Zed
I was speeding back to Lily’s when my cell phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I flipped it open anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. McIntyre.” I recognized the old man barkeep’s voice. “I’m calling to inform you about a sighting.”
My heart started to thud in my chest. “When? Now? Is he still there?”
“He’s gone, unfortunately,” the old man said. His voice sