulse and no breathing.  She was dead.

When the girl fell to the ground, he jumped on top of her and bit into her face.  Being younger, her face was easier to rip apart resulting in his bloody mouth filled with more of her flesh than an older woman's.

He used all his will to prevent having an orgasm.  The location was too exposed.

Tom left the rosary beads around her neck and calmly walked away.  His only regret was in not having the coin to put on her forehead.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

The two-story brick police station looked mostly the way it did in 1918.  The words “Police Station” engraved in a white stone plaque above the entranceway identified the building.

Back then, the crime rate was low.  There were maybe two or three arrests a week mostly for drunks and pickpockets.

They later retrofitted the bars on the station windows with stronger bars held in place with thick long screws drilled through the bricks.  Workers patched the bricks that cracked with globs of ugly cement and concrete.

Tall aluminum pole streetlights replaced the old black metal light posts with their three globe lights held in place by strips of bronze.

The large rooms inside were now partitioned off into small offices.  In the back of the station, one large room remained unchanged.  The policemen liked to call it the “Strategy Room”.  It was a staging area to organize plans for dealing with the ever-increasing crime rate.

After the recent series of murders, they lined the “Strategy Room” with six dry-erase boards.  Photographs of the victims were clipped on top.  Each victim had the left side of her face ripped away with bloody teeth showing through.  Their lips were still intact.  A coin was on their foreheads.

With a red marker, they wrote the details of the victim’s death.  Beneath this in blue, they planned to write the names of any possible suspects with their whereabouts at the time of the murders.  On all the boards there was nothing under this line.  The police had no idea who the murderer might be or how he escaped undetected.

That day the room was crowded with patrol officers and detectives.  The station chief of police told all to be quiet for the day’s special assignments.

“I know you’re as frustrated as I am, but we have to come up with something, anything.  The people are starting to panic.  The newspapers are making us out to be a bunch of idiots with badges.  Does anyone have anything to contribute?”

The room remained silent while the officers looked at each other.

“That’s great.," he said sarcastically.

“Listen chief, we’re doing all we can, but this guy is perfect.  He does not make even a single mistake.”

“Well, here’s a slightly different MO that I got a report on a few minutes ago.  It may be a copycat killer because this time he did not use a knife.  Of all things he used a set of rosary beads.”

The room filled with laughter.  The men started joking.

“Hey chief maybe he’s a priest who heard the killer’s confession and wanted to give it a try to see if he could do it too.”

“Yeah, or maybe the guy has a guilty conscience, and this is his way of repenting.”

The chief called for some order.

“Like I said most likely it’s a copycat because even though the left side of her face was bitten off there was no coin on her forehead.  We’re examining the beads for any clues.  Does anyone have something to say before we get to work?”

A secretary ran into the room and grabbed the chief’s shoulder causing him to lose his balance almost knocking him to the floor.  She whispered something to him then left.

“Something just in men,” before he could continue Tom calmly walked into the room.

“Hey, stop right there!”  The chief shouted.

All the officers came to their feet.

“How did you get in here?  I mean who let you in?  First, put your hands up.  Don’t make any moves.  Somebody cuff him.  Search him for weapons.”

“I’m the man you’re looking for.  I can’t do it anymore.  I want it all to end,” Tom said.

The room became silent.  Tom smiled.  He seemed content.

“Finally, it’s over,” he whispered.

 

“Okay come with me.  I have a few questions to go over with you before we can settle the case,” the detective in charge of Tom's case said.

The “Interrogation Room” was located at the back of the police station next to the “Strategy Room”.  The men nicknamed the room the “Confessional”.  It was a small room with one table and two folding chairs.  A second door with an exit sign above it was on the far side of the room.  A pay phone was mounted on the wall next to the door.  Grey painted cinderblock walls with a large rectangular one-way mirror overlooked the table.  The fluorescent tubes in the ceiling hummed and produced a stark white light.  A grey linoleum floor finished the décor.

Tom did not understand why all this was necessary.  After he confessed, he believed that would be the end of it.  Again, he imagined he would be put in prison for the rest of his life.  There he would hide.  There he would lead a quiet contemplative existence.

The other possibility of execution did not frighten him.  Before finding the book, suicide did not seem to be such a bad idea.  Now they may do it for him.

The detective led him into the interrogation room and sat across from him on the other side of the table.

“Now before we start, I need to know how you were able to avoid the security cameras.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question.  How did you do it?  The only thing on the camera recordings is a black fog-like haze over your entire body.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you use some sort of cloaking device?”

He was sure Levi had something to do with it.  Lilith did say he was good at covering his tracks.  Tom remained silent.

“I know there was some experimental work on using lasers to distort or block images.  Is that what you used?”

“I have no idea about what you’re asking.  Besides there’s no need for this.  I did the murders and deserve what I get.”

“Well, here’s another thing I’m curious about.  What started this killing spree?  I suppose you have some excuse.”

“No.  There’s not really any excuse.”

“Won’t you tell me a little more?”

“I fell into a trap.  It started with the book.  Hey, like I said I’m not making any excuses.  There’s something evil inside me.  That’s what made this all possible.”

“How did this book of yours make you start killing innocent women?”

“I have this evil quality in my soul.  That’s why they chose me.  They used the book to get me to make a commitment.”

“Who are these people you’re talking about?  What book are you talking about?  How does all this have anything to do with the case?”

Tom did not reply.

The interrogator paused for a moment.

“I see.  You want to play at being innocent by reason of insanity.  Well, I’m sure you won’t be able to convince anyone.  You’re not clever enough to fool us.  As a last resort many criminals try to pull that trick and it never works.”

“I’m not insane.  The killings are my own fault.  I want it to end.”

“Okay, keep it up.  Next, I suppose you’ll tell us you look forward to spending the rest of your life locked up.  Maybe you’d prefer that we just kill you.”

“I’m serious.  It will be a great relief if it stops me from committing another murder.”

“That’s so sweet.  I bet the men in prison will sympathize with you.  You’ll be a very popular man with plenty of boyfriends.  I’m sure.”

Tom kept quiet.

“I have an idea.  Why don’t we just go along with your story and lock you up in a crazy house.  They’ll keep you so drugged up you’ll have to wear a bib to catch the spit drooling from your mouth.  Oh yeah, you’ll have a great future.  The best deal for you would be a quick execution.  That way everyone will be happy.”

Again, Tom said nothing.

“Here, write down the times, dates, victims, whatever and sign it.”  The officer flung a yellow legal sized pad on the table.  Tom caught it before it could fall on the floor.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

 

In a dream, Angela was walking hand in hand in a park with Tom.  It was a bright summer’s day with a gentle cool breeze.  She was happier than she could ever remember.  Tom turned to give her a kiss.  Before their lips touched, a phone suddenly appeared in her hand.

“I believe we have your boyfriend here at the police station.”

“What?  Who is this?”

Foggy headed from sleep Angela did not even hear the phone ring.  She could not understand what the man was saying.

“I said this is Officer Joe Santos.  We have a man here with no wallet, no cell phone, nothing to identify him.  He calls himself Tom Bianco.  He gave us your phone number.  We have him here at the station.”

“Is he okay?  I mean he’s not hurt or anything?”

“No, but I don't think he'll be okay for long.”

“What do you mean? Where did you find him?”

“He turned himself in.  He confessed to being the killer.”

“It’s not funny.  Stop joking and tell me what’s going on,” Angela began to lose her temper.

“Well, he confessed.  He walked into the station and asked for whoever was in charge.  This is serious and I’d never joke with anyone about it.”

“There’s some mistake here.  Tom could never do such a thing.  He’s been having some emotional troubles lately, confusing everything.”

“Well, that’s even more reason to believe he’s the killer.”

Angela bit her lip.  She feared she might have made things worse.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke.

“Can I come down to see him?”

“You must come in.  We need some way of finding his identity.  Can you bring a driver’s license and any other proof of who this man is?”

“I have his wallet.  Can I speak with him?”

“Not yet.  Come by in about two hours.  We need to question him and put all the facts together.”

After she finished her phone call with the police, she phoned Father Alphonsus.

“Hello and may God bless you.  I can’t come to the phone right now."

“Hello! Hello!  I’m here.  It took a moment for me to get to the phone,” the priest interrupted the recorded message.

“It’s me Angela.  I’m glad I could get in touch with you.  They have Tom at the police station but something’s not right.”

"What's wrong?"

“Well, it’s not that easy.  I’m not even sure it really is Tom.  They wouldn’t let me talk with him.  They want to interrogate him first.  I can see him in about two hours.  They said Tom came into the station and told them he was the killer.”

“This is strange.  I’ll help you.  I can come down to the police station with you if you like.  We can identify him together.  I can talk with them and try to straighten things out.”

“I told the policeman he was having some emotional problems.  That he could be confusing things.  He told me that made it even more of a possibility that he was the killer.  I didn’t mean to say something so stupid.  I was half asleep and now I’ve made everything worse.”

Angela broke into a fretful cry.

