Weird Tales of Terror Volume One

By Sephera Giron

Praise for Weird Tales of Terror:

"This stuff is like Joyce Carol Oates as directed by David Cronenberg." - Hellnotes

"For early work this is well-crafted, potent material." - Horror World

Praise for Sèphera Girón's Work:

"If Poppy Z. Brite and Nancy Kilpatrick turn your cold blood to hot, then welcome Sephera Giron to the short list of dark mistresses of terror truly worthy of that title." - Stanley Wiater, Dark Dreamers

"A truly bizarre piece of fiction." F. Paul Wilson

"Giron at no time lets up on the horror quotient." - Fangoria

"Sephera Giron's tale of witch-craft and vampirism blends erotic romance and chills in equal measure, and is clearly a pre-emptive literary strike by a talented storyteller." - Michael Rowe

"This Mistress of the dark blends madness with black macabre to ride a syncopated edge. Sephera Giron rocks!" Nancy Kilpatrick, Power of the Blood Trilogy

"Giron deserves a place beside the top mistresses of the dark." - Hellnotes

"Giron is a remarkable new voice in the horror genre." Karen E. Taylor, Vampire Legacy Series

"House of Pain is horror at its best." - The Midwest Book Review

"A powerful and unflinching novel." - Peter Atkins, Wishmaster

"Giron's prose is smooth as silk, the pacing is dead on. I devoured this book in a single sitting." - Horror World

"House of Pain is a perfect - if far from safe - place to lose yourself on a stormy fall night." - Fangoria

"Genuinely Creepy." - Cemetery Dance

"House of Pain rocks with good old-fashioned creepiness."- Edo Van Belkom

Weird Tales of Terror is a collection of previously published or almost published work by award-winning horror writer, Sèphera Girón.

This version is a revised second edition.

Trick of the Light
Wanna Go for a Ride?
Mmm...Chicken
Release
No One Listens
The Witch's Field

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarlett Publishing
• Release date: Aug 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301247455

Sephera Giron

About the Author Sèphera Girón has over twenty published books, mostly in the horror and erotica genres. She has appeared in several movies and TV shows, most notably the movies, Slime City Massacre and Killer Rack. Many of her mass-market books from Leisure Books and Samhain Publishing have been reprinted by Crossroad Press and Scarlett Publishing. You can also find many of her short stories in anthologies such as Intersections: Six Tales of Ouija Horror and Group Hex 1 and Group Hex 2. Sèphera is one of the co-producers of the Great Lakes Horror Company Podcast and co-founder of Camp Creepy. You can find Sèphera on social media. http://www.twitter.com/sephera http://www.instagram.com/sepheragiron http://www.youtube.com/sephera http://www.patreon.com/sephera Scarlett Publishing (available in print and as e-books) A Penny Saved Captured Souls Weird Tales of Terror Flesh Failure Sèphera is also working on the Witch Upon a Star series from Riverdale Avenue Books Capricorn: Cursed Aquarius: Haunted Heart Pisces: Teacher's Pet Aries: Swinging into Spring Crossroad Press Eternal Sunset Borrowed Flesh Mistress of the Dark The Birds and the Bees House of Pain Gilda and the Prince was originally slated to be published in an anthology but the publisher went out of business before that could happen.  I wish to thank some of my top level Patrons on Patreon for supporting me through the writing of this story. I wouldn't have been able to work without their generous support. Patrons who pledge $10 and up a month are thanked in my published work when possible. Jehovah Findler Linda Addison John Possing I also would like to recognize Somer Canon for being a very long-standing patron on Patreon. 

Book preview

Weird Tales of Terror

Weird Tales of Terror

Volume One

Sèphera Girón

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All stories are Copyright Protected and may not be used without written permission from Scarlett Publishing or the author.

