P R E Y
a deer in the forest
Please be advised! The following contains scenes graphic in nature that may be distressing to some readers. Proceed with caution.
Northern Virginia
2004
Violence hid itself beyond a window pane this late afternoon. It was there in the bushes, fingers curled into the damp earth. The nails, filthy, were bitten down to the quick and the knuckles were split from cold. There was a dagger beside him. It was old, very old. Winding silver paths and words in a language no longer spoken traced the hilt. He took it up with care. Like a child, he clutched it to his chest.
The time came to him, he did not go to it. He’d be ready.
It was a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. The house stood proud and white against a lush green lawn. It was the perfect distance from neighbors—not too close, not too far. A person could wave when it suited them or pretend they hadn’t seen anyone at all.
But the paint was greying and the azaleas drooped. The sun lingered behind gathering clouds. A low wind crept through the trees.
There was movement from within the house.
He took a breath.
Her.
Inside the window, a brown haired woman leaned over the kitchen counter. Her nimble fingers rapped the egg on the glass bowl’s rim: once, twice. It cracked and split. Yolks unspooled forth upon mounds of melted butter. She was born to bleed in similar fashion: to live and to die, to carry and cry.
There were bruises, formed by teeth and soft-spoken tongue, at the base of her throat. They’d been bestowed with permission. The corner of her lip was swollen; this her own doing. Yes, yes, he knew this well. Knew her well.
Someone else crossed into his sight.
With a curse, Violence hastened away.
There were things to be done before the storm.
The back of her neck prickled. She knew she was being watched. The woman raised her eyes to the window. The woman unfocused her eyes from the bushes and into the reflection.
Ah.
Behind her, stood her husband. He posted against the door’s frame with a small smile. It came as a surprise he’d neared without her notice. His footsteps were usually heavy.
She daintily stood on her toes and spun to face him. The skirt of her white dress billowed before settling against her calves.
“You scared me,” she said.
He pushed himself upright and entered. When he raised his hand to rest upon his wife, it came down with adoration. It tenderly swept down between her narrow shoulder blades. Then, it came to rest at the small of her back.
He spoke finally: “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He placed his stubbled cheek against her soft one as he peered over her shoulder. “What’s this, Julia?” he asked. His voice was mild; words halting and unsure of their reception. “I leave and that’s when you start bringing out the goods?”
“No,” she smiled, letting the sound of denial trail from her lips.
He chased it and kissed her. “Can you freeze some of the dough for when I come back?” he asked.
It made Julia laugh. “You look like a gremlin.”
He did, in a way. There was something innocent about him. He was, despite himself, a gentle creature. Mikey’s elf-like features didn’t help: large ears; a gap in his front teeth. Everyone said it: Mikey was soooooo sweet. Sweet, sweet, sweet. It lingered on her palette. Sweet until he sank his teeth in, Julia thought, then he wouldn’t let go.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
“I can’t feed you after midnight.”
“It’s 5 P.M.”
“I wanted a snack for my horror movie later.”
“Alone?” He pressed the question against the side of her neck.
“Mhm.”
“But you won’t have anyone to hold!”
“You don’t like scary movies, Mikey.”
He clicked his tongue on his teeth. “You’re gonna watch with that creepy client of yours?”
Julia shook her head. “Don’t even.”
“That coworker of yours, maybe?” Mikey was pleased with his joke. He rewarded himself by wrapping his arms around her waist.
She settled into him. “Nooo,” she sang.
“I’m sure he buys jewellery for all his coworker’s birthdays.”
Julia craned her neck to meet his laughing eyes. With a light scoff, she turned and began to mix the eggs. “It was probably from Claires.”
They lapsed into silence, Mikey continuing to stack his weight into her. He tucked his face into the junction between neck and shoulder. He did this often leading up to lengths of time apart. Julia planted her feet beneath her hips and bore it.
In the distance, thunder rolled. The house’s foundations trembled.
Julia looked out the window. “Looks like a storm.”