“Try to calm down.  I’ll be right there as soon as I can.  We have about two hours anyway.  We’ll sort things out over breakfast.  I think I can help.  Situations like this are what I’m trained to handle.”

Angela was grateful for the priest’s support.  The police would respect her more with Father Alphonsus on her side.  There would be a priest who was also a psychiatrist involved.  She told herself repeatedly how all was not lost.  There still was hope.

 

After breakfast, when they arrived at the police station the lot was full which required several passes before, she found an open space.

A police officer tapped on the driver’s side window.  Angela flinched.

“Angela, open the window.  There’s a policeman,” Father Alphonsus said.

“What is your business here?”

“We’ve come to see Tom Bianco,” Angela said.

“I’m his priest.  My name is Father Alphonsus.”

“Let’s see your driver’s licenses for identification.”

The policeman checked his clipboard, which had the names of people who were cleared for a visit.

“Follow me.”

"Why all the security?"  Father Alphonsus asked.

"It's not your business but we don't want anyone from the press coming in and confusing everything.  That's all."

“Let’s see your driver’s licenses for identification,” The officer at the front desk said.

“But the officer already checked us in the parking lot," Angela said.

Father Alphonsus pulled out his license and nudged Angela to do the same.

“Where is the suspect’s identification?  I have a note saying you would bring it with you.”

Angela handed him Tom’s wallet and cell phone.

“Wait here.  Have a seat until I come back.  I have to go over this with the chief.”

Father Alphonsus put his arm around Angela’s shoulders while they sat hoping to comfort her.

“This will all turn out the way God wants.  Often, He acts in ways we have no hope of ever understanding but we should trust Him that it’s all for the best,” the priest told her.

“You mean it’s hopeless, don’t you?”

“No, not at all.  It’s only best to be ready for whatever comes our way.  I have a feeling this is all some misunderstanding.  Remember the law says he is innocent until they prove otherwise.”

They remained quiet waiting for their time to see Tom.  Father Alphonsus kept up his positive attitude while Angela held back her tears.

“Okay now, only one visitor at a time.  I’ll have to frisk you.  I’ll also stand outside the cell to make sure everything is secure.”

“You go in first Angela,” Father Alphonsus said.

A policewoman led her to the back of the station where the holding cells were located.

“Before you see him, I have to search you.  Come with me into this room.  Take off your coat.  Let me see what’s in your bag.”

“I won’t have to take my clothes off, will I?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said in an overly serious way.

After the contents of Angela’s bag were dumped on the table, the policewoman searched her.

“Leave your bag here.  When you return from the cell, you’ll get it back.”

She followed the officer down another hallway.  To Angela it seemed like walking through a maze, the type they use for testing mice.  The empty cells they passed looked like cages.  Her mental picture of how jail cells might look with their thick vertical iron bars was now a reality.

When they reached his cell, the officer let her in.  Angela rushed past the metal bars and into Tom’s arms.  She burst out in tears.

"Where were you?  You never returned my calls.  You weren't at your apartment.  I didn't know what to do."

"I fell into a trap by getting involved with Lilith.  It was all a trick to have me commit murder for her.  Now I'm stuck.  Something evil in my soul has been released."

"But why her?  Why Lilith?  You're better off with me than some slut that will never be loyal."

"I know but now it's too late," Tom tried to explain.

"Did you have sex with her?"

"The truth is she drugged me with something.  I won't pretend that I didn't enjoy it, but I still had no choice.  I love you, not her."

Angela eagerly pulled him close squishing her lips tightly against his.  Tom almost pulled back in surprise but returned her kiss.  He felt reunited with his true soul mate.  Then he remembered the women he killed.  He could see no way he could be with Angela now.

“Tom did they treat you well?  Your hands are bloody.  What happened? Was it the handcuffs?”

“No, I did that myself.  We don’t have time to go into it now.  Listen to me Angela.  I’m no good.  You must forget me.  Start a new life without me.  I’ll try to explain.”

“Is it true what they say?  Are you really the killer?”

“Yes.  I was tricked into it but that’s not an excuse.  If I did not have some evil buried deep inside me all this would never have happened.”

“You mean that book you found?”

“Yes, that started the whole thing.  But I don’t want you to get involved.  It’s too late for me.  If you leave now, you can start new life for yourself with someone special.  I know you’ll be happy.  Someday you’ll joke with him about your crazy old boyfriend.”

“How could you kill all those women?  I was sure you were a kind, feeling person not a disgusting murderer.  I can’t believe it.  Explain it to me.  Tell me how you could even think of doing such a thing?”

“Something takes control of me when I kill.  It’s a compulsion.  I have no choice.  It’s the only way I can find relief.”

“I want to believe you but why do you blame yourself if you’re under some evil force.  You have no choice.”

“Angela I’m still to blame.  I became addicted to murder.  It’s just like being addicted to drugs.  The junkie doesn’t want to be a junkie when he starts out.  Gradually he loses all control, and in the end, he will do anything to get his fix.”

“That’s our way out.  Father Alphonsus can explain it to the jury.  The judge will reduce your sentence; maybe even give you a pardon.”

“What’s in it for you Angela?  Are you going to wait years to make a life for yourself?  Do you actually believe what you say will happen?

I want you to find someone special to share a life with you.  Forget about me.  Take your time.  Don’t rush into a relationship the way you rushed into it with me.  Now all I can ask you to do is pray for me.”

They said their goodbyes with a long hug and a brief kiss.

Father Alphonsus put his hand on Angela’s shoulder when they switched places.  She crossed the hallway towards the room where she left her bag.  The priest took her place in the cell with Tom.

“Tom I’m here to let you know I’m on your side.”

Tom stood up but before he could say a word, the priest continued.

“Listen to me.  I can be there with you in court.  They told me you confessed to the murder but that was before you understood what happened to you.  I know a lawyer experienced in these types of cases.”

“But I already confessed.”

“Yes, but while I was waiting, I had a chance to peek at the case they have against you.  I could hardly believe how sloppy they are.  Maybe it’s all the pressure and rushing.  Anyway, they left a rough outline right on the top of a desk.  There are no witnesses.  There is no murder weapon.  They have no surveillance recordings.  No fingerprints were found at the scene.”

“I killed those women.  I enjoyed it.  I deserve to be executed or at least put in prison.  This is my only hope of getting away from doing evil."

Again, not listening to what Tom was saying, Father Alphonsus continued his discourse.

“The only possible link might be any DNA left on the faces of the women.  If we’re lucky there won’t be enough there to make a positive connection to you.”

“You’re not listening.  I don’t want to be set free.”

Tom jumped to his feet then began looking at the shadows he saw in his cell.  They were under the bench, in the corner of the cell, beneath the bars.  The shadows were everywhere.  The dim light of the cell cast shadows under the priest’s chin, to the side of his nose, behind one of his ears.  Tom now believed that even the priest was causing shadows.

“What’s wrong?  What are you looking for,” Father Alphonsus stood up curious to see what could be making Tom so upset.

“They’re here!”

“Who’s here?”

“God help me. Even in jail I can’t get away.”

Tom saw a black cloud of evil beginning to form.  The lust to kill gradually increased by the second until thoughts of how he could kill the priest took over.

At that moment, the police chief ran down the hallway with Angela close behind.  He unlocked the cell, jumped in and grabbed Tom by the collar.

“We have no fingerprints, not enough material for a DNA examination and your apartment has no weapons.  The only book that comes close to your description is an expensive looking leather diary that has no entries.  It’s brand new.  We found nothing suspicious anywhere in the apartment."

Tom became unsteady.  However, the police chief’s grip on his collar prevented him from falling.

"A woman named Lilith called us and swears you were with her when the murders were committed.  She named the exact dates and times.  I know she's covering for you, but we can't do anything about that."

Tom was dumfounded.

"How did she know I turned myself in?  Was she following me the whole time?"

"One more question will decide your fate," the chief said.

"What is it?"  Father Alphonsus asked.

"If he killed those women then he can tell me what was hidden at the crime scene."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

"Was there anything under the victims' tongues?"

Tom hesitated.

"It could be nothing or it could be an item, or it could be a paper with a message on it.  We kept this information hidden."

"I did not put anything under their tongues."

"How about this?  This was under each victim's tongue," the chief handed a crumbled piece of paper to the priest.

"Amica mea liberabit vos."

"Father Alphonsus paused before giving the translation.

"It's in Latin and means ‘My love will set you free’."

Tom realized that it must have been placed after he left the scene of the murders.  It was how Lilith felt about him.  She was clever enough to set things up if the need ever arose.

"Along with the lack of any other solid evidence confessing without knowing this small fact makes you seem even more incredible.  It will never hold up in court," The chief continued.

“If he didn't murder anyone then why don't you let him go now?”  Angela said.

“No, he’s not going anywhere.  We’re going to charge him with interference in a police investigation and anything else we can find to keep him here.  This time we won’t be so gentle with our questioning.  If he's not a prankster, then he goes to a psychiatric hospital.”

With a sudden powerful rush of energy, Tom threw the chief against the wall.

“Why can’t you understand?  Lilith altered the evidence in order to let me get away with the murders.  She needs me to keep killing and she really loves me.”