Smashwords Edition

Scarlett Publishing

Copyright 2013 Cover illustrated by Scarlett Publishing

Copyright 2013 Cover Image provided by Dreamstime

Copyright 2013 Sèphera Girón

Second Revised Edition Copyright February 2015

Revised for Formatting Copyright December 2015

Praise for Sèphera Girón:

If Poppy Z. Brite and Nancy Kilpatrick turn your cold blood to hot, then welcome Sephera Giron to the short list of dark mistresses of terror truly worthy of that title. - Stanley Wiater, Dark Dreamers

A truly bizarre piece of fiction. F. Paul Wilson

Giron at no time lets up on the horror quotient. - Fangoria

Sephera Giron's tale of witch-craft and vampirism blends erotic romance and chills in equal measure, and is clearly a pre-emptive literary strike by a talented storyteller. - Michael Rowe

This Mistress of the dark blends madness with black macabre to ride a syncopated edge. Sephera Giron rocks! Nancy Kilpatrick, Power of the Blood Trilogy

Giron deserves a place beside the top mistresses of the dark. - Hellnotes

Giron is a remarkable new voice in the horror genre. Karen E. Taylor, Vampire Legacy Series

House of Pain is horror at its best. - The Midwest Book Review

A powerful and unflinching novel. - Peter Atkins, Wishmaster

Giron's prose is smooth as silk, the pacing is dead on. I devoured this book in a single sitting. - Horror World

House of Pain is a perfect - if far from safe - place to lose yourself on a stormy fall night. - Fangoria

Genuinely Creepy. - Cemetery Dance

House of Pain rocks with good old-fashioned creepiness.- Edo Van Belkom

Table of Contents

Trick of the Light

Wanna Go For A Ride?

Mmm Chicken

Release

No One Listens

The Witch's Field

Trick of the Light

Daniel bust awake, his heart slamming against his chest as he struggled to sit up. Sharp pains in his wrists and ankles stopped him short in his lurch as his arms were yanked back. He stared up at his hands shackled through the bed rails, his eyes groggily focusing while his face throbbed achingly with his pulse. A sense of déjà vu gripped him.

Looking down at himself, he was naked; no bedclothes, his ankles shackled to the steel footing of the bed. His body was bruised and fresh welts peppered his legs and smooth firm torso. Moonlight illuminated the room, boosted by the flashing neon sign just under the window. Peeling wallpaper, a dishevelled dresser, a closet with a broken door hanging from its hinges surrounded him, a thick chemical smell in his nostrils barely masking stale urine and sex. The buzzing of the sign outside irritated him but there was nothing he could do.

A darkened room, intense moments of passion, relentless slaps and punches against his flesh, pleasure gripped him while pain raged through him; flashes of shadowy images churned in his mind.

What happened?

It had all been going so well.

Hadn’t it?

He closed his eyes and visions of her soft velvet lips and ringlets of golden blonde hair flickered by like a slide show. Her gleaming blue eyes engaged him with lust and fear in a passion so intense that he quivered to dream of her again. But the visions continued on as his mind shuffled through the past.

Her long lean legs shimmered in the moon light that filtered through shredded curtains. The smooth lines of her femininity cast shadows and contours along one of the most perfect bodies he had ever seen in the flesh.

He opened his eyes. His hands ached, his arms numb. His legs twitched but the shackles held him tight.

How long had he been here?

He shut his eyes. Clear mason jars with punctured lids were filled with beetles that scrambled over each other in quest for escape. A clover field filled with lazy bees laden with pollen flew from purple flower to purple flower. Her lips. The woods. His bike bouncing along large rocks in the road. Wobbling. Sliding.

A hazy glimpse of a door. Of a number. Wood chipped and rotted. 367.

A woman’s laugh broke through the buzzing.

He opened his eyes and stared at the door.

Would it say 367 on the other side?

Had day and night and then day flipped by yet again?

He opened his swollen eyes and realized that his vision had decidedly blurred since his last awakening.

A sharp jolt of pain shot along his neck as he turned his head to study what was on the dresser.

Sunlight beaming into the mirror cast glancing twinkles that hurt his eyes as he squinted. Nothing unusual as far as hotel dressers went. Vanity bags overstuffed with the magical hope of beauty interspersed with several bottles of booze and half-filled glasses.

He was pulled back into the darkness, the cold metal of the cuffs cutting into his wrists. Hands roughly caressed him, ran along his torso. Two hands. More hands. Lips pressed against his. He couldn’t open his eyes to see as his shackled hands were guided to one set of breasts and then another.

A perfumed woman with long legs straddled him and filled herself up with his generosity. Another pressed her soft musky scent against his face. For the first time he realized he wore a ball gag.

Whispers and giggles brushed through the darkness, meaning elusive as his body trembled with fear and pleasure. The musty odor of the room permeated his senses, overriding the scented flesh moaning around him.

Warmth spread through him, lulling his panic into exhausted slumber.

