Bled

By Eddie Slain

Cassie is caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse, where the only rules are kill, or be killed…

Charleston, Illinois -
Cassie and Frank’s animalistic rutting climaxes with rage, pain, and disappointment, when he disappears, trailing burnt and bloody remains in his wake.

Rome, Italy -
A gorgeous stranger sweeps Cassie off her feet, lighting her soul with every touch, his deep, brown eyes harbouring a dark secret.

Perugia, Italy -
Cassie’s lover disappears, leaving a blood-soaked message, and the image of a familiar ghost on her phone.

…exhausted, frozen, alone, Cassie must now hunt down the killer before it's too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326398064

Eddie Slain

Eddie Slain has been dreaming in bright red and hot pink for most of his life, fighting the urge to write what he sees whenever he closes his eyes.Now everyone can indulge in Eddie's dark side.Dip inside, enjoy the rush.

Book preview

you.

Chapter 1

Cassandra stretches and places her book face down on the table. She smiles as she stands, leaning on the book, imagining her father’s pained look as the spine cracks.

She knows her clothes are still wet without opening the dryer, and slams three more quarters into the machine while throwing a dirty look at the bitter, old lady behind the counter, who is pretending to read a magazine while keeping one eye on the Laundromat’s only midnight customer.

Cassie plops back down into the hard plastic chair and picks up her book. Rather than falling back into Anastasia’s world of control-freak billionaires, Cassie finds herself replaying her last argument with her dad. As usual, he thought he knew what was best for her.

She grins, remembering the look of shock on his face when she had rejected his offer to send her to an Ivy League school, instead signing up for this forensic archaeology course 800 miles away from home.

At first, Charleston’s all-round quiet had threatened to drive her mad. But over the past two years she had grown to enjoy small-town life. She had even come to enjoy working through holidays like Spring Break, when, drained of its 3,000 university students, the town sagged like an old dog flopping down on a porch for a sun-drenched, afternoon nap.

She knows her dad would never understand. He had lived all of his life at the bleeding edge, and thrived on the manic buzz of eight and a half million people battling it out for their piece of New York City’s 300 square miles.

‘Look at all of the opportunities,’ he would tell her. ‘Look at everything you get to choose from.’ As if all that choice were a blessing, rather than the cursed burden of constantly missed opportunities, each one another failure to add to her ever-growing list.

Cassie had begun to spend more time with her father after her mother had passed away, but living close to him was suffocating; their relationship rotting in the no-man’s-land of their unspoken sorrow.

Now she was free to be herself, to build new relationships on her own terms. She knew that moving here was the right choice, yet, somehow, it still felt like she was running away.

Cassie jumps to her feet and bursts out into the parking lot, book in hand, her eyes glued to the shadowy outline of a form just visible through her fogged up rear window.

Hey!

A clawed hand grabs her wrist.

She shouts and spins, seven years of kickboxing training driving her elbow before her eyes, stopping just short of demolishing the Laundromat attendant’s disgust-wrinkled nose.

Sorry.

The old lady pushes a clump of damp clothes into Cassie’s arms.

Take your rags and get outta here. We’re closed.

Cassie turns back to her car. The shadow has disappeared. She sniffs the air. It smells like a urinal.

Don’t worry, Little Jimmy, we’ll get you cleaned up.

Her back aches as she climbs in.

I hope Frank’s in town. I could do with a massage.

She dials his number while pulling out onto the empty street. Like her, Frank is a student at Eastern Illinois University. Unlike her, he spends most days driving up and down the state from one Uni to another, meeting friends, drinking beer, and having fun.

Fucking around.

She has no illusions about being the only one. And recently, she has come to doubt whether their relationship is healthy. But each time she feels the self-hatred bubble up, she calls him, and, wrapped in their cocoon of furious sex, the empty ache in her chest fades for a while.

She can feel her father’s disapproving stare burning through her from three states away.

You lost your right to judge me, a long time ago.

Charleston’s timber-framed houses blur by either side as she remembers her parents’ final screaming match. The front door slam had cracked her reality. She had run outside to stop her dad from leaving, sure that her parents could still kiss and make up. She hadn’t understood why her mother had thrown him out until he had shown up a few weeks later at her school violin recital, cuddled up to some strange woman.

The bastard.

Her mom had crumbled like a sandcastle. And Cassie had gone from being a model student, to being sent to the principal’s office nearly every day, mostly for fighting. In desperation, her mother had signed her up for kickboxing classes. And it had worked, for a while. Cassie had been able to vent her frustration on the pads in martial arts, focusing her school time energy on her studies.

Until that Bianca had started talking shit about my family.

