To accept the truth is to accept yourself…
Inside the ivory walls of a cathedral, a lone woman, dressed into grayish robes, knelt at the pew and said her prayers in Latin. Gasping in her folded hands was a beaded necklace with a golden cross at the end. In her prayers, she said for forgiveness of the sins she committed years ago. The memories of them haunted her both day and night. They came to her in ghostly visions and human forms. Everywhere she went, she felt that there were eyes of the damned watching her moves whenever down the chapel or in the marketplace. Each breath or meal she took, she was certain that it would be the last. In the nights, though in the warmth of her covers, she shook in fear that an intruder would break in and shot her dead. Sleep was never a comfort for her. In the depths, she could see children, gentle innocent children with all sorts of tubes sticking into their bodies. A mask was forcefully placed inside their mouths to muffle their screams of agony and suffering. Many died in the process but there was more where they came. One by one, they came into the doors of death, all tricked by honey-coated promises of getting a better lives that was nothing compared to the lives of the lab rats.
The routine was always the same dangling carrot method. Children were brought into colorful decorated rooms with tables over laden with tempting delicacies of chocolates and pastries. Beneath the sugary sweetness was a sleeping drug to weaken their senses and put into an immobile state. Once they were all drugged, the soliders would come in and separate them according to their ages and gender and sent them into the rooms for psychical examination. Those chosen were sent to upper levels while those rejected were sent back elsewhere. To where she did not know since the General refused to tell her. An arrogant bastard he was.
In the upper levels, each child was placed into a body tube with tubes sticking into their bodies. As soon as the tubes were in their places, they injected foreign substances into their weak bodies. Hours would pass by and the reactions would start occurring. Bodies jerking continuously, their hands and legs slamming onto the glass panels, pupils flickering and sometimes, blood leaked out from the openings of the tubes. There were a few that remained still and lifeless in their body tubes. Yet, there were some whose reactions were so violent and terrifying that the doctors had to shut them down in fear of an explosion. The reason for such reactions was so basic but any student could produce. The bodies were rejecting this so-called mutated gene that flawlessly won the heart of the ambitious military general who based his faith upon it.
She never forgot the sight of their bodies, for as long as she lives, the sight chained rooted in the very veins of her mind. In the process of rejecting, the blood vessels rupture in assorted strips of purple and red. The flesh literally exploded from within, so did the stomach, liver, intestinal, bladder… everything. All the gastric juices mixed with this gene made a fiery chain reaction that the poor child was burned up from within. In lightening speed, the eyeballs pop out of their sockets with their retinal veins still miraculously attached. Cracks merged upon the skulls and bits of the brain started to seep out as slimy residue. When the mask was removed, the tongue was burned and the teeth blackened. The mouth gaped opened in its silent scream. It was their only statement of their cry – their cry of justice!
Tears spilled endlessly from her eyes, trembling with rage, she stormed into the General's office and slapped the files into his fat greasy face. Half screaming, she named him a murderer. Stoned and yet, causal, the General shoved her aside and merely said that there were bounds for failure. From these failures, he expected her to learn so that less of these incidents would happen. After all, wasn't it she who created the gene and in-charge of the injecting process? So, who was truly the murderer? Therefore, she herself had to take more safety measures in ensuring the success of the project. She couldn't believe his words and hither to, he was telling the truth.
The murderer was no other than herself. She herself had agreed to take upon the assignment of creating genetically modified humans. What made her do so? Was it the deep yearning and craving to become the first female scientist to invent them? She closed her eyes tighter. The word 'invent' by the holy mother, these children were humans, individual creations of the Maker. Each of them given the breath of life and she insulted Him by degrading them as inventions! Grasping her bead necklace tighter, her prayers became rapid in pace.
By spending hours and excessive calculations on the proportions and the types of techniques, the amount of deaths decreased but it wasn't enough. Everyday, at least 10 children were pronounced dead and every night, her pillows were soaked with her tears. Everyday, she fell upon her knees and begged the Maker to kill her. She didn't care how but just as long Death was willing to take her away. Her pleads fell on deaf ears like the cries of the children. After months of slaughtering, positive results start to peak up. The mutated gene was having less harmful effects and becoming more susceptible towards their biological structure. The outcome was tremendous and breathtaking.