“Yeah,” Mikey sighed. “I guess I should see if the trip’s cancelled.” There was an air of hope about him. He hated flying; hated being away from home. “It’s probably better. I can finish that rifle.”
“It’s still not done?”
“Nope.”
Julia’s brow creased. “I hope I have enough butter. I think the stores are closing for the storm.”
“For what?”
“For more cookies.”
“Yay,” cheered Mikey.
“But you have to take out the trash in return.”
He stepped away, gesturing up the stairs. “I’ll do it in a sec’. Let me check the computer to make sure they didn’t cancel my trip.”
“Oh, while you’re upstairs can you grab the receipt?”
“What receipt?”
“For those clothes I had you try on. We have to return the sweaters that didn’t fit.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll grab it.”
Some time later, after Mikey confirmed the postponement of the work conference, he returned downstairs. He passed through the kitchen once more. His hand brushed along the back of Julia’s arm on his way to the living room.
Without lifting her face, she asked, “could you take out the trash before you go upstairs?”
“In a second.”
Julia looked at him and her forehead wrinkled. “You said that hours ago.”
“I got busy. I need to check the news.”
“For what?”
“Storm watch.”
She made a face and did not press him for explanation. “Did you get the receipt?”
Mikey winced.
Then, Julia exhaled loudly. “Okay.”
Mikey stood there, waiting for chastisement.
It never came.
Mikey grabbed the trash. As he tied the bag, his eyes rose to the winged knight hung above the kitchen doorway. It cast an obvious and imposing shadow. Mikey felt judged. No, he was struck by envy for the creature.
It came with his wife when he’d married her. It was just so… Julia. She’d placed them over the basement stairs, the front door, and the kitchen. It guarded these rooms like gargoyles over some ancient cathedral. Mikey didn’t feel protected.
Mikey theorized the stone angel came from whatever strange place his wife did—another time, another place. Not here, but on a castle wall 500 years ago. Julia also hid small silver bells around the house. There was not a discernible reason for this. Mikey supposed his wife enjoyed the sound of them.
“I’ll be right back,” he announced.
She hummed in acknowledgement.
He worried when Julia chose silence. Her chest would raise and lungs fill with air for the sigh that never arrived. One of these days she might fly away like something in a Miyazaki film. The feeling would overcome him as she passed him in the hallway. When Mikey could, he would hold fast to her body as if to prevent this from happening. He’d reach out for her. Julia would laugh at his attempts.
Mikey never voiced this sentiment, but he wondered if she somehow knew. Her arms would slip easily from his grip and up around his shoulders. Her fingers would tangle in his hair. He’d feel her smile against his neck and her lips press beneath his ear before she faded with soft footsteps down the hall.
In that moment, as he went to take out the trash, Mikey decided against touching her again. It felt too desperate. With yet another wary look to the archangel, Mikey hunched and exited.
He took hold of the garage door handle and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. Mikey grumbled in annoyance.
Huffing, he returned to the kitchen. “Did you lock all the doors from the outside?” asked Mikey.
Julia was sitting cross legged on the floor before the oven. Her Nokia was on the floor, batteries pulled out. “Why would I do that?” she asked. “I just went to get the mail a second ago. The front door’s fine.”
Mikey pursed his lips. Another of Julia’s habits: locking him out.
Locking them in would not be a surprise.
Mikey gestured to the cell. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m not quite sure.” She paused to look out the window. “Probably to do with the storm, but I’m going to try to power it up again. We’ll need it in case the house phones go out.”
“Okay, well,” Mikey began. “I’ll just go out the front, then.”
“Just get the key.”
“It’s locked from the outside, babe.”
Her brows twitched. “That’s odd.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Mikey took up the trash bag once again.
As he approached the front door, a shadow crossed before him. He looked up to see a figure in the frosted glass. Pausing, Mikey cocked his head. He opened the door and saw nothing. The rain tapped the pavement before him.
Better hurry before it poured.
As he turned the corner, Mikey found himself face to face with another man. They both jumped.
Mikey recovered first. “Can I help you?”
The man stood with both arms slightly away from his hips, mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’. The rain had dampened his black hair so that it was plastered to his forehead. His eyes darted between Mikey and the door. “Oh, I’m sorry! I expected Julia.”
At first, Mikey thought he’d misheard him. “You what?”
“I expected Julia,” the stranger repeated.
Mikey was flummoxed. “And what do you need with my wife?”
Suddenly, the man reddened. He removed his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve before returning them to his nose. “I-I was just around and I saw—”
“I asked what you need with my wife,” interrupted Mikey. “Does she know you?”
The man awkwardly smiled—or revealed something akin to a smile. He bore his teeth and crinkled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Sorry, I’m Axel.” He bridged the distance and offered his hand to Mikey. “I work with Julia,” he finished.
Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah?” He wasn’t so certain. There was something wrong with this man’s eyes, something that Mikey couldn’t quite place his finger on. He placed down the bags beside the bin, ignoring the steadily growing rain.
“Yeah, I was in the area.” Axel gestured to the neighborhood behind him. “I, um, I had these pictures of Julia and it felt weird to keep them, so I was going to give them to her. I take candids as a hobby, but she asked me to stop and… Like I said, it just felt weird to keep them. Anyway, so…” Axel trailed off for a moment. Then, he continued. “But I saw this guy in the bushes and I thought you’d want to know.”
“Hm.” Mikey sized up Axel. His clothes were baggy, but the rain highlighted a lean and muscular frame. He had a crooked tilt about him. His head drooped and left shoulder, like he was listening to someone whisper something in his ear. Mikey’s eyes lowered. Mud and grass caked the bottom of Axel’s boots.
Strange.
Mikey crossed his arms. He thought to the rifle in the basement beneath the workbench. He probably wouldn’t need it. “Well, I guess if someone’s out here, you won’t mind helping me look,” he said.
Axel hastily bobbed his head. “Of course!”
They’d both be miserable in the dark and rain, then. Satisfied, Mikey turned. “Let me grab some flashlights.”
He made it a single step into the house.
Something heavy collided with the back of Mikey’s skull. White light exploded behind his eyes. He crashed to his knees, caught himself, and turned. As he did, he saw a metal pipe flash through the air. He grabbed it and wrenched it aside, striking a glancing blow against Axel’s face. But he was disoriented. His fist didn’t fully connect.
Axel drew back and raised the pipe again, expression contorted with rage. “Far dorocha!” he bellowed.
Mikey moved, but not quick enough.
From there, it was difficult to focus. Mikey was too disoriented to register pain. On instinct his forearms were raised to shield himself. The iron smashed into the side of his head and everything went black with a solid wham!
Click.
“Tie him up.”
Julia perched on the stair’s landing with her legs tucked under her. Her eyes were wide, her palms splayed against the wall behind her. Mikey lay on his side. A halo of blood surrounded his head. He was moving—or trying to—while groaning.
“Who are you?” she asked waveringly. “Why are you doing this?”
“My name is Axel. I’m here for you.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You will.”
She didn’t answer, only shook her head.
“Don’t worry about why, Julia,” he said. His voice dripped with contempt. “Just do what I tell you. Tie him up.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “No.”
Axel raised an eyebrow. He tossed down a pile of television cord. “Do it.”
“No.”
He then lowered the muzzle to the back of Mikey’s head. “I will blow his brains over the floor.” He suddenly smiled as an idea came to him. “I’ll make you eat it. You won’t have to wonder whether he thought of you in his final moments, you’ll taste it.”
“You would have shot him already if you w-wanted to,” she stuttered.
“That’s because I didn’t want to, but maybe now I do.”
Julia’s eyes searched Axel’s. She found no lie.
He showed his teeth and dug the gun hard against Mikey.
She hastily rose on unsteady legs, palms facing outwards. “Please, don’t. Please.”
Axel gestured with the gun toward the pile of rope.
Silent, Julia made her way down the stairs to kneel by Mikey’s side. Her husband fought to open his eyes, took a slow breath. He raised a weak hand for her. “Sorry, Julia,” Mikey croaked through white lips. “I’m sorry.”