Daniel burst awake. He was in his own bed in his own house. He stared around the bedroom and sighed. He held his hands up before his eyes. No shackles.

It had only been a dream. An endless sweaty dream within a dream nightmare.

He rubbed his wrists as memories of the handcuffs ebbed away. He still ached but figured that all the training he’d been doing was catching up with him. He saw the clock flashing, and he hit the button but the 12:00 blinked as if in defiance.

Maybe the power had gone out while he slept. He sat up and a wave of dizziness ebbed through him. Shaking his head, flashes of being beaten returned. He looked down at his naked body and saw very faint bruises.

Had it been a dream?

He climbed out of bed, stiff, and achy and headed for the bathroom. While he relieved himself, he stared at the lean taut man in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. There was indeed faint bruising along his chest and legs. Even along his arms below the collage of colourful tattoos were light red scratches.

He couldn’t shake the grogginess as he rubbed his wrists and examined his thighs.

He didn’t remember doing anything but spending the day before working out and then curling up in bed with his wife, Addy.

He leaned into the mirror over the sink and studied his face. His brown eyes were large and dark, haunted even. Were those shadows of bruising along his angular cheekbones and below his chin? Touching the marks, he winced. Flashes of hands and mouths and hair invaded his memory in a disjointed blur. He could almost smell musky perfume if it weren’t for the chemical taste in his mouth.

He brushed his teeth and gargled and the foul taste was gone.

He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room before stepping into the tub. The spray was hot and welcoming as he puzzled over the realism of his dreams and the faded marks on his body. The water beat as sharp as hail against him. As he pulled back the shower curtain, he was startled to see Addy standing there in front of him.

What are you doing? she asked as she reached for his arm. Her touch was cold and firm. He looked into her face. Nothing. Her mouth, her forehead, all were a blank slate. Her normally vibrant blue eyes were dark as she stared at him. Dark when she was angry. Dark when she was worried. Dark when something just wasn’t right.

Taking a shower. What else? he asked as he leaned towards her to kiss her cheek. She turned her head away.

You were gone again. She sighed.

Gone?

Yes, gone. You know you were.Daniel squinted at Addy to see if she was kidding. Her face was too angry for games.

Where did I go? he asked.

Off on your bike. Like always. She planted her hands on hips and walked out of the room. Daniel plucked a towel from the rack and rubbed himself down, hop skipping as he followed her. She sat heavily on the bed.

So, who is it? she finally whispered.

Who? Daniel asked in surprise. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.

Addy took a deep breath and stared into his eyes.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It was obvious you were in no shape for anything.

She patted the bed and he sat down. Her apparent fury seemed to contradict her next words.

You had an accident and you’ve been out for a while.

Pardon me?

Don’t you remember? Your bike careened from the trail and you fell down that little cliff in the park.

Daniel thought for a moment. Rocks and skidding. Maybe he had tumbled.

I did?

You banged yourself up pretty good. You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days.

Daniel blinked and fought to reach back into his memory but it was a jumbled confusion of sex and flashing lights and buzzing.

I have?

Panic flooded through Daniel as he stood up.

What day is it? He raced into the living room and found the remote. He clicked the tv to the programming guide. The date and time flashed in the corner of the panel.

No! he cried out. Oh no! He held his head and paced around, his breath coming in quick spurts as he circled.

What? Addy said as she walked past him into the kitchen. He continued to pace until she returned with coffee. She held a cup out to him. He stared at her offering then turned his focus back to the TV.

You realize the meet is in three days, he said, sipping the coffee.

Yes, but you can’t do it. You’re too ill, she said softly, looking at him with a coy smile. Daniel narrowed his eyes.

Why are you like that? Why do you think it’s funny that I lost three days of training?

I don’t, but that’s what happens.

What happens?

When you cheat on your wife.

Daniel took a deep breath and pursed his lips. His heart pounded and he spoke firmly.

I didn’t cheat. When did I cheat? I didn’t even do anything yesterday or whenever the fuck it was except train. This is a big event you know.

I know.

I can win a lot of money, he said. Don’t you want me to win the money?

Addy tilted her head cockily at him.

Ah, but you have competition. She smirked. Daniel curled his hand into a fist.

Everyone is competition and I’m not afraid. Godammit.

He drained his coffee cup and marched back up to the bedroom.

So fucking what if Bill Simpson won the last two meets, he shouted. I’m always right up his ass. I was champion for five years before that son of a bitch.

