The Butcher and the Butterfly (35 page)

Patience wanted
revenge upon Stephen; but she was old and weak; dying.

Leaving the shade
of her home she stepped out into the heat of the Wastelands.

She reached the
wrecked gatepost and in both hands held Petra out so that the sun
glinted off of her.

‘Petra, ya cunny
bitch. I need a favour from ya. If ya don’t mind?’

The orange orb
twisted in its socket pulsing from its core.

You aints my
master anymore, witch. You aint nothing to me without a soul in yer
pocket. I don’t need you anymore now that Jonah’s on the job. Even
Old Lud has fucked off and left ya you dried up old cunt! I aint
doing nothing. Grow a dick though and we may have a deal.

Patience spat out
a wad of phlegm to the floor. ‘Yer a foul mouthed cunt, that yer
are, Petra. I aint growing no dick for yer to fiddle with but I can
give yer some souls to eat; just not yet. You have to help me for
me to help you.’

The Orb pulsed for
a while. Patience stood out in the baking sun looking right at the
ball of fire trying not to think too much, trying not to give away
her secrets, her plans.

‘I am hungry,
witch. I need food. I need men. I shall give you what you want but
if I don’t get what I want and soon then I will destroy you, witch.
I will rip you apart and eat your fucking guts-‘

‘That’s enough of
that, Petra,’ Patience butted in, ‘Just call the sand demon to me
and we shall see what I can do for you.’

10

Petra looked away
from the witch and her gaze scanned the horizon to the north. The
ball of fire pulsed; the air around it throbbed with heat. Patience
watched with bated breath. The demon would come quick for the witch
but Patience had a surprise for that bastard.

The ground beneath
Patience shook violently and she could feel Petra laughing behind
her glass prison.

Back toward the
house the hardpan began to sink into the ground and the surrounding
land cracked and split with the strain. The air grew stale but
could grow no hotter. Without warning a massive sand covered
monster sprang from the desert tearing up the earth beneath it. Its
eyes were red with teeth as large as trees. The demon beast stood
twice as tall as the house and it lumbered around at first, trying
to find its caller. It moved surprisingly quick considering the
size of it. The beasts head reminiscent of a bulls looked around
fruitlessly at first until the witch called for it and then it
stopped moving and looked down at the small woman.

‘It was I who
called for you, Ronin, Demon on the Wastelands.’

The beast took a
step forward and snorted; blowing hot sand over Patience.

‘WHY SHOULD I HELP
YOU, WITCH?’ The beast’s voice was deep, gritty and as loud as a
thunder clap.

Patience took a
step forward herself. ‘Because you have to, Ronin.’ She smiled a
canny smile at the beast and her brown skin shone in the
sunlight.

The beast roared
causing three windows to shatter. ‘DAMN YOU, WITCH. THIS IS THE
LAST TIME YOU CALL ON ME. I WANT NO MORE FROM YOU.’

‘So be it, Ronin.
There are three bodies buried deep within you. Three brothers
recently dispatched to the Green path. I want them back.’

The beast looked
to the orange ball of fire and then back out to the world in which
it lives. He shook his head.

‘THEY ARE NOT
MEANT FOR YOU, WITCH. THEY ARE BETTER OFF IN THE GROUND WITH
ME.’

Patience pointed
at the large beast. ‘I decide what and who, bastard, not you. Now
give them up to me!’

The beast seemed
to shrug but he had no choice. Patience knew this.

‘VERY WELL.’ Ronin
rammed a giant fist into the ground and let his fingers roam. It
wasn’t long before the hand was removed from the hardpan and upon
the floor where he had been rummaging three bodies were set out;
their bodies hardly decomposed.

‘Thankya demon. We
are done now and forever more if that’s what ya want.’

The beast stamped
a massive hulk of a foot onto the ground and roared into the
expanse of desert. The rush of wind blew Patience skirt and made
her choke on the dust.

‘WHAT I WANT IS
FOR YOU TO CALL ME SON.’

Patience cleared
her throat, spat out a load of sand and laughed deeply. ‘Why should
I call ya son? You are not deserving of it and never shall ya be,
wretched demon.’

