Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, which kinda sucks because I'd be able to pay off that damned student loan if I did. I'm not making any money off of this, which also sucks because of the aforementioned student loan. I don't own the town of Lennoxville, Quebec (which is, incidentally, a real place), or anything, really, in this story.
Chapter 8:
Note to self, Claudette admonished herself as she attempted to shake the stars far enough from her field of vision that she could pick herself up off the floor of her apartment's living room, next time, check the peephole before you open the door. That was the problem with living in a town where the most serious crime ever committed was jaywalking. It gave you too much faith in the good nature of your fellow man.
Or fellow woman.
Maria stood over her, her body tensed to strike, her fists clenched as they hung at her sides. Anger, white hot, radiated from every square inch of her body, oozed from every pore.
"Hi, Claudette," Maria's voice was steady, calm. Perhaps that was what scared Claudette the most. She didn't sound angry in the least. If Claudette hadn't been able to see her face, she would have sworn Maria was discussing a topic no more inflammatory than the weather, "how was your night?"
"Maria?" Claudette forced her ears to believe what her eyes had already told her to be true.
"C'mon Claudette, I didn't hit you that hard."
That much was true. If Maria had hit her as hard as Claudette knew she could, she doubted that she'd be alive, much less conscious.
"Care to explain to me why I came home empty-handed tonight?" Maria's voice didn't so much as waver.
And in a single, terrifying moment, a single thought pushed its way through Claudette's consciousness: she knows.
On that account, Maria very quickly left no doubt: "You managed to bribe the location of every camera, every electric eye and every security device security device in that building out of whoever you had to bribe them out of, and you somehow forgot that the whole floor was wired with motion detectors?" Maria stepped slowly into the room, allowing the apartment's metal door to swing shut behind her, "feel free to join the conversation any time now."
"I don't know what you're…"
Maria held up a hand, "I'd think very carefully about finishing that sentence, Claudette. I warned you once that you wouldn't like what happened if I caught you lying to me again." Still, she hadn't so much as raised her voice.
"What do you want from me?" In spite of her efforts to the contrary, Claudette's voice trembled.
"Let's start with 'why'd you do it?'"
Claudette almost laughed, "you terrorize me and my family, you beat up on my daughter, you threaten to kill all of us on a regular basis, and you wonder why I decided to remove you from the equation?" She pulled herself to her feet, looking Maria evenly in the eyes.
"Yeah, since you brought me into the equation in the first place."
"Before I knew you were a murdering psychopath, I was willing to give you the benefit of doubt." Claudette's voice hardened, "you make a big deal about the state of Virginia trying to kill you. Why do I find it hard to believe that you didn't deserve it?"
Claudette didn't even see the strike coming, not that she could have done anything if she had. It slammed into her left cheekbone, snapping her head hard to the right. Maria hadn't put enough force behind it to actually knock her out, but it was more than enough to stun her, dropping her undignified to the apartment floor.
"Mom?" Maria's eyes snapped up to the bedroom door she hadn't even seen open. Geneviève stood just inside the living room, a shocked look on her face.
"Geenie, stay back." Claudette's voice was soft, but stern. "Get back in your room."
Élodie had appeared in the doorway, her right hand resting on the door frame. She couldn't see the scene before her, but she somehow knew that something wasn't right. She was forcibly restraining the youngest daughter (Maria couldn't quite remember her name), trying to keep what was already an uncontrollable situation from escalating.
For the briefest of instants, Claudette saw the stone-carved features of Maria's face soften, only slightly. Maria was not attractive by most people's definition, and Claudette found herself wondering whether that might not be to some degree related to whatever history floated behind her dark eyes. Maybe if Maria had been shown a little love, a little tenderness in her past, Claudette would see a very different woman standing over her right now.
"Mom!" Geneviève rushed forward, cradling her mother in her arms. "What have you done to her!?" She demanded, her motions frantic, panicked. She gently ran her fingers along Claudette's cheekbone where Maria's last punch had landed, "you've moved up to beating up defenseless women now? Blind girls too easy for you?"
