we need to chat. [trigger #236]

“Hey Tony, it’s Justin. Call me when you get this, we need to chat. I just got word that there is a problem with the recruitment side of the organization that is much larger than we originally expected. Not for personnel, there is no shortage of people who want to be involved with us. However, there has been a problem recruiting resources for raw materials. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we need at least 200 subjects a month for the various sacrifices and somatic materials needed for hexes, curses, wards, and prophecies. It used to be so easy to get recruits to sign away their bodies and souls without even realizing they were doing it, and I have to tell ya, I’m not sure what it is that changed. Enrollment has dipped more than 200% since January of last year, only 17 months ago. Somebody is screwing with us, whether from the outside or within the organization. 

“Please call me back when you get this so we can get the ball rolling on a plan to sort this out. I’m worried about what the folks upstairs will do to us if we can’t get the ship righted. I wouldn’t put it past them to literally take it out of our hide.

“Talk to you soon.” 

it is a sign of blessing that you see your grandchildren. [trigger #155]

Timmy made his first kill at 12, Jenny the prodigy made hers at 9. They certainly do make a doting grandfather proud. Obviously, they’d been in the room for prayers of cleansing all along, but often the blood was too much, and the loud noises the sinners would often make would frighten them. Though, Timmy and Jenny overcame their fear far faster than my children did.

The key is to treat them like they are mature, and then they surprise you with how mature they can truly be. We just made it clear to the children that what we are doing is God’s work, that if we let these evil people die without their exposure to refining fire, they will suffer in hell instead. Jenny was so quick to realize how beautiful their screams were. She seemed to have a preternatural gift for understanding that their screams of pain and torment reached God’s ears as prayers of repentance. It may be hard for them to admit it in the midst of their pain, but these sodomites, whores, liars, and thieves are thankful for our correction. Even those who aren’t will be when they reach the other side and discover how much easier we’ve made their transition into the next life, the far more important life in God’s kingdom.

We torture them, but we do it so that they might come to know God’s love, and know the error of their ways. Many of them come to admit their depravity under my guidance. Then we kill them, for if we were to release them they would fall back into the pit of sin from which they came. That would be truly monstrous, sadistic really. It would render all of our hard work moot. No, we kill them and let their soul go free, as it is intended. We cleanse them of their sin, and then allow them to enter heaven unfettered by the shackles of the fleshly life.

I was so proud when each of my little ones was able to muster up the courage to drain a repented one of their lifeblood. It is a sign of God’s blessing on our work that I am able to see my grandchildren taking the calling onto themselves.

 

street art. [trigger #84]

He sat down in his study and sipped from a glass of scotch. He was celebrating his 16th victim. For two years he had preyed on those at the fringes of society: prostitutes, the homeless, illegal immigrants, the drug addled or insane. He thought of it as political point. These were the people that he felt were at fault for all the problems in society.

All of his murders were carried out on the streets, in plain view of anyone who might pass. But he was very clever, and very careful, so no one ever did pass. If they did, they’d have to look very closely to know what was even happening. No small feat considering the grisly nature of his murders. He liked to think of it as street art, making clear to the world how he felt, even if they didn’t know exactly who was responsible.

dribbling down her chin. [trigger #24]

She pulled his head backwards by his hair, smelling his neck with relish.

She paused to enjoy the moment, his mind was so seduced that there was no chance of him thinking clearly enough to fight back.

In that moment, she delighted in many things. She could feel his heart beating through his chest, pumping life through his body, so close she could already taste it. She thought of the little girls he trafficked, not only had he trafficked his last, but she would soon have access to his records, and each girl would be free by the end of the week.

Even though she had long since stopped feeling sorry for what she was, for killing to live, she still chose her victims carefully. There was still the odd innocent here or there in a pinch, but normally she eliminated men and women so evil it was difficult to fathom, even for something like her.

She never gave in to the urge to romanticize what she did. She was killing terrible people, but she was still killing. And while part of her joy at the kill came from the salvation that came to so many with each death, a large part of her joy at the kill was purely in the kill. In the violence and power of it.

She grinned, it was a deadly, feline gesture. Her pressed her fangs into the flesh of his neck, just enough to penetrate the skin, but not enough to feed. She loved these moments just before the slaughter, she almost always chose to draw it out, to savor each second, to prolong the anticipation and desire.

Finally, she threw her head back, then plunged her teeth deep into his flesh, losing herself in the taste of his lifeblood. These moments are when she is truly alive. It’s why she never looks with disdain on her lycanthrope brothers and sisters like most of her kind. She may hunt with the grace and care of the jaguar, but once it came time to feed she was overwhelmed by the savage hunger of the wolf.