And now you’ve met your competition! Addy said as she trailed after him.

Of course. Keeps us young. Keeps everyone on their best game. Daniel laughed sarcastically. He flung open his dresser drawer and pulled on his yellow, orange, and black biking outfit.

You’re sick. She said firmly watching him dress. Something is very wrong with you.

So if I’m so sick, why am I not in a hospital? You let me sleep three days before an event?

They thought you’d get more rest at home. In case the fans…

Daniel laughed.

Fans?

Groupies. You know…

Yeah, right, Daniel chuckled. Maybe the big guys have fans.

Maybe all you sports guys. Fucking chick magnets. She scowled.

Excuse me? he stared at her, his brown eyes large and sad. The conversation was always the same. Always. Every time. One digression before they had even married and he had been paying for it ever since.

She started to speak again but then refrained. She tightened her lips as he left the room. Daniel found his runners by the front door and kneeled over to put them on. She followed him, hovering over his back like a vulture.

Daniel. You can’t do it. What if you pass out again?

I need to train, he firmly said as he stood up.

She was here, Addy said.

Who? Daniel stop and stared at Addy.

That whore you fucked that time, she said, spitting the words out.

No. She didn’t. Daniel’s heart pounded rapidly. The dreams. Were they real? But he didn’t remember even talking to her. He stared at Addy as he sorted through his memories.

I told you at the time, never cheat, it’s not worth it. The crazies...

He shook his head.

No. No. No, he said. How long have we been together? Six years and three months. I cheated once in a true moment of weakness early on. I’ve been paying for it ever since. He reached towards her, trying to touch her face. She recoiled from him. I love you, Addy.

You love your damn competitions more. When did it go from being a hobby to way of life? she demanded.

When I started to win. Daniel shrugged and opened the front door. We can talk later.

Soon he was biking down the city streets, his mind racing once more. Every inch of his body felt run over by a truck. The breeze whistled through his helmet and he focused on the entrance to the park ahead.

As he coursed along the bike trails, through the wooded pathways, he thought of Addy. He thought of that other woman, Vivian. His one mistake.

He was handcuffed to the bed and she gyrated on top of him, her long blond curls bouncing as she laughed. He thrust into her, every pleasurable inch bringing guilt about Addy. Yet Vivian was so tight and moist and just different. Maybe it was her long lean torso and slender hips that created the difference tightly squeezed around him. Maybe it was the way her enormous breasts bobbed just over his head, giving him a pleasurable view of large firm nipples. He yearned to suckle her breasts and flick those juicy nipples with his tongue. But the ball gag prevented it and again, he was shackled from wrist to ankles.

She arched her back, pushing against him as her fingers clasped his shins. She cried out with a moan as he continued to thrust. She sighed and her thighs trembled. Then she pulled herself up and over until her face was nearly touching his.

Fuck me, Daniel. Come on, she breathed as she stared into his eyes, working herself up into another frenzy on him. He willingly complied and let sensation fill him.

Then the trees were in front of him and he had to sharply turn the wheel to keep from hitting a log by the side of the path. He was thrown slightly off balance but righted himself up again. A wave of dizziness filled him and he realized he had forgotten to bring water. He pumped his legs harder.

"Don’t get carried away this time." A voice whispered in the darkness of his memory. We don’t have enough time.

Daniel shook his head. Thirsty. Just thirst. Thirst consumed him.

Daniel peddled harder and then glided down a hill. He stared over at an immense pond. He had passed it a million times over the years yet he was always drawn to it. And besides, there was a bench and a water fountain at the edge of it.

He hopped off of his bike and leaned it against the bench. Then he greedily slurped the warm water from the fountain.

When he was quenched, he wandered over to the bench and sat on it. The pond sprawled as far as he could see, a giant patchwork of water lilies and algae.

We’re almost out. We’re going to have to use less.

In the distance, children were playing on the swings and slides. A constant droning buzzing sound, perhaps a hive of nearby bees, added a backbeat to the sticky damp heat of the day.

A frog splashed into the water, or perhaps it was a fish jumping or even a beaver. Several large black birds circled over head, cawing as they swooped ever closer towards him.

Daniel stared into the pond. So many strange things.

The buzzing grew louder. The frantic horny screams of a cicada? A swarm of angry bees?

He stood up, dizziness overwhelming him and leaned on the bench for support.