“Calm down Tom.  We’ll work something out,” Father Alphonsus said.

Angela feared for her safety until Tom suddenly calmed himself.

“You don't understand.  They know how to hide.  If you let me out the killings will only start again."

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

 

 

The light coming in through the Venetian blinds passed by the curtains and landed on Tom’s face as he slept.  He rolled over attempting to avoid the light and get back to sleep.  That was when he realized he was not at home.

He remembered he was in a psychiatric hospital.  The medications he was given made it difficult for him to remember any details.  He was not even sure how he got to the hospital.  The last thing he did remember was walking into the police station to confess to committing the murders.  He remembered Angela coming to visit him there in his jail cell.

After that, he woke up one morning to find himself in a hospital for the mentally ill.  They called it a psychiatric rehabilitation center.  Tom believed it was only a polite name for a “home for the insane” or “lunatic asylum.”  For him it meant a place to keep the misfits off the streets so they could not hurt themselves or others.

He went back under the sheets and turned over onto his side away from the light.  That was when he saw something move in his peripheral vision and heard quick yet gentle taping sounds like tiny footsteps.  At first, he assumed it must be a mouse.  When he looked closely, he saw the shadow of a two-legged creature.  He knew a mouse could stand on its hind legs, but this was the shadow of a tiny man walking with ease on two legs.  It did not sway to keep its balance the way a mouse would.  It stood comfortably erect.  The shadow of its head was round without the snout of a mouse.

Quickly rolling off the bed and onto the floor, Tom hoped to get a clear sight of the creature.  There it was.  He saw its back.  It ran around to the other side of the bed.  Its tiny hand was holding on for balance.

Crawling on his hands and knees Tom followed the creature.  He was able to have a brief yet clear sight of its face.  The early morning light reflected off the eyes of a miniature shadowy man.

“Good morning, Tom.  How did you sleep last night?”

The sound of a man’s voice woke him from the nightmare.  The voice was deep and loud, too loud.  Tom sat up on the bed.  It took a moment for him to recognize the man who was the nurse assigned to watch him.  He could not remember the nurse’s name.  Besides, he was in no mood for small talk.  The most important thing now was that he hoped the tiny man was only a nightmare.

Tom did remember how he was put on a strict suicide watch until the medicines took effect.  Why they believed he might kill himself seemed odd.  He had no memory of being more depressed than he usually was.

Now he wore the same jogging suits as all the patients in his ward.  All were in dull shades of green, blue, grey or red.  The clothes had no drawstrings on the pants or sweatshirts.  They wore slippers held shut with Velcro.  Belts, metallic items and anything that could be used to hurt themselves was forbidden.

The same nurse who just woke him was always at his side only a few feet away.  Tom could not be alone for even a moment.  Not even in the bathroom was he allowed to be alone.  He felt he should have some privacy to preserve his dignity, but the lethargy caused by the medications left him too weak to complain.

At first, most of his medications were given by injection leaving him groggy and sore at the injection site.  Later when he cooperated, they became less forceful with him.

Now the hospital staff made sure he swallowed all his medication.  He had to keep his mouth open for them to see for themselves.  No one trusted him.

“Well, how did you sleep?” The nurse asked again, in what seemed to Tom to be in an overly serious manner.

In order to prevent trouble Tom smiled as he went into his act of polite normality.

“I had a peacefully relaxing deep sleep.  The medications really do make a difference."

The medications left him in a sort of pleasantly drunken state.  But he was useless to accomplish anything on his own.  It did not matter because all his needs were being taken care of by the staff.  It was a legal way to stay high all day and night without a care.

The best part of this drug-induced state was that the evil shadows were gone.  He had no need to satisfy his urge to kill.

His life with Lilith and Levi seemed long ago and far away.  He could not believe they were ordinary people the way his therapist Doctor Douglas Anthony insisted.

“Doctor Doug”, he liked to call him.  He seemed to be honest and really believe in what he was saying.  He was a little older than Tom, which amazed him.  The doctor accomplished so much with his life while Tom believed himself to be an utter failure.

“After breakfast you’ll have an opportunity to see Doctor Anthony.”

The nurse’s comment brought Tom’s attention back to the present moment.  It seemed as if the nurse was always talking down to him, treating him like a kindergarten student rather than as an adult.  Doctor Anthony was different.  He always treated him as an equal.

“I won’t be doing my morning group therapy?”

Tom’s daily schedule included a morning group therapy session that dealt with sharing personal emotions and setting goals for the day.  After lunch, there was another group therapy session.  This time it dealt with coping with depression and thoughts of hurting oneself.

They let the “inmates”, as Tom liked to call the patients, go outside for an hour or so three times a day.  They went into a small courtyard with a grassy area.  It was landscaped with various trees, shrubs and a small fountain.  A tall metal chain link fence surrounded the courtyard.  Again, images of life in a prison came to mind.

The rest of the day Tom sat around watching TV or doing art therapy.

“If you behave yourself, I bet Doctor Anthony will permit you to have visitors.  It’s all up to you.  Now wash up and get dressed.  I’ll wait for you in the dining room.  Don’t take too long or I’ll have to come get you.”

Tom stopped himself from showing his anger.

“Are you okay?  Do you need me to help you get ready?”  The nurse checked with Tom one more time before leaving.

“Thank you but I’ll be fine.”

“That’s a good boy.”

A quick shower was the highlight of the day.  Watching the behavior of the other patients during meals was also interesting.  For Tom the cafeteria was a theater where the other “inmates” performed their parts.

Everyone who entered the cafeteria had to pass by George.  Tom nicknamed him the “greeter.”

“Welcome.  Come on in.  Are you from around here?  Are you just visiting?  My name is George.  How are you doing today?  It’s so nice to see you again.  Please, I hope you’ll come back again real soon.”

The man greeted everyone every day. He greeted them whenever they came in or left the cafeteria.  Tom felt sorry for him.  However, once he became accustomed to the man Tom learned to ignore him as everyone else ignored him.

There was a woman in her early twenties who could not sit still for more than a few minutes.  Then when she spoke, she made no sense.  Often, she went into a crying bout.  If it was bad, they took her away and gave her an extra dose of medication.

Mister Crowley, a man in his early forties read the newspaper all day.  He ignored everyone else in the room.  He said nothing abnormal until he began screaming out of control about how the world was ending and how the rich politicians will exterminate the poor.  Tom believed it was only an act.  The man wanted to get high from the injections they gave him.

Tom liked to call Mrs. Enders the “singer” because she often sang hymns to herself.  If she became too loud, she was escorted back to her room.  For such a minor offense, she did not “earn” any additional doses of medication.

Tom wondered if he could make the hospital his new home, free from the evils of the outside world.  When he was tired of the mind-numbing effects of life in a psychiatric hospital, he planned to find a way to commit suicide.

The most desirable course would be a life with Angela.  That possibility seemed all but impossible now.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

 

 

Doctor Douglas Anthony sat behind his desk at the City Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center preparing for the day.  He began each day by looking through his scheduled appointments and opening the file on each patient.  The files were stored on his PC.  He also kept a backup file on a memory stick along with a traditional paper file.  His patients were important to him.  The multiple copies of their files gave him a sense of security.  He needed to know the records would never be lost.

He spent twenty hours at the rehabilitation center and another twenty hours in a small private practice where he treated patients with less severe diagnoses.  The doctor loved his profession.  He saw it as more of a serious hobby than a moneymaking occupation.  The money was important but his satisfaction with treating patients tortured by illnesses of the mind was his greatest reward.

When he reached the file on Tom Bianco, he studied it for a longer time than he usually spent on a patient.  It was not only because Tom was new.  A strange feeling came over the doctor whenever he read the details.  He was convinced Tom was psychotic yet what if there really were forces of evil and good in a constant struggle to maintain some sort of equilibrium?

The question was more a philosophical proposal then a scientific medical theory.  Was evil necessary for the existence of good?  Tom believed he could take advantage of this balance in order to gain some benefit for himself.  His problems began when he was now required to “pay” for these benefits.  They were not free.

Doctor Anthony continued his efforts to understand Tom by getting into his thoughts, his personal view of reality.  If Tom were an evil man, there would be no problem in exchanging some evil deed for a reward.  The trouble was he felt Tom was not evil.

Since this scenario was in Tom’s mind, he was diagnosed as being psychotic.  If what he believed were true, then Tom would be the sane one.  Everyone else would be in denial of these forces of good and evil, which were in a delicate balance.  Maybe this balance is what kept reality stable instead of in a state of haphazard events which where the results of probability wreaking havoc on the world.

Unlike the usual word salad of jumbled incoherent speech, Tom made sense.  However, he made sense only if reality was as he described it.  In the end, all he described was like some sort of science fiction world not the world of what almost everyone else believed in.

The doctor was obliged to conclude that the final diagnosis had to be psychosis.  There was no other way.  The fact that his medication enabled Tom to stop having what the doctor believed were his hallucinations and delusions was proof enough for him.

When Tom was stable enough, he could return to his life, free from the nightmare it had become.  That was Doctor Anthony’s goal.

That morning Tom was his first patient.  As usual, the doctor let Tom set the direction the session would take.  By sitting back, the doctor would gently steer the session in the direction most helpful for his patient.  Listening and understanding rather than talking about how and what the patient should feel, think and behave.  Doctor Anthony found this way the most beneficial.

Tom knocked on the door before coming into the office.  He took a seat facing the doctor.  Doctor Anthony sat in front of his desk not behind it.  He wanted to meet the patient on an even ground with the feeling that they were working together to overcome his problem.

“Hello Tom, how’s it going for you today?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Are the medications helping?”

“My mood is better.  Now I think mostly about how my future will turn out rather than dwelling on what went wrong.”

“That’s great,” the doctor said with an honestly happy smile.

“Yeah, I know.  However, I’m so groggy and doped up all the time.  I mean it does feel good to be drunk all day but mostly it’s hard to think straight.”

“Let’s see,” he said looking through Tom’s chart.

“In a few more days the grogginess should gradually wear off.  We can start to adjust the dose when you are ready.  Then you should be back to your usual alertness.”

“Doctor, I do want to get out of here soon.  Could you let me have visitors in the meantime?”

“Definitely, I think you are ready. It will do you some good.  Is there someone you especially want to see?”

Tom did not answer fearing he would appear to be a desperate foolish romantic.

“Tom, I didn’t tell you up to now because it would have added a complication and you were not ready.  Angela has been calling every day to ask if she could visit.  It’s a healthy thing to desire such a rewarding relationship.  If you want, I can have her visit you as soon as she is able.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“Fine, that’s what we’ll do.”

Overjoyed Tom got up and shook the doctor’s hand before returning to his seat.

“By the way Tom how are your thoughts about Lilith, Levi and the book?”

“That’s all in the past.  Now I only want to start a new life.”

They shook hands again before Tom returned to his room.  He switched on the TV and heard the latest news.

“The recent series of grisly murders have mysteriously come to an end.  The police have no explanation.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 

 

“Hello, I’m Doctor Anthony.  Is this Angela?  I’m Tom’s doctor.  Remember we spoke on the phone several times.”

“Yes.  Is Tom okay?”

“He’s doing very well.  In fact, he’s well enough to have visitors.  If you’d like you can drop by tomorrow morning at about ten.”

“So, he’s doing that well?  But you never even let me talk with him.  You said he was too unstable but now he can have visitors.  That’s great!  Am I allowed to talk with him on the phone now?”

“Of course.  I’ll stick around to see how he responds.  If he’s up to it, you can visit.  Otherwise, we’ll make it another time.  I didn’t let him speak with you before because it would only complicate matters.”

“I understand.”

Doctor Anthony handed to phone to Tom.

“Angela.  I remember you.  Do you remember me?  I used to go out with you before.  Before something.  I’m not sure.”

“Of course, I remember you, silly,” Angela said.

“I’m glad you called. How are you doing?”

Tom’s voice was subdued like a person who just awoke from a deep sleep.  He found it difficult to put his words together.

“I’m good.  I’m coming to see you tomorrow morning.”

Angela was not sure what to say.  She heard the way Tom’s words were strung together in a monotone and slurred speech.

There was no response from Tom.

“Tom, are you alright?”

“Alright.  Are coming to see me now?”

Angela covered the phone with her hand so he would not hear her laugh.  She felt sorry for Tom in his drug induced drunken state.

“When are you coming?  I want to make sure I’m here,” Tom said.

“I’ll be there in the morning,” Angela said.

“Where should we meet?”  Tom asked.

 

The next morning Angela‘s conversation with Tom kept replaying in her mind.  It was encouraging to hear Tom’s voice.  But she hoped he would be his old self once he was released.

There was plenty of time to get ready.  She put on some makeup, not too much just enough to look decent.  A flannel shirt and blue jeans would be perfect.  After all, it was only going to be an informal meeting.

The drive to the hospital gave Angela the opportunity to examine her relationship with Tom.  Her feelings of love for him puzzled her.  Love at first sight, a magic potion, some sort of mysterious spell or power he had over her; all these thoughts came to mind.

She admired Tom for his honesty and believed what he told her.  But she was not sure why.  Most women would have dumped him long ago.  But here she was longing to see him.

When she reached the hospital grounds, she drove past two brick columns, which marked off the entrance.  The hospital came into view.  It was at the end of a long winding road through a lawn of unevenly growing weeds.

Because it was the only building in the area, its eight stories gave it the appearance of a much larger structure.  There was no name identifying the facility.  With the evenly spaced windows and plain entrance doors it looked more like an apartment building than a hospital.  The faded brick walls of the building had cracks patched with cement of a whiter hue than the rest of the mortar.  This patchwork was evidence of the building’s aging condition.

The employee’s area of the parking lot was full.  The visitor’s area was empty.  Angela hoped this was due to it being a workday, not because the patients were abandoned.  She parked close to the entrance then checked herself in the mirror before going in.

She entered the building and walked up to the desk by the entranceway.  The attendant put down the magazine he was reading, seemingly annoyed by Angela’s presence.  He handed her a green plastic wrist strap to identify her as a visitor.

“Who are you coming to see?”

“Tom Bianco.”

“Sign your name, date and time on the clipboard.  Take the elevator up to the fifth floor,” he said after finding Tom’s name in a folder.

He eagerly turned his attention back to the magazine.

The hallways and the rooms she passed were decorated in different shades of gray.  Faded paintings of nature scenes looked more like sloppy “paint by numbers” pictures than copies of an actual painter’s work.

Tom’s room was the next to last one on the right.  Angela knocked on the open door.

“Tom, it’s me Angela.”

The room was empty.  She was sure it was his room.  His name was on the door.  She decided to take a seat next to his bed and wait for him to return.  From the window, she saw the parking lot below.  Her car was still the only one in the visitor’s parking area.

The ordinary bed at first seemed out of place for a hospital.  She felt relieved when she realized that Tom was not in a separate area with real hospital beds and locked doors.  This section was for the less serious illnesses.

“Hello Angela.  Here’s Tom and …,” before Doctor Anthony could finish, they were kissing, hugging and holding back tears of joy.

The doctor sat on the chair next to where Angela was sitting on.  The two lovers sat next to each other on the bed, their backs towards the doctor.  They whispered to each other hoping they were not being heard until Angela stood up to face Doctor Anthony.

“Please, can we have some privacy?  Obviously, Tom is okay now.”

“Of course.  I forgot myself for a moment.  You two take your time.”

Tom watched the doctor leave the room then peeked into the hallway to make sure they were alone.

“Angela listen to me I have to tell you something that’s very important,” he whispered in a very troubled way.

“Lilith and Levi are part of the agreement.  They are here to make sure I keep my part of the deal.”

“What?” Angela could not believe what she just heard.  Tom was supposed to be getting better.

"Lilith was the one who taught me how to kill.”

“But Tom you’ve been exonerated.  You could not have committed those murders.”

“They’ve distorted reality in order to protect me from prosecution and free me to kill again.”

“No, Tom.  Lilith and Levi are a little weird that’s all.  They are not after you.  They don’t have any special powers.”

“Why don’t you believe me?  I thought you were on my side.  After all we’ve been through, I thought you’d always be there for me.  And now you abandon me when I need you most.”

Tom’s sudden change in emotions frightened Angela.  He went from being calm and happy to see her, to being overcome with anxiety, then deep depression.  She was not sure what to do.

If she called Doctor Anthony, she was sure he would not let Tom go home.  If she pretended to agree with Tom to humor him, it would only encourage him to continue his delusion.  She decided to try to reason with him.

“Tom calm down.  Be honest with me.  What would you think if I came to you and told you something like what you just told me?  Be honest now.”

“Well, it does sound crazy.”

Tom was quiet for a moment.

“Maybe that’s why I’m in here.”

With his eyes wide open with anger and terror Tom began to panic.

“What about all those poor people I’ve murdered?  What about them?  Isn’t that proof enough for you?”

"The police did not charge you with the murders.  They sent you here to get better," Angela hoped she was helping him.

Making another sudden change in emotion, Tom became calm.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

A long pause of silently looking into each other’s eyes followed.

“I missed you,” Angela said.

“But why do you still want to see me?  I mean nobody in her right mind would want to stay with anyone as crazy as I am.  Why not do what’s best?  Just leave me alone in here.  This is where I belong.”

After a moment of silence, Angela changed the subject of their conversation, hoping to ease the tension.

“Doctor Anthony said I can come back tomorrow to celebrate Thanksgiving with you,” she said.

“I don’t want to celebrate with all the other patients.”

“We can be alone in your room, just the two of us.”

“I hate the holidays,” Tom said.

“But we’ll be together.  I can take out a turkey dinner from Cracker Barrel.  They have the cranberry dressing, gravy, sweet potato casserole and desert.  It will be just like home.”

“Why did you even come here to see me?” Tom said.

“Because I love you.  I don’t really understand why.  Even though we’ve known each other for such a short time," Angela said tearfully.