She hushed him. Hands shaking, Julia did her best to wipe the blood from his face. “It’s okay, baby.” It smeared over the white sleeves of her dress.
Mikey’s eyes rolled back and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Axel was glad for it. He chose not to use the pistol at first. That would’ve been too loud outside. That was almost a mistake. His ears were ringing from Mikey’s fist. An inch or two to the left and it would’ve been lights out. He’d been lucky. The husband wasn’t supposed to be here this evening. But Axel had to have faith.
“Mikey?” Julia called. She tried to shake him. Her voice disturbed Axel from his thoughts.
“What did I say?” snapped Axel.
“He needs to go to the hospital.”
“Tie him.”
She sniffled. “I don’t know how.”
“Figure it out. The threat still stands.”
Julia cried quietly. Axel observed Julia’s struggle with an air of amusement. As Julia craftily placed Mikey’s hands in front, he interrupted. “No, no,” he ordered. “Behind his back. And tie each wrist first.”
When it was done and Julia had followed Axel’s instructions, she did her best to cradle Mikey in her lap. Michael’s dead weight was heavy—almost too heavy for her to manipulate but she managed. Axel allowed it. He watched as Julia stroked her husband’s face. “Mikey?” she called. Her voice caught and she released a chest-deep sob. “Please, wake up, Mikey.”
She lowered her mouth to his hairline. Her lips were moving, but Axel could not make out the words. He didn’t like that. Bells or wind chimes sang somewhere nearby. It exacerbated Axel’s headache.
Annoyed, Axel approached and tugged at the ropes. They were secure.
He stood again. “Enough.”
“But he won’t open his eyes,” Julia cried.
Axel could care less. “Get back up the stairs. To the landing.”
Julia tightened her arms around Mikey’s neck. She clung to her husband to her chest like a broken toy. “Please don’t hurt him,” she begged. “You can do whatever…” She trailed off, losing wind. “Just don’t hurt him.”
Axel holstered his weapon and grabbed her. “Let go.”
“No.” Julia covered her husband’s head and torso as best she could with her body.
That wouldn’t do. “I said, let go!”
He wrenched her arm away, but she slipped free. “No, no, no!”
Her husband’s head lolled back as he struggled to regain consciousness. His lids fluttered. Axel yanked at Julia with renewed vigor. He’d need to bring the husband downstairs before he awoke.
It evolved into hysterics. Axel pried her free—though it took some effort. She went screaming. The sound was grating, bouncing off the walls and piercing his ears. He almost admired the fight. It crossed his mind, briefly, whether it was a plot to goad him into killing her quickly.
He managed to wrestle her into the next room, hoping that throwing her to the floor would shock her into docility. It did not. With a growl, she twisted in his grip and sank her teeth into his forearm. Axel felt pain, then rage. He struck out with closed fist. She fell.
Axel looked at his arm and cursed. It was difficult to tell with the amount of blood, but surely she’d taken a chunk out of him.
“You bitch, bitch, bitch!” He released a mirthless laugh, then raised his eyes to hers. Her lids were narrowed. She didn’t look away.
“There, now,” Axel whispered, “I knew you were in there.”
Her chest heaved. When she moved, Axel could swear he heard bells. He glanced out the window and saw silver chimes rattling in the storm. “My head,” he muttered.
Julia rose up again. She spat in his face; wild-eyed. Without warning, she lunged and seized him by the face with a strength that did not match her thin frame. The bells rung louder and the wind groaned. “Fuck you and fuck your children and your children’s children and all your blood,” she hissed. The house rocked like the belly of a ship at sea. Rain lashed at the windows. In the chimney’s flue, there came a wailing.
Axel recoiled—or tried.
Julia held. He grabbed her thin wrists and pulled, but still she would not come free. Her voice, through chattering, bloodied teeth continued: “I pray it spills and never stops.”
He struck her again.
She released. Axel watched, slightly disturbed as the woman moved on all fours, like a wild animal. Something drew his attention to the ceiling. There, nailed in place, was a statue of an angel. It took him in with unyielding gaze.