The Âme children were able to do the impossible both psychically and mentally. Trained cruelly by the General himself, they surpassed the obstacles that would take rookies years to master within weeks or a few days. Military strategies, codes, weapons and martial arts, these children learn them all. However, their success didn't wash away the memories of countless failures or the endless nights she spent in reciting the prayers of repentance.
When she felt the storm had passed, she decided to pay a visit to the military camp as invited by the General himself. She was brought into a high tower where the General wished to see her the fruits of success. There, she stood, watching screens that videoed the forest area. A booming rang through the place. A gate opened and a man dressed in bright orange stepped in. Shaking like a frightened animal, his body turning and tossing at his new surroundings. With the usage of a microphone, the General told the man that if he wished to become a free man, he must reach the other end of the forest. Otherwise, he would be dead.
A gunshot was heard and the man leaped and ran into the forest, running as fast as he could, not knowing where he was heading. In fact, deep in the heart of the forest where shattered tree trucks and undergrowth grew, he had no idea where the other end might be. She watched him, running in circles, his whole body in sweat. Then, upon the branches, she saw them. The Âme Children, all slightly grown, in their army crew cuts hair and suits. Like eagles, they swooped down and began to chase their prey, surrounding him, toying him and leading him into their trap. The poor prey was driven to a corner where Doom awaited him.
Like packs of hyenas, they stalked their prey before advancing in for the kill. Like fierce ants, they beat up the man, who was crying and begging for mercy. His cries were so high-pitched that she was rooted and immobile to do anything to save him. Red-hot blood spurted from his body as the Âme Children tore him from limb to limb. Their eyes gleamed at the pleasure of their prey wringing in anguish. Then, one of them, a red-haired kid, the one that the General was highly recommended him to be a great commando leader, took a huge stone and smashed the man's skull with it. Finally, the man's body went limp and still. She turned away, trying her best not to throw up. She neither could breathe nor stand properly. It was too appalling. Once again, the General had made her witness a murder.
Turning around, the next scene horrified her even more. The Âme Children were drinking the dead man's blood, streaking his blood upon their faces like they were glorifying themselves. What did the General do? Nothing. He stood there, laughed and inhaled his disgusting Cuban cigar. Sickened by him, she threw herself upon him and started hitting him. Immediately, the soliders drew her away. The General said nothing but composed himself. Heartlessly, he told her that she should be happy that her inventions were a success.
Lair! She screamed. He had made them into killers. He made them to become salvages.
The General smirked, pulled his collar upwards and warned her to be aware of her alcohol and drugs intake. Alarm? He smirked again. If she wished to keep her job, she better do what she was told to be. Handling a file, he told her that some of the children suffered from severe coughing or rashes upon their arms. Her duty was now to investigate and rectify the causes.
Powerless and in despair, she broke down and wept. She was no longer a scientist; instead she had fallen disgracefully, fallen deeply into the fathom of her worst living nightmare.
She was the mother of the Âme Children
The Mother of Killers.
Her punishment for defiling the will of the Maker.
She held the bead necklace so tight till her knuckles turned white. Her mouth was dried when her endless prayers but she knew it wasn't enough. She must pray, yes, she must for the Maker to have mercy upon her soul. Let it not be condemn into the fiery hells where weeping and gnashing existed. Let it not be given into the hands of the Devil or his minions. Oh please, tears rolled down her face. Please, dear Lord. She begged. Please let not the Maker forsaken her. If there was anything to atone for her past sins, let it come.
Abandonment.
The angels of the Maker had given her that. For there was no one she could turn to for help. Everyone she knew had turned their backs against her or it either she who turned her back. She couldn't go to anyone or anywhere. Recently, the General's assassins killed Gerald's eldest son when he tried to stand up against him. His death was a warning to all. The greatest mistake for Gerald, he should have never accepted the General's proposal in the first place. Yes, it's his entire fault. He's to be blamed for everything, for the misery that his actions had caused.
To run away from the torment of loneliness, she went into the arms of alcohol and drugs prescribed by doctors to crease her illness known as 'depression'. For hours, she spent getting herself drunk into the wee hours of the nights. Waking up in an unknown place or bed, whether she was clothed or not. The drugs numbed her mind and sent her drifting into bliss. Ah! How true that ignorance is bliss! How she ravished the taste. She knew what she was doing to herself.
Self-destruction.