Tom put his arms around her and quietly wept.

“I love you, Tom.”

“And I love you,” Tom said before staring out the window for a moment with a blank look.  He was still having some difficulty in getting his thoughts together.

“Listen, I’ll try to make things right.  I’ll take the medicine and go for therapy.  If you stand by me, we can do it.  It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Angela said.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

 

 

Later that night after Angela left, Tom’s nurse came in to give him his bedtime medications.

“Hello Tom.  Did everything go okay with Angela’s visit today?”

Tom nodded his head and smiled.

“That’s great.  I have a feeling you’ll be going home soon.  You’re good now.  We can use your room for someone who’s not doing too well."

“I’d like that.”

“Well, here we are, time for your bedtime medications,” he said in an overly cheerful tone of voice.

Soon after the nurse left his room, Tom began to feel the soothing effects of the drugs.  He was not even sure if his conversation with the nurse actually happened or if it was all part of a dream.

When he began to drift off into sleep the swishing sound of air coming through the heating ducts in his room began to change becoming slightly louder then softer.  He could hear a whispering above the flow of air like some unintelligible foreign language.

When the whispering became louder and closer Tom became uneasy.  He was afraid it might be the little shadowy men-creatures he saw the other day in a nightmare.  He knew they were real, and frightening.

The whispers began to come from different parts of the room as they continued getting closer.  They alternated coming from the foot of his bed then from the left and right.  He was sure there was more than one creature whispering back and forth to each other.

Tom reached for the alarm string near the head of the bed trying to pull it to summon the nurse.  One of the little creatures held the cord out of reach.  The other shadowy men jumped up on the bed and ran towards his face.

“Help,” Tom started to scream but a larger normal sized hand covered his mouth.

“Tom it’s me, Father Alphonsus.  You were having a nightmare.  That's all.  You're okay.”

Tom relaxed when he saw the priest.

“Did you see them?  They were right here on my bed.”

“There’s no one here but me.”

“Father it‘s great to see you.  You just saved my life.  Didn’t you see them?  The little men.  But visiting hours are over.  Did they let you in anyway?”

Father Alphonsus motioned Tom to be quiet by waving his hands and putting a finger on his lips.

Was this a dream or was the priest here in the room with him?  Were the little men here too?  Tom was not sure.

“I was able to get by the front door guard by coming in just as the staff was leaving.  They blocked his view of me coming in.  Besides, he wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Well, I’m glad you're here.”

“I’m always here for you Tom.  It‘s not only because you need me but because I also need you.  We all need your help for this spiritual conflict you‘re having.  Now let me explain.

Even though this is only one spiritual battle, it is important.  This is a battle in the war of good versus evil, God verses Satin, a meaningful order and purpose for our very existence verses a meaningless random disorder in the universe.  We must fight the powers which have enslaved you to this agreement.”

“What do you mean?  This whole thing is just in my mind.”

“Then why have the murders stopped since you‘ve been in this hospital?”

Tom did not answer.

“They are waiting for you to continue killing for them once you are discharged.  The murders will resume if we don‘t free you from their control.”

“What about all those people I’ve killed?”

“You are innocent.  You were forced to kill against your will.  The best way to end this arrangement is to go by the fact that you were tricked into it before you could honestly and wholeheartedly accept the terms.”

"I was only supposed to kill the people Lilith chose foe me, but I began killing on my own.  A need to kill was awakened from deep within my soul."

"I pray we can stop this need to kill," the priest said.

Tom sat up in bed in order to see the priest better, but he had to lie back down when he felt the room spin.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s the drugs.  You know Father I had a feeling deep inside me that it was real.  I hid it from the doctors.  I knew they would never believe me.  I knew they’d never let me out of this place.  It feels good that at least someone understands me.”

“Once I saw the details, I never doubted you.”

“How do we start?” Tom asked.

“I insist both as a psychiatrist and as a priest experienced in these matters that you must stop taking your medications.  They only cloud your mind masking the truth from you.  They make the procedure we are going to perform useless by not letting you have a clear understanding of what is happening.

“I’m not sure what this all means,” Tom said.

“Here is a sheet I’ve written for you.  I want you to study it until you understand.  Call me whenever you need me.”

It was impossible for Tom to see what was on the sheet.  The medications prevented him from focusing his eyes.

“Read this carefully.  It may seem simple at first, but it explains why they want you to continue your part of the agreement.”

Tom looked at Father Alphonsus.

“Go on read it all.”

"I can't see clearly."

"I'll read it to you.

“First realize that they know how to hide.

The second point is a warning.  They will find a way to get to you and unless we are ready, all will be lost.

The next fact is that they know how to alter reality.  How?  In the same way we all alter reality but in a much more powerful way.

Let me explain.  Remember the ‘butterfly effect?’  There is an idea in chaos theory that a very small change at the start of a physical system can make a great change later.  This is from the popular belief that a butterfly flapping its wings might cause a large reaction like a hurricane in another part of the world.

The final requirement is that you need to be off your medications.  You need to confront them in the same unaltered state in which you accepted the agreement.”

Tom wondered if it was the priest who belonged in a hospital bed instead of himself.

“I don’t know.  Maybe I’m tired but I don’t know what you mean.  What am I supposed to…?”

When Tom looked up Father Alphonsus had already left.  Tom let the medications have their effect.  Tomorrow he would try to make sense of what the priest meant.  In the morning, he would be able to tell if what just happened was real or only a dream.  A relaxing peacefulness washed over him sending him into a deep sound sleep.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

 

 

That night after leaving Tom in his hospital room Father Alphonsus went back to the rectory to prepare for what he called the nullification of the agreement.  His delusion that the book had spiritual powers and that Tom was fighting the devil gave him a deep sense of purpose.

Why was the left side of their faces torn away?  It was always the left side.  He believed that in this instance the right side symbolized the path of “righteousness”.  The left side symbolized the “sinister” path, sinister from the Latin for “left”, which was considered evil.

The fact that the face was roughly torn instead of neatly cut with a sharp instrument in a precise manner indicated the forces of chaos.

He was sure that Tom ate the mouthful of flesh as a corruption of Holy Communion, with the victim’s flesh and blood being substituted for Christ’s.  Father Alphonsus believed the devil was clever enough to have both meanings simultaneously, chaos and corrupted communion.

He stopped to make himself a cup of coffee and say the rosary before continuing.  It was three in the morning, and he had a long way to go.  He needed to create a valid ceremony to counter the hidden meanings of the murders before performing it on Tom.

The meaning of the coin was understood.  On the face of the coin was the altered ouroboros symbol.  Instead of eating its tail to renew life the serpent was destroying itself.

On the back of the coin was the altered symbol of Pythagoras, a large letter Y that symbolized the path everyone chooses in his life.  The priest copied the reference definition to help clarify its meaning.

 

“Pythagoras of Samos was the first to fashion the letter Y into a pattern of human life.  The straight part at the bottom signifies the first uncertain age, which at that point has been given over to neither vices nor virtues.  The fork at the top begins at adolescence.  The path to the right is difficult, but it tends toward a blessed life.  The path to the left is easier, but it leads to ruin and destruction.  The right or righteous path symbolizes good.  The left or sinister path symbolizes evil."

 

On the coin, the path to the left ends in an arrow.  This is the evil way.  The path to the right is blocked.  The symbol on the back of the coin shows that the evil path is the required way.

Next, the priest studied why the coin was carefully balanced on the victim’s forehead.  He could think of three possible sources: Hindu, Greek and Catholic.

In Hinduism the mark worn on the forehead is called the tilaka which symbolizes the third eye or mind’s eye or Shiva‘s third eye.  Shiva was the god of destruction.  It was believed that the opening of the third eye would cause the eventual destruction of the physical universe.  Was the coin a substitute for the mark that symbolized the third eye?  He read a quote that typified this.

"Shiva is the angry god and when he opens his third eye for destruction no one can stop him.”

In Greek mythology Charon was the ferryman who took the souls of the dead across the river Styx that divided the world of the living from the world of the dead.  A coin was placed with the dead body in order to pay the ferryman for this passage.  Father Alphonsus wondered if this was the meaning of the coin.

Ash Wednesday for Catholics symbolized death.  The coin was not the ashes that were made into a cross, but its position could have been a substitute.  A prayer said on Ash Wednesday came to mind.

“Remember that thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return” Genesis 3:19

Here the priest believed the devil was clever enough to use all three meanings.

Father Alphonsus copied these facts onto the left column of a pad.  He listed his counter measures on the right.

To counter the rough torn face, he wound use a neatly carved cube of raw beef with a consecrated Host carefully positioned on top exactly in the center.  During the ceremony, Tom would have to eat the raw meat and Host.

By using a blessed silver coin, the power of the coin Tom used would be destroyed.  On the face of the coin was the image of Saint Michael slaying the devil.  On the back of the coin was a prayer:

“O Saint Michael give us your strength to defeat our fears and to rise up to any challenge.”

The coin would be placed on Tom’s forehead while he was on his back in front of the church altar.

