Review this story                                                            Stories # - L | M - Z | Authors

Murderous Rage
Part 2

It’s comforting, having another voice in your head.  I think he thought I would disappear, but I can’t.  I have way too many other things to do.

       He has a long Kheldian (that what they’re called, Kheldians) name that I don’t think there are letters in the English language to represent.  I call him Ric because that’s the only syllable in his name that I can remember.  We (and I have to use that term because whenever my body does something, it’s always with implicit agreement that we both want to do that action) took one look at the gun in our hand.  He’d never seen it before so we examined it.

       Ric’s other host never had such a thing.  Then he showed me what his other host was like.  Seems that some special group out there assigned him this host.  See, a so-called Warshade is a being of perfect darkness, that uses dark and alien technologies to join with a human host.  Warshades exist to kill.  Peacebringers, their so-called enemies, exist to, well, bring peace.  I envision Birkenstocks and organic wild greens everywhere.  This guy that Ric had before, he was a wuss.  Ric couldn’t stand him.  It was like a circle stuffed into a square hole.  It fit, but wasn’t very comfortable.  So the first chance Ric got, he was outta there.

       That first chance was me.  I never realized I thought THAT loud. Ric and the host were driving by on the highway about a mile away.  He picked it up and slammed the car into a Jersey barrier.  Oh well, the host is dead, long live the Warshade!  So Ric became a being of light and sound again, and found me.

       Before Ric even came to this earth, he was slated to be a Peacebringer. Yeah, one of those sweetness and light types.  He was even married.  He had great love for his wife, but she died at the hand of one of the Voids.  Now he pretends to be a hero, but really wants to use humans to kill as many Voids as possible. 

       Of course, I can deal with this.  Murder, death, revenge.  Not a problem to me.  In fact, we both agree that what mine did wasn’t fair. However, to her credit, she never said that I owned her or she owned me.  So she could very well have thought it was okay to screw another man while still sleeping with me.  Maybe she likes breasts against her back, I don’t know.  But murder would have been too easy, that’s true.

       Ric is really smart about murder.  However, most of his knowledge is with Kheldians.  So I figure I’ll deal with it, as we get in the car.  He lets me take over and drive over to the house.  It’s now dawn.  Five a.m.  Only Scott’s out walking his dog.  He waves to me.  We don’t wave back, and I like it, because I can’t stand Scott and his pretty wife and the nice little girl that the pretty wife instinctively pulls toward her, as if she thinks a lesbian is a pedophile. 

       We go to the door, all the locks are locked.  The Warshade doesn’t need a god damn door, but I need to make it look neat.  I unlock them, take the gun out of my back pocket.  I wonder if Scott saw the glint of metal when we turned away from him.  We’ll see, if the cops show up in the next ten minutes.

       Open the door, close it gently.  There’s no way she can be up.  We go up the stairs – Ric’s good at being quiet.  The gun – we stop on the fourth step.  No gun.  Ric isn’t sure about how it would react to what he wants to do, and I know that with what he wants, it won’t work.  Off we go into the wild blue, back to the kitchen.  We set the gun on the table and turn to the knife rack.  You know what’s coming up next.

       Do you know that Kheldians usually work with light and sound?  Knives and guns just aren’t in their repertoire.  However he does have some residual ability from his last host, who liked to carve vegetables into those pretty little shapes, like radish roses, stuff like that.  He pulls out a paring knife and what he told me was a fillet knife.  A knife is a knife, sorry Charlie, can’t tell the difference.

       We go back to the stairs with both knives in our hands.  We can hear her sleeping.  We step inside the bedroom, and we see ourselves in the mirror.  Now, I’ve always been a big woman, tall and broad, the quintessential dyke.  I always carried an extra hundred pounds located around my stomach and hips, but when we turned to glance in the mirror, I saw this body didn’t have that anymore.  It was amazingly thinner.

       We also saw that our eyes were glowing purple, and smoking.  We approached the mirror to get a better look, but the body in the bed stirred and woke up.  “Oh, Angie.”

       We looked at her through the mirror.  “Sarah.”

       Her eyes widened.  The voice that was used was both of ours, a man’s underneath a woman’s, deep and uttered from the chest.  It came out as a near growl, which my own sense was excited to see the expression on her face.  She hadn’t seen the knives yet.

       “We understand that you have cheated on us.”


       We turned to face her, and there was no doubt that she could see the purple smoke coming out of our eyes.  We grinned, and we threw something at her, what looked like a purple spiked ball.  It encompassed her, and she struggled against it – she was glued to the bed. 

       “No longer shall you attract the males you so desire.”  We held her head still even as she struggled, and the paring knife was in our hand first.  We held it for a moment, I think he was waiting to find out if I had any qualms about this.  I didn’t.

       We started flaying her face off.

       To make up for the alleged incident, we took our ability to the streets and apprehended a few token Skulls and Vahzilok.  Ric rubbed off on me because before I was terrified of walking the streets, but with his power filling this body, I felt just as ruthless as he did.  Often, I don’t know where I end and Ric ends, but maybe this will help me figure it out – Ric allows me exclusive use of the body every once in a while, just to see how humans are supposed to act.  During those times the purple glow from my eyes fades into my pupils.

       Shadowstar, the Warshade liaison, found out about the little cut-up.  Oh, Sarah’s still quite alive.  I think she’s on her fifth skin graft operation.  Shadowstar gave us a stern talking to, then smiled.  “I still have to punish you.”

       “We understand.”

       “It is very unusual that the host and Kheldian both work together.”

       “Yes,” we replied.  “We agree on many things.”

       “And what you do not—“ she said his long and complicated name, “will assert.”

       My ass, I thought, and we chuckled.  So we got ourselves stuck with 5000 hours of community service.  But every once in a while we go above and beyond, and. . .well, we get even more.  Keeps us legal. 

    Review this story