Then, on a dark night, she was drunk, all soaked in alcohol. Her vision was blurred as she held on to the railings of a bridge. She could see something holding out his hands towards her, beckoning her to come closer. It was all in fuzzy white mist, so comforting and appealing. She remembered leaning over the railings, calling out to it come closer to her but it was calling out to her instead. Like an obedient child, she did.
When she awoke, she found herself in soft bed, in the middle of a room, brightened by the morning rays. The light hurt her eyes. Hovering her was a woman. She thought she was in Heaven. But the woman said that though she was the goddess of France, she's still on earth. She recognized that voice and tried to respond but ended in mumbling nonsense. Behind her, she saw a man. Asian looking with very straight teeth, very fair skin, black-cropped hair, wearing spectacles. His voice was deep and smoothing. He came forward and introduced himself.
Seta Sakimoto
What a peculiar name!
Her hands loosened as she gulped in her sobs. He saved her that night that could have been her last. Although he saved her, she wished he hadn't. Why? He asked. I'm a murderess with the blood of innocent children on my hands. She said to him. He shook his head and replied.
Would a murderer weep for his victims?
Seta Sakimoto
Why did you go?
Then, from behind, she heard footsteps approaching her. It wasn't the dreadful thumping of the thick-soled army boots but rather something light and welcoming. Turning around, she saw a fair-skinned young man with seaweed green eyes that spoke of an inner sadness. She inhaled sharply and dropped the bead necklace; her body shrank into the darkness.
"Fideline," said André softly. "It's me, André." Kneeling down.
"André?" Fideline repeated. Her stiff hands reached out into the light and placed gently onto André's face. The fingers fondled the smooth skin. "It is you, André." Throwing herself onto him. "Thank the Lord that they still haven't found you." Looking at him questionably. "What are you doing here? You know very well not to come here."
"I know, Fideline," Holding the nun's hands. "I need your help to bring Âme down. Besides," He covered his hand and began to cough. Showing his bloodstained palm, "There is another urgency."
No further waste of time, Fideline brought the group into her room. After heavily blotted the door and closing the curtains, she turned and faced them. Omi could not help but notice how worrisome she looked. Like a timid and fearful mouse that was constantly at her toes at every strange noise, Fideline was nearly at the edge of a nervous breakdown. Taking in a deep breath, Fideline tried to keep her voice steady.
"Sophie often tell me that our sins would come back to haunt us and I believe the Good Maker has decided that day would be today," Her lips quivered. "Your presence can tell me one thing that has already passed. Sophie is dead, isn't she?"
"Yes, Fideline," answered André, his head lowered. "Gloven killed her."
Fideline chocked back her tears, "His time still hasn't come yet, I suppose. The clock is ticking and there are many things to tell you and your friends. Are you ready to hear?"
"Yes," André hesitated, "and no."
Fideline gave a faint smile, "A truthful answer, my dear child." Tilting her head and pressing her lips together, "Yet, this is what you have to hear. This is the account of what happened before the 1989 shutdown. As you all know, I the one responsible for the creation of the mutated GBG that gave birth to the Âme Children. Many innocent children have died in the process because their bodies have rejected the GBG. Regrettably, the process could be done in a more subtle and painless way." Taking in another breath. "In 1987, 50% of the Âme Children died before they reached their 8th year, that's about 500 children, not including the other hundreds who did not survived the initial stage of the mutated GBG. By the time of 1989 Âme shutdown, 9997 children were pronounced dead. In total, 1457 children died."
"Sonnai (No way)…" Omi burst out. "Gloven actually slaughtered so many children."
"That does not the number of women involved in the Âme project as well."
"Women?" Manx emphasized. Her eyes narrowed.
"Yes, homeless women were also involved. Due Gloven's political power, the police kept their mouth shut," Facing André. "That is why your uncle, Seta Sakimoto came to Nice."
"Seta Sakimoto is my uncle?" André gasped. "He never told me that."
"He couldn't bring himself to tell you or anyone. It was too painful for him. He came down, under his pretence as journalist whose sole duty was to interview Sophie. When in fact, he was looking for his sister, Ai, who came to France as an exchange student in the studies of DNA & genetic chemistry. For months, Seta did not receive word from Ai and was worried. So, he came here to look for her at the University. To his worst fears, Ai had disappeared and was last seen at the library. He made a report to the Japan Embassy but nothing was done. Tracking back to the time, she disappeared. Ai was working as industrial attachment student for Âme"
"Ai has probably been found out about Âme and she was caught," Shella remarked.