Axel sniffed. He didn’t care. Why should he care? It wouldn’t move.
She wound up for another attack.
Axel didn’t want to hurt her too badly, not now. He was left with little choice. He delivered a solid open-handed slap that sent her head into a nearby wall. Julia collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. It seemed she’d rise once more. He watched her post her hands on the floor and push her self upright, dark hair falling over her pretty face. Then, her body gave way and she was still.
Blinding pain seized Mikey by the skull. He tasted blood, his tongue was swollen and dry. His wrists ached and the tips of his fingers were numb. He felt the rough unsanded wood of the basement’s center beam behind him. It dug into the exposed flesh of his forearms. When he opened his eyes, the basement’s fluorescent lights blasted his sight. They wheeled and flashed—above him, below him—in a dizzying monochromatic kaleidoscope.
Without warning, he vomited. Not much came up except bile. It stung his throat and nose. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder.
“Ugh.”
It took Mikey a moment to register someone had spoken. With some effort he raised his head to see a crooked-looking man squatting on the last step of the basement stairs. The end of his cigarette glowed faintly before going dark. The smell nauseated him. He screwed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to throw up once again. He wretched.
It came back to Mikey at once. Grunting, Mikey strained against the ropes. “Fuck you,” he spat.
Axel snorted.
“Where’s my wife?” demanded Mikey.
The man stamped out he cigarette on the floor beneath his boot. “Would it change anything for you?” he asked, simultaneously exhaling the remnants of smoke.
Mikey tried to control his breathing. “Where is she? What did you do?”
In response, Axel shrugged. His glasses flashed. “Well, here I am having a cigarette, so I’ll let you put two and two together,” he said.
Silence filled the room for one beat, then two.
When Mikey spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from far, far away. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Mikey shook. “I’m going to kill you.”
“C’mon now,” sighed Axel.
“I’m going to kill you, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Where is she?!” repeated Mikey.
Axel held up his hands. “Relax, relax. I’m just kidding. She’s perfectly safe. For now. The games haven’t begun. I’ve got to finish establishing the rules. Gotta… gotta get her back to where she belongs.”
Mikey wasn’t so sure. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
A shadow passed over Axel’s face. “Nothing. It’s you that’s wrong. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Huh?”
“You’re in my territory, on my hunting grounds.”
Mikey stared at him. Slowly, it dawned on Mikey exactly who Axel might be. He leaned forward to place his forehead on his knees. That was right. Julia was having issues with that obsessed client. Was this him?
All the while, Axel continued to talk: “I’m doing the world a favor. I found this gift and I have to use it. I’ve been walking so long, just need to rest for a bit.” He raised his pant leg to scratch a scabbed knee. “Decided to make this job fun, you know?”
Mikey shifted his weight and then froze. There was a space between the rope and each wrist. It was tiny, perhaps the width of Julia’s smallest finger. But it was enough. Keeping his face hidden against his legs, Mikey turned his left hand to fit into the space of the right. He pulled.
“You’ve gone quiet,” said Axel. He sounded annoyed.
Shit.
Mikey tried to swallow. He raised his head. “Do you want money?” he asked.
Axel’s eyes widened. Rising from his seat, he said: “I don’t want your money. I want to fuck your wife in front of you. I am going to hurt you. Then, I’m going to take her back to where she belongs.”
Mikey’s breathing picked up. He worked his hand halfway free.
Axel continued, stalking ever-nearer. “I like Julia, but this is business. We gotta put her back to the right shape. I searched and searched all over here and there and back again. That’s the thing. I mean, the highways from Washington to New York are lined with my secrets. I’m just passing through your shitty little town. You’re just in the way. I worked so hard and now it’s time for me to have fun.”
One hand was free, the right. Mikey tugged at the left one. To his horror, he realized it was anchored to the pillar. He twisted his wrist.
Axel reached into his belt and retrieved a knife. Mikey warily eyed it. It was long and thin—almost brittle. Ceremonial art wound the hilt. Even from his position, It caught the light and glinted menacingly.
