Dst – Chronicles of Malignant Mercies Pt12 (2/2)

Now free of the obstruction of milling partygoers, he traversed the hall in a quick walk, gazing at doors as he passed them, uncertain where he might have gone. At that moment a door ahead of him closed audibly, drawing his eyes and a sly smile to his lips. With a subtle swagger added to his stride, he closed in upon the door, feeling excitement already as he opened it and stepped inside.

The room inside was no more than a small meeting room, windowless and bereft of furniture save for a long table and chairs around it. And she, standing at the opposite side of the table, facing toward him. In this moment, free of distraction, he allowed himself to take in her details. The pale, porcelain of her skin, the moist ruby of her lips. The quaint elfin lines of her figure. Her dress was a modest, yet elegant affair, a black to match her dark, silky hair.

“The predator comes for his quarry?” she asked, the dulcet tones of her voice only adding to her unique appeal.

Derrick, emboldened by this forthrightness, came forward. “That is one way to look at it, yes. But a compelling chase it was. With a compelling draw.”

The Pale Woman did not speak answer, instead coming forward to meet him halfway. Derrick was absolutely thrilled by the forwardness, the ensuing embrace one strongly held. Her kisses were like sweet wine, so intoxicating that he barely perceived the slight chill of her lips.

Her hands moved with expert precision, unbuttoning, pulling and tugging at Derrick’s clothing, where his were more intent on caressing the smooth skin bared by the low cut back of her dark dress. In minutes, when she pushed him back to sit on the edge of the table, he had only his boxers to preserve modesty. And not much there was as his eyes widened and his body responded when this Pale Lady reached back to unzip her dress, the receding fabric revealing no more than her smooth, pale flesh.

His mind in a fogged whirl, Mr. Ellings did not resist when she pressed his chest with a cool hand, urging him to lie back. The delight of her slight frame straddling his was reward enough for such a simple action. Once again she fell upon him with kisses that seemed to sap his strength and will, while his flesh ached for similar attention.

Derrick knew not how long it was until the obscuring haze had lifted, but when it did, he found himself staring upward at his lady of the evening, brows furrowing at the cold smile that played across her lips.

“Now, you will tell me of Thomas.” she stated, staring down at him with eyes as hard as the ice in her dulcet voice. “Tell me of his most secret dealings.”

“What.. what is this?” He tried to demand, but found no strength in his body to raise his voice. Panic welled in his mind as he tried to move, but found his body did not respond. The naked woman slapped him hard across the face, snapping his attention back to her. “Oh, did Derrick think that he had found another sweet young maiden to defile with his carnal appetites?” she cooed mockingly. The grandfather clock at one corner of the room chimed midnight as she smiled. “I guess you’re my little April Fool.”

Derrick could do no more than stare at her, even as he tried to get his body to move, tried to wrap his mind around this startling turn of events. But even that ceased with her lifted right hand and the flash of steel that accompanied it.

“You will tell me what I wish to know.” the Pale Woman concluded as she casually toyed with the keen edged scalpel, eyes demurely lowered to watch light glint off its perfectly shined blade. “Tell me of Thomas.” Spoken softer this time.

“Y-you can’t do this to me!” Derrick Ellings could not hold back the quaver in his voice.

“Wrong answer.” The scalpel flashed down smoothly, the steady hand gilding it to slice a straight, shallow line of red across the man’s bare chest. He gasped at the pain of the shallow, but lengthy cut, watching with personal horror as she lifted the implement by her lips, pink tongue lightly tasting the slight stain of red along its blade.

His horror multiplied as she leaned over him, one hand supporting her as the other did trace the perilous blade of the scalpel harmlessly along the side of his neck. “You will tell me.”, she stated softly to him. “One way or the other.” He could only scream out his horror at the cold malice in her eyes.

*****

Screams unheard as the partygoers gathered to enjoy the classical renditions of a band hired to play at the party. After his rather ill mannered tromping about, none of the guests missed Derrick Ellings or his strange absence from the festivities. Nor did any of them hear anything out of the ordinary, save for the delightful renditions which flooded the reception room from strategically placed speakers. A true delight for the senses.

*****

Ellings did talk. Motivated by the precise cuts of a scalpel he spoke freely, words barely broken by pause for breath, though often interrupted by pained cries and moans. She cut him with impunity, leaving his blood to seep slowly from thin cuts, uncaring, it seemed, when a particular slice might spatter his lifeblood against her pale skin. If anything, the feel of it seemed to bring her some perverse pleasure. Or was that due to her tortures of this once proud playboy?

After what seemed an eternity to him, her questions paused and he descended into a piteous weeping, eyes firmly closed against the bloodied vision that still sat atop him. “You have done well, but there is yet one more contribution you will have to make. One last.. sacrifice.” Yet even then Derrick refused to open his eyes.

Not until he felt a sudden agony in his chest, eyes flashing open as he gasped with the breathtaking wave of pain. Despite the weakness of his body, his limbs spasmed and his breath was stolen. His chest felt heavy.. as if something had forcibly invaded its confines. He stared at her cold eyes with uncomprehending fear, even though she did not look at him, but his chest.

She jerked her hand free suddenly, a shriek ripping from his throat. Whether due to pain or due to the sight of his still beating heart being lovingly cradled in the Pale Woman’s dainty hands he could not say. Such debates were beyond him now as whatever sorcery kept him alive to see that dark sight slipped away, his consciousness going with it.

“You’ve been so very helpful.” The last words that he perceived before he knew no more.