Ronin clenched his
massive fists. ‘BECAUSE YOU ARE MY MOTHER AND I AM YOUR SON.’

‘That was a long
time ago, Ronin. Those days I have forgotten as should you. Let em
go, demon, let em go.’

The ground shook
savagely and the demon began to disintegrate; its massive hulk
falling to the ground that had made it. Clouds of dust flew into
the air and the wind was thick with it. When the dust had settled
and the ground stabilised, all that was left was a young man;
naked, apart from a pair of tatty jeans. His skin was brown, his
hair as black as night and his eyes the dirty yellow of grit. He
walked over to the old witch whose own eyes were wide, her mouth a
silent O of surprise.

‘You are and
always will be my mother, no matter what has happened between us.
You come from a dark place and will end up in one. But I can
forgive you for that.’

Patience looked at
the man before her. How much like his father he was. A true
father’s son if there ever was. Tall, handsome, with eyes a girl
could not say no too. But he was not meant for that. He was
promised to the Void and that promise cannot be undone. One
sacrifice among many, one life for another. She voiced that to her
son.

‘Ronin, you were
not meant for this world. Aye, you were born in it but I made some
promises to the wrong people and you were taken. Void was yer home
and a home it will always be.’ The old witch turned her head and
looked at the orange ball of fire. She knew hat Petra wanted.

The plan had
worked.

Before Ronin could
realise what was happening to him Petra had dug her claws in and
the Demon of the Wastelands was consumed by the bitch herself.
There wasn’t much of a struggle; for too long the sand demon had
been without a woman, for too long he had not felt the warmth of a
bosom or the salty wetness of lips, for too long he had been alone.
For too long…

But before he was
completely gone, before his soul was taken and his body used as a
fuck toy for the bitch he looked down to the woman whom he had
called mother and wasn’t surprised when he saw that she was
smiling.

11

Patience was
silent. Contemplating here ragged existence on this world slowly
going to the dogs as she looked at the three bodies motionless on
the hardpan. Her son was gone now. He had been gone for a long time
but now he was truly gone. Lost to the orb bitch herself and there
was no way out of that nightmare. The Wastelands had grown eerily
quiet. The wind, as constant as Old Mother in the night sky, had
withered away. Even Petra’s constant rabble was diminished.

She shuffled over
to them kicking up little dust motes as she did; her eyes not
leaving them, her mind trying to focus on what she had to do.

Petra watched
Patience behind the glass prison, happy, fulfilled for the time
being and Patience felt that calmness in the air. Reaching the
bodies and standing by them the scent of decaying flesh wafted up
her large nostrils and wrapped itself around her gut.

Used to that foul
smell the old witch is and she chuckled to herself and kicked one
of the arms of the bodies that were hanging out. It moved but did
not recoil. The three men were fully dressed in the garb the desert
asked for; tight hard wearing shirts, jeans and mule caps. All
three had the same features and their bodies looked hard, fierce
and ready. Each of them had their long hair tied back with bits of
coloured string.

Pulling up her
dress, Patience knelt besides the oldest looking of the three.

‘Didn’t think I’d
ever see the day when the Quints walked the path.’ She whispered to
the lifeless body and she remained there as she scanned his two
mates.

What a trick this
would be for Stephen. How Patience would love to see his face when
he turns the corner and sees these three wretched fucks waiting for
him. They would gun him down, like they should have done back in
Rockfall, and string him up for the entire world to see. One of the
brothers would carve Patience’s name into Stephens’s damned flesh
and his body would be hung from the tallest tree and left out for
the birds to peck at. That would teach him for killing her. He
would look back on that day when he shot her to save the life of
some stupid bitch and rue it till his eyes bled and is heart
exploded.

The old witch
stood quickly. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and her heart
had started to race. It would need all her skill in the dark arts
to raise these men from the dead. Aye; their bodies were here but
their souls were lost in the Void and needed finding before they
are consumed by some foul begotten demon. She took her time to
ready the bodies, moving the corpses without a struggle, without
breaking a sweat. Soon evening would come and the stars would shine
down upon the four of them casting their own magic upon the filthy
Wasteland.