Mikey’s blood ran cold. This was real. Oh, God this was real.
“I’m going to drag her down here and take her apart, piece by piece,” said Axel. Then, quieter, he added, “in the name of Far Dorocha, I will.”
“Stop,” whispered Mikey. He hated how his voice shook, hated how scared he was.
“No.” Axel leaned in. “No, I won’t stop. But I might let you live so you can remember it.” Axel lowered the tip of the knife onto Mikey’s cheekbone. “And I’ll take your eyes,” he continued, “so that it’ll be the last thing you ever see.”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you kiss her goodbye. I just can’t decide whether to let you do it before or after I cut off her head.” He started to laugh.
Mikey was free.
He surged forward. He dove for Axel’s legs and threw him to the ground. The knife went flying. Mikey scrambled for it, but Axel went for Mikey. He grabbed him by the ankle and flipped him. Mikey hastily pushed his knees beneath him and wound up. His right fist slammed into Axel’s jaw.
Mikey could see he’d stunned Axel. He staggered, but immediately righted himself. Fear momentarily settled over Axel’s features. Then, it faded. He grabbed the collar of Mikey’s shirt and yanked him down into a tight guillotine.
Mikey twisted, but Axel squeezed. Mikey stood with Axel still locked in. They slammed into the wall. The stone angel above the doorframe came crashing down. It shattered on the stairs and over the floor.
He’d lost.
Axel heard a loud gulp and smiled to himself. He’d won.
“You stupid fucker,” he panted.
Mikey slowed. He dropped to his knees, arms still weakly attempting to pry Axel free.
Axel released when the other man went slack. He caught his breath on the wall and watched Mikey struggle to regain his senses. With a loud sigh, Axel went to retrieve the knife. “The indomitable human spirit, is what that is,” he said. “But sometimes you just gotta know when to fucking quit!” His punctuated his last two words with kicks to Mikey’s ribs.
Mikey crawled to the shards of stone. Through blood, or sweat, or tears, he made out the right hand side of what had once been the angel’s face. Mikey grasped it.
Axel followed.“Where you goin’, Mikey-boy?” he sang. “Show me what you got.” Axel turned Mikey face-up and pressed his boot down on his wrist.
He noted the stone in Mikey’s grasp. “Oh, this?” He laughed. “This can’t help you now.” Axel squatted. “Your wife has these little guys everywhere, huh?” He picked up a piece of a wing and turned it over in his hands. “Creepy,” he muttered. Then, with a sigh, he bore his full weight onto Mikey’s arm.
Mikey drew a wet, ragged breath and clenched his fist around the stone as hard as he possibly could. Blood welled up and began to seep between his fingers.
Axel watched all this with thinly veiled disdain. He’d grown bored.
He took the blade and, without hesitation, sank it to its hilt into Mikey’s chest. “Oh.” The word left Mikey’s mouth in an exhale, like he’d been punched.
Axel’s blue eyes met Mikey’s brown ones. He shrugged in a matter-of-fact manner. “You’ve done Julia a disservice, Michael,” said Axel.
Axel pulled the knife out.
Axel watched Mikey take several short, sharp breaths—almost as if he were trying to lift something heavy.
Axel pressed his free hand against Mikey’s nose and mouth. “Now, now. It’s time to call it, hm? That’s enough.” The crown of the dying man’s head knocked against the concrete floor. Axel remained like that until he was quite sure Mikey was finished breathing.
Mikey was a problem now solved.
Axel stood up, tapping the bloody knife on his pant leg in thought. He’d hoped the process would be slower. That Mikey could’ve died watching his wife under Axel or his knife. “Pissing husband,” he muttered. He rubbed his ear. “They told me this would be easy.”
Ah, well. With Mikey gone, he could hunt in peace.
The ceiling creaked.
Axel looked up and swallowed a smile. His little fairy was free.
To be continued…
She's back, and in terrifyingly tense top form!
this is so great, it made me late to an appointment