All Cassie can remember now is the rage, the world spinning, the rush of adrenalin as her foot had caught the side of Bianca’s face, then the blood, gushing from Bianca’s mouth as she lay there on the floor like a broken doll. The guilt and fear of being sent down for manslaughter had been nothing compared to the crushing disappointment on her father’s face when he had come to bail her out.

Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on.

Frank’s rich tones bring the world back into focus.

Goddamn voicemail.

She hits redial as she pulls into the gas station and waves at the attendant, who gives her the thumbs up. The car wash moans into action, and Little Jimmy jolts forward.

Soap clouds the windscreen, transporting her back to riding through the carwash in her mother’s old, yellow station wagon with the fake-wood sides. She would snuggle up against her mother’s chest, staring fearfully out between splayed fingers as the sponges would let go of the car and the horizontal rollers would take over, threatening to crush them both inside, while her mother stroked her hair and sang ‘Hush Little Baby.’

The ghost of her mother’s blend of Charlie and Chanel No 5 sweetens the air as Jimmy glides to a halt outside of the car wash.

Cassie’s phone vibrates as she grabs her purse.

Frank.

She almost doesn’t want to read the message, afraid that he will let her down.

‘Your hunt begins tonight.’

A website link blinks alongside the message.

She clicks the link. The familiar geocaching website loads up, showing her a set of coordinates. By the time she finishes typing, Google maps has zeroed in on the cache.

The gas station attendant seems to be staring at her. He could be daydreaming. Or dead.

Hi-ya Cassandra, that’ll be four ninety-nine.

She looks at his nametag. James.

Do I know you?

I’m in your archaeology class.

She passes him a five-dollar bill, scanning the lecture hall in her mind.

I sit two rows behind you, to your left, under the projector. You pass me every day. Yesterday you stumbled and dropped your notebook. I picked it up.

Oh, yeah. Sorry. Thanks.

She shivers as she gets into her car. Her phone buzzes as she starts her engine. She turns on the radio and flicks through the stations before finally looking at her phone.

‘Your hunt begins tonight.’

The opening of Metallica’s ‘Unforgiven’ vibrates up through her spine. She clicks the link. The map zeroes in on her car.

She pitches her phone over her shoulder and peels out of the forecourt, singing along at the top of her lungs.

Chapter 2

Frank places his phone next to his coffee cup, and taps out a staccato beat on the scarred plastic tabletop, his eyes drawn to the TV above the bar. Another woman has gone missing.

Crazy bitches. They watch that Thelma and Louise crap, and decide to run away from their lives. But they always come runnin’ back, ‘cause they need us men to make them whole.

He grins to himself as he tries to get the waitress’s attention, instead catching his own reflection in a display case as the image of the missing woman fills the screen. He runs his hand through his hair, making sure not to flatten the spikes at the front.

Just enough grease to get by, but not enough to be gay.

He looks back at the TV just as the missing woman’s face melts into footage from a local football game.

Cassie’d never run away. She’s rock-steady, and always ready.

He snorts, finally getting the waitress’s attention.

Bill please.

The waitress sashays over to him and leans over just far enough to tease him with the smooth curve of young breasts. He shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable, and she winks and smiles. He pulls two ten dollar bills from his pocket, puts one on the plastic tray, and slips the other into her palm, his calloused fingers lingering against her soft skin.

Thank you, her eyes twinkle seductively at him, Will that be all?

He smiles and nods at her, noting her nametag before turning his attention to his phone. Maybe I’ll come back for you someday, Anna. But right now all I want is Cassie.

He loves to spend time with her. They have sex, then cuddle, and she falls asleep on his chest. When he tries to extricate himself she snuggles up closer, nuzzling her hair into his chin. And that’s it. He’s done. He can’t remember the last time he slept with a woman and wanted to hold her all night long.

Careful, girl, I might just marry you.

He stomps the circulation back into his feet as he lights up on his way to his truck, his father’s final words echoing loudly in his skull as he climbs into the cab.

‘Control, son, that’s all you can ever hope for in life.’

Frank closes his eyes to watch his father stick the business end of the shotgun in his mouth and blow his brains all over the living room wall.

Happy birthday, Dad.

Chapter 3

The stench of rotting flesh greets his nostrils as he slides the barn door open. Moonlight sneaks in through gaps in the wood, throwing a jigsaw of shadows across his captive’s face. She is beautiful. Not too young, not too old. Just how he likes them. He can feel the power surge through him as he listens to her sniffling. It is him, but not him. The other has awoken, and wants to play.

She has chewed her gag into a thin, soggy strip. Her dry tongue pushes the cloth from the corners of her mouth.

There, there.

He crosses the few feet to where she sits, strapped naked into the wooden chair, shivering in the crisp night air. He pulls his driving gloves out of his pocket, grinning as the leather caresses his knuckles.

There is something so sensual about the feeling of leather on bare skin, when I hold on tight, and just slip right in.