Next Father Alphonsus composed the prayers he would say.  The prayers would be in Latin.  He believed this was more effective because in his mind it was a language which was holier than English.  Latin had not been changed for centuries the way English gradually changed to fit the culture of the times.

Before all this could take place, he must make sure Tom was not under the influence of the medications.  He believed this would take about a week.  In addition, Tom must bring the book.  He drank another cup of coffee, then prayed another rosary before he went back to work.

For Father Alphonsus this was the true and only way to save Tom's soul.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

 

 

Tom woke to a gentle tickle on his cheek.  It felt good but a warm breath reeked of spoiled fish and rotten eggs.

“Angela your breath is terrible.”

He turned his head to avoid the odor, which attenuated as the touch slowly moved down to his chin, then his chest, then lower.  The bed sheet slid down a little more.

He opened his eyes to see two shadowy cork sized men below his waist staring up at him.

He screamed.

"It's okay Tom.  It was only a nightmare."  Angela ran her fingers through his hair trying to soothe him.

It took a moment for him to regain his composure.  After checking below his sheets, he took a deep sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I guess so, but it seemed so real.  Let's go back to sleep.”

“We’d better get ready for dinner.  Father Alphonsus will be here in a couple of hours,” Angela said.

She was happy about how well things were going since Tom was discharged and moved in with her.  Finally, she knew her doubts about Tom were wrong.  Falling in love may have clouded her judgment but she was glad she followed her instincts.  Now they could look forward to a normal happy life together.

Because it was just after Christmas their three-foot high plastic Christmas tree was still on the table.  It was a sort of memento for the time they quietly spent together.

“You know Angela I was thinking about what made me lose my mind."

“Don’t say that.  You did not lose your mind.  You only needed a break.  Sometimes a person’s situation is too much to take.”

“Do you really believe that?”  Tom asked.

Of course, I do, or I wouldn’t say it.”

Angela gave Tom a hug.  She wanted to protect him yet still depend on him to be there for her.  It felt good to be a team, each watching out for the other.

“You know what still puzzles me?”  Tom asked.

“You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

“No, don’t worry.  It's just that I don’t understand how I could have for the longest time…”  Tom struggled to find the right words.

"Let’s not think about that now.  It's all behind us.  We’ll have a nice dinner, just the three of us,” Angela said.

“Did I ever tell you about the dream I had while I was in the hospital?”

“No, what was it?”

“In the dream I saw Father Alphonsus come into my room in the middle of the night talking to me about the agreement I made while reading that book.  He said I must stop the medications then go though some sort of ceremony.  It seemed real at the time.  I was so doped up I could not tell the difference between what a dream was and what was actually happening.”

“I doubt Father Alphonsus would say that.”

“I know but it still seemed he was truly there talking with me.  I’ve been having a lot of dreams about the possibility that the…”

“Stop that.  You’re here with me now.  I know it’s hard.  But try to think about the future not the past.”

Before Father Alphonsus arrived, Tom managed to set up a table and chairs outside on the small balcony while Angela prepared dinner.  Just when all was ready, the priest knocked on the door.

“I’m here with some flowers and a bottle of wine.”

“You’re just in time,” Angela said while taking the flowers and handing the wine to Tom.

“Let’s go out to the balcony.  It’s small but we like it.  It gives the apartment on airy open feeling,” Tom said.

“I see you have a view of the park,” the priest said.

“You need a pair of binoculars to see it, but the park is out there somewhere,” Tom said.

 

Towards the end of the meal, the conversation turned to how well Tom was doing.  Angela and Tom seemed optimistic and cheerful while Father Alphonsus mostly just listened.  He knew they would never believe in spiritual forces or the devil as a reality.  His plan was to convince Tom to agree to take part in the ceremony he devised to save his soul.  But he had to explain it in a way that would work, even if the explanation was not completely true.

“Is something wrong Father?  This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Angela asked.

“Only some spiritual matters I must deal with soon but let’s not let that spoil the dinner.  I’m glad to see you two are together.  You make the perfect couple.  It would be terrible if anything should ever happen to any one of you.  I mean, I‘m sure you will always be together.”

Father Alphonsus was not good at hiding his feelings.

“Tell us what's wrong," Tom insisted.

“This is going to be difficult to explain.  You see Tom you are apparently cured, which at this moment is true.  What we need to do next is to deal with the spiritual side of all that has been going on.

Now before you reject the idea you should consider what I have to say.  You know I’m also a psychiatrist so I can see both sides of what happened.  You need a ceremony to create some type of closure.”

“What do you have in mind?  I mean he’s gotten over having delusions.  I don't want you to confuse him,” Angela said.

“Please don’t misunderstand me.  Take the analogy of getting married.  Going to the town clerk to sign the marriage certificate makes it legal and binding.  Yet for most people there is a feeling that something is lacking.  That’s why I feel the ceremony of getting married in a church or some other religious location is important.

For Tom the same thing is true.  A private ceremony between only Tom and myself will help build a sound spiritual foundation for his recovery.”

For a moment, they were all silent.  Angela and Tom looked at each other not sure what to say.

“Tom, he might be right.  How do you feel about it?  Do you think it would be something you’d want to do?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, sure, it couldn’t hurt.  Maybe it would mark the official end to my adventures in insanity,” Tom said, trying to be funny but no one laughed.

“Why don’t you two work out the details of your ceremony while I put on some coffee and get the desert ready?”

The two men went into the living room where Angela had set up the coffee table with cups, napkins and dessert plates.  They sat across from each other, Tom on the couch and Father Alphonsus on an easy chair.

"You seem happy.  But how are you really doing Tom?"

“I‘m getting used to taking the medications.  The drowsiness is almost completely gone.”

Father Alphonsus paused before continuing.  It was obvious that he was trying to think of the best way to phrase what he was about to say.  Tom spoke first.

“Let me ask you about something that‘s been puzzling me.  Did you come to see me one night after visiting hours while I was in the hospital?  I couldn’t tell if it real or only a dream.  You said something about stopping my medications.”

“Yes, it was me.  Yes, I want you to stop the medications and I’ll try to make you understand.  Didn’t you study the information sheet I left with you?”

“When I woke up there was no sheet.”

“Someone must have taken the sheet from you, maybe thinking it was trash.  What about the shadows?  Do you still see them?

“No, the shadows are completely gone.”

"Are you sure?  I mean have you looked for the shadows?"

"Why should I do that?  I'm glad they’re gone."

Father Alphonsus became quiet.  He looked away from Tom for a moment.

“Father, are you okay?”

“Let me start by telling you that the ceremony I want to do for you is not only a symbolic gesture as I said when Angela was present.  I did not want to disturb her with the absolute truth.  I made up the analogy about the marriage ceremony and it is true in a way.  But there is much more involved here.”

"What are you trying to say?  I mean I feel fine.  I had a brief mental breakdown but I'm okay now.  Right?”

"All I'm saying is that I want to make sure you are psychologically free from the agreement you made with that book of yours. That's all."

Father Alphonsus could see Tom become visibly worried.

"What do you want me to do?" Tom asked.

“Now the first undeniable fact is that the rash of murders has suddenly stopped since you’ve been on medication and in therapy.”

“That’s a coincidence.  There was no way I could have killed them.  The police said so.”

"I’m sure it is, but subconsciously you may be blaming yourself.”

Before Tom could respond, the priest continued his questioning.

“The medications you are taking only hide the reality.  For an example, take a toothache.  Pain medication will stop the pain.  The patient will feel better, but the tooth is still decayed.  Eventually it will be so rotted that even the medication will not help.  This is the situation you are in now.  Even though you feel better you are still trapped by the contract you made with the spiritual forces.”

“I can’t believe it.  My therapy sessions convinced me.  I’m sure it was all in my mind.  The whole thing is fake, unreal.  There are no spiritual forces.  Now are you trying to say that I actually did kill all those women?”

“Calm down.  I’m here to make sure everything turns out okay.  Let’s first go over the facts that in your mind prove you are still bound by the agreement you made.

First, as I’ve said before.  You believe the cessation of the murders is a coincidence.”

“It has to be," Tom said in a loud voice.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," said the priest.

Tom was confused and angry.

“Second, you have been having strange dream-like experiences."

“Well, yes.  The dreams are always about these small shadowy men about the size of a wine bottle cork.  But they’re only dreams.  Right?”

The priest paused for a moment, searching for the right words to use.

“I’m not sure.  I’ve read about what are called the devil’s scouts.  They only exist in your subconscious mind but are just as harmful as if they were objectively real.   They are supposed to be minor demons, which can move between the physical world and the ethereal world.  They say the devil uses them to find potential victims.  Maybe even in your case, they follow you to make sure you uphold your end of the agreement.”

“But Father I was tricked.”

“I know.  That’s our hope to nullify the agreement.”

Tom wondered if maybe the old priest was the one who was now losing his mind.  The police showed Tom how he could not be the killer.  Yet he was never really convinced of his own innocence.

On the other hand, he remembered how Levi explained it to him.  Using the book was the way Lilith recruited new killers.  It was a way to find someone evil enough for her to use.  But in Tom's case, the evil that was unleashed from inside his soul made the killing a need.  He began to kill on his own, not only when Lilith needed him to kill.