"That is correct. She was supposed to be silenced but Gloven had other plans for her," Fumbling for words. "They… they… had her… pregnant."
"Pregnant? Why?" Manx questioned.
"From the results, Gloven came up with an idea to inject the mutated GBG into pregnant women instead of the children. He assumed that the mutated GBG would be able to interact easily with the nucleotides while the fetus is at the development stage, to decrease complications, as he put it."
"But the outcome wasn't what he expected…"
"Yes," Fideline nodded her head like a broken doll. "The outcome was very horrendous."
"Yet, Ai survived," Aya pointed out.
Fideline nodded again. "Ai was the only one who survived but she didn't last long either. She died moments after giving birth to André. I thought André couldn't make it but he did," Tears began to swell at the corners of her eyes. "Till now, the mutated GBG had no effect on him."
"What is this mutated GBG?" Shella held out 3 discs – one with the size of a normal CD-ROM while the other was no bigger than the size of a penny. "I suppose I'm not the only one having this question." Walking closer. "Where's your disc, Fideline? Frère and I have waited almost a decade for the answer."
"Frère? He's still alive?"
"Of course, he is. You train us how to stay alive." She grinned.
Fideline reluctantly placed her hands into her sleeve. "Alright, if this is what you want. Go to my desk and there, you'll find a laptop. No normal laptop would be able to access this save this one."
Shella made a low grunt, walked towards the drawer and took out a laptop no thicker than half an inch. Fideline lifted the cover and sorted the CD-ROM disc into very thin compartment, followed by the 3 penny-sized discs. Within a few minutes, the screen displayed a whirl of ambience patterns, ended by a security window. Fideline typed a few buttons and another display appeared.
Naissance
Âme
Pierre Tombale Longévité
"Welcome to Âme," Fideline moved the move to click the 'Pierre Tombale' section. "In each of the children, we inserted a miniature device to monitor their health status. If they are dead, the names will be red. Those alive will be highlighted in brown. Like this."
Subjet 9374
Subjet 9377
Subjet 9379
"This includes the general information about them."
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Sujet 9374 aka Shella |
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Date de creation |
18th Janvier 1980 |
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Gendre |
Féminin |
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Âge |
19 |
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Emplacement actuel |
Afrique |
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Statut |
Dengereux |
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Chasser |
Général Beniamin Gloven |
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Sujet 9377 aka Frère |
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Date de creation |
12th Juin 1979 |
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Gendre |
Mâle |
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Âge |
20 |
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Emplacement actuel |
Tokyo, Japon |
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Statut |
Trés Dengereux |
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Chasser |
Général Beniamin Gloven |
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Sujet 9379 aka André |
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Date de creation |
22th Aôut 1979 |
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Gendre |
Mâle |
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Âge |
20 |
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Emplacement actuel |
Tokyo, Japon |
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Statut |
Dengereux |
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Chasser |
Général Beniamin Gloven |
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"Wait a minute!" Shella pointed at the screen. "I don't recall this being in the data."
"Âme still has their main headquarters that constantly had their data updated. The discs are equipped with satellite linkage that enables information to be automatically sent to them. The small discs are the ones that hold the data but it lacks the database software to run them. Therefore, this CD-ROM is used. Nevertheless, without either one of them, they are completely useless by themselves. At the 1989 shutdown, we divided the data. Jean Lobe was given the CD-ROM, Nicolas Numasm with 'Pierre Tombale', Phile Raginwald with 'Longévité' and I myself with 'Naissance'. By doing so, we hope that Gloven could never have his hands on them. There were rumours of him creating another project to improve Enchaîné.
"Enchaîné?" André repeated. Suddenly, he fell on his knees and coughed. Bright red leaked out from the folds of his hands. Omi held on to him.
"André, your cough is worsening."
"That's no good," Shella took out a white handkerchief and wiped André's mouth. "His body is beginning to show sighs of rejecting the mutated GBG. Fideline, is there a way to reverse or even slow down the process?"
"I'm afraid there's isn't. Once the body starts to reject, the process won't stop. Soon, the cells in his body will break down one by one and he will continued to vomit blood. If he's lucky, the mutated GBG in him might adapt and modified its biological structure. If not, he'll die."
