A Stalking For Vengeance

                                                           A stalking For Vengeance.

                                                                 By David Stevens

 

Books by David Stevens. Available at amazon and most good outlets in both pb & e book format.

 

A Sci/Fi, which is Probably ‘The Second Most Weird Sci/Fi You Will Ever Read.’ Title :- A Trainspotters Guide to Other Earths.

 

Vanmpiric Retirement. A world war to end all world wars.

                      

                        A stalking For Vengeance.

                                 By David Stevens

 

   The wall was covered in newspaper clippings interspersed with photographs taken with a long lens; covertly so the target did not suspect that he was stalking her.

   She was beautiful, dressed, snapped and placed as she was in the center most picture, wearing a long flowing evening gown in red and carrying a matching handbag and looking like butter would not melt in her mouth. He had been across the road as she had stepped out of a taxi heading slowly into and through the large open doors of a hotel. She was a guest of the owners, a creature of the night drawn from her lair as far as the photographer was concerned, and she had to die.

   He spent hours just staring at her pictures making notes, looking for flaws, but finding none that the naked eye could detect. The people surrounding her all bathed in her radiance, in her beauty whilst apparently seeing nothing of the darker core to her personality, a core that he had discovered and seemed to him to be so evident.

   The door man smiled at her, an open welcoming smile of greeting and she waved back at him lightly acknowledging his secret message. The door had slowly closed behind her to the accompaniment of his clicking shutter powered by a motor-wind,  and she had been gone from his sight. She was out of his reach the danger of approaching her in there was just too great for him to risk. He might be discovered before he could rid her spirit from the Earth, then who would carry out his sacred duty, no-one, because there was no-one left who could see what he could, or had the reasons to act that he did.

   Days blended into weeks, the second wall filled up with pictures, clippings and finally with a floor plan of her home. A document that he had garnered from the building applications held by the local government. She lived in a large well established and much extended home, surrounded by security and technology. He studied hard looking for the weak spot, thwarted he knew it had to exist. She was not his first hunt, nor did he expect that she would be his last. He had the knowledge and the weapon, he just needed the opportunity to strike and he understood that one day soon it would arrive.

   The church was ancient it had stood on the same spot for centuries, the door creaked as he entered through it, he moved inward selecting a pew at the rear of the great monument to religion. He had been drawn there repeatedly, for each visit offered him solace and reassurance. He knelt forward on the cushion provided to offer comfort whilst praying for guidance from the Lord, or as in his case seeking an idea, a method; so that he could do his God’s divine bidding.

   He found himself in the kitchen of his once small love filled home, sharing an evening meal with his wife and daughter. The front door had crashed into the room shattered and destroyed, its locks having failed. He looked up but even then he was too late, they, two of them, had entered the kitchen swiftly; the female had grasped his wife whilst the male had punched him hard.

   He awoke to the wet cold splash of water to his face; he was secured tightly, bound with thick rope to the chair he had fallen out of. His wife was equally bound, his daughter was lying on the floor with tears of agony flowing from between her gritted teeth. She could not move as her left leg was broken, shattered by a swift perfectly delivered kick to her knee cap and left with the bone piercing through her young flesh. He struggled hard but the ropes that bound him had been well secured, and were strong. He did not recognise them so he knew that the couple had brought them, which told him much.

   He did not expect to survive this encounter. The she had a knife held in her hand; she rested it beneath his wife’s chin held tight against her throat, having made certain that he was awake and watching. She pulled back hard slicing through the tender flesh, cutting deep into tendon. Blood spouted, the rich red of life spurted upward and out coating him where he was sitting bound and helpless to resist or to save his family.

   The male laughed, his body tense in expectation. The woman lowered her head letting some of the blood from his dying wife splatter across her face, coating her. The man remembered how he had felt as he had watched helpless to resist, knowing how the actions of that pair had set him on the pathway he now trod.

   With a blinding light he received everything that he expected, so he crossed himself, whispering ‘Thank you’ and departed from the church. His mind still filled with the images of his wife as the two blasphemers of life had bent over his daughter.

   The girl had no chance as she too fell to their intent, dying by inches whilst he her father watched. They stood, blood dripping, the girl’s life taken. The man hit him for the second time; the world turned inky black and his life faded away again. He awoke still sitting in the chair though not bound, his clothes and hands covered in his families blood. The knife used to kill his wife and child lying on the floor between them, looking much as though he had used it and then thrown it to the ground.

   He looked down, he knew their intent behind leaving him the victim of their assault alive; for the life he had remaining would be taken by the police, who would never believe that he had not in a fit of rage murdered his own family. He stood up feeling the pain of his understanding and knowledge, he left taking little with him, setting out on his voyage of revenge. Ten had died at his hands, ten had been discovered by him and ten had been hunted, captured and eradicated, and now he hunted the eleventh.

   This one was the most beautiful looking of them all, but still she had to die, she had to be killed and only he could do it. Only he had God’s knowledge and insight and so he departed the church, free of guilt and resurrected in his intent, ready and now able to continue forward. He knew how and he knew with what and now all he needed was the right time, watching and patience would provide that for him.

   The night passed the day arrived, revealing him standing by the rear of the building, he was ready the time was perfect; the bitch would soon become another victim. He pushed the grate open and lowering himself down; he entered the building unseen in silence. He followed the air-duct to a certain point and then listening he waited.

   He felt the words of encouragement burn into his mind, so he pushed open the trap and was soon standing in the hall of the ground floor. He was dressed in kitchen whites, the tray he had brought with him he held out as he approached the lift. He knew that the cameras would track him but what did that matter so long as the operator thought that he belonged, and he looked as though he did.

   The lift rode up to the eleventh floor, he exited knowing that she was close, being only one floor above him. He found the stairs, thanks be to God for fire regulations; he climbed up counting each step, praying silently to himself whilst holding the tray out before him, as though it was some sort of talisman. He reached into his pocket and removed an envelope, which he placed in the centre of the tray. He exited the stairwell onto the top most floor and there before him, glowing with the fires of hell was the door he sought. Behind it waited the victim, his victim, God’s victim. He intended to put an end to her life and so take one more step to saving God’s world.

   He knocked twice on the door then he waited, she opened it which was something of a surprise to him. Beneath the tray the weapon waited, not a gun never a gun it had to be the same type of weapon that had killed his wife and daughter, but this one was different. It had been blessed by both a catholic priest and a Buddhist monk.

   He stepped forward crashing into her, pushing her back, rolling the tray from his arm. The point sought out her flat soft stomach, his hand twisted upward driving it into her chest cavity, seeking out her heart before she could react and kill him. The tip penetrated the beating organ, piercing the flesh, ending the life of she that he had hunted and sought and had now killed. He held on tight as the heat of her death covered his blood soaked hand.

   He looked directly into her eyes as they widened and flared in agony. He felt her pulse, he felt her end fast approach; she pushed back against him, her hands clawed in agony and understanding; thus withdrawing the point from her body even whilst knowing it was too late for such an action to save her.

   She crumpled to the floor folding up, collapsing, burning her way back to whence she had come from. Death filled the room, ash floated freely in the air; the man stood alone holding the wooden stake having claimed another vampire for his God.

   He departed knowing that there would be others, many others, if the police who were still hunting him for the murder of his wife and daughter failed to locate him and that was firmly in God’s hands.

                      The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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