Chapter 22

Evil

Greed.

It's often the endgame for most people. I've seen it play out thousands of times in thousands of different ways. The temptation starts small, you want something better for yourself, you just need that special edge. And for some, that edge is riding on the border of illegal.

I meant to shut them down. Heck, I should have. But I wanted something for myself, too. Something that could fill that dark void in my soul, something that might actually make me happy. But nothing ever could, nor will.

My first kill was out of necessity. After that, it was part necessity, part pleasure. But had any one of those people lived, it would have flushed my entire world right down the toilet, been my undoing in the most humiliating way.

It's not my fault they entangled themselves in this situation. They're the ones that swore allegiance—until death do we part. Or whatever other crap they bought into.

It was them or me. A simple game of survival.

There were only seven.

I let so many others slide.

I'm their god.

I get to decide who stays and who goes.

That's what they want. And that's what I'm determined to give them.

I head to the shed out back and brush the camping and fishing gear from the top shelf until I find what I'm looking for. A small plastic container no bigger than a liter. I hold it in my hand a moment and then sift the powder inside by giving it a shake.

I've confiscated a number of things over the years, but I knew when I got my hands on this, I had hit the jackpot.

A simple white powder, could be flour, could be sugar for all anyone knows. But it has the muscle to knock out a city block's worth of unsuspecting people. It's technically a salt, mostly flavorless, odorless, so unassuming. Highly soluble in water, or the rum punch we'll be serving Saturday night.

I've been grooming them for years in the event this moment should arise. We partake of the blood together. Just a drop of my blood in a vat of the aforementioned cocktail and we all partake at once. Or they will. No need for me to play along.

The kids won't partake, the little ones, the teenagers, they won't know what happened. I'm sure they'll be fostered out and well taken care of.

And I'll be free.

We'll all be free.

I've got a career, a life to resume without them. I should have had those dumpster divers arrested the second I sniffed out their little Ponzi scheme. But hell, it was making a pretty nickel and they offered me a cut in exchange to look the other way.

It wasn't until I hid in the shadows during one of their midnight meetings and witnessed the depravity firsthand that I knew I wanted in on that, too.

It was the power that lured me. I held up a hoop and the two idiots asked how high they needed to jump. Only they know who I really am, my true identity. They have no incentive to call me out. It would be their doom as well. But their doom isn't necessarily mine. That's why this Saturday night I'll dawn the red hood one last time.

I glance out the window at the sea of pine trees that line the back wall of the property. I can't wait until it's over. As soon as they drink up, I'll bolt.

I don't want anything to do with the aftermath. I hate suffering. That's why I believe in a quick and painless death, the kind I offer to those who threaten the family. Their family, not mine. It was never mine.

And now the feds are involved, sniffing around, circling in. It's just a matter of time before the walls close in.

My fingers twitch as the memory of those first few deaths gone awry come to mind. Strangulation takes muscle, patience, and far too much time.

A knife to the throat is quicker and much more humane.

I glance at the powder in my hand. I'm not here to make anyone suffer. I plan on pairing it with benzodiazepines I've crushed to powder. That should knock them out just enough.

Goodnight to one and all, sleep tight, forever.

I place the bottle back on the shelf and cover it up just the way it was.

Two nights to go.

If Paradise is going to end, it's going to be on my terms.

But first, I think I need to head down to Boulder and take care of a little loose end on my part.

Do it right or don't do it at all.

I'm sorry, Scarlett. But you're one blaze I need to put out.