“You’ve made your point,” I hissed under my breath and he dropped my head. Why had he stopped me though? Why not let me go out there and die? I looked at him, crouched down with me in the woods. He was cloaked in dark leather—a long duster with a high collar, boots, and a wide-brimmed hat that turned his face into pure shadow.
Yesterday, I saw a mouth. He’d smiled and it was chilling. Out of the blackness, lots of little teeth blinked out of a mouth that was too wide. It reminded me of the Cheshire Cat inAlice in Wonderland. A strange, evil-looking smile that was too manic to be pleasing.
He wasn’t made of shadows. I knew that the moment my claws had hit his face, the brief sensation of fur on my hands as I connected with flesh.
“Tell me where she is?” The leader asked again, eyes sweeping my bandmates who were on their knees. His voice was deep and powerful but not raised--a dark, storm rolling in over the water. A steady, calm threat pressing forward.
“Who?” Grady asked with wide eyes.
“The girl with your group. Black hair...”
“What?Ava?” Grady asked, eyes turning into saucers. He shook his head rapidly, his mouth sealing up. The leader made no response, just flipped open something on his belt I hadn’t noticed. It was a leather knife holder. He slid the knife from the pouch and stepped up behind the person closest to him. Which just happened to be Matthias.
Brandon’s eyes bugged, panic taking over his face. For once I was gripped with empathy for my drummer and it made me feel horrified because I knew what was about to happen. I could feel it like an ailment in my gut and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
The leader reached out and grabbed Matthias, pressing the guitarist’s head to his own body in a tight hold. Matthias cried out and Brandon began screaming. The sound grated on my ears like it wished to harm me.
I didn’t see the violence of it, the leader’s back was turned to me. It looked so normal from that angle, a man just doing a job. The weapon came away, held aloft at his side, coated thickly in blood. I saw the look on Brandon’s face as he watched though and it made me feel sick, my stomach bloated with awful empathy.
Brandon flung himself forward as the leader dropped Matthias’ body. He stretched his arms out to catch his lover but didn’t make it in time. The body fell to the ground in a heap, dirt shifted into a tiny puff up around him. The ground became stained with dark blood at an alarmingly fast rate.
Brandon wailed and the agony of it made me jerk my face away, unable to look any longer. The reality of Ava’s possible death felt closer now, inching forward in my mind.
She could die. Die just like Matthias. A split second of quiet movement followed by the putrid sounds of loss erupting from within me. I promised myself I’d kill the man who just murdered Matthias. I’d gut him like a pathetic, squirming fish.
Mothman shoved a leather-bound journal into my trembling hands and I looked down at it. He sighed and flipped it open to the first page. Scrawled on the paper was psychotic handwriting that was hard to make out.
“The hunters want to use you all as bait to catch their prey.”
“What prey?” I asked through gritted teeth. He pointed at his chest.
“Why do they want Ava then?” I asked. He gave a shrug. “Bullshit.” He snatched the journal from my hand and pulled a pen from a pocket in his duster. He scribbled something out while I looked back at the camp. The leader, Loren, had moved on to Grady now, tugging him up to his feet and gripping him in a chokehold. The knife, still coated in Matthias’ blood, was poised above his chest, the tip denting the fabric of his shirt.
The journal was shoved back in my hands.
“They must have seen something.”
“Oh, they must have seen something. Thanks, really fucking helpful,” I said throwing the journal away. He flung his hands out in a “what the fuck” look then crawled over to his journal, grabbing it off the ground. When he lifted it up and began dusting off the page I saw a drawing.
My eyes rounded and I snatched the journal from his hands. He’d drawn a naked picture of a woman. The face was crude, mostly glossed over. The breasts had remarkable shading, revealing where he’d rather spend his attention. The girl had long hair with bangs, shaded dark. She had curvy hips that flared wide and thick thighs spread wide open to reveal an intricately drawn pussy with delicate, flower petal like labia.
“Is this Ava?” I hissed, slamming my finger into the drawing and smudging the pencil lines. He sighed while snatching a metal cigarette case from his jacket. He slid a hand-rolled cigarette into the black depths of his face. Then he struck a match on his boot and lit the end, puffing a few times to bring the end to a red glow of life. The edges of black fur and a long thin mouth lit up on his face.
Who the fuck was this guy?
18
“Is this Ava?” Caspian snarled. His finger pressed to my drawing and smudged the perfectly drawn pussy.
What a shame.
Dealing with this guy made me need a cigarette. I took it upon myself to get one immediately, desperately needing a hit of potent tobacco before I dealt with any more of his shit.
After puffing out a thick cloud in his face, I flipped the page for him, where an even better drawing existed. This one involved me with Ava. It was a close-up of her shocked but delighted face as I presented my cock for her to feast on.
Flip. On this page was her attempting to work my fat monster cock into her mouth. She was drooling comically as she tried to swallow down the bumpy textured shaft. Ava was so cute in her determination.
Flip. Oh, this was a favorite—her mouth open wide, her eyes bugging as I “accidentally” began sliding in the wrong hole from behind. I’d even written a dialogue box with her yelling“wrong hole!”because what was porn without a little humor?