She recoils as one sheathed finger chases a tear down her cheek. Eyebrows lift as she strains to see through the blindfold. Her breath comes heavy and quick. He can feel himself hardening against his jeans. He slips free from his boxers, luxuriating as the soft cotton strokes the underside of his engorged head. He considers taking off her blindfold and staring into her terror-stricken eyes as he spurts all over her pert tits.

She struggles to free herself, urine coursing down the inside of her thigh into a putrid puddle beneath her seat. The smell of faeces fills his nostrils.

You dirty bitch. Trying to take over. But you can’t. I am in control!

He backhands her hard across the cheek. Blood seeps from her lip. Her thigh muscles clench, trying to close the gap between her legs. Thin arms strain against the rope that binds her wrists behind her back. She sobs short and sharp, like a dying bird.

He grabs a pail of freezing water and tips it over her, thrilling as she quivers.

That’s right my little chickadee. Can’t have you covered in piss and shit when you meet your maker, can we? What kind of message would that send to the powers that be? You gotta die clean, you see. Clean as an angel, just for me.

He pauses in front of her, the half-empty bucket tipped forward. She holds her breath. He kicks her chair over. She chokes on her own scream as the back of her head smacks into hard-packed dirt. Thick shit runs down the back of the seat and pools by her shoulders, fed by streams of urine.

That’s right, you dirty little bitch, bathe in your own filth. But you shall not be dirty for long. For I shall cleanse you of all your sins.

The bucket swings forward, splashing the upended chair. She sobs and shivers.

He gets on all fours in the muck by her head, cradles her head in his arms, and rocks her like a baby.

That’s ok, little one. I know you didn’t mean to upset me.

No longer aroused, a sense of calm envelopes him.

You won’t have to suffer anymore.

Strong hands grip her by her shoulders as he positions his knees either side of her skull. Leaning forward, he pulls the gag from her mouth for long enough to plant a gentle kiss on her lips.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

She cries, begging for him to set her free, the snot running freely down her cheeks and into her ears. He hums a lullaby while gripping both sides of her head and wedging his knees up against her shoulder blades.

Her delicate lips form the word, Please, as he turns her head gently to one side, before wrenching her chin and forehead in opposite directions.

Her neck snaps.

Her body twitches then falls still.

Goodnight.

Chapter 4

Cassie closes her eyes tight, but the rotting death and screaming torture continue to flood her mind. Frustrated, she throws off her covers and bounces out of bed.

Downstairs, the kitchen sink faucet groans and splutters before spitting out fitful bursts of liquid ice. She fills a pan with water, puts it on the stove, and seats herself on the wobble-legged wooden chair by the tiny table. Her MacBook chimes to life as her mind fast-forwards to her next holiday destination.

Greece is out of the question. Flights are too expensive during summer holidays, the weather’s too hot, and she’s heard that all of the best geocaching destinations are also vacation hotspots. The last thing she wants is a tourist-filled holiday, full of screaming kids, bitchy moms, and boozy dads.

She plays with the idea of heading for the far-east then decides against it. As a nearly six foot blond she would stand out a mile.

A message flashes on screen. Her hopes rise, until she realises it’s not Frank.

No, I don’t want any Viagra.

Water sizzles on the stove.

I could go back to Prague. She had fallen in love with the city when she went there last year. She smiles, remembering sipping coffee overlooking the bridge, before wandering down the back streets until the Prague State Opera had risen in front of her like a grinning, three-horned monster, wide shoulders hunched, ready to spring. Inside, mirrored stairwells had led up to the huge opera hall, where a grand chandelier had hovered over endless curving banks of plush velvet and gold embroidered seats. As always, her excitement at finding the final cache had folded into disappointment. It was over way too soon. Just like my men.

Not Prague, then.

She scans her email, the caffeine calming her instead of waking her up. Twelve new messages since she went to bed, the first few from friends, up late and bored. The fifth one is more interesting. She opens it and reads it twice, before deciding whether she’ll go for it. She enters a few numbers, clicks a few ‘nexts’ and her winter holiday is sorted.

She had been so busy planning for next summer that she hadn’t even considered travelling to Europe during Christmas. She shoves away a pang of guilt.

He won’t miss me. He’s got his new family.

Besides, Christmas at her father’s had become tedious. She would explode if she had to put up with any more questions about her love life from that evil midget blimp he called a wife. The bitch.

A cat screams outside.

Chapter 5

The café’s early morning buzz melts into the lunch-time rush in the blink of an eye. The smell of grease, butter, bread, burgers, and burning cheese fills her nostrils, working its way into her hair and skin. Food orders flip and sizzle across her grill as she imagines the excitement of stepping off the plane in Rome, rather than getting off the Greyhound at the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Midtown Manhattan.