He has a fetish for handcuffs.

Good thing.

He opened his eyes and she wasn’t there. In fact, the dingy hotel room looked slightly different and perhaps it was a different room. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. Yet the buzz of the neon sign was the same.

His shackles held him too firm to do much more than raise his head and look at his body. There were no marks. No blood. Nothing showed in the blinking red glare of the neon sign as it lazily buzzed and flashed.

His face was close to the glass side of his favorite bee container in his insect room. Their bodies undulated as they burrowed up and down through the honeycomb. He loved fresh honey and honeycomb and kept the bees for that very reason. Plus, the honey gave him energy to perform in the triathlon. The constant drone of their vibrations soothed him as he spent hours watching them, often while pumping his hand weights.

Their constant drone, the neon sign melted together in his mind. His mouth watered for honey. He opened the drawer in the counter cabinet that held his insect collections and pulled out a spoon from a drawer of many. He unscrewed one of the jars of honey and scooped the spoon in. He tipped his head back and let the honey slide along his teeth and tongue, savouring the thick sweetness.

He blinked and looked around. His head swam and he realized that he was naked. He stared around for a robe or t-shirt but his workshop was the same as always. The area was neat and orderly with containers housing a variety of insects that he had plucked out of the nearby park to study for his own amusement.

His bees were fine. Their constant drone reassured him they hadn’t been harmed. They would survive.

He sighed, wondering about his bees, as he tried to edge his body around to ease the pain of the shackles. The crumbling stucco ceiling above him didn’t do much to inspire his confidence that things were going to end well. He cried out, or at least tried, until he realised that the pressure around his head was the unrelenting ball gag.

He was poised at the starting line, straddling his bike, his vision focused far down the track, scanning it for obstacles, searching for a finish line that he’d never see. The starting gun fired and he began to peddle. He started off fantastic, the crowds waving at him as he passed by them in a blur.

Focus

He likes handcuffs.

Cheater.

He shook his head and ignored the thoughts; breath and peddling, man and machine. All he could do was focus on the world ahead of him. A world where there was no confusion. Where life made sense.

Some of his fellow racers passed him. Others lagged behind. Steadily he peddled.

He was doing well. If only he didn’t feel so ill lately. But it had to have been the stress of all the training. Each day blended into the next. He could barely remember waking up that morning for the race. The strange dreams that had plagued him so horribly for the past few weeks continued to haunt him.

Sultry perfumed flesh straddled his torso. Soft folds of velvet brushed against his face.

He pushed the image aside and peddled faster.

He likes hands cuffs.

Shhh.

He’ll never know.

He cut through the water, strong arms pulling him forward, legs kicking with firm determination. His breath rang in his ears every time he broke the surface. The murmur of spectators and echoes of the announcer throbbed through the water, the vibrations wrapping around him and spurring him on. He sensed the swimmer on the right bearing down on him and he pushed himself harder.

It’s time to say good-bye, Vivian.

The throaty woman’s voice startled him awake.

Addy.

He opened his eyes, strung up in the handcuffs. The ball gag was in his mouth and what he saw made him quickly close his eyes once more to feign sleep.

Addy was in her lingerie and stood by the bed, a gun pointed at Vivian who stood fully naked. Daniel squinted. The women were turned away from him as he attempted to watch, grateful for his long lashes.

What are you doing? Vivian’s voice was tinged with panic.

Your job is done, Addy said. And now, so are you.

Addy? I thought you loved me?

Love you? You cheated with my husband. Why do you think I’d love you? I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long...

I don’t understand...

Before he cheated, I was so trusting of him. I adored him. And that night with you broke something inside of me I’ve never found again.

Daniel jumped as the gun went off. He squeezed his eyes tight as he heard the thump of Vivian’s body hit the floor.

Addy’s hands were on him, fingers prying the ball gag out of his mouth as the other unbuckled the leather straps. She tossed the ball gag over to the dresser and leaned over for one of the liquor bottles.

Daniel coughed on his phlegm. Before he could get any sounds out, she had him by the throat, tipping his mouth up as she poured booze into it.

His eyes burned with tears as the warm scotch ripped down his throat, creating a fiery pit in his stomach. The scotch spilled sloppily everywhere and while he choked, she tossed the bottle across the room where it smashed and shattered to the floor.

Addy took a small vial from the dresser and once more tilted Daniel’s sputtering mouth up while she poured the contents down.

