Tracing Evil: the Web

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Tracking Evil: The Web Pt. 05

Chapter One:

"Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames." -

Abu Ali al-Hassan ibn al-Hassan ibn al-Haytham

Through a narrow gap in the bedroom curtains, the light of a new day streamed into the room. The still feeble bar of sunshine fell across Erica's eyelids, rousing her from her deep sleep. She kept her eyes closed, her body still. Not that there was any chance she'd manage to fall back asleep, but she didn't want to disturb the man spooning her from behind.

She'd forgotten to close the window fully last night and now the hum of traffic from the streets around her building was carried into the small bedroom on a chill breeze. Her mind was still dull from slumber but Erica had a dim recollection of Rufus opening the window, trying to cool both himself and Erica off after a strenuous bout of sex. The heat and sweat they'd generated was long gone now and she could feel her pale skin rising in a myriad of goose pimples, the cold air licking her flesh with each gentle gust of wind carried through that partially opened window.

An inarticulate groan of displeasure from behind her told Erica that Rufus was now awake as well. Free to move, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sitting upright and kneading her eyes free of the sleep that clung to the corners. The next groan was her own, her body heavy and aching in places. More than once in the three weeks or so since Rufus had moved into her apartment, Erica found herself regretting settling for a place with such a small bed in it. She stood up, moving towards the window, leaning on the bottom of the frame so that it snapped back down to shut with a

crack

, silencing the world outside and cutting off the cold air. It was still early, no pedestrians out and about on the street below, most of the traffic that was moving were delivery vans and trucks. Erica ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, letting her fingers sweep to the back of her neck where they probed at the stiffness she found there.

"Mornin' babe," Erica heard Rufus grunt from the bed behind her. She turned to flash him a smile.

"Hey," Erica said. Rufus hadn't stirred, still ensconced beneath the duvet on the bed, but Erica didn't need any reminding to be able to form a picture in her mind of his powerful body that lay hidden from view. He might have had nearly two decades more years on the clock than she did, but you'd be hard pushed to tell given his vitality. Without fail, he'd fucked her every day since they'd met. Not a quick, fumbling, five-minute-long effort either. No, he'd put the time and effort in, a couple of hours at least of kissing, teasing, sucking, licking, pounding and shafting. If he had the same energy and diligence in his work ethic, then Erica was sure he'd make a success of putting his criminal past behind him. His friend, Fifty, had arranged for a job for Rufus on a construction site, and he hadn't missed a day yet. When he'd return each evening, work clothes dirty, Erica would find herself continually amazed that he had the energy to take her to the bedroom almost as soon as he'd kicked his boots off, where he'd then fuck her with a passion... no, not a passion. He'd fuck her with an

intensity

that would leave her sated and spent. It was almost as if he spent those eight hours of work sleeping and gathering his strength instead.

Speaking of strength and vitality...

Rufus flipped the duvet back, exposing his dark flesh to the chill of the room and the heat of Erica's eyes. He was already hard. Part of Erica, a small part, wanted to groan in frustration. His staying power put her in mind of the battery ad with the bunny that 'kept going, and going'. It wasn't that the sex was bad, one hundred percent the opposite! It was just that she found herself losing so much time either being fucked, recovering from being fucked or anticipating being fucked... she wasn't doing as much as she could trying to generate a lead on the organized group of killers hunting her and her friends. Still as he rose to his full height and walked towards her, it was as a lion padding towards a gazelle.

Unlike an African antelope, oblivious to the approach of a predator, Erica was aware and aroused by Rufus's drawing closer to her. She swept her hair back behind her left ear, her finger grazing the silver ear cuff she now wore. It had been a gift from Rufus about a week ago. Engraved on it was XLVII, the Roman numerals for forty-seven. When Erica had asked him about it, he'd just said it had meaning for him, religious meaning. She hadn't questioned him further; just happy he'd bought her something.

"Mornin' babe," he said again as he drew level with her. He pulled her in and up, strong hands settling beneath the curve of her firm ass, so that Erica wrapped her legs around his waist as her lips settled into a soft kiss on his mouth. He fed his cock into her, Erica feeling its hardness shrugging its way past the confining walls of her tight pussy to slide deeper inside. He carried her across the room, out through the door. Each step allowed his big black cock to shift within her, deeper and deeper as she was stretched to his massive dimensions.