"Modified? The mutated GBG can modify itself?" Shella gasped in shock. "But how?"
"GBG is originally created by the basic nucleotides – thymine, adenine, cytosine and guanine," Clicking on the Longévité section. "With simple mutation process like radiation and addition of chemicals, the mutated GBG is created. Once injected into the body, GBG combines with the nucleotides, strengthening the hydrogen bonds between them and yet, creating a cobweb bond that joins all the nucleotides, deoxyribose sugar and the phosphate bases. A normal DNA strand is in the formation of a double helix but when combined with the mutated GBG, the strands rearranged themselves into this." The screen displayed a crystal blue model of the strands in twisted and distorted snake-like forms. "We named this Enchaîné DNA and I believe the General is intending to perfect this DNA."
Omi examined the blue luminous shape and unconsciously murmured, "They looked like chains."
"Oui (yes)," Fideline did a cross-like gesture on herself. "That is why we named it Enchaîné DNA. Enchaîné means to be in chains."
"Yes, the chains you people brought them upon us!" snapped Shella, standing up. "Now, tell is the procedures of this Enchaîné DNA..."
Unexpectedly and abruptly, the dark smoke burst out and the laptop sizzled in the electric sparks.
"What the…" Shella grabbed her by the collar and held her high up. "Why did you?"
"While I was explaining to you, I activated the self-destructed system. Now, all the data has been destroyed and this is for the best for everyone. The others would want it that way."
"DAMN YOU!" Shella flung Fideline aside. Manx caught her. "Do you know what you could have done with the data? You could find a cure for André!"
"Whether André dies or not, it is the will of the Maker to decide. I'm a nun now, dedicated to spend my remaining days to prepare my soul when I die. Furthermore, isn't this one of your objectives to bring Âme down or is there any other plans you are not intending to tell me or your comrades?"
"GO TO HELL! You… Argh!!!" Shella cringed as green electric sparks danced around her right arm, knocking down to her knees.
"Shella!" André grabbed hold of her. "Not you too." Placing his hand on her right arm, he gave a cry. "Your arm is burning like fire." Pulling up the sleeve. "What happened to you?"
On Shella's right arm was a grotesque marks darted across the veins, resembling the bark of a rotten tree truck. Whitish steam floated in wisps around the purplish areas, turning into brown then black then brown again. The touch was hot yet clammy. André felt nauseous at the whiff of smoke and burned flesh. Shella said nothing but turned her face away. Fideline sighed and muttered a prayer in Latin.
"Signs of the final stages. The Enchaîné DNA is unable to interact with your skin cells. Once in contact with the natural surroundings like water and air, the DNA ruptures and literally burnt itself on the spot as shown on the purplish areas. To reduce, you have to cover your entire face to void contact. Now, that method doesn't work anymore..."
"I can still bear with it," Shella snapped, "What I couldn't stand is you being a hypocrite! You want to atone for your sins? Well, the bloody first thing, you could do was to find a cure for both André and me! Why did you destroy the data, especially yours? Naissance could be the key to rectify the flaws of the Enchaîné DNA."
"To you? Or someone more dangerous than Gloven? Like Frère?" Fideline unsympathetically spoke. "Naissance is my brainchild and should be used for something for life. Instead Gloven used it for Death! Non! What Naissance is, the secrets will die with me and me alone!"
"Ne fais pas l'idiote!" Shella retorted. "What good will it do to keep silent? Tell us about Naissance and we are to defeat Âme within this week or so!"
"Menteuse (Lair)! Don't think I don't know that you and Frère are in this together!" Fideline's face darkened. "As long as Frère is still alive, it makes no difference. Frère is the nightmare of Âme. He is like a two-headed snake, twisted and bloodthirsty. Tel père tel fils!"
"Aya, what's she saying?" whispered Omi, feeling very irritated at his inability to understand the French nun. Aya hand signaled him to remain quiet.
"Frère has a father?" André looked intently at Fideline. "Wasn't he an orphan?"
"He was meant to be one. In fact, he wasn't to be in this world! Sophie didn't want Gloven to know that he has a son. The Bon Dieu knows that Gloven could never be a father!"
"General Gloven is Frère's maternal father?" André became breathless with disbelief. "I don't believe this. Il doit y avoir erreur (There must be a mistake)!"
"Nope, there isn't any," Shella sneered. "Frère and I overheard Sophie confessing it during the last moments of her life. Gloven was so furious that he shot her."