She drank deeply, and then pulled away, taking in deep, heaving breaths, the blood dribbling down her chin. These breaths were obviously not because she needed breath to live, God’s first gift had been denied her for some time. No, these breaths were to oxygenate the blood she was drinking one last time before his life had truly gone out of it, to feel a secondary tremor and thrill as she consumed him.

love wins. [trigger #19]

Harry is tired. Work never seems to end these days.

Used to be, back in the times of Voldemort, that all darkness was attracted to the man like a magnet. There was no random violence, because anyone with even the most remote violent tendencies was pulled toward the most powerful and evil wizard in history like a moth to a flame.

Now, without the gravitational pull of Voldemort, the violent and deranged are scattered throughout every shadow and crack in the wizarding world. It keeps aurors like Harry busy, to say the least.

He apparated at the scene of the crime to see there were no muggle officers yet. He’d hoped this would be the case. Muggle deaths called for interdepartmental cooperation, but he’d hoped to arrive at the scene first, so he could have his way with the place without showing anything that wasn’t meant to be seen by muggle eyes.

Several aurors were already on the scene, and as he would be taking lead on the case they filled him in on the details. Two muggle victims, mid-forties, both professors at Durham in the philosophy department. One wizard victim, apparently mid-twenties, identity still unknown. Signs indicate the Cruciatus Curse had been used on the victims for some time before their deaths. Neither muggle victim was physically mutilated, but the wizard had been touched up quite a bit.

Written on the wall, presumably in the wizard’s blood, was two words: Love Wins.

Other than that, there was no remaining sign of who might have carried out the violence. Without thinking, and even though it hadn’t tingled in nearly two decades, he fingered the scar on his forehead. He needed to get a message to Ginny, he wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight.

the queen of hearts. [trigger #15]

“Oh, look, you’re awake again.

“Does it hurt, darling? Don’t worry, your wounds are superficial so far. Wouldn’t want you dying before I’m done with you, now would I?

“Mm, how sweet, look at the surprise on your face, even after several hours. I’m won’t pretend it’s not gratifying.

“Do you remember me from the other day, sweetie? I know we’ve never met officially, but we bumped into each other at the coffee shop. You were ahead of me in line and you paid for my drink. It might have even been a sweet thing to do if it weren’t for that creepy, perverted, and condescending smile on your face. What is it with guys like you? You think that just because you do something polite for a woman you’re attracted to they’re just going to drop down and blow you right there. Fucking creep.

“Now, don’t worry, your creepy smile isn’t the reason your about to die… What? I can’t hear you through the gag, but if you were trying to say that I think you are, then the answer is, yes, you are going to die.

“Where was I? Oh, right, the reason you’re going to die. So, being a misogynistic prick wasn’t enough, that just brought you to my attention. The reason you’re going to die is because of what happened at the bar the next night. You were out with your little frat boy gang of friends, the one’s who still think their the kings of their college even though you’re all nearly 40. It’s so clichhé and pathetic, darling. I watched as the lot of you got drunk and harassed that poor waitress until she went into the bathroom and wept. That was what sent me over the edge, and sealed your fate.

“Granted, there were other things you did along the way as I’ve followed you these last few days. You’re just not a very nice person. And, this is what I do. I just got so tired of seeing assholes like you spreading their bullshit all over the world. Dicks like you always win, they treat everyone they feel is beneath them – which, let’s be honest, is just about everyone – like shit.

“Well, this time, you lose. I’ve seen to that. You’re going to feel pain tonight. You’re going to feel sorry for what you’ve done, even if it is out of purely selfish motives. You’re going to beg me for life and feel what it feels like to see someone else with all the power. Then, you’re going to die, and you won’t die well, my sweet. It’s going to hurt, you’re going to suffer, and I’m going to savor this memory for the rest of my life, just like I’ve savored the memories of the men who’ve come before you.

“I’m like Dexter, but without that silly code, and without all those daddy issues, and with really great tits. Ha, I knew that would surprise you. You think that a woman can’t appreciate her own sexuality without wanting to fuck everyone who looks at her. Well, fuckwad, no, that’s not how it works. I know I’m beautiful, I love sex, and I wouldn’t go near you for anything. You’re disgusting.

“Blech, such a dirtbag.

“Oh, I almost forgot, look at this! This is new, an idea that struck me just the other day. I’ve been trying to decide what my serial killer calling card would be, when it struck me: why not a real card? See, it’s the queen of hearts! That’ll be me, I’ll be the ‘Queen of Hearts’ in the newspapers and such. Like the red queen in Alice in Wonderland. ‘Off with their heads!’

“Hm, but I can’t cut off your actual head, that would end our fun. I’ll just have to cut off your other head instead.

“Oh, now don’t hyperventilate, you’ll only make yourself feel worse. Let’s see, this pocket knife should be perfect for this part. Off with your head, darling. Off with your head.