Blood in White Chapel

Chapter Five

Numb.

Myron felt numb. The brunet ran for a good ten minutes before he found his legs leading him aimless down back alleys and streets. That was too close. No one would come to his rescue. Operations with in the Association would not stop if he were incarcerated or hung. Of course, you were given orders and were free to leave or join the Association. If caught, you were on your own and you knew that when you joined. Seniority did not matter in the name of the Association.

He could not afford to get caught. He still had three more left and the last needed to be his hands on her throat. Anger grew in the pit of his stomach, replacing the fear of the situation he just escaped from. He finally paused in his directionless wander.

"Where am I?"

Myron muttered to no one in particular. He recognized some of the buildings and businesses. He drew the conclusion that he was in Mitre Square. He could hear the laughs and hollering from the pub around the corner. His blue hues rolled before he spotting a figure across the square.

It was knelt over fixing their boot. Myron held his breath, making himself almost invisible.

"H.... 'ello?"

Called out from the person across the square. Myron registered her as an older woman. She lifted her head to look out the dark area. It was difficult to see with no real lighting in the square, save for the street lights at the entrances. So when a shimmer flashed across her eyes with no reflections, Myron moved. He wasted in control of his body at that point. Fueled by adrenaline and anger.

Her scream muffled by his gloved hand as he took her to the ground with great skill. Those leather clad fingers gripped the fine handle of his silver blade. He was like an animal, that silver dug into her throat with a vicious swing. His blade slipped as he hit bone and hit her left arm. He quickly moved out of the way of the blood and knelt beside her right side with ease.

Myron found himself out of his mind. Slicing small pieces of flesh away from her eyes, those repulsive shining eyes. When his blade slipped earlier, he had also managed to slice a good chuck of her ear off when he backed away from the blood.

That tan gloved hand yanked her clothing up, exposing her abdomen. The blade pierced the flesh so smoothly. He growled as he torn through the flesh. He pushed intestines and other organs out of the way, digging through the corpse for something specific.

Myron easily trimmed the organ in question from her body, rummaging through his bag for cloth to bundle his possession in. Much to a slight curiosity, he noted a kidney attached to it. But his time was gone.

He saw the light from a policeman's torch make it's way down one of the entrances to Mitre square. It sobered the brunet up quickly, shoving the cloth bundle into his bag before he made his escape. What was he doing. Myron was appalled at his behavior. It was unlike him. He shoved his gloves into his bag with the bundle.

Guilt riddled his being as he wandered himself into the nearby pub. He barely registered what he had just done. What if he just killed and innocent? What if he just mistook a shimmer of the light as the beast's shimmer?

He shuddered as he approached the bar, the bar tender was diligent and he ordered a scotch. The gent behind the bar returned shortly after Myron had fished a fag from his coat pocket and just drew a drag from it. With trembling hands, he snatched the glass from the wooden bar and drowned throat with the amber liquid.

"Oh God."

Myron called for another before the bartender could leave his venue.

Three dead.

Three remain.