Author's 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. All characters engaged in sexual acts are above the age of 18.
Tracking Evil: The Web Pt. 06
Chapter One:
"All sacrifice and suffering is redemptive. It is used to either teach the individual or to help others. Nothing is by chance." -
A.J Russell
Arlene found herself nervous and on edge, which was a sensation she hadn't felt for a while. Even this morning, while trying to evade a hit squad of serial killers long enough to make a deal with a gang of criminals, she hadn't felt nervous. Pissed off and angry with the killers, check. Annoyed and then horny with the criminals, double check. But not nervous, not even a little bit.
She'd thrown up some new walls around her emotions after Theo's betrayal, the cement binding the bricks in these walls hardening towards permanency the longer she found herself adrift and alone without her friends. That morning though, things had changed. It wasn't the negotiations with the gang, which had been fraught with danger before ever they took on a deadly aspect once she'd had to execute those three men set on taking her against her will.
No, it had been the mind-blowing sex. Mindless rutting with multiple men whose existence meant less to her than the addict she'd passed by on the street. For the drug addicted young man she'd felt the slightest pang of sympathy. For the seven young men who she'd pleasured with her mouth and hands at first before they'd sped things up by using her pussy, she felt zero emotion towards any of them.
Except.
Except somewhere in the middle of all that cock and pleasure, she'd felt wanted again. It wasn't the same as when Erica, Shondra or Denisa needed her help or just wanted to hang out with her. It was certainly not the same as the desire and love she'd allowed herself to feel for the young black man Theo, right up to the point when he'd tried to kill her best friend. It was carnal, base and bestial, the rudest form of want and need. And it had felt good.
So now she was standing outside a house where one of those gang members lived with his family. DeVante. He'd whispered an offer to her, to come to his place where he and his brothers, even his father, would take care of her sexually. In the rush of the killer's attack, she'd set aside any such thoughts. Though not entirely planned out, she'd still managed to orchestrate a reason to get his cell number. Showering back at her place, smudges of dried semen sticking stubbornly to parts of her, Arlene had no intention of taking it further. As she'd made herself a meal, her hands had trembled as the adrenaline rush finally passed and the full import of her killing three men had taken hold.
She'd cried then, sitting on her kitchen floor, clutching half a tomato and a slice of bread, both of them squeezed into inedible chunks by hands that felt soaked in blood. As the tears slowed, Arlene knew she needed to feel something good, even if there was no more substance to it than could be found by two dogs coupling in the street. She needed something to allow her to sleep that night and so she'd called DeVante to take him up on his illicit offer.
Considering that only a few hours before he'd watched as she cut the throats of three men, he was unfailingly polite when he took her call, perhaps even nervous as he stammered out his address. Now though it was her turn to be nervous, a moment to second-guess her decision.
"Fuck it," she said aloud, and her finger jabbed out to press the doorbell. The door opened immediately and Devante, tall, broad and black stood before her. He was expecting her of course but now she worried had he witnessed her nervous indecision as she'd stood outside. To compensate and regain some control, Arlene didn't acknowledge him, simply pushing her way into the house, the young man stepping back quickly so as not to hinder her entry.
"Hey," he said, the nervousness apparent now as he worried at the back of his neck with one hand. "I-I didn't know if you were gonna show."
"I said I would, didn't I?" Arlene answered brusquely. She shrugged off her leather jacket, looking around for somewhere to hang it before simply tossing it onto the end of the banisters of the narrow stairwell.
"Yeah, yeah you did. I know... I just..." he tailed off, knowing anything he said would sound weak and the part of him that had driven him to become a violent thug in a gang couldn't stand appearing so weak, so uncertain. If it wasn't for the fact that he'd seen Arlene kill as dispassionately as she had, his attitude could well have been far different.
"Anyway, my Pops ain't here yet, he'll be home later but my brothers are around," DeVante moved ahead of Arlene, leading her towards the back of the house. It was nice, neat, and clean; clearly DeVante's mother worked as hard at keeping it that way as the four men living there sought to undo her work. With their mother away, Arlene could tell that housekeeping wasn't a priority for anyone else as she saw a few empty pizza boxes haphazardly thrown on the floor as she walked into the living room at the back of the house. A murky sense of smoke hung in the room. Not enough to make the air hazy but certainly enough to assail her nostrils with the scent of tobacco and weed. A big screen TV sent flashes of color into the darkened room; the blinds closed against the evening light. A big L shaped couch, positioned for the best view of the TV was occupied by two young men, DeVante's brothers, and a young black woman.
"This is Emmit and Fess, my brothers. That's T'Jae, Fess's girl." The two men, younger than DeVante, shared their brother's brutish looks. Even sprawled on the couch they looked to be as tall and well-built as their big brother and with the same flat nosed, broad faces. Neither spoke but Arlene certainly had their full attention tips of tongues licking full lips that had suddenly gone dry, hands still clutching the controllers of their gaming console, the game itself forgotten. The woman beside them looked at Arlene with a heavy-lidded vacant expression, seeming half asleep, her head lolling slightly as Fess shifted his weight on the couch.
"Don't mind her, she's wasted, 19-year-old and her ass always high," DeVante said, catching the direction of Arlene's gaze. Arlene didn't mind her, but she was wondering if she made the right decision coming here. She let her gaze travel around the room, noting the pictures on the wall, the absence of dust, all of which spoke to their mother's touch. She also noted the empty beer cans, ashtray overflowing with the remnants of spliffs, at odds with their mother's efforts. Speaking of the lady of the house, Arlene looked at a family photo, large and framed on the wall behind where Emmit and Fess sat. Their mother appeared to be dainty, delicate-featured, so clearly the three young men had taken after their father. That parent wasn't as clear to make out, an unfortunate glare from the TV obscuring much of his presence in the photo but Arlene could see he was tall with a powerful looking build, like his three sons.
Her silence had obviously gotten to DeVante, less so to his brothers who continued to leer at her. Either they were as wasted as the girl or DeVante hadn't shared what he'd seen her do, but these two young men didn't have the fear and respect for her that their sibling did.
"Sorry D, lemme clean up a bit for your guest an' all," Fess said. He stood and pulled T'Jae to her feet where the young woman immediately slumped as her legs gave way beneath her. Her boyfriend didn't let her fall though, Fess wrapping an arm around her waist and half led, half dragged her out of the room past Arlene and DeVante. A moment later Arlene could hear the clump, clump, clump as T'Jae's feet slapped listlessly against the steps as she was taken upstairs. Beside her, DeVante stood awkward and unsure of himself. When he'd been fucking her, he'd been all mouth and cock. That was before he'd seen Arlene in action however. Her ruthlessness and ability to cow his gang earlier had given him a fresh perspective and left him unsure of how to act. Again, not what Arlene was looking for right now.
She heard Fess descending the stairs when a cell phone buzzed, DeVante grimacing at the fresh interruption as he pulled his phone free from his sweats to check the newly arrived message. The grimace on his brutish face deepened as he read.
"Fuck. Fuckin' idiots," he swore.