"Hey!" Élodie bristled.
"Not now, Elle," Geneviève turned to snap at her twin. "Get out," she told the intruder.
"Geenie, maybe we should…"
"Shut up, Elle," Geneviève snapped again, not bothering to look at her sister this time. "Get out," she repeated, more forcefully this time.
"You're twelve," Maria looked down at the young girl, "you really think you can hold me back?"
"No," Geneviève shook her head, "but just how many cops do you think it'll take to take you down? How long do you think you can hold out after one 911 call?" She helped her mother back to her feet, "if I were you, I wouldn't be so eager to find out.
"I think it's time you left," Claudette finally spoke again.
"Walk out, or have the police drag you out. Make your choice." Geneviève's features where hard.
"Geenie, I think that maybe…"
"Elle, shut up."
"But…"
"Elle."
Élodie shut up, knowing that there was no way she was going to win this verbal sparring with her sister.
For a long moment, Maria looked as though she was going to try to beat her way through the twelve year old and her mother. For an instant, Claudette was terrified that they'd pushed her to the point of a rampage.
Then, in an instant, it was over. Maria spun around, ripped the door opened and stormed out of the building.
Claudette sank into the living room couch.
"God, mom, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Claudette replied, "she didn't hurt me."
"Why'd you send her away!?" Élodie's voice demanded.
Geneviève gaped, "you're kidding, right?"
"She's not a bad person, she's just… confused."
"Not a bad person?" Claudette piped up, "she's terrorized this family; she's beaten up half the people in this room, yourself included; and she's killed at least two people that we know of."
"And one of the people she beat up thinks that sending her away isn't the right thing to do," Élodie retorted, "doesn't that earn me any points?"
"No," Claudette replied, "I'm the mother, I make the call."
"Élodie's right." Adèle's voice was barely audible, even in the quiet of the tiny living room.
"Oh, you wanna weigh in on this, now?" Geneviève turned to the youngest sister, "fine. Tell me why we should keep a sociopath around the house." Geenie's amazing propensity for using big words was matched only by the fact that she actually knew what they meant.
"'cause she needs us," Adèle whispered, "she just doesn't know it yet."
xxxxxx
It was still a couple of hours before sunrise as Maria sat leaning up against the red brick wall behind the depanneur at the corner of Queen and Belvidère.
She'd led a life best described as hellish. Just over a month ago, she'd walked to what she thought at the time was certain death. She didn't even waver. She'd beaten one man to death with a baseball bat to get herself on death row; a week after her failed execution, she'd broken another's neck with her bare hands; and neither one phased her.
So why was she shaking uncontrollably almost an hour after a single verbal lashing from a twelve-year-old? Why was the distain of one child tearing her apart?
She drew in a tremulous breath, and tried to release it in something resembling a controlled manner. She failed. Quite miserably, in fact, and instead found herself sobbing, kneeled in the filthy alleyway.
If I wanted to kill you and your mother, do you think for one instant that you could stop me?
Shut up.
You just think about what you've done.
Shut up.
You're worthless, and you're never going to be any good to anyone.
Shut up!
You're just a stupid little girl. You think that you can stop me?
Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!
"Slayer."
It took her a moment that the voice hadn't come from one of the demons in her head, and she looked up at the owner of the voice just in time to receive a massive fist generously applied to the bridge of her nose. She fell backwards, her back slamming into the cold asphalt as blood poured from her nose, running messily down her cheeks and into her hair. She was pretty sure she heard a loud crunch with the impact. Her nose felt broken. She looked up, trying to get a clear view of her assailant.
Assailants, actually. She could see three of them.
But they weren't… They were huge. Gigantic muscular arms arched down from their shoulders, terminating in a pair of enormous fists. Their sunken eyes glowed red in the darkness, and from the sides of a head best described as colossal grew a pair of long, curving horns. Bony protruded all over their bodies, and their skin was dark and scarred.
They were… They weren't human. They were something else.
That was the last coherent thought that passed through her mind, and a single fist slamming brutally down at her face was the last thing she saw before the darkness pressed in.