Daniel sneezed and coughed as Addy unshackled him.

Wha--? he moaned as he rubbed his hands. He reached down to his legs to rub his ankles but dizziness slipped over him and he toppled from the bed.

The rug burned his cheek as she dragged him along the floor. His limbs were paralyzed, his body heavy with the urge to sleep again. As he sank into darkness, he felt his fingers being wrapped around something cold, hard, and steel.

Daniel woke with a massive headache. The sun was shining and he was sitting up, his head nodding; clothed and handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser.

He was obsessed with her. Dirty pig wouldn’t stop seeing her no matter how much his wife begged. One of the cops was saying.

Once a cheater, always a cheater. She was one hot dame too.

Yeah, quite a looker. Wife of that guy that just won that big race the other day.

Right, Bill Simpson’s a pretty rich man now. Especially with his wife dead.

Daniel narrowed his eyes and kept his mouth shut. He listened to the cops’ gossip, their chatter evolving from the cheater in the back seat to the cheaters in the office.

He cheated once.

More than once.

Maybe.

How many times did they go together?

How many others were there?

He shook his head, remembering the recent brush of succulent lips and firm rhythmic strokes and warmth to penetrate.

Why did Addy kill Vivian?

Why did Addy frame him?

He paced in his cell, flashes of memory flushing through him but none of it making sense. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, colors, and partial images danced teasingly, not quite ready to be snapped into place.

He was stunned beyond belief when Addy showed up to bail him out, using the house as collateral. He trembled as they walked to the car, the bright sunshine glaring at him, as if mocking his confusion. No matter how much he tried to remember the race, only portions of it came back.

He stared at her as she started the car, and the memory of her standing with the gun pointed at Vivian came back to him.

What happened? she asked him. Just what the fuck happened? You lied to me all along. You never stopped seeing her at all.

No, Daniel said, rubbing his aching jaw. I stopped when I said I stopped. I did for you and was doubly grateful when I realized she was Bill’s wife.

He stared out the window.

But I didn’t kill her.

Addy sighed and reached for her cigarettes. She lit one and drew a deep drag from it. As she exhaled, Tony turned his head.

They found you with the gun in your hand, Daniel. You went on a drunken bender after you lost the race and next thing you know, Vivian is dead.

But it wasn’t me... Daniel turned to stare at his wife, at her cold emotionless lips sucking on the cigarette, eyes hidden by large dark sunglasses as she drove. He smelled her familiar muskiness, her perfume, her hair. He had loved her so much but she couldn’t see it. Since the affair, she was never the same. Her wall had gone up and the Addy he had loved so much had left forever. Even marriage hadn’t eased the undercurrent of resentment she carried.

The drive home seemed like forever. Addy had errands to run and Daniel was left on his own. The shower soothed him as he stood under its hot pulsing beads dreaming and wondering, snatching at the elusive pieces of the puzzle.

When he was dressed, he went to the garage to check on his collection. His jars of honey were untouched. The bees continued to drone around their honeycomb. The beetles scuttled. The ants burrowed their labyrinths. All the busywork of mandibles and spindly legs hypnotised him for a while, clearing his mind to nothingness.

He’s sleeping, it’s okay, a woman whispered.

Are you sure? A man’s voice quietly asked.

I’ve been doing this for months. It’s fine, Addy’s voice said.

So why did you spring him anyway? Shoulda let him rot.

But he was already talking about the memories that came back when they interrogated him. And who knows if maybe one day someone will take him seriously? Right now they just think he’s lying.

So why spring him?

To confuse him further, of course. Buy us more time, Addy cooed.

I don’t like... Bill’s angry whisper was silenced by the sounds of her lips covering his. Daniel squinted open his eyes to see them kissing by the door of the bedroom. He was lying in his own bed and shackled around his wrists and legs. He feigned sleep as he heard them go into another room. Rage fuelled within him as he listened to their wet smacking kisses. His wife’s low guttural moans rose steadily with the sounds of clothes being torn away. Suddenly, Bill’s voice boomed loudly through the walls.

Get back in there.

He heard her scrambling against the wall and soon she came into the room. Daniel closed his eyes, pretending to snore lightly.

This is it. I’m done. Bill said.

What do you mean?

You’re number is up, my dear. You think I’m going to take the chance of him squealing? You should have left him alone.

But what about us? Addy pleaded tearfully.