There was a pause, Rufus holding onto her one-handed while he switched on the shower, giving it a minute for the water to heat up. They hadn't fucked in the shower since... Ben maybe? Since he'd started his construction job, Rufus had brought a 'friend' back to join them in bed three times. All hard faced, tough looking men. Ben had been a white guy in his thirties, reminding Erica of Martin, the bouncer from O'Malley's Bar and Grill

* see Tracking Evil: The Web Pt.01.

A week later, it had been Luis, Mexican, broken toothed and utterly incapable of hiding his contempt for her as he'd fucked her. The last had been Saquon. Younger than the other two, he'd creeped Erica out more than even Luis had. Something about his eyes. Flat, dead almost, showing nary a glimmer of emotion. Even screaming in orgasm beneath his pounding body, his black hands pinning her arms to the bed, Erica had felt something off about him. When he'd left, she'd been glad to get into the shower, scrubbing at her flesh as if his touch had somehow infected her. One thing she knew for sure, this construction crew seemed to have more than its fair share of malevolent characters. Hopefully Rufus could find another job soon, their influence on him couldn't be positive.

The water now hot, Rufus set Erica onto her own feet, both then stepping into the shower. It was probably the best thing about the apartment, it certainly felt roomier than the bed they shared. As the water spilled over them, fresh and invigorating as a tropical waterfall, they found their mouths drawn to each other again, kissing with serene urgency while each soaped up the other's body. Erica felt the cheeks of her ass brush the panel of the shower enclosure, finding herself leaning back as Rufus's mouth found the crook of her throat, one hand groping at a breast so that it chafed, her nipple burning to be sucked on.

He turned her around, Erica lifting herself up on her toes as her Black Daddy pushed his cock back inside her. Her forearms flattened on the glass door that already had a mask of steam settled upon it. Strong hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he began to shove his cock inside her fast and hard. Even with that, Erica rocked forward with each thrust. As Rufus put more of his strength into it, she found her sensitive tits squishing against the glass panel. This set her nipples aflame, cool surface of the glass notwithstanding, Erica moaning loudly.

"Ohhh, ohh yeah, yeah, oh, oh God... uhhh," she groaned, hot water spilling down her face and over her lips that were parted as she panted from the deep stabs of his cock.

"Still so fuckin' tight," Rufus observed.

Sometimes when Erica was alone, she'd think about Rufus. Think about how he'd look at her, what he'd say to her, especially during intimate moments like this. It was never the words themselves; more the inflection he gave them. Something would strike her as being 'off'. However, Erica tended to put this down to paranoia and guilt. She had a right to be paranoid certainly and the fact that she was screwing the father of the man who'd been sent to kill her baby, using the son's death as part of her way to interpose in Rufus's life... she'd definitely earned the guilty feelings that plagued her. She'd sought Rufus out; he might have come on to her but she'd reciprocated. Whatever 'itch' she'd feel about his intentions, it was her issues and not his that were the seeds of her misgivings, Erica had decided.

"Squeeze them, squeeze my tits," Erica moaned. He lifted a hand from her hip, draping the arm over her shoulder so he could paw at her tit.

"Harder," Erica sobbed, an orgasm imminent.

Rufus plucked hard at her nipple, a shudder running through Erica from her toes to her head as he did.

"Uuuuuhhh, fuuuuccckk.... Cumming, uh, cumming..." she moaned, head tilting back so that the spray of water from above went directly into her open mouth.

"My slut," Rufus growled, releasing her tit only to pound heavily into her again. Erica's ass slapped wetly against his rock-hard stomach as he went deep.

"Your slut," she panted in agreement.

"All mine," he said, persisting in staking his claim.

"All yours, just yours," Erica answered, legs trembling as a second climax rolled through her body.

"That's right, felt you cummin' again, let's get number three 'fore I shoot ma load in ya," Rufus said, a shiver running through Erica, that damn tone of voice again. Then it was all throbbing tits, convulsing pussy and hard, so hard, black cock... Erica focusing entirely on achieving that third orgasm.

