Fear Her Wrath II: Crucible of Glass

Chapter 45

I woke up on Saturday to the sound of rain pounding against my bedroom window.

I was at the Night Chapel within half an hour, and found Ellie already there—curled up on the sofa eating ramen and sipping her purple coffee. I went through my daily exercises, changed into my costume, and settled in for a long wait. We both knew it might be for nothing. Maybe Deadstream hadn't picked his next victim, or set up in another abandoned apartment. But we both had a feeling it was coming. Deadstream had been denied the killing stroke last time around. He wouldn't be able to wait long before he needed that thrill again.

Ellie eventually set aside her half-eaten noodles and went back to her desk to work on homework. I stretched out on the sofa and used my phone to check on the other criminal activity in the Fen. Rain, I'd learned, was usually good news for the crime rate, since mobsters are vain and don't like getting their suits wet, and criminals, besides being a cowardly and superstitious lot, usually don't carry umbrellas—at least without a monocle and top hat to match. The Fen was quiet. There was nothing to distract me from what was coming.

Just to have something to do, I got up and started pacing the tower room, occasionally shadowboxing or checking the time on my phone. Ellie turned on the radio, and we pretended to listen to the Lothian Motors Hour, but afterwards neither of us could remember any of the songs or sketches or even who was hosting. All we heard was the rain pounding on the stained-glass windows of the steeple and dripping through the cracks in the roof.

Then, at about 3:45, it happened.

"New Deadstream link just went up."

I grabbed my combat boots off the table and started lacing them. Ellie already had the ambient analysis software open. For once, we were ready.

"Who's the victim?" I asked.

"It hasn't loaded yet. He usually puts it in the title of the video. Let me check and make sure he hasn't been sloppy with hiding his IP address. Maybe we'll get lucky and he—."

She screamed. She actually screamed and almost fell out of her chair. That definitely wasn't a good sign. I hopped across the tower room, my second boot still half on, to see what had scared her. The stream was open on her desktop. It was the same as the others—an empty apartment with boarded-up windows, and in the middle of the room, Deadstream's victim. Naked. Tied to a wooden chair and surrounded by microphones. He was young, and muscular, with a handsome face and short black hair. I guess Ellie had looked at the title first. Somehow, my eyes had bounced right over it without taking it in. But it was there—leaving no room for denial or mistaken identity.

Benedict Vang - Torture & Death ASMR

It was like blacking out. The ringing in my ears was drowning out my other senses as my legs gave way.

Ellie caught me by the wrist.

"We can do this," she whispered.

"Yeah," I said. I hadn't really heard her. Ben. Deadstream had Ben. Oh god.

"The tools are cleaned and polished. The blades are all sharpened. The victim is ready. Let's begin."

I dialed Corrigan's number as I raced down the stairs of the church spire. My legs were trembling. I had to consciously will every step I took. My skin was cold and covered in goosebumps. I cursed every second that passed as I waited for my police contact to accept the call.

"Deadstream's back," I said as soon as she picked up.

"I just saw it. You got a location?"

"Somewhere in west Redding," I said, pulling open the doors of the church and pushing the Night-Wheel out into the rain. "Probably the abandoned public housing project in Carmichael. I'll keep you updated as I narrow it down."