Chapter 1
HAPPY HALLOWEEN HONEYS!
Foreword:
This SPECTER SHORT SPECIAL is best read if you have already completed THE SPECTER SERIES but it isn’t essential.
THE SPECTER SERIES
1. Hunting for Honey
2. Feilds of Clover
3. Broken Hearts & Coup D’etats
4. Secrets of Summer
5. Lace & Leather
6. The Colt & The Cobra
THE BRAVO BOYS
1. Killerwolf
2. Tigerlilly
3. Snake Eater
SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE
1. Red Reaper
SPECTER SHORT STORIES
Halloween Special - ANGELMAKER The Southside Slayer
Christmas Special - Dasher & The Dancer
Valentines Special - Hellfire
1. Alfa
2. Bravo
....
⚠️
WARNING:
This story contains extremely graphic violence and assualt that may be distressing to some, reader discretion is advised.
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B O N E S
The downpour splatters on the windshield and the wipers screech a cyclic song as they swish back and forth, wicking the water from the glass. The glowing yellow stripes marking out the highway lanes that are illuminated by the truck headlights which bounce and dance over the hydroplanes and potholes that pepper the slick asphalt.
There, in her brown leather cowboy boots, clutching her long black coat closely around her, she stands by the side of the road.
Just waiting for me.
With her hip popped out, a bend in her knee and her thumb turned down towards the tar, she looks like a pretty little doll, a mannequin posed so perfectly. Just the way she should be. A vision in daisy dukes and plaid.
The dangerous crimson glow of brake lights illuminates the distance passed behind me as I pull up beside her and she rushes through the rain to the passenger side door, yanking it open to lift her lovely face to peer in at me, not a speck of suspicion to be seen in her hopeful hazel eyes.
Oh yes, those tawny amber eyes that strike a flint in my soul. Eyes so lively and bright filled with vitality and promise.
Eyes I’d like to see wide with fear and stricken by terror with capillaries bursting bloody red.
Eyes I’d like to watch fade to dim, that sparkle seeking to be snuffed out by my strangling squeeze around her elegantly elongated swan-like neck.
“Need a ride?” Playing pretend that I am not a predator I grin at her and she nods in return, with more enthusiasm than a helpless animal like her should even be capable of.
Like Bambi, with her dusty doe eyes and fawn-like grace she tumbles into my truck, dripping wet and graciously indebted to my seemingly benevolent deed.
How can something so beautiful be so fucking stupid?
“You’re a lifesaver!” Bambi exclaims with idiotic ignorance and a sweet southern drawl, wringing out her long honeyed hair over her knees before slamming the door shut behind her, securely sealing her fate. “Good lord, it’s raining the devil and pitchforks out there!”
“Heh, sure is.” I exhale a soft chuckle, reaching out to switch on the heating and she shifts forward in her seat, holding her tiny hands up to the air vents and warming them with a gratified hum. “Where are you headed?”
I figure the least I can do is make her last three winks a little more comfortable. After all, her seconds are fleeting, and I prefer it when my game doesn’t see the kill coming. That perfect little moment of realisation, where the fear takes a hold of them and dread drains the colour from their cheeks, that’s just about the most delicious sight a man can see. And I intend to savour my time with Bambi.
“Darkport.” She smiles at me, all white teeth and way too trusting.
“Tonight’s your lucky night, Bambi.” I lie to the lovely little deer about her fortune while the engine revs and the tyres spin. I turn the truck back out onto the deserted stretch of highway, driving through the darkness back towards the city.
But she won’t be making it to Darkport tonight.
“Bambi?” She giggles, the sound as cute as it is coarse. I hate it and love it at the same time. I love it because it is her last and I hate it because the intent behind it is so polluted. “You’re real sweet, huh? What’s your name, big guy?”
There she goes at record speed, already flirting with me. The woman couldn’t be in any more danger and she hasn’t even considered the fact that she might be sitting right next to a psychopath.
All because I have a handsome face, baby blue eyes and a charming grin, nobody ever sees me for what I really am. Nobody ever suspects. All they notice is what they want to, the image that best serves their expectations.
Brainless blonde bitch.
Women like her deserve the death I bring them.
There’s nothing worse than a whore. She is the infection that plagues this planet. I’ve known so many women like her, sure they play coy and sweet and say the right things while it suits their needs, but sooner or later they all become spiteful. In the end, they all leave.
She doesn’t give a fuck about me. Not really. Nobody does.
“Jason...” I smirk at her in the soft light of the cab while mirroring her interest, glancing over to see the glint of excitement in her stare as it travels down over the swell of my shoulders and chest. “But my friends just call me Bones.”
“Bones?” She giggles again, playing coy now and the trilling titter grates against my patience.. I’d been hoping she’d be different. That she’d be as sweet as she looks and prove me wrong about the female population. But she’s a slut. Just like the rest of them. Here for herself. “Why do they call you that?”
This little whore and her questions are already starting to piss me off. I’m definitely going to kill her, it’s already been decided. I have to. But before I do, I’ll give her the chance to ask me why, since she’s so fucking curious.
“I got no idea, Bambi.” I shrug, keeping my secrets safe and swaying her to spill hers instead.. “What do they call you?”
The doe-eyed darling doesn’t need to know that I got the nickname from my bitch of a mother who found my collection of kitty-cat skeletons when I was a kid, and proceeded to shower me in shame for my natural curiosity. Of course that matriarch of mine had been the first to go as I grew into the man I am today. I had to kill her, simply for the look in her disapproving eyes. She had no right to look down on me the way she did, treating me as if there was something wrong with what I had done to the neighbourhood cats, as if there was something wrong with me.
I had only wanted to learn the intricacies of their anatomy, to know how they moved like fluid, almost as if they were boneless. I only wanted to understand what was inside them.
Women are no different. With their silky swaying and creamy curves, their ways and their wiles confuse me and captivate me. I need to know what makes them move, what causes them to tick. I crave the softness of their form while they lay still and the sticky warmth of their blood as it seeps. There is nothing more beautiful than an unmoving maiden. There is nothing more peaceful than a sleeping seraphim.
And so that is what I make them.
Angels.
“My name is Savannah.” She flicks her soaked sunshine hair back over her shoulder with a prideful smile that portrays all the confidence she carries around with her. “But everybody calls me Savvie.”
I almost choke on the irony of her namesake. For a lost little deer alone in the dark, the girl is anything but savvy. In fact, she’s downright dense.
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