To be polite he humored the priest.

“Now if the person being tracked pays attention and if the circumstances are right, he can catch glimpses of these creatures.  Would you believe me if I described your experiences in detail?”

“Is this some sort of magic trick?  Will you try to read my mind next?”

“I don’t blame you for doubting me but if I describe what you are experiencing wouldn’t that carry any weight with you?  Don‘t forget, I‘m a priest.  My goal is to save your soul.”

“Okay,” Tom said doubtfully.

“These events happen when you are not fully awake.  They happen just before you go to sleep.  Or when you first get up in the morning.  Sometimes they come in the middle of the night.  You mistake them for nightmares.

You said these beings are small, about the size of a cork from a wine bottle.  Their feet make gentle taping sounds when they move, something like a mouse.  You see them from the corner of your eye, your peripheral vision.  When you turn your head, they are gone.  Paying close attention, you can see their shadows moving,” the priest said.

“So far you are describing exactly what I’m experiencing.  Sometimes I hear them whispering almost inaudibly in some foreign sounding language.  There are several of them who travel in packs.  But they are not just nightmares they are real,” Tom interrupted.

"Let me continue.  Rarely, you can see a small hand when one of them ducks behind the furniture.  Reflections from one of their tiny eyes appear as a spot of light for an instant before it’s gone.  If you can get a clear view of these scouts, it means the devil is keeping an extra close eye on what you are doing.  Finally, let’s talk about that book.  Have the words reappeared?”

“I know for a fact that there are several versions of the book.  Some with text some without.  They were switched on me," Tom said while hiding the complete details about Lilith and Levi.

Angela walked into the living room with the coffee and dessert.

"Are you two having a good conversation?  You seem to be very interested in something."

“Yeah, we’re having a great conversation, but we’ll talk more about that later.  It will take too long to explain it to you now,” Tom said.

After dinner and desert, Tom walked Father Alphonsus back to his car.  That way they could make plans without upsetting Angela.

“Angela would never go along with stopping my medications.  She’d say it was too risky.  But I don't want to be dependent on them forever," Tom said.

“I know.  If you humor me by submitting to my ceremony, I'll safely help you be free from taking the medicines. This is the best way.”

“Father, explain your plan to me.”

“Now timing is the most important part of this procedure.  You must take the steps one at a time in the exact order I give you.  Otherwise, it will not work.  In fact, it will only make your situation much worse than it is now.  I'm talking about weaning you off the medications by temporarily using other medications then completely stopping all of them.  However, I also want you to come to the church when it's time to submit to my ceremony.”

“What am I supposed to do?"

“By calculating the half-life of your medications, I believe that in about two weeks their effects will have for all practical purposes stopped.  In the meantime, these other medications will help ease the withdrawal symptoms.  I'll give you these prescriptions.  This index card will help you to gradually wean yourself off the drugs.”

"Okay, I'd like that.  Now what about your ceremony?"

"In two weeks meet me at the rectory just before dark.  We’ll do the ceremony at twilight because this is the best time between the light and goodness of the day and the dark-side or evil of the night.  This will set the correct mood for us."

Tom shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in disbelief.  Then he thought about it.  Being free from taking medications for the rest of his life in exchange for doing a silly ceremony to placate Father Alphonsus was worth the trouble.

"Okay.  I'll do it."

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

 

 

Tom was deep in thought when the day for the ceremony arrived.  The way he saw it Father Alphonsus was a religious fanatic who lost touch with reality.  That would make a sick fanatical priest helping a psychotic layman against imaginary supernatural villains.

For now, he believed it was best to go along with the priest.  He needed the expertise of a psychiatrist to get him off his medications.  Just as Father Alphonsus requested, Tom went alone.  He decided to walk because it was a short distance to the church from his apartment.  The cold invigorating air felt great.

The faint sound of footsteps coming from behind interrupted his thoughts.  Apart from the sounds of bits of conversations, cars and the other usual street sounds, he could hear a woman’s footsteps coming closer to him.  The footsteps came towards him and no one else.

He could tell it was a woman because the rhythm of a woman’s footsteps was different from a man’s.  It was not high-heeled shoes or some other woman’s shoe style.  Even if she wore a man’s sneakers, he could tell the difference.

It was the way a woman’s hips moved differently from a man’s.  This difference was transferred down through her legs and onto the pavement.  He was sure only someone with the special training he learned from the book could detect this.

If the woman knew him, she would have called out to get his attention.  Tom realized the possibility that she could be innocently going in his direction, but he did not want to turn and see who it might be.  He felt it was best to assume she was stalking him.  That way he could enjoy the challenge.

The technique to employ when being followed was very precise.  He continued walking without changing his gait.  Timing the approach of the woman coming from behind he slightly reduced his speed in order to let her get closer.  Using the physical surroundings, he looked for the exact location and time to turn the tables on his pursuer.

Up ahead he saw the place to take action.  He made a quick turn at the corner of a building.  Putting his back up against the side of the building where she could not see him, he waited.

The fact that she did not want him to get away would cause her to hurry when she lost sight of him.  She would not be careful when making the turn.

When she passed Tom put his left arm around her neck then applied more pressure by tightening his grip with his right arm.  With a quick tug and a twist, he pulled her down behind some bushes where no one could see them.  He prepared himself for the final fatal neck breaking twist.  It takes a strong force to do it correctly.

“Tom it’s me.”

He stopped in time.  Just because the woman knew his name, he was still not safe.  Anyone could call out his name.  Tom prepared to complete the kill when he recognized the voice.

“Lilith?”

“Yes, it’s me,” she could barely speak from her partially crushed throat.  There was no permanent damage.  After a few days, the soreness would be gone, and her voice would be back to normal.

Tom found her rasping whisper of a voice extremely erotic.  Images of ripping off her clothes rushed into his mind.  No one could see them from the street.  With her damaged throat, she lost her ability to scream for help.

“I see you’ve perfected your technique.  I’m very impressed even though you almost killed me.”

“I’m sorry.  You know that I’d never hurt you.”

What he just said puzzled him.  He believed he detested Lilith, yet he was genuinely afraid he might have killed her.

“I deserve to die,” she said and began crying.

“Don’t say that.”

Tom hugged her tightly and when they kissed, he felt a connection stronger than the bond he had with Angela.  It was not what he expected nor wanted.

He remembered the occasions when he sometimes thought about her while making love to Angela.  Now he realized that it was more than simple fantasy.  Angela was a wonderful person but that was the problem.  Tom felt that deep in his soul he was evil.  This evil longed to be with Lilith's evil nature.

Even so, he decided to resist Lilith and try to live a normal life with Angela.

“Tom, you have to let me talk with you.  You have to believe me."

“Listen Lilith I’m on my way to an important meeting and I can’t be late.  Maybe we can talk some other time.”

"I missed you, Tom.  I love you.  We're meant to be together.  Why can't you see that?"

Tom was not sure what to say.

“Where are you going?”  Lilith asked.

“Why should I tell you?  It’s only a meeting.”

Lilith stood up without saying anything more.  She slowly walked away with her head down, staring at the sidewalk.

Tom could feel her depression.  He knew how bad it could be and did not want her to hurt herself.  He took her hand before she took another step.

“Let’s talk this out,” Tom said.

“Okay.  Come with me to my house.  I can make coffee while we talk.”

“I can’t stay long.  I have an appointment,” Tom repeated.

“Do you have half an hour or so to talk?

Tom checked his watch.  A half hour was more than enough time.  Her house was on the way to the church.

“Are you on your way to meet Angela?"

He could see how possessive Lilith had become.

“I’m going to see Father Alphonsus.  He's helping me get off my medications."

 

Tom followed Lilith past Greenwood Cemetery with its many statues of angels near tombstones.  From where they were walking, only two could be seen from a distance.  He did not see it now, but Tom remembered one angel that stood out from all the others.  The angel was lying flat on her belly.  Looking up with her arms reaching out, her hands were clasped in prayer.  An expression of hopeless grief was on her tearful face.  It was a bit melodramatic; nonetheless it made a lasting impression on him.

The statue puzzled him.  If the person this guardian angel was protecting died and went to heaven, then the angel should be happy.  He wondered if the angel was in mourning because she had failed in her mission.  The unfortunate person she should have protected must have gone to hell.  He did not understand why anyone would want such an angel on their tombstone.

Shadows of the wrought iron fence around the cemetery were becoming longer.  In an hour it would be twilight, the time he was to meet with Father Alphonsus at the church.  The priest told him to be on time.  A matter of only thirty minutes or so could mean failure.

They reached the street where Lilith lived.  For a moment, Tom feared twilight had come on suddenly.  The trees that lined the road cast long dark shadows that blocked the daylight.

“It’s only the trees.  We have at least an hour before twilight,” Lilith said.

“How did you know my appointment was for twilight?”

“I only said we had an hour before twilight.  I didn’t say anything about the time of your appointment.”