<<0>>

"Runnin' late, cya tonight baby girl," Rufus said, pulling his cock slowly out of Erica's pussy, a dribble of sperm oozing from the tip until the water from the shower whisked it away. He left the water running, Erica leaning in rapturous immobility against the shower wall as Rufus stepped out. He grabbed a towel, drying himself even as he began walking back to the bedroom to dress. Erica was still letting the aftershocks of her last orgasm wind their way down as the door to the apartment slammed shut, Rufus heading off to work. Another five minutes passed before Erica shook herself from her sexual stupor, turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around her waist. She stood in front of the mirror, looking herself in the eye, chiding herself for her actions these last weeks. She needed to pull herself together, get back to work. This thing with Rufus, good as it was, it wasn't the end game. Maybe... maybe something could come of it but she wasn't sure how. She'd told the poor man so many lies. However, any relationship with Rufus, or any truth telling, would have to wait. The goal was getting her family back together. Her daughter, her parents, Arlene, Shondra... even crazy Denisa.

Rufus had given her some clues as to who might have been the one who had turned his son Theo into an agent for The Web. It had been a rough description, but Erica had hoped it would lead to a suspect. And it had. When she'd managed to keep her head clear, Erica had already dug through the prison records, looking for a match and she'd found five. Five men who matched the physical description, approximate age and incarceration periods that Rufus had supplied her with.

That wouldn't have posed an obstacle if she'd had back up to help track down these men, all of whom were no longer in that Correctional center, but she didn't, she was alone. One had been released and was near her in Dayton. Two had been moved out of state on Federal charges, one to Texas, one to West Virginia. Another had apparently missed the last two meetings with his parole officer, so God knows where he was. The last was dead, killed in a hit and run a week ago.

All that tracking had involved accessing prison files, police reports, and probation systems. She'd picked up contacts and skills these last two years and under normal circumstances it would have taken her a day, maybe two, to get that all done. With the distraction of Rufus, it'd taken almost three weeks.

Erica, thinking about this and the challenges involved in tracking down the four surviving suspects, wiped a hand across the mirror, breaking her gaze. Rufus was so good to her, maybe too good. She'd barely left the apartment since he'd moved in, the ex-con taking care of everything, shopping, running errands... leaving her with nothing to worry about but getting pleasured to the nth degree by his insatiable cock. She needed to break the cycle.

She opened the cabinet, reaching for her birth control pills. Opening the box, she found only one remained. Erica popped it into her mouth, putting her face under the faucet to get some water to wash it down. There was something to do, she'd need to pick up a new box of contraceptive pills today. Even as she decided this, Erica spotted an unfamiliar box on the shelf inside the cabinet. Picking it up she saw it was a fresh box of pills. Rufus had anticipated her needs. That gave her a conflicted feeling, his influence on her was so great now, happening so quickly. Should she be afraid or excited by how well he was taking care of her?

<<0>>

A few blocks over, Rufus left a Starbucks, clutching a Grande coffee cup in his hand. The apartment the organization had acquired for him was another twenty minutes' walk. That was inconvenient but necessary, lowering the risk of Erica somehow stumbling on him entering or leaving it. As soon as he got there, he was due to call his boss, the Spider.

Most of his progress reports had been sparse on actual 'progress' as lurid descriptions of his sex life were of little interest to the head of a network of serial killers. Well... that wasn't strictly true. The Spider had notified him on three occasions as to the presence of a killer in the city. Each time, Rufus had been directed to bring his fellow member of The Web back to Erica's apartment. She thought they were co-workers of his from the construction site, having no clue to their real identities. Not much unnerved Rufus, but the dry, crackling sound of the old man's laughter down the phone as Rufus reported on Erica being fucked by these men made his blood run cold. The Spider took enormous pleasure in learning how Erica whored herself out to the same killers she'd vowed to bring to justice. That it was only down to her ignorance of the facts made no matter, he'd still wheezed out his congratulations to Rufus as soon as his mirth had come under control.

Today there was something new to pass along, Rufus finally able to confirm that Erica's birth control supply was exhausted, as of tomorrow she'd be taking pills provided by The Spider's Pharma company that were as useful at preventing pregnancy as an aspirin.

