Savage (A Blood Feud Novel)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

James opened his eyes.

He slowly tilted his head; a throbbing pain was beating in his right temple. James realized he was tied to a metal pole. His hands were behind his back, and his feet were wrapped together with duct tape.

A man with short gray hair and a butcher knife in his right hand stood in front of him.

James didn't know who this man was or why he had been tied to a pole. He had been out of it for God knew how long. All he could remember was seeing Rachel tie her mother to a chair and dragging the policewoman down to the basement. Then, just as he exited the front door and was about to enter his car, someone snuck up on James and whiplashed him.

"Hello, Mr. James," the man said dryly. "My name is Fraser. I suppose by now your sweetheart is wondering where you are."

James didn't make a sound. He was terrified. His eyes quickly scanned the room. There were no windows on the grayish walls, and a putrid smell that intoxicated him filled the atmosphere.

Fraser noticed the smell but showed no reaction to it. He glanced at his digital watch. It was nine twenty. He wondered if his contact had seen Rachel. He placed the butcher knife on the floor.

"I have someone watching," he told James.

James kept silent. He was too scared to even to utter a word. How did this bastard find out about him?

A sudden realization gripped James. Sheila Savage. Was she this bastard's wife? The thought terrified James.

Fraser saw the look on James' face. He smiled at the lad. He turned around and walked straight through a door and into another room.

He returned a few minutes later. He was carrying a small duffel bag. He took out another knife, this one longer and sharper.

James breathed harder. He started to piss himself. Fraser looked at him in disgust. He wanted to stab the fucker.

"I want to say a few words," Fraser said as he stood in front of James again. "Many years ago you might not have heard of a man who murdered people. He did it because he was sick and no one could help him. Now, let's say that this killer went after women and children as a thrill. Over time the killings would become much gruesome, if not ritualistic. You follow me, James? Good. I'll be straight to the point: so, later on, this monster decided to settle down, to step away from the killings and live a more - oh, how shall I say it - a normal life. He meets a nice young woman. They fall in love and have a daughter together. Then the woman he loves begins to fool around especially with men he trusts. But he still loves her and promises to frustrate these men who fucked her. She still decides to leave, and he thinks of ways to get her back. It doesn't go through because some bastards killed her. Suppose if I were to tell you that person who is watching your girlfriend is also the person who gave me the info regarding the hit and run of the woman whom I lost - you and that cunt of yours are responsible for. What would you say to that?"

James said nothing. His eyes were forlorn. He wanted no part of the conversation. A portion of him wished this would to end.

"Well, it seems like we have a bit of a closed tongue," Fraser said.

He bent down, picked up the butcher knife and pointed it at James. James wasn't paying attention.

Maybe Rachel wasn't coming to try to save him, he thought. He glanced up.

In one swoop the blade jammed through his right thigh. James was in an uproar.

"Ha-ha," Fraser chuckled, after he said, "That wasn't supposed to go in as deep as it was."

James was shaking in pain endlessly. The crazed fucker! Fraser tossed the butcher knife aside.

A female voice called "What's going on?"

Fraser turned around. It was his daughter, Emily. Standing next to her was Vivian. Both had startled looks on their faces.

"Dad, are you trying to kill someone?" Emily asked after the shock wore off.

Her eyes were glued to James. Then she saw the blood on the lower half of his shirt. Vivian gasped.

"Dad!"

Fraser smiled at Emily. In a reassuring voice, he said, "It's alright sweetie, it's the man who killed your mother. The police had traced the car that ran over your mother to him. This will all be over quickly, I promise."

Vivian couldn't contain her shock. Emily looked away. Fraser turned and looked at James. James was going through trauma. The wound had weakened him.

"Fraser, what is the meaning of this?" Vivian barked. "Why are you doing this to that man?"

Fraser felt annoyed. He hadn't expected for Vivian or Emily show up. He turned around, and Emily had gone upstairs. Vivian glared at Fraser.

Small cries of agony could be heard.

"I want you to stop this right now!" Vivian shouted.

Fraser bristled at her. He peered at her right side. He turned around again. James had fallen unconscious.

"Goodness Fraser, if you don't help him I'm calling the police," Vivian said scornfully.

Fraser shouted, "The fuck you want!"

Vivian stormed out of the room. Fraser grabbed hold of the other knife. Emily came back downstairs.

She stopped and looked. "Dad, is he dead?"

Fraser turned to face Emily. He went up to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. "I know how much your mom's death has hurt you. It hurt me too. He has to pay."

Emily wiped away her tears with her right hand. Fraser wrapped his arms around her. He was crying too.

Emily let go, wiped her tears again. "I want to say something to him."

Fraser nodded. He stepped aside as Emily came up to James. She was a foot away from James. She crawled down. Her left hand picked up the knife.

Vivian came downstairs. She saw Emily holding the knife. She looked at Fraser in an air of disbelief.

"Oh, please God, don't tell me..."

Emily covered the handle with both her hands. She glanced over her right shoulder at Fraser.

Fraser said, "You don't have to do it, sweetheart."

In series of motions, Emily stabbed James through the chest area. Each stab was more intense than the last one.

"Emily, please...oh dear God!" Vivian shrieked.

She fainted and slumped face-down. Fraser rushed over and held her. He looked up at his daughter. Emily was stabbing James maniacally.

A jab to an artery caused a spray of blood to emit onto her. Emily didn't care. She was shredding the person who had killed her mother. James was already dead.

Fraser sighed. He gently laid Vivian down. He stood and calmly walked up to Emily, tapped a finger her shoulder.

Emily turned around. Blotches of blood were spread around her face, neck, and on her hands. Both her arms and the knife were bloodied.

"Emily..." Fraser said softly.

Emily threw the knife down. She began to whimper. She turned to look at the carnage she had done.

It all happened so fast. Emily was breathing hard. She took a few more deep breaths.

She ran out the room. James Taylor was dead, his neck and chest became amangled mess. Fraser picked up Vivian and carried her upstairs.