"You knew?" Fideline's turn to be shocked. "You two were there? Didn't you do anything to stop it?"
"Why?" Shella rolled her eyes. "She isn't my mother. Frère couldn't be the least bothered with it."
"You meant to say that you left Sophie to be killed?"
"Frankly speaking, oui (yes). She deserves it!"
With an outraged cry, André punched Shella in the face and pinned her to the ground. His face inflamed with fury.
"You and Frère are like animals. No matter how much you hate her, you don't have the right to be a god!"
Shella wriggled and yelled back. "Am I supposed to let her get away after the lies she told me? Like a naive little girl, I believed her. I thought I could have a better life than staying in an orphanage. Instead, I was stuck inside body tube with needles sticking inside my body! For days, they inject this Enchaîné DNA into me! Unlike you, I have to experience an endless living HELL! Why should I help her? That bitch deserves it!"
Pushing André aside, Shella flashed bitterness in her cat eyes. "From the start, Frère and I knew that Sakimoto only came for you. Yet, we decided to help you because we wanted to escape as well. At the 1989 shutdown, Sakimoto chose you to come with him to Japan. At that moment, did you think about us? Were we in your thoughts at that time?" Rubbing her right arm. "No, you didn't. You just took his hand and left, leaving us behind." Her voice started to crumble. "Then, I was left alone, alone for the next couple of years."
"Shella…"
"Nevertheless, I didn't blame you. Sakimoto is your uncle. It's natural for kinsmen to look after their own. Not creatures like us. We are diabolic creatures of the damned and anything that is unholy. An abomination to nature." Gazing at André. "That's what we really are and soon, I'll be dead and so will you."
"Save for Frère," spoke up Manx, determining not to be left at the background, fingering her red hair. "I believe he's using the both of you for his own revenge."
"What are you saying?" Shella glared at her. "Frère would never do this to us! We are his siblings."
"Ah! That is what he wants you to believe," Manx stressed. "Knowing that you will be blindly devoted to him, he used you to gather the trifle things he need. After the 1989 shutdown, you two went on your separate ways. Being highly trained by the military, it would be more practical to be constantly moving on the enemy's territory. You went to Africa while he remains at France, compiling all the date he need about Âme & Enchaîné DNA."
Pausing long enough to allow her words to sink in. "If you think that we were just standing like pretty decorations, you were strongly mistaken. The boys and I have come up with reasonable theories but we need to listen your soap opera conversation to confirm them…"
"What…"
"Then, I was left alone, alone for the next couple of years," quoted Manx, taking control of being the sole speaker. "This means that Frère has recently contacted you. He probably knew you are suffering from the final stages of the rejection process and so, decided to make use of you. For the last years, Frère has one thing rooted in his mind. To kill everyone involved in Âme. Gloven, Sophie, The scientists, Sakimoto, André and you."
"To further prove my point, remember the Pierre Tombale section? At the part, Emplacement actuel that should meant actual location literally. Well, the data is slightly outdated. If Âme is really efficient in their updating, shouldn't it state your location at Nice, France?"
"Your point is?"
"Fideline has already said that the 4 discs are satellite-linked to the Âme headquarters and Frère knows this." Shifting her attention to Fideline. "Thus, you'll know what happened when the discs self-destructed. A signal will be given out in seconds but its long enough for the satellite to pick up our location. In other words…"
Roars of army jeeps echoed outside the cathedral. Their headlights shone like hungry hound dogs as the rattling of loading machine guns reverberated with the stomping thuds of heavy boots. Aya and Omi took their position as they unbolted the door. André took Fideline while Manx and Shella led them to another exit.
"It's every man for himself."
Upon the hill above, Frère sat upon a tree stump and nonchalantly watched Gloven and his men surrounding the cathedral. Toying with his pocketknife, he simpered at the prospect of a battle. How ridiculously stupid these humans are? How would André and Shella defeat the remnants of the Âme troops in their current state of health? In addition, it would be rather entertaining to see the amateur Weib assassins to handle military men.
Yes, let them kill each other...
Then, his baby blue eyes caught a glimpse of a nun through the painted glass windows.
Fideline Josette …
Sinister thoughts darkened the baby-blue eyes as the pocketknife straightened itself.
One more thing to deal with before the main prey…
À Suivre