Thank God for menthol because the second Aiden opens the door, the putrid stench hits us like a wave.
“Don’t breathe through your mouth,” he warns, pulling his shirt up over his nose as we step inside. The source of the smell is immediately apparent—our predator is naked on the cold concrete. The third piece of his manhood has finally fallen off, leaving behind a gaping, infected wound.
“I have to give it to you, bug,” Aiden’s words are muffled by his shirt. “Auto-amputation was a bold move.”
“I told you all I needed was some string,” I say, my voice strained as I try not to gag from the smell. “Once the blood stops flowing, the tissue will eventually dieand fall off on its own.”
“Clearly,” he chuckles, nudging the man’s leg with his foot. “That’s not just infected, bug. That’s gangrene. Judging by the sweat and chills, it’s spreading fast.” He spins, taking my arm and leading me outside, shutting the door behind us. “He’ll be dead by tomorrow; there’s no need for us to intervene.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” His shoes clip against the concrete as we walk back to his line-up of unfortunates. “Let nature take its course.” Bringing my knuckles to his lips, he kisses them gently before turning back to his work. “Now where was I?”
“Blow torch,” grabbing my frappe, I push myself onto the workbench and get comfortable, we’re going to be here a while. I shoot a few texts back and forth with Ciara and then Scott, checking in to see how Robbie is doing. Apparently, my creamy roast carrot soup went down a treat.
Opening the scrabble app on my phone, I get to work amusing myself, only looking up when the screams become painful.
Aiden, who is holding the torch to what’s left of the feet of the guy in the chair, gives me an apologetic smile, stops the torch for a split second to tell me where my noise cancelling earphones are, then gets back to work. No one ever tells you that the smell of burning flesh is like nothing else in the world. Burnt hair, charred meat, and coagulated blood are not scents for the easily nauseated.
The skin melts from the bones, dripping like candle wax onto the concrete floor.
That’s just his feet. I’d say he’ll look like a pillar candle that has been left to burn for too long by the time Aiden’s donewith him.
Is that bone?
Aiden places the torch down; my guess is he’s getting bored. He approaches the workbench, picks up a bottle of water, and takes a long drink before turning back to the man slowly melting away in the chair.
“Did you kill him?” I ask, noting the lulled head and slumped shoulders of his victim.
Aiden smirks, “Nah. He’s just having a little nap.”
Picking up a hunting knife from the table, he turns his gaze to the men huddled in the corner. “Eenie, Meenie, Miney,” his knife bounces between them, stopping on the brunette. “Moe.”
“No, please!”
Pushing down my headphones, I reach out and tap Aiden’s shoulder. “Babe?”
He turns to me with a grin, the knife still in his hand. “Yes, bug?”
“Who’s chunky?” I nod to the out-of-place body.
Aiden chuckles, “an insurance policy.”
Really? He’s not going to tell me.
“He smells like piss,” I add, scrunching my nose in disgust.
Aiden rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, some of the lads may have relieved themselves on him.”
I’m not even going to press further. I don’t want to know. If Raven and the rest of the macabre gang decided to humiliate this guy by urinating on him, I can only imagine what he did to piss them off—no pun intended.
Aiden’s beautiful face turns back to his victims, and I know I’ve lost him for at least another hour. I should get him tested; when he’s hyper-focused like this, I could run by him on fire,and he’d barely bat an eyelid.
He rolls the knife’s handle between his fingers, a dangerous glint in his eye as he steps for “Moe.” Aiden is clearly practised with a blade, not that I haven’t seen him dissect before. It has become almost routine over the last couple of weeks.
I’m mid-slurp when a long piece of skin floats to the ground like a discarded ribbon of fabric. “Wow!” I say around my straw, sucking up more cream than coffee. “It’s a good thing I’m not squeamish.”
I’ve learned to only bring coffee here. I made the mistake of bringing some grapes two days ago, put a nice juicy one in my mouth, and right before I bit down, Aiden scooped out someone’s eyeball inches from me. He got hit with a projectile grape in the side of the head a second later.
