Saint And Sinners (97 page)

That answer suited the woman just fine, and she disappeared, calling out seat availability.
Everything stirred together, making her eyes blur and her temperature soar. She tried
not to think about her children, about Mama, about her sister, but she couldn’t resist.
What if something went terribly wrong and she ended up in jail for attempted murder?
Worse yet, what if she was sent to prison after actually completing the deed? And
then…she looked around the place once more. Saint had opened the gate of his world
a bit wider and exposed the awful, ugly truth. New York was in trouble. Big trouble.

But, her struggle continued…

She prayed to God.

Lord, how can I kill this man?
She was no Angel Child. She’d not been given the authority to take another’s life.
She was the wife of a supreme being, nothing more and nothing less. At that moment,
she imagined this was how a drug dealer’s woman felt—knowing that what she was doing
was wrong, but she had to, for her man. No, no…that analogy was all-wrong, too. She
replaced it in her mind with something more befitting…

Sacrifice. Yes.
Sacrifice.

A sacrifice not
only
for New York, but for the whole damn world. At that moment, she could very well be
contagious and not even know it. Did the hostess now have her ailment, too? How many
women had she contaminated and subsequently ruined their relationships if she didn’t
nip this in the festering disease in the bud? More importantly, Saint was falling
apart. He made no statements as to such, but it was evident. His temperament was all
over the place, and sure, she hadn’t helped with her antics, but he simply wasn’t
himself. He’d even become short with the children a time or two, and ended up asking
for forgiveness. That was completely unlike him. The curse had a way of not only cutting
off the physical love connection, but debilitating the one who was being shunned—a
double-edged sword that cut both ways, slicing anything in its wake. Malicious. Diabolic.
Evil.

She turned back towards Zoo, who chomped down his meal without a fucking care in the
world. And then, she smirked. With her new perspective at the forefront, her stomach
flipped not in fear, but in sweet anticipation…

*

S
aint had returned
to his car, waiting…waiting…and waiting a bit longer. He continued to wait, and in
that anticipation, his thoughts went somewhere he hadn’t ventured in years…

While in college, I did a lot of reading and studying, particularly about human nature
and our condition. I delved into a dark period while denying my clairvoyance, often
associated with delusions and demonic possession. I knew I was neither, yet so many
that have suffered from such states became psychic during these conditions and often
levitated off their beds, while yelling curses and not wishing to see, witness or
hear anything from a positive light…such as the Lord’s prayer. It is no wonder that
so many people like me kept quiet, moved around in the tenuous underground, fearing
to be discovered and labeled a killing sociopath. The very things the Creator made
to help mankind survive such evil influences are the same things that have been used
to torture the souls of many.

The sulfurous blood that covers the land of New York leaves imprecise and, at times,
crystal clear clues in its path. It is a large map detailing the sordid conduit that
we, as a people, are currently on. The Son of Sam, for instance, in 1976, terrorized
New York natives, forcing the city to cling to a state of panic for over a year. David
Berkowitz confessed to the mayhem, and stated he had been demonically
possessed by a dog that told him to commit these murders. Later, he changed his statement
and admitted that he was in fact part of a satanic cult.

David Rifkin, another mentally deranged person tossed aside by society, took Long
Island police on a wild goose chase all over a fucking missing rear license plate.
Standing there with Noxzema smeared under his nostrils, bleeding into the frowzy locks
of his mustache, he was a strange sight to see. It was soon discovered why the sick
fucker had been in such a damn hurry and didn’t want police attention. There was a
rotting, female corpse in the bed of his damn pick-up truck, and he didn’t want to
smell her ass, either.
That twenty-two year old woman, Tiffany Bresciani, had been Rifkin’s seventeenth murder.
David Rifkin was a demonically possessed, mentally incompetent, sexual deviant and
would go down in infamy as one example of what repeated bullying can do to a young
person’s brain, especially if no supportive, loving system is in place in the home.

Arthur Shawcross preceded him, and many others came after, all of them enjoying walks
down the darkest alleyways of life. You see,
curiosity can be a catapult from ordinariness to greatness. It can also be a gateway
into another dimension, that one being Hell. Most open the rickety door, believing
a treasure may be sitting on the other side. They have no idea what they’ve unleashed
but once you’ve unlocked the cage of an enraged tiger, there is no doubt you’ve become
his meal for the evening. The mind begins as a vacant lot…and little by little, things
from here, there and everywhere collect into a ménage of the macabre, beautifully
drawn and mundanely molded. The mental and psychological library is extensive and
wickedly categorized, but the need to fill it with new trinkets from past traumas
is pervasive
.
Our need as human beings, to right our wrongs, often rules us and well…I’ve been wronged.

Thus, revenge is now my ruler…

Saint jostled his gum to the side of his mouth as his phone lit up, jarring him out
of his dark deliberations. Lawrence had sent a simple text:

I have him cornered. Come to the junkyard.

Saint started up his car and made his way towards the nearby location. He immediately
spotted the portly fellow, sandwiched between Jagger and Lawrence and Xenia nearby,
off to the side, standing there with her hands thrust in her pockets. Without a second
thought, he veered over, put his car in park and leapt out as if attending a hip and
happening party.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, Zoo?!” Saint spoke loudly as he drew closer, pep in his
step. “I really enjoy sushi, man.” Saint scratched the side of his face, taking care
of an itch. “Matter of fact, it was one of the first meals my wife and I had together
before we got married.”

