Eric Meyer - Killing Faith (A Gabriel De Sade Thriller)

KILLING FAITH

By Eric Meyer

SMASHWORDS EDITION

PUBLISHED BY:

Swordworks Books

Killing Faith

Copyright 2011 by EricMeyer

All rights reserved. Withoutlimiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of thispublication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into aretrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means(electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise)without the prior written permission of both the copyright ownerand the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction.Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are eitherthe product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark ownersof various products referenced in this work of fiction, which havebeen used without permission. The publication/use of thesetrademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by thetrademark owners.

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CONTENTS

'We cannot resist the fascination of sacrifice,since a passion for sacrifices is part of a chess player'snature.'

Rudolf Spielman

Jennifer Collins caught sight of herself in the storewindow, she didnt look too bad, she considered. Blonde hair, blueeyes, slim, she sure didnt look like the hookers shed seen givingher vicious glances, as if she was invading their territory. For agirl from Topeka, Kansas, to make it all the way to Manhattan, thatwas way cool. Even if she did have to break some of the promisesshed made to Mom and Pa. Like being careful about which men shedated. It wasnt easy making ends meet, the Big Apple was expensiveand her salary as a clerk for a housing charity on Second Streetdidnt stretch far enough, not by a long way. Her apartment share,Wanda, had introduced her to these dates, kind of dates, anyway.No, she knew she was fooling herself and that she was doing it formoney. Just because she didnt stand on a street corner in a microskirt and six inch heels didnt make it any different. Wandasfriend Miguel was a New York cab driver, people knew he was theman when it came to finding a girl for the night. They had to givehim a percentage, of course, but that was fair enough. He wasnt apimp, absolutely not. Miguel was just a middleman, like and agentfor actors and actresses. Hed phoned her earlier and told her tomeet this guy for a drink in the Village. Was it ok to go back toher apartment afterwards? Sure, Wanda said shed be out tonightanyway staying with her boyfriend Eddie at his apartment in theBronx. Tonights fee was great, too, double what she usually got.She could treat herself to some new shoes tomorrow.

Jennifer?

She turned around, startled. She hadnt heard anyoneapproaching. Her first feeling was relief, some of these guys,well, they werent every girls dreamboat. But this one, he lookedgood. He had pale blonde hair, baby-blue eyes and sported a neat,blonde moustache. He sure was a looker, probably in his latethirties. He wouldnt have had any trouble getting dates. He lookedwealthy, too, his clothes had that high-end look to them, this wasa guy who had it all. He was probably married, yeah, that explainedit. The good ones always were. These guys went liked theexcitement, the risk, the thrill of something different from thesame face they saw everyday when they got home.

Yes, Im Jennifer.

He took her by the arm. It was kind of old-fashionedthe way he did it. She liked it.

Shall we go for a drink first? I know a rather nicebar.

Thats fine.

His accent was weird, he sounded as if he wasRussian.

My names Greg, by the way. Tell me about yourself,Jennifer. Are you religious at all?

That was an odd question. Maybe he was one of theseborn-again types or even a minister. She giggled to herself. ThoseTV evangelists often seemed to wind up doing the mattress tango,even the ones who got up on the God Channel shouting about obeyingthe Ten Commandments, repent and youll be saved. Yeah, right. Shedidnt want to be saved, she wanted a new pair of Jimmy Choos. Thebar he took her too was expensive, dark and richly furnished. Theytook a discreet booth at the back and he spent time listening toher, he seemed genuinely interested, wanted to know all about hisdate. That was fine by her, she was happy to chat with thisdecent looking guy. He made her feel important, wanted, real good.They downed two drinks and he walked her back to her apartment onBleecker Street.

Dont look at the mess, she smiled. I share itwith my girlfriend, she hasnt learned to put things away yet.

Shes not here at present?

No, shes gone for the night, she wont be backuntil breakfast. She's staying with her boyfriend.

Thats nice.

Would you like a drink, Greg, Ive got cold beer inthe ice box?

Thank you.

She brought two cans of beer. Hed sat down on thecouch so she sat next to him. He sipped his beer, then put it downand placed his arm around her neck and pulled her near him. Sheturned her head to kiss him, the kiss was firm, very passionate,she could already feel the heat inside him, he was veryaroused.

Shall we go through to the bedroom?

Yes.

She lay on her back, spread-eagled on the bed. Heknelt over her, and then put his hands around her neck. She closedher eyes, ready for him to lean down and kiss her again, but hedidnt, the pressure on her neck started to increase, Jesus, ithurt.

Would you ease up? Youre hurting my neck.

I know, he replied.

Her eyes flew open, the pleasant, good-looking guyhad gone, what stared down at her was the face of a monster. Theeyes gleamed, as if the pupils were red-hot coals. His face wasstretched, white, as if he was in the throes of some kind ofreligious ecstasy, half pleasure, half pain. He removed one hand,but was still strong enough to hold her and squeeze with one hand.The other appeared with a knife, it looked razor sharp. Oh God, no,not this. Oh please, no, Mom, someone, help me!

Help! she screamed, a long, desperate cry, but itwas strangled by her lack of oxygen. She began to see stars in hereyes and everything was going black. She was only half consciouswhen she felt herself being carried into the bathroom.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying in thebath. She felt dazed, weak, her neck hurt too, Christ, hed cut herand she was bleeding badly. The blood loss made her so weak thatwhen he started to cut off her right arm, she had little strengthleft to fight with. Jennifer lapsed into merciful oblivion just asshe saw her right arm completely removed. She didnt see him cutoff the left arm and by the time he started cutting the legs, shewas dead from a massive heart attack, brought on by theextraordinary trauma and blood loss. The guy, named Greg, carriedthe severed limbs through to her bedroom and started on his nextgrisly task, the most important. Jennifer had to be displayedproperly, so that it was clear for all eternity why she had beenkilled and dismembered. He arranged the limbs on the bed cover,when he was satisfied he went back to the bathroom. The blood haddrained away. He laid the torso on the floor and started on thelast part of the ritual. He bent down to cut the mark into herbreast. She was his, the anointed victim to his special desires.Greg knew that no one would understand why he did it, but he didntcare. He was powerful, wealthy and influential. It was enough forhim that he enjoyed doing it. It filled a need, which made itreason enough. He checked his clothes and noticed that his shirtwas bloodstained. That was no problem, he always made certain theclothes he wore for these occasions were consigned to the furnaceas soon as he got back to his house. He went around the apartmentand cleaned away any traces of fingerprints, hed been careful onlyto put his hands in a few places. It was a simple system,afterwards he knew exactly what and where he needed to wipe clean.Letting himself out of the apartment, he walked along the streetlooking for his driver. He felt as if he was floating on air, as healways did. Nobody could ever know that special experience, it waslike taking a powerful drug, but a thousand times better.