The unlit house was at the end of a winding stone path.  Rosebushes lined the path.  Most of them were dead.  Their thorns appeared to reach out towards Tom to make sure he kept on the path.

Once inside Lilith broke their long silence.

“Tom, remember that night when you slept over?”

“You mean the night you drugged me then made me have sex with you?”

“I know I came on a little too strong and I apologize for it.  It’s just that I’m so in love with you.  It was the only way I could try to take you away from Angela.”

Considering all they had in common Tom felt he had to forgive her.  Even though the police denied it, he knew he was a murderer, not any better a person than she was.

“I know it sounds corny but it’s true.  For me what we had was more than just sex.  The more time that passes the more I realize that I need you and I love you,” Lilith said.

“Listen to me Lilith.  Maybe if things happened a little differently, we could have had something together.  I’m still very attracted to you but my relationship with Angela is serious.”

“I know but if it ever goes bad remember I’m here for you,” she said disappointedly.

She led him into the dark house and turned on the lights.  Tom squinted for a moment while his eyes adjusted.

“Take a seat on the couch.  Would you like some cookies with your coffee?”

“No thanks.  Just the coffee will be okay.”

While Lilith went into the kitchen to prepare the coffee Tom wondered how it might have been if he had not met Angela.  His feelings of sexual desire were the same for the two women.  Life with Angela would be what most people call normal.  With Lilith, it would be bizarre but more exciting.

From the couch in the living room, Tom could see Lilith in the kitchen as she measured the coffee and added water to the coffee pot.  Having taken off her pants, she was now only wearing a long shirt that came part way down her thighs like a short miniskirt.  The top was only buttoned halfway.  He could see her nipples pressing against the fabric.

“I hope you don’t mind.  This shirt is long enough to keep me decent.  It’s just too hot in here.  I think the thermostat is stuck or broken.  The repairman can’t come until tomorrow.  Take off your jacket and shoes.  Make yourself comfortable.”

Lilith’s skimpy shirt swayed as she quickly moved around the kitchen allowing Tom to catch a glimpse of her long feminine legs, thighs and a peek of blue panty.  She was moving in a way that revealed as much of her body as possible, while still wearing clothes.

He wished that just for tonight he was free.  However, he loved Angela and would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship.

Lilith came back into the living room with the mugs of coffee.  She sat next to Tom with their bodies in close contact.

He shifted attempting to move away.  Lilith took his hand and softly kissed it then she kissed his lips.

Tom responded whole-heartedly for a moment.  He pulled her close, her body pressed tight against his.  He wondered if maybe he would be better off with her than with Angela.

“I have to go now.  You’re just too tempting.  I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Wait, we didn’t talk.  I’ll be good. I promise to behave myself or you can give me a spanking.”

Tom wondered how it would feel to have the upper hand, to get revenge for the way she complicated his life.

“I’m only kidding,” she said.  Then after a brief pause, “I guess”.

Moving too quickly for Tom to react or even want to react, she threw herself over his lap with her shirt up exposing her blue panties in the humble position of a young woman waiting for her punishment.

Tom pulled her panties down to her knees and began spanking.  She seemed to be enjoying it as her sensitive skin turned from a pale flesh color into a warm pink.

Lilith laughed and playfully kicked her legs.

The more Tom spanked her the darker pink her flesh turned and the more aroused he became, both in his anger and sexually.  Soon his hand began to sting as her bottom turned a deep red.

"Doesn't this hurt you?"  Tom said after stopping his barrage of slaps.

"Of course, it does, silly.  It's like eating a hot chili pepper with your meal only in a sexual way.  I love it."

Tom could see how wet she had become.  He was also excited.  The pleasure from feeling his hard shaft rub against his shorts as he struck her was almost unbearable.

He decided to use as much force as he could.  She tightened her cheeks and flinched with each blow, a reflex from the pain she felt.

Tom stopped for a moment.  He wondered if her bottom hurt as much as his hand.

Lilith looked up at Tom, teary eyed.

"This is more than a playful spanking.  I know your hand hurts but don't stop now.  I deserve much more.  I want to submit to your punishment to make up for how much I messed up your life.  Then you'll forgive me, and we can make a fresh start," she whimpered as she handed him one of her hairbrushes.

Tom lost no time in gradually bruising her bright red bottom with the back of the hairbrush.  Lilith was crying and soon draped herself over his lap like a wet dishrag.  That was when he stopped.

She twisted herself over and sat on his lap facing him.  She threw off her top, completely pulled off her panties and straddled him.  Tom removed his pants.

In one quick movement, their bodies were tightly entwined.  He lifted her, moving her under him on the couch before plunging into her.

Tom moved his hands from her erect nipples and grabbed her bottom resulting in a moan of pain and squirming, the aftereffects of the still painful spanking.

They kissed.  Their tongues softly caressed.  Their lips affectionately united.

Time seemed to come to a standstill.  Unbridled animal passion and instinct-driven over-exertion prevailed until the final relief.

Exhausted, Tom rolled off Lilith’s body and on to the floor.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

 

 

When he awoke, it took Tom a moment to realize where he was.  In the dark, he found his clothes and quickly got dressed.

Lilith ran to the door in time to block his escape.

“Listen to me.  There is no way you can go back to a normal life,” she said.

“Get out of my way.”

"Deep down inside you know you belong with me.  I'll take care of you and protect you; even now when you have a need to kill."

Tom stopped for a moment.  He wondered if she was right.  Was the possibility of a murderer going back to a normal life realistic?  Would his need to kill simply vanish?

“We can be together,” Lilith said.

“No,” Tom wanted no more.  It was time to do what he believed was best.

“Okay have it your way but nothing has changed.  You‘ll be back and I‘ll be here waiting for you.  We're meant for each other.”

They looked at each other for a moment.  Tom saw tears start to form in her eyes.

He pushed her aside and ran out the front door.  The thorns on the rosebushes lining the path out to the street grabbed at his jacket, ripping it as he ran past.

Back on the main road, he ran towards the church.  Even if he was not on time, he hoped the ceremony would still work.  If not, he would be in the safety of the church with a priest.

As he ran, the darkness took over.  It came down suddenly with only a dim half-moon for light.  Tom stopped to catch his breath.  That was when he felt the book in his coat pocket begin to rattle.  He took it out for a closer look.

He rubbed the seam to open the back of the book.  It did not open.  Then he used a loving caress like a lover on his partner to get the book to open.  This time it slowly opened.  Inside he found a coin and a scalpel.  He was certain Lilith must have planted them there.

Tom put the book and its contents back.  He continued walking.  The church was only a few more blocks away.  Up ahead was a group of people waiting online to enter a tavern to celebrate the New Year.

That was when he saw her.  The victim stood out plainly.  It was just as he was taught.  The other young people were in groups of two or more.  All were facing towards the tavern.  This woman was facing the other way.

When the crowd filed into the tavern, the woman was left outside alone.  She made a call on her cell phone.  Tom could tell she was angry, shouting something before she hung up and threw the phone to the sidewalk.  She went back to where she was leaning against the building.  Her tears left long makeup tracks on her face.

Tom stopped thinking about rushing to the church to meet with Father Alphonsus.  Other more exciting thoughts took over.  He remembered how to use a scalpel correctly:

 

“The blade exerts an extremely high pressure on the line of the incision a fraction of a micron wide causing the tissues to part.  The maximum pressure, and hence the maximum cutting, will be at the center of the blade where the curvature is deepest.”

 

Tom softly petted the seam of the book.  It gently opened again revealing the coin and the scalpel.  He put the coin in one of his jacket pockets.  He removed the scalpel before putting the book back into his pocket.

He returned to his mental review:

 

“For fine slices hold the scalpel like a pen so you can ‘write’ the incision.”

 

Tom remembered that the choice of which technique to use depended on the circumstances:

 

“A courser cut results when holding the scalpel as if you are holding a table knife.  The handle rests in the palm of the hand.  The digits and hand are largely on top of the scalpel unlike with the pen grip.  This means that the scalpel can be held close to the surface of the tissues when cutting without the digits and hand getting in the way.”

 

Tom knew he needed to use the scalpel in a quick way.  As he passed the young girl, he would keep walking so that no one would suspect anything was wrong.  But there would be something wrong.  The girl would be dead.

Then he would make a quick return to the scene of the murder to rip away some of her face and place the coin.

He continued his mental review:

 

“Holding the scalpel in the fist or like a dagger is far too clumsy.  For tougher tissues, such as the skin on the back, grip more firmly and place your index finger on the top of the handle rather than on the side.  This will let you increase the downward pressure of the blade on the tissue.”

 

Tom wanted to do the kill while others were present, "right from under their noses".  This was his chance for the ultimate way to kill.  It required the utmost in finesse.  The excitement and confusion of celebrating the New Year was the perfect distraction.

His delight was almost too much to bear.  He took a deep breath and calmed himself.  As he approached the girl, he quietly went through the passersby unseen.

Tom stopped for a moment.  He realized he could never return to his life with Angela.  Only Lilith could understand his need to kill.  She was his real soul mate.  This is where he belonged.

 

THE END