The Spider wouldn't be the only one happy about this, Rufus was tiring of the game himself. Oh, the young reporter had a body that could provide endless pleasure, but he'd prefer to see fear in her eye when she looked at him, not adoration. Still, completing his task, breeding her, would raise his stock in The Spider's eyes and that was all for the good. Rufus had even marked her after a fashion. He bore forty-six tattoos on his body, one for each kill he'd made. Erica wore the number forty-seven now, a victim of a type regardless of her ignorance of it. How long would he allow that ignorance to last? Even he wasn't sure. Perhaps once she'd fallen pregnant, he might reveal his true nature or then again, he might wait until the child arrived before ripping it from her arms to be raised to follow their father down a dark path. Then he'd see the fear in her eyes, knowing she was to spend her life as a broodmare for killers. Reflecting on these dark thoughts, Rufus's face cracked into a rare smile, one that a passerby automatically responded to. Another time he might have followed that person, a brief reckless kill to assuage his ever-present needs. Instead, he took another drink from his cup; its dark, cold contents matching his true nature.

Chapter Two:

"...it is precisely facts that do not exist, only interpretations..." - Friedrich Nietzsche

The bedroom had a TV in it. Fifty-five inches of 4K Ultra HD technology, delivering an image that was stunning in its clarity and sharpness. Its flickering light threw up interesting shadows in the room but nobody was that interested in what it showed. The volume had been turned almost all the way down, only a murmur being produced from the sound bar beneath it. Not that anyone was listening.

Shondra and Trent had been travelling with the two babies, spending no more than a week in any location. Even that started to build towards a pattern, therefore Trent had proposed splitting up for a week to change up their routine.

Right now, Trent and the two children were staying at the beach front property of Trent's former company sergeant, a man called Herb Carson. The grey-haired former soldier had been the first one to recognize the potential in the raw recruit that Trent had been on entering the army. It was under this man's tutelage that Trent had learned not only the skills that could kill a man, but also the patience to find an answer to a problem, the ability to influence others to follow your lead with that same answer and the strength of character to see the job through to the finish. It seemed fitting that on finishing his time in the Army, the grizzled veteran had then become a lottery winner allowing his wife Bernice and him to retire in style.

Trent's former sergeant and his wife, grandparents as they were, had been insistent that the children come with them for the week. To continue to do the unexpected, Trent had opted to travel with the children as well, it was more likely that anyone looking for Shondra would expect to find her travelling with the children. So, while Trent sat around in the lap of luxury, not even having to lift a finger to look after the kids, Bernice was taking huge joy in pampering them. Meanwhile, Shondra was hiding out at the Carson's family home in Springfield Massachusetts.

That should have been fine, Shondra was content enough for a little 'me time' and the house was tastefully if inexpensively furnished, so it wasn't like she was slumming it. Yes, it should have been fine, only for the fact of Herb and Bernice's grandsons' stopping by unexpectedly for a visit.

The ringing of the doorbell had dragged Shondra from the bed she'd been lounging on, watching TV with the sound turned down, wearing just a bathrobe after a relaxing mid-morning bath. When Shondra had opened the door to the two young men, there had been confusion and some not so very veiled threats on both sides. However, a quick text to Herb had cleared things up for Lee and Robert. Twins, though not identical, Shondra didn't know the men's parents, but she could see echoes of their Grandmother Bernice in their easy smiles and more than a touch of their grandfather in their piercing green eyes. Coupled with their tousled blonde hair, they'd appeared younger than their nineteen years at first, Shondra having little doubt she had the measure of them despite being barefoot and wearing just a robe.

Two days without Trent and Shondra had already found herself slipping back a little into her more aggressive state of mind. When the two young men had accosted her on the doorstep, demanding to know why she was in their grandparent's home, Shondra had found herself evaluating how best to close the distance between her and them in order to strike at throats, crotches, eyes, nose. The moment she understood the knife edge she was standing on; how close she was to unleashing a world of hurt on the two teenagers made Shondra check herself. Even as the two young men had muttered apologies to her, now that they'd received a stern email from their grandfather, Shondra was only half listening, thinking instead on how much she'd come to rely on Trent's calming influence. Coming so close to maiming the two young white men made her realize she missed her Boo.