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She was right, it was as if she had disappeared. It was a lonely weekend and I was really beginning to be worried about Charlie. There was no question that his health was crumbling. Now he stayed upstairs, moving between his bedroom and study. In the mornings there was a tray with the remains of his breakfast, I got him lunches.

Then, on Tuesday, Jenny met me at the door. She stood behind it when she opened it, even though it was raining. She looked awful. Her face was even more pale than normal, her lips had a blue tinge. There were dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks seemed to have sunken. It seemed that she had shrunk, she seemed smaller.

“I have to go tonight or I’ll get sick,” she said.

I put my hand on her cheek, it was cool. “You don’t look well.”

“If I wait any longer I’ll start to lose my strength. Booker’s going to put up a fight.”

“Why’d you wait so long?”

She looked at me. “I have to be sure…I have to be able to convince you,…that he should die.”

“Me?”

“You’ll be an accomplice to murder, you have to know why.”

We went into the living room.

“Charlie wants to stay in bed this morning, I don’t think he has long.”

I looked at the stairway. “He seems to have accepted it.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at nothing straight ahead.

“Booker’s a rat,” she started. “He was sent out here from Chicago. He’s in the Vice Lords, a gang there. Came out to set up an extension in New York. He’s been recruiting and building his turf, setting up in the crack market and sending the profits home.”

“So he’s a pusher?” I asked.

“Yeah, and more. He’s killed a couple of rivals, but that’s not what pisses me off.”

“OK.”

“Three years ago his little sister, she was nine, asked him if she could join the gang. She had to be ‘jumped in’. For a guy, that means they beat him up, for a girl, she has to have sex with all the guys in, I guess you’d call it a ‘chapter’.”

“They’re not nice, it’s really a gang rape. They had her strip, then slapped her around in a circle before one guy asked her to suck him off. While she was doing that, another guy pissed on her back. She jumped up and slapped him and, after that, well, I guess she had failed the test. They beat her up, four of them raped her, two sodomized her. One guy twisted one of her nipples with a pair of pliers and she scratched him. That’s when they really got rough.”

“Booker sat in the room and watched as eight men repeatedly raped and then beat his nine year old sister to death. He even held her head to the floor with his boot while one of the guys burnt her nipples and clitoris with a cigarette. Then he dumped her body in the Chicago River and went home. Had dinner with their mother and his two little brothers.”

“How did you learn about this?” I asked.

“He tells the story to impress people, make them think he’s some sort of bad ass. But I checked it out. The child’s murder is a cold case with the Chicago Police…they really don’t care, just another little dead black kid got caught up in the gangs. It was on page three of the Tribune the morning her body was found, nothing since.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll leave at seven tonight,” she said. “I know were to find him. We’ll bring him back here. It’ll take a couple of hours for the drugs to wear off, then I have dinner and Reggie goes up the chimney.”

She smiled. Her eyes glowed, somehow she looked stronger.

We left right at seven and made our way to the Bronx. She directed me into the post-apocalyptic landscape of the South Bronx. Again we just drove around some, almost aimlessly until she told me to turn onto a street and park.

Maybe half the row houses were occupied—the others were boarded or burned out. There was a bar at the corner, next to a shuttered grocery. Down an alley there were three hobos passing a bottle in a bag around a burning trash can. I watched as rats shuttled back and forth from a storm drain and along the gutter before running across the sidewalk and through an opening bent into the grocery’s metal barriers.

I recognized Reggie when he came out of the bar with girl.

“That’s Tiffany,…she’s actually named Richard Carter. Kind of a sad case, hooked on crack and heroin. Probably has AIDS too.” The two went different directions, Tiffany disappearing around the corner and Reggie coming toward us.

“Oh, he’s making this too easy,” Jenny said.

She got out of the van and walked toward him. He stopped for a moment, then came toward us. I rolled down the window so I could hear.

“Scoo girl, what’ch doin here?” he asked.

“I need some rock for my daddy.”

“You know I don’t carry that shit.”

“Who can I talk to?”

“That your daddy?” he pointed at me.

“Yeah.”

“Let me talk to him.” Reggie walked up to the van with Jenny behind him. He looked through the right window.

