Read The Soul Consortium for Free Online

Oh, God.” He was stalling for time, knowing the police would be here in minutes.
    I had to work fast, so I kept my victim pinned to the carpet and straddled his chest, reached for the syringe. “Listen carefully. You’re going to die.” I cupped his chin in my hands, felt his sweat through the latex. “You can’t change that because it’s your fate. I promise it will be painless if you cooperate, but if you struggle, your wife’s death will be agony.”
    “Why? God! Why?”
    “Focus, Kriefan.” I gripped his head tighter, staring hard into his wide eyes, preparing myself for the moments I so enjoy. “Do you understand me?”
    He stared.
    “Do. You. Understand?”
    His eyes said yes, and I felt his muscles relax beneath me. One hundred milligrams of pancuronium bromide injected into the bloodstream and in less than a minute he’d be completely paralyzed, then seconds later he’d be dead. I stared into his eyes, tried not to hear his final whine of self-pity as I emptied the fluid into him.
    Deeper. Penetrating the black center, searching the soul.
    Deeper. Watching for the end.
    Deeper. It’s intoxicating sharing those final moments of terror when every part of the body stiffens.
    I saw it: the moment of death.
    In that infinitesimal blink of time a multitude of experiences winks out of existence, never to return. It simply disappears. I gasped, as if the air had frozen in my lungs. After seeing this so many times and feeling the pleasure of it, the power never dwindles, never fails to deliver that exquisite rush. But still death’s secret eluded me. There is a profound difference between eyes that are alive and eyes that are dead. Not focus. Not dilation of the pupils. Something else. Some place far deeper than I can go.
    I allowed the body to drop, and I looked over to his widow. She was not crying any longer, just cowering in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees, a single strand of saliva crawling from her lip. She knew what was coming, and I reluctantly obliged, dispatching her quickly and with a silent prayer for her soul to be at peace. She did not deserve this, but she is, nevertheless, the penalty for her husband’s borrowed time.
    In echo of the accident two days ago, blue and red lights glared through the gaps in the curtains. If the police knew what was happening they would not have made such a bold announcement of their arrival, but still, whether they catch me or not, Fate had caught up with Mr. Mack and things were right again.
    But there was no time to appreciate it. I gathered up the contents of my briefcase that had been littered around the room, thrust all of it back inside, slammed it shut, and hurried out of the room and down the stairs. The front door was open, and three police cars were blocking the drive. It would take a miracle to escape unnoticed.
    I edged forward. There were no officers waiting for me at the door. I stepped out onto the drive, waiting to be thrown to the ground or perhaps even shot, but still there was no one, not even inside the cars. I checked the surrounding houses. The neighbors, all awake now and leaning from their windows, were not looking my way. Instead their attention was drawn to an event occurring several houses down. A small man in a long black coat, hunched like something heavy had grown out of his back, ran at surprising speed in the road followed by six police officers shouting for him to stop. Incredibly convenient. Perhaps one of those rare moments when Fate chose to intervene. None of the Macks’ neighbors saw me as I left the house; none of them knew the real killer had slipped into a side alley.
    It was the closest I had ever come to capture, but rather than celebrate my good fortune when I returned home, I sat in the dark, fearful of where my dreams would take me should I sleep. My thoughts were filled with the image of that strange man to whom I owed my escape. Even with a glance I knew something about him was profoundly wrong.