In the distance
and whilst Patience busied herself with the Quints, Petra, yearning
to be free, heard a familiar voice calling her name.

Epilogue

Rockfall stood in misery. The bodies of the
recently murdered were piled high in the church awaiting burial. It
was a sad place for those left and soon Rockfalls population would
drop further.

Susie was sat on
top of Hangman’s Hill looking out over the town she had once called
home. She had meant to leave today, but something or someone had
talked to her this morning and told her to come up here, on this
recent killing ground and wait. She hadn’t recognised the voice in
her head, it wasn’t hers, or Cathy’s and it certainly wasn’t
Stephens. She could pick his voice out of a million others. But
alas, she doubted she would ever hear that voice again. He had left
her what seems like weeks ago but she knew it hadn’t been that
long. Time has a way of moving quicker than you think now, she knew
this, but for her the days stretched out like weeks and the nights
seemed to go on for an eternity.

Stephen had left
her with no one. Even poor Tommy had been taken. She cradled the
non-existent bump protruding from her belly and rubbed it
caringly.

‘I have you,
though, and no one will take that away from me.’

She breathed in
hard. The sun was high, just after midday, and the air was hot. A
foul smell was carrying on the breeze and Susie turned her nose up
at it. The wind whipped around the hill carrying sounds of the dead
town beneath her. Susie knew she had to move on as before long it
would be too late; the will power needed to pack up and go lost to
the sands that covered the floor she walked on.

Looking over her
right shoulder she shaded her eyes against the sun and scanned the
area where Stephen had shot down the Quint brothers. Faintly, she
could make out the darker sand where the victim’s blood had pooled
but that was all that was left of his presence up here.

Her heart grew
heavy as she thought of him. Susie had loved him; deeply, and she
knew he had loved her back. But it seemed as though, once he had
killed and got whatever it was he had come to get that he was
forced to move; that he had no choice even if that meant leaving
someone behind that he loved.

‘It was me who
ordered him away, Susie. I am the one to blame.’

Susie’s eyes
widened as she looked about wanting to find the voice but there was
no one there. The voice had come from all around her, beside her,
behind her, even on top of her. The hairs on the back of Susie’s
neck stood up and a cold chill ran down her spine. Thinking she
must have imagined it Susie decided that now would be the best time
to move on.

‘You have been
patient, Susie.’

This time the
voice came directly from behind. A cold voice. Low and dangerous.
She turned fearing what she would see and was surprised, so
surprised that her heart leapt and her mouth became dryer than the
Wastelands when she saw cool grey eyes staring at her.

‘Stephen?’ She
blurted out.

The man began to
laugh. Susie did not recognise the laugh and she started to doubt
herself.

‘Who are you?’ She
asked the man.

He did not reply
only kept on laughing; his mouth growing wider with every
chuckle.

‘Who are you?’
Susie screamed and she held her head in her hands and started to
cry.

The man ceased his
singular wit almost as quick as he had started it. Susie watched as
the man she had loved drifted away and left a monster in its place.
It was much taller than Stephen, its face twisted and contorted;
but human. Its arms were long and the hands finished with deadly
talons. The body was covered in a black shawl but its two legs were
bare and where there should be feet hooves dug deep into the dirt.
Whatever it was in front of her was breathing hard and with every
breath Susie winced; waiting for it to pounce. Upon its face the
beast wore a small smile.

Susie could only
scream at what stood before her.

‘ENOUGH!’ The
beast yelled and Susie did as she was told.

‘That’s better. No
need for dramatics.’

Susie was
speechless. Scared out of her mind. Her nightmares were nothing
compared to the beast man that stood before her. Standing stock
still she tried to calm her breathing and stop her tears.

‘Silence always
suited you,’ Susie watched the beast look her up and down; ‘I can
see why Stephen was so attracted to you.’

His eyes felt like
ice upon her skin. Gooseflesh raised its ugly head upon her body
and she shivered.

‘Do I scare you
that much, young one? Do I look so terrifying?’ The beast cocked
its head questioningly at Susie and could do nothing but stare and
remain silent.