craftsman. He prided himself on his work, and on the variety of his approach. It was part of his divine mission, given to him as a way to finish his task in this world of sin and grievous sexuality.He never killed the same way twice, and there were infinite ways to snuff out an undeserving life.
He had stabbed, slashed, garroted. Poisoned, beaten with his fists, hanged and drowned. Never the same, and the police had no way to track him down. The corrupt officials of the law had no idea how many women had died by his hand, their lives of filth and wickedness wiped out before they could ensnare another innocent.
He was running out of ideas, and he was a man who didnât like to repeat himself. Heâd thought he had finished with his quest, until the newcomers arrived at the old inn. And he knew he had one more task.
Flames, he thought. A purifying fire to cleanse the body, the soul and the spirit. The old Niles place would go up like tinder, and by the time the volunteer fire departments arrived from the neighboring towns it would be too late. No one would ever know it wasnât the result of an old firetrap and an accidental cigarette from that young harlot. And if others died in the conflagrationâwell, there were always casualties in a holy war.
Heâd pray for their souls.
7
M arty opened her eyes to the glaring sunlight, cursing. It was well before noon, and outside her open window the sun was hideously bright, enough to give her a headache. A great, growling noise had shaken her awake, the insistent buzz like some giant dentistâs drill, and she fumbled on the bedside table for her pack of cigarettes. Sophie had forbidden her to smoke in the inn, so Marty did her best to do so every chance she got. She encountered only an empty, crumpled package.
She shoved the covers away and stepped out onto the shiny wood floor. Everything was its usual blurâshe pulled her glasses from the drawer and planted them on her nose, breathing an unexpected sigh of relief when the room came into focus. If Sophie would only let her have laser surgery to correct her eyes then she wouldnât have to bother with her damned contacts. At least extended wear would have been an improvement, but sheâd never been able to get used to them, so each morning she had to wear glasses until she was ready to emerge fromher room. There was no way she was letting anyone see her without her contacts.
The horrible buzzing noise grew even louder, and she headed straight for the windows overlooking the side lawn. She grabbed the window frame, ready to slam it down to shut out the noise, when she saw the young man.
He was stripped to the waist, wielding a chain saw with deliberate power. For a moment she stared at him, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath his tanned skin, the controlled strength of his movements, and she couldnât breathe.
He must have felt her watching him. He looked up, but she couldnât see his face beneath the shadow of the protective helmet he wore. She only knew he was looking straight at her as she stood in the window, dressed in nothing more than a baggy T-shirt, her hair sticking up, her glasses perched on her nose.
She jumped back, away from the window, just as the roar of the chain saw sputtered to a stop. There was no way she would edge back up to that window. For one thing, she wasnât going to risk having anyone see her in her glasses, and if she took them off she wouldnât be able to see a damned thing.
Where the hell was the plain, gawky boy who usually did the mowing and the gardening? Heâd been of no interest whatsoever, and sheâd decided she was doomed to an empty summer. Doubtlessly one reason Sophie had dragged her up here was thecomplete and total lack of good-looking boys. It wasnât as if she was a sex fiend or anything. She just liked boys. A lot.
Things were definitely beginning to look up, judging by the muscular torso of the man outside. If only
He had stabbed, slashed, garroted. Poisoned, beaten with his fists, hanged and drowned. Never the same, and the police had no way to track him down. The corrupt officials of the law had no idea how many women had died by his hand, their lives of filth and wickedness wiped out before they could ensnare another innocent.
He was running out of ideas, and he was a man who didnât like to repeat himself. Heâd thought he had finished with his quest, until the newcomers arrived at the old inn. And he knew he had one more task.
Flames, he thought. A purifying fire to cleanse the body, the soul and the spirit. The old Niles place would go up like tinder, and by the time the volunteer fire departments arrived from the neighboring towns it would be too late. No one would ever know it wasnât the result of an old firetrap and an accidental cigarette from that young harlot. And if others died in the conflagrationâwell, there were always casualties in a holy war.
Heâd pray for their souls.
7
M arty opened her eyes to the glaring sunlight, cursing. It was well before noon, and outside her open window the sun was hideously bright, enough to give her a headache. A great, growling noise had shaken her awake, the insistent buzz like some giant dentistâs drill, and she fumbled on the bedside table for her pack of cigarettes. Sophie had forbidden her to smoke in the inn, so Marty did her best to do so every chance she got. She encountered only an empty, crumpled package.
She shoved the covers away and stepped out onto the shiny wood floor. Everything was its usual blurâshe pulled her glasses from the drawer and planted them on her nose, breathing an unexpected sigh of relief when the room came into focus. If Sophie would only let her have laser surgery to correct her eyes then she wouldnât have to bother with her damned contacts. At least extended wear would have been an improvement, but sheâd never been able to get used to them, so each morning she had to wear glasses until she was ready to emerge fromher room. There was no way she was letting anyone see her without her contacts.
The horrible buzzing noise grew even louder, and she headed straight for the windows overlooking the side lawn. She grabbed the window frame, ready to slam it down to shut out the noise, when she saw the young man.
He was stripped to the waist, wielding a chain saw with deliberate power. For a moment she stared at him, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath his tanned skin, the controlled strength of his movements, and she couldnât breathe.
He must have felt her watching him. He looked up, but she couldnât see his face beneath the shadow of the protective helmet he wore. She only knew he was looking straight at her as she stood in the window, dressed in nothing more than a baggy T-shirt, her hair sticking up, her glasses perched on her nose.
She jumped back, away from the window, just as the roar of the chain saw sputtered to a stop. There was no way she would edge back up to that window. For one thing, she wasnât going to risk having anyone see her in her glasses, and if she took them off she wouldnât be able to see a damned thing.
Where the hell was the plain, gawky boy who usually did the mowing and the gardening? Heâd been of no interest whatsoever, and sheâd decided she was doomed to an empty summer. Doubtlessly one reason Sophie had dragged her up here was thecomplete and total lack of good-looking boys. It wasnât as if she was a sex fiend or anything. She just liked boys. A lot.
Things were definitely beginning to look up, judging by the muscular torso of the man outside. If only
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