She has never been to Perugia before, has no idea what to expect, and finds the idea both frightening and exciting. Instead of playing auntie to her two half-brothers, she will be sipping wine in a timeless Italian square, watching as the young men and women of Perugia laugh and flirt at the bar.

Maybe I will meet my Prince Charming.

The razor-sharp knife slips from her fingers and splashes into hot water.

You ok, darlin? You didn’t cut yourself again, did you?

She shakes her head and smiles at Sue while checking her fingers. White lines tracking her palm remind her of the last time she had sliced her hand open. It had been the first time that she and Sue had been left alone to close up the café together.

Cassie had just stood there, staring into the water as it had darkened with her blood. Sue had come to the rescue with a strong set of hands and a calm voice, washing Cassie’s hands as if she were a child. Cassie had enjoyed being mothered.

You gonna stand there gawpin’ all day? Or you gonna finish up so we can get outta here? Sue poses in front of her, hands on hips, chewing pretend gum and doing her best impression of Bob, their constipated boss.

Sue is barely a decade older than Cassie, but has already raised three kids and held down a number of jobs, often two at a time. She swears that, no matter the long hours, low wages, lack of tips, and continually pinched bum, waitressing is best job of the bunch. Cassie thinks Sue says that just to make herself feel better. Although admittedly one of her closest friends, Sue is also Cassie’s warning sign whenever her studies seem hard going.

I want a life, to travel, to explore, before I settle down. Kids may happen sometime down the track, but not right now.

Yeah, I’m gonna stand here gawpin’ all day, madam. And there ain’t a god-damn thing you can do about it!

They stand like that for a moment, face to face, until they both crack. Sue pulls Cassie along, but she resists.

I’ve still got my work clothes on!

Cassie wipes a finger down the front of her shirt, collecting grease and holding it up to Sue’s face.

And if you don’t give me time to change, I’m gonna make sure you’re just as greasy!

Sue laughingly sidesteps Cassie’s swinging finger. Stop, stop, ok, ok. I’ll give you your clothes. Sue reaches into her rucksack and pulls out a silky purple blouse and a pair of slim-fit jeans. I think you’ll find these are just right for you.

Those aren’t my clothes.

They’re yours for tonight, girl, ‘cause we’re going out!

Chapter 6

Cassie can feel the cold seat of the bar stool as if it’s her naked derriere and not a pair of dungarees gracing the curved plastic. The looks they got as they entered the bar told her all she needed to know. She glances at her friend.

Sue’s hair is combed up and back, her long silver earrings highlighting a graceful neck, her tight tube top and daisy dukes barely bigger than a bikini.

You’re hot!

It’s the least we can do for our adoring fans. Sue tips her head at the men playing pool behind them. Two Cosmos, on the rocks. The bartender nods and turns away. To celebrate your Italian adventure.

Cosmos were created in America, dahling. All good Italians drink an Americano before dinner.

Kinky! So, what’s it this time? Romance in Rome? Seduction in Sicily? Titillation in Tuscany?

How about unwinding in Umbria?

Sounds down-right perverted. I’ll have no more such dirty talk on an empty stomach. Sue raises her glass

Reviews for Bled

[mrmapcase · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bled is dark, fast paced, and realistic, each of the characters are fleshed out, pun not intended, and very believable. The ending comes with a big twist and a very satisfying conclusion.Free review copy.

[pet12-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bled was a really dark, fast paced serial killer story that was bizarrely hard to put down. Bizarrely, because this wasn't a light easy read. But it gripped you in a sick kind of way and held your attention till the end. There were some really startling twists in this story, which is why I won't give a summary of the story, as it would be very easy to spoil it.I should warn that Bled contains extended scenes of explicit sex, graphic violence and coarse language. Reading a lot of thrillers and some erotic romance, I was neither disturbed by the violence portrayed or by the sex scenes and language used. It was no more overt than in other books of these genres. However, if you are concerned about violence that leaves nothing to the imagination and explicit sex then you may want to give this a miss. If you don't mind the above, then you'll enjoy Bled as a good serial killer story with some very damaged characters.Cassie, the female protagonist, had a very volatile personality. I found some of the choices she made difficult to understand. She was almost like two people in one. One minute, she was aggressive and self-assured and the next she would be fragile and lost. That made her really interesting. Her most positive trait was her loyalty to and concern for her friend.Towards the end, as the action in Italy was really heating up, there was one chapter where the plot moved back to the US. It really broke up the tension and didn't work for me. It was going from thriller to erotic, fluffy love story. I would have preferred to just keep with the thriller and to stay with the dark element. For a debut novel, this was a really riveting read though. Recommended if you enjoy your thrillers dark, vivid and twisted. 3.5 starsThanks to the author and his publicist for my free copy in exchange for an honest review.