The Magic Maker

PROLOGUE ‘You may delay, but time will not.” Benjamin Franklin Six Months Ago, Montana For too long, he had waited, unwilling to sacrifice that part of his soul that intuitively shied away from killing another human being. But now that he’d finally done it, exhilaration rushed through him and he let out a whoop of laughter. What a rush it had been to feel the blade sink so easily into human flesh, past bone and into the vital organs. Fear, he’d discovered, was a fascinating emotion – it was majestic and dominant, blocking out all lesser feelings in those final moments of life. It had been glorious to watch. The dagger in his hand was slippery with blood as he lifted it to examine the blade curiously. He’d thought perhaps two subtle hues – one from each of his victims – would be visible, but it turned out blood was blood, no matter the person it came from. He’d killed the woman first. His anger towards her had been deeper, because it was her pathetically consuming desire for a child that had brought him into this world; this world he had always felt so very detached from. He’d thought, too, it might be motivation for the man to give him what he rightfully demanded, what was his birth right. But that had been a miscalculation on his part. With the death of his wife, whom he would do anything for, the man’s will to live had faded and he’d become stubborn and defiant. Losing some of his appendages hadn’t even moved him. It was the first time he’d seen the man act with any form of courage and he’d found himself admiring him. Not enough to make his death any easier. No, the punishment for what the older man had done to him would not permit that. Turning in a slow circle, he clinically assessed the front room of the small cabin. He’d made quite a mess. The log walls were smattered with drops of blood; so too, were the coffee table and the couch with the hideous floral pattern. None of that was as bad as the wooden floor, though, which was soaked a dark crimson around the two corpses. All of that could stay – it was a crime scene after all. But the DNA and fibres, those would have to be removed. A casual flick of his fingers and all identifying evidence was gone. He strolled through the remaining rooms of the cabin, obliterating any trace of his existence here. Then he wandered back into the main room and stared clinically at the bodies. He could, of course, eradicate them too and leave nothing at all to even indicate a crime had taken place. But then where would the validation of what he’d done be? He wanted his handiwork acknowledged, perhaps even admired. And, of course, leaving the bodies to rot for a while was fitting punishment for what they’d done to him. Wandering outside, he closed the cabin door quietly behind him and pocketed the dagger – it was a favourite. The birds were quiet. In fact, now that he thought about it, it seemed like he was the only living being for miles. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes and breathed in deep. It was a good day to be alive. He stood there for a while, pondering his next step. He hadn’t achieved his purpose today, but all was not lost. He still had time. Now, he simply had to switch to the backup plan.