What about us? There was no us. You were fucking my wife. Just like your husband fucked my wife. Bunch of dirty whores.

But you fucked me, Addy sobbed.

I fucked you good. I won the race and the $500,000, my whoring wife is dead, my whoring mistress is dead, and all the blame falls on sleeping beauty here.

You can’t…

A shot rang out and Daniel breathed deeply to avoid wincing, or worse, crying as his wife’s body thudded to the floor and leaned heavily against the bed. He felt her twitch and moan and the sound of another bullet rang out. Another shocked squeal and then silence.

Bill sighed and Daniel heard him rustle around the dresser. At last Bill stopped rummaging and the sound of his footsteps returned to the bedside. The handcuffs were unlocked and still Daniel feigned sleep. Bill rearranged Daniel on the bed so that he was laying prone, the gun in his hand. Daniel heard the pop of a vial lid.

Daniel tightened his grip on the gun and opened his eyes. He stared into Bill’s face and pointed the gun at Bill’s head. Bill dropped the vial and the contents leaked onto the floor.

Don’t move, Daniel commanded, keeping his eyes on Bill.

Hey, Daniel, Bill raised his hands, putting on the friendly face that Daniel despised. The face he showed to television and newspapers as he crossed the finish line. Not the angry jealous face that killed Daniel’s wife. What happened man? I was ringing the bell and couldn’t find…

Cut the crap, Bill. I know what’s been going on, Daniel scrambled to his feet quickly, the gun levelled at Bill.

Bill stared at Daniel.

You okay man? You don’t look so well… Bill stammered.

Bill looked over at Addy then looked back at Daniel.

You know I didn’t do it, Daniel said, his voice shaking with rage. I caught you and I’m turning you in.

Like hell… Bill stepped towards Daniel and the trigger cocked. Bill froze.

You killed my wife. Daniel said.

You killed my wife, Bill said.

No, I didn’t...She, Daniel nodded towards Addy’s body, killed your wife.

Bill sighed. Daniel’s hands shook as he kept the gun trained on Bill. Images of Bill and Addy filled Daniel’s mind and his rage grew.

So what are you going to do? Bill finally asked.

YOU are going onto the bed. Then you will shackle your own ankles and one hand. I will do the final one.

Bill stared angrily at Daniel then relinquished a sigh and crawled onto the bed.

Slowly. Daniel grinned. I want to enjoy this.

Daniel watched Bill shackle himself to the bed. When Bill had the handcuff fastened around his wrist, Daniel easily pinned Bill’s arms with his strong muscular thighs as he snapped shut the final handcuff. Even Bill’s attempts to bite him were amusing as he found the ball gag on the dresser.

Daniel remembered the hotel. No dreams. He had been there. Many times. For how long?

Days?

Years?

As he slipped the ball gag onto Bill he wondered when it all began? Their evil plans to throw him. Greed. He and Bill had been the best in their division for years. No one could outdo them. If one of them was gone, then there was slight chance for the other athletes unless some new superstar appeared out of nowhere.

He looked at Bill’s panicked ball gagged face. Daniel hadn’t known Vivian was his wife until they had already had their one night stand so long ago.

With Bill tightly secured, Daniel stood back and stared at him.

So this is what I looked like for so long, Daniel said, crossing his arms.

Bill’s muffled cries amused him. Daniel’s mouth twitched a little as he stared at Bill, so helpless. Bill was still in his underwear from when he had stopped Addy in their little romantic games. Daniel looked down at Addy, topless but still in her panties.

Too bad. Bill’s semen would have made the story more believable.

Yet now here I am. Holding the murder weapon once more and people are dead and chained up.

Daniel turned from the bedroom and ran down the stairs. Bill frantically pulled at the bed straps.

Shit. He’d forgotten to drug him

But if he drugged him, then Daniel would look even guiltier.

No, he couldn’t drug him if he was calling the police.

But should he call the police?

Daniel rubbed his temples. The banging and moaning continued on. The whole house shook and Daniel was terrified that Bill could pull down the bed posts.

The best in his division.

Daniel ran back up the stairs and over to the dresser. He found the cosmetic bag of vials and grabbed one. He pressed the gun at Bill’s head as he placed the vial on the nightstand.

I have to loosen your gag a bit. You yell or call out or make any noise at all, I will shoot you. Game over, pal.

Bill nodded. Daniel put the gun down and loosened the buckles on the