Wrath White - Succulent Prey

Lionel Ray Miles.

If Montgomery hadn't prepared the police chief for what he might find at the home of Lionel Ray Miles, he had prepared himself even less.

"Jesus Christ!"

Lionel Ray lay on the hood of his prized 1969 Lincoln Continental with his chest torn open and his heart ripped out. The gaping chest cavity had been fil ed with garlic and a rosary lay atop the piles of fresh cloves. A wooden stake, driven through the spot where his heart should have been, pinned him to the hood of the car. His head had been removed and lay on the floor at his feet, stuffed with cloves of garlic. The body was smoldering from where his murderer had tried to set him on fire. The Hayward police had arrived just in time to douse the fire before it did much damage. The entire street smel ed like roasted garlic and barbecued pork. The most disturbing thing was how delicious the aroma was. It made the detective even more aware of the fact that he hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours.

Montgomery knew that the arson had not been an attempt to destroy evidence but rather a way to ensure that this demon would never rise again. He walked over and looked down at the sizzling corpse.

"You poor bastard. What did you do to deserve this?"

"Detective!" A young officer, who looked like he was fresh out of high school, ran into the garage with his eyes wide. He was sucking in breath in big gulps like a guppy in an empty tank.

Montgomery turned around quickly, recognizing the excitement in the young rookie's voice. He knew that excitement. It meant they had found something unexpected.

"What is it?"

"We found more bodies. Lots of them! In the basement. "

"What? Show me."

The young officer led the detective quickly out of the garage, around the back of the house, and into the basement. There a big German shepherd from one of the K-9 units was busily digging up the dirt floor. Two other officers were down there beside him with brooms and shovels, uncovering a skeleton. There were already two others partial y exposed.

"How many are there?"

"I don't know. They're piled on top of each other. Some of them are pretty old."

"They-they're children!" Montgomery started to get woozy.

"How old did you say the suspect was?" one of the officers asked. "Because these bodies look pretty old. Look at the clothes. I haven't seen shoes like those since the eighties."

Montgomery stared down at one exposed leg wearing an old pair of

British Knights. He had owned a pair of sneakers just like them years agoback in 1992. That would have made Joseph around ten years old. These weren't

Joseph Miles's victims. They were Lionel Ray's. That's why Joseph had come back here, to destroy the real source of the curse.

His own father.

It took them several days to unearth al the bodies. When they were done the count stood at twenty-five, ranging in age from six to sixteen. The oldest corpse was at least a decade old. They had al been cut to pieces. A slash across the throat was the kil ing blow. None of them bore any of the marks of cannibalism, confirming the detective's theory that the senior Miles had been the culprit rather than his son. It looked as if Joe had done the world a service by taking out his father. But where was he now?

Alicia winced as the hot water sprayed from the showerhead onto her raw, pinkish skin. It had been months since her ordeal with Joseph Miles and she had only been out of the hospital a week. She was scheduled to see a plastic surgeon at the end of the month to discuss prostheses to replace her stolen mammary glands. She had already gone through six surgeries, painful skin grafts to cover the gaping hole in her chest where her breasts had been. Now they were going to see if they could give her some kind of implants to make her chest look more normal, more like it had looked before her abduction. Alicia scoffed as she watched the water cascade down her smooth, nippleless chest. She had no il usions. She knew she would never look the same.

She stepped out of the shower and appraised her scarred and disfigured torso. Her chest was now little more than a thin veneer of skin stretched over a rib cage. She could almost see her heart beating beneath it. She began to cry. The man she had fal en in love with had done this to her.

"Why didn't he just kil me? Why leave me like this?"

They stil hadn't captured Joe, but there had also been no more cannibal kil ings. He appeared to have just disappeared.

Either that or the cure had worked. In a way she hoped that it hadn't. Every night she prayed that he would return for her. To finish the job he had started.

She heard a noise coming from her bedroom as she gently wiped away the bathwater and tears with her towel. It sounded as if someone had opened her window. Minutes later she heard the unmistakable sound of footfal s.

"Hel o?"

She clutched the bath towel to her vandalized chest and peered into the room. She was not surprised at al to see Joe standing in her bedroom.

"You got my note? On the message board?"

"Yes." His expression was almost sad.

"Then you'l do it? You'l do what I ask?"

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I'm sure. I've got a ton of pain pil s from the hospital. I'l take a whole handful. I won't feel a thing."

"I've missed you, Alicia." A tear drizzled down his cheek.

"I missed you too."

"I even set us a table."

Joe turned toward the little kitchen, and indeed a large table, way too big for her tiny apartment, stretched from the kitchen into the little dining room nook area and partial y into the living room. The table was solid oak and looked expensive. It was set with a silver serving tray, big enough to hold a large pig and one dinner setting at the head of the table. A large carving knife sat on top of the tray.

"The table's an antique," she said. "I bought it just for this occasion. Just in case you came back."

"I love you, Alicia."

"I know you do. But I can't live like this," she said, gesturing toward her chest.

"What about plastic surgery?"

"Look at me." Alicia dropped the towel, revealing the hideous scar that transversed her chest. Joseph sucked in a breath, shocked at his own savagery.

"They can't fix this."

"This may take a while. My appetite isn't what it used to be."

Alicia stepped back into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She had a few Fentanyl patches they had given her at the hospital to replace the morphine drip she'd been hooked up to after her last surgery. She peeled one of them out of the box and stuck it on her neck. There was also nearly a ful bottle of Darvocet and a half bottle of

Percocet. She scooped them off the shelf and took a whole handful of each and went back into the bedroom. Her legs began to wobble as she turned and staggered into the kitchen. The room spun just before she lay down on the table. The Fentanyl was kicking in.

"I want you to eat al of me. Don't leave anything. I want to be a part of you forever."

The Percocet and Darvocet kicked in now and Alicia could no longer feel her own body. She felt like she was floating. Joe was crying when he raised the knife. He was stil crying when he began to cut through her soft plump flesh. And tears stil fel as he slid the blood moist meat between his lips and swal owed it down. She tasted just like he remembered.

It took him a couple of days to completely consume her. She was awake for the first few hours, tel ing him how much she loved him. How happy she was to bring him so much pleasure.

How she'd wanted this al along. And, despite himself, Joe did feel those familiar jolts of ecstasy as he chewed and swal owed her soft muscle and fat.

She passed away that same night, yet

Joe had continued eating as he had promised. He ate until her entire body had been consumed-skin, muscle, organs, fat, her brain. He even sucked the marrow out of her bones. He could feel her life inside of him as he walked out of the apartment with his stomach distended, fighting back nausea. He could feel her love coursing through him. He barely noticed the police cruiser until it was right on top of him.