Jenny moved impossibly quick. It seemed that she reached up and chopped at the side of his neck.

“What the fuck!” He spun, then seemed to slump forward. Jenny caught him and moved him to the side door. She opened it and pushed him, stumbling, into the van, then jumped in behind him and slammed the door closed.

“Let’s go home Tom, no hurry.”

I put the van in gear and drove away. In the darkness I could hear some shuffling and the sound of tape coming off a roll. As I went by some street lights I could see that she was taping his hands and ankles. There was already a piece across his mouth.

“Can we get back in forty-five minutes? I’d hate to have to dose him again.” In the mirror I could see her eyes glowing.

“Depends on traffic,” I said as I pulled onto I-95.

As we drove along I could see that he was waking up. His eyes were open. At first he just turned his head back and forth some, then he started to move around in his seat—the belts kept him in place. Then, we crossed the river into New Jersey. Jenny pulled the drapes closed when we got on the turnpike so inquisitive toll takers wouldn’t notice.

By the time we arrived there was a fair amount of grunting and shuffling in back.

“First, we have to get the tazers,” Jenny said as she hopped out while the garage door was still closing.

I got out and she handed me one of the modern cattle prods. “Open the stairs and the door into the cage,” she said.

I was at the bottom of the stairs when I heard the sliding door on the van open. Then there was a buzz and a muffled scream.

“OK mutherfucker,” Jenny said in a low voice. “You’re getting out of the van and down the stairs. Got it?”

From behind the tape I could hear a lot of swearing. I had come back up and gone around the van, I was now behind Jenny. She jabbed the tazer into his neck—another scream.

“I’m going to let the belt go now, behave,” Jenny said.

She reached in and punched the buckle and it released. She came out of the van and stood. “OK, come on.”

Reggie had to try twice to stand up, then he stumbled stepping out and fell face first on the concrete. His hands were duct-taped behind his back and a hobble of tape had been made around his ankles. She reached down and pulled him up kneeling.

“Down the stairs,” she said.

Reggie climbed up and, as soon as he had gained his feet, he spun and launched himself at us. Jenny brought her hand up and smashed her palm into his nose while I jabbed with my tazer and connected with his thigh.

There was a groan and he fell back to his knees. Blood was running out of his nose and dripping on his pants and shirt.

“Get the fuck dowN THE STAIRS!” Jenny yelled. Her voice had taken on an inhuman shriek. She kicked him in the balls and he bent down. Again she hit his neck with the tazer and he dropped his head to the floor.

Jenny stood back, pushing against me. “Move your ass,” she said.

Reggie straightened up. His face was covered with blood, it looked like his nose was broken. He turned on his knees, then got back to his feet. He was half way down the stairs when Jenny hit him in the back of the neck with the tazer again. He fell the last few steps and sprawled onto the floor, smashing his chin.

Jenny slammed the cage shut as he rolled over onto his back, then sat up.

“We have to give him another hour or so until he wakes up fully,” she said to me. “Go check on Charlie, I want a shower.”

She seemed completely recovered. Gone was the listlessness, her face was animated and her eyes glowed so brightly that they could be seen even under the lights of the basement.

“You leave him tied up?” I asked.

“Oh, he’ll be able to get out of those in a few minutes,” she said. Then she walked to the door, leaving me alone.

I looked at the captive. He had struggled to the bench. “Tell me Reggie,” I asked, “did you really watch your little sister being raped and beaten and then dump her body in the river?”

There was a ripping sound and his hands came free. He reached up and pulled the tape off his face, then spit out some blood.

“Who the fuck are you?” he growled.

“One of the last people you’ll see alive.” I answered.

“Naw, you’ll be the next person I see dead…no,…that little cunt-bitch’ll be the next, you’ll come right after.”

He pulled the tape off his ankles, then stood up. He wavered some and grabbed at the cage for support.

“It’ll take a few more minutes for the drugs to wear off, then we’ll be back.” I walked out the door and up the stairs.

I went up stairs to find Charlie sitting up in his bed, a notebook on his lap and a pen in hand.

“So you’ve brought him in?” he said.