The man turned towards him, his eyes transformed into twin black pools of evil as
he hissed in his direction.
Fear.
It smelled so fucking good coming off the bastard.

“I don’t give a shit about all of that noise you’re making, Zoo. I know you’re demonically
bred and possessed and it doesn’t mean shit to me. You think I’m afraid of that shit,
huh?” Saint pointed to himself and smirked. “Turn yourself into a cobra, hell, a pile
a shit for all I care. It won’t impress or fool me. Anyway…” He grinned. “As I was
saying, I’m glad you got to dine one last time. It’s evident from your physical appearance
that you haven’t missed any damn meals. And don’t get me wrong!” Saint threw his hand
up as if in surrender and grinned a bit wider. “I sometimes enjoyed the company of
a healthy woman. I apologize, Xenia.” He winked at her, but the woman was keeping
her head down, as if in deep thought. “Just going down memory lane, but there were
some thick ladies that well, yeah…it was good damn times! Besides, I’m a man that
enjoys a good meal, too!” He chuckled maniacally. “My wife cooks wonderfully, and
I enjoy fine cuisine. I just so happen to have a high metabolism. It’s hard for me
to keep a lot of weight on, runs in my family. Since we’re all friends here, now,
Zoo, I feel like I can share this with you… I also have a high sex drive,” Saint whispered,
as if it were some big secret. “…And that helped keep the pounds off as well. My
favorite
dish, however, I’ve been unable to enjoy because of something real foul someone did.”
He shot a glance at Xenia, then back at Zoo. “Do you know what that could have been,
Zoo?”

The big fella continued to hiss and make strange noises, his face and body twitching.

“I bet you do. Unfortunately, thanks to you and your boss, Koki, I haven’t gotten
laid in over two months!”

Zoo grinned back at him. “I’m not afraid to die, Saint,” he confessed proudly. “Just
do what you must.”

“Then why did we have to chase you for four fuckin’ blocks?” Jagger asked before he
dug a piece of something out from between his teeth with a switchblade. “You move
pretty fast for a big boy…” He smiled.

“We are in a damn junkyard, Zoo.” Saint put his hands in the air as if to declare
this the greatest show on Earth. “This is perfect for your burial. You see, your stench
is making me quite ill, and the putrid compost actually smells
better
than you. You soulless mothafuckas really funk up the joint.” Saint shot a look at
his wife, who now held her head high, yet remained silent and eerily composed.

“This is what I do, baby… I’m so sorry you’re involved in this.” He spoke to her as
if no one else was standing there. He needed to break his train of thought and concentrate
on her a moment. He didn’t want this to happen, but it couldn’t be avoided. She nodded,
acting okay, playing the role. But one thing was true. He
hated
Zoo for placing her in this position. Xenia was to
never
be a part of such things, was now tainted. She’d never be pure again after such an
occurrence. She’d never see the world the same way. He loved her optimism and innocent
eyes…always seeing the best in people. After this, the woman would undoubtedly have
a hint of pessimism and he’d spend the rest of his fucking life trying to make the
world feel safe to her again…

“Now, Zoo, here is what is going to happen. My wife is going to shoot you in the heart,
and then after that, I have a little surprise for you,” Saint said coolly.

“What surprise?” Zoo’s tone suddenly had an edge of concern.

“Oh,” Saint nonchalantly plucked his own gun from his side holster, clicked it and
put it back. The revolver was now fully loaded and ready to play just in case the
bastard got any ideas. “You’ll find out soon enough… Baby, come ’ere, please.” He
cracked his gum and casually waved Xenia over. The woman walked towards him, her feet
steady on the pebbly ground, crunching a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. He was
surprised by her upright gait, her face like stone—as if a part of her had already
resolved the situation, and had moved passed the shit. This excited and concerned
him all at once.

Zoo’s eyes turned vibrant green as a white vapor escaped his mouth. He took several
steps backward, then began to chant loudly in Latin.

“Ego autem mortuus fuerit vir fortis!” – (I will die a hero)

“What is that? What is he saying?!” Xenia demanded, immediately tensing as Lawrence
grabbed the now bucking man from behind. Zoo’s eyes went wild like a trampling horse
as he screamed out and hollered, ranting in Latin, letting everyone know that he was
destined for greatness and no one could stop it.

“It doesn’t matter, baby, just ignore him… Now stand right here.”

Lawrence began to talk louder over the man, speaking in Latin, too, chanting, making
the man heave deep, uneven breaths.

“Non propter vos…” (No mercy for you…) Lawrence stated as he continued to contain
the large man.

“Xenia, are you ready?”

She nodded but didn’t dare look at him as she raised the gun, her arm surprisingly
steady, and pointed it at Zoo’s heart just as they’d discussed. Jagger kept his position,
lest the fiend break free and try to make a run for it.

“On the count of three, I want you to shoot him…” Saint stated calmly over the commotion,
chanting and clatter that grew louder and louder by the second. “One…two…”

On three, Saint grabbed the woman in a flash, standing right behind her, causing her
to wail out in shock. Her entire body vibrated as he placed his fingers around the
trigger, gripping hers tight, no doubt causing her pain.