“Yeah, he’s in the cage.”

“From the sounds of it, he’s going to put up quite a fight. That’ll be good for Jenny, she gets more energy that way.”

“Are you coming down?” I asked.

“Naw, I’m too weak,” he said. “You’ll get your first real taste of what you’ve got yourself into.” He coughed weakly.

I handed him some water. He looked up and smiled. “That includes after—you’re in for one hell of a ride when she’s done with him.”

It took me a second to understand what he meant, then I smiled. “The real payback for being a serial murderer?”

“You have no idea…” he replied. “I just hope you’re not squeamish about blood.”

Now I was a little confused. I decided to let it drop.

“Where’s Jenny?”

“She’s probably in her room. She goes into a sort of trance at times like this. I guess she’s gathering her strength. She’ll need it cause a guy like you’ve got there could overpower her—if he kept his head. And a hood like Booker’s the kind that does keep his head.”

“What’s she going to do?” I asked.

“She’s going to go in there and fight him. Don’t interfere unless she asks. I’ve only had to do that once. And don’t be squeamish. In a fight like this, there’s going to be a lot of noise and blood—some might even be Jenny’s. But, in the end, she can take care of herself.”

“Tom?” Jenny was standing in the doorway. She had changed her clothes, now she had on a black leotard that covered everything but her hands and feet (which were bare). She walked over to Charlie and leaned down to kiss him.

“How are you?” she said.

“A little better this evening,” he replied.

She kissed him again, then looked up at me.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “I want to go down stairs for a little bite.”

When we entered the basement Reggie stood up. “What the fuck do you cocksuckers want? When I get out of here you’re both fucking dead!”

Jenny walked over to the crematory. “Only way you’re leaving here is through this.”

She pressed a lever on the side and the stainless steel door lifted up and away from the front. Inside, a line of low flames lit the sides along the central metal tray. From across the room, I could feel the heat.

“I already have it warmed up for you.”

Reggie’s eyes got big. “What the fuck is this?”

Jenny smiled and I was really surprised to see that her canine teeth had grown to twice their length, just like in the movies. Actually, it made her cute as hell.

“I am a vampire, and, I’m going to kill you.” Her voice was changed because she couldn’t completely close her mouth for the m, v, and p sounds.

She approached the door to the small cage and opened it, then stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Reggie stepped back to the other side of the cage.

“You’re a stupid little cunt bitch. Vampire…shit,” he scoffed.

Jenny slid the inner door open and Reggie charged her, grunting as he sprang.

Jenny dove forward and to the side, into the cage. It seemed her feet hit the floor once and she bounced up onto the side of the cage, her fingers and toes holding her four feet off the ground. Reggie slammed into the smaller cage, bouncing off the inner door and falling back onto his ass.

He rolled quickly onto his knees, then stood up.

Jenny sprang, flying across the cage at him, but he threw up his arms and connected, batting her to the side and onto the floor against the far side. But Jenny seemed to twist in mid-air, like a cat, and landed on her hands and feet, only to spring again across the cage and land on her feet, facing Reggie.

“Damn, you’re like a fucking cat!” Reggie exclaimed. He was breathing hard.

Jenny launched herself again, but this time she went up, grabbing the mesh of the cage overhead and swinging, feet first, smashing into Reggie’s chest.

He grunted and flew back, into the small cage, landing on his back. Jenny jumped on top of him and bit at his neck.

“Fuck!” he yelled and pushed her off. She landed on her butt. Her face was covered with blood.

Reggie had his hand on the side of his neck. He pulled it away, covered with blood from a ragged tear below his left ear.

“What the fuck?” he said, shaking his head. “This is bullshit.” He got to his feet and lunged at Jenny, his hands out to grab her throat.

Jenny rolled to the side but didn’t stop, spinning to her feet while he crashed to his hands and knees. She sprang again, landing on his back and again buried her face in the side of his neck.

He staggered to his feet, taking her with him, and she dropped off. Reggie almost fell across the cage, grabbing at the side, then turned around to face Jenny. Blood was running freely down onto his chest and soaking his sweatshirt.

Again Jenny jumped, but this time not as fast. She landed on him, pinning him against the wire mesh, her hands outside his shoulders, her feet clutching around his hips. She pulled her head back, then struck.

Reggie grunted and struggled, but Jenny held him. She was breathing hard and growled with each breath as Reggie slowly sank down to the concrete. I watched as his eyes slowly became dull and his arms dropped from around Jenny. A pool of urine spread out from underneath him.

She kept hold of him for at least another minute, her face to his neck, breathing hard. Then her breathing slowed and, finally, she relaxed and let him go. She lifted up, still crouching and looked at me. Her face was covered with blood, more stained her neck and leotard. There was blood in her hair and it stuck to her neck, shoulders, and face. Her eyes were bright red, shining.

She bared her teeth and I took a step back in fear. She looked down, then slowly stood up, her eyes closed. It seemed she was composing herself.

I watched as she relaxed, arched her back and squared her shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked down at her blood covered hands, then at Reggie’s body. She turned and took an unsteady step toward me.

“Well,” she said, “that was fun.” She smiled, her teeth were stained with blood but her canines retracted back up as I watched.

“You can let me out,” she said. “I need to get cleaned up, then we’ll take care of him.”

I opened the door and she stepped out in front of me. Her eyes were still glowing. She lifted up and kissed me, I tasted blood. Then she went out.

I went to Reggie. He was sitting in a pool of piss and he stank—his bowels must have also emptied when he died. The left side of his neck was torn open, I could see ripped muscles, tendons, and veins. His carotid artery was severed, a 3/8 inch hose cut raggedly open.

I thought he had to be undressed before he was cremated. I pulled on his arm and he fell over, air hissed out of him when he hit the floor. Some blood ran out of his mouth.

I pulled him out straight, leaving a trail of blood and piss. Then I pulled up on his shirt. He was wearing a tee shirt under the sweat. They both came up and turned inside out as I took them off. I stepped around him and pulled off his shoes and socks, thankful that he’d not worn the cowboy boots. Then I gingerly undid his belt and pants. I pulled at the cuffs and his red shit-filled boxers caught at his knees. Again I carefully worked them off his feet.

“Sorry, you didn’t have to do that,” I heard Jenny say from behind me.

I looked up, she was standing in the doorway, she was still dressed the same. She had washed her face but there was still blood in her hair. She went to the crematory and took some oven mits off the top.

“Here are yours, come help with the tray.”

I went over, the heat coming out of the open door was intense. She put on a pair of mits, I did the same. Then she reached in the crematory and pulled the tray out, stopping before the end came free. I carefully reached over it and lifted the end—it was essentially a metal mesh stretcher, about seven feet long. We carried it into the cage, and put it down next to Reggie’s body. The urine hissed where it hit the hot metal.

Jenny rolled his body onto the tray, face down. When we picked him up one of his arms fell off the side. We just carried it back out the way it’d come in. I had a hard time lifting the tray to the opening. Jenny moved her end to the side so I could place one corner, then she held his entire weight, not letting the tray twist and dump him on the floor, and moved back to the center.

“Put his arm back up,” she said.

I did, putting his hand next to his hip.

“Face down?” I asked.

“Sure, why not?” Jenny responded as she slid the tray into the oven. “Are any of those clothes synthetic?”

“I don’t think so, jeans, a tee, and sweatshirt.”

She walked back into the cage and looked them over, then used the socks as holders while she gathered them up. “Tennis shoes can’t go, everything else…” she walked over and tossed the clothes on top of the body. It was beginning to smoke.

She pulled down on the door lever and the door lowered into place. Then she pushed a couple of buttons and a fan started. A second later there was a hiss of gas and the flames made a low rumble inside.

We used the hose, brushes on broom handles, and bleach to clean the floor.

As we finished up, I asked, “How long does it take?” nodding toward the crematory.

“It’s shut off automatically after two or three hours, you dial in the weight of the body, the rest it does itself.” She pulled a lock of her blood-stained hair up and looked at it. The blood had dried to a reddish brown. She looked at me with a little smile.

“I noticed you have a really nice bathtub at your place. Want to help me wash my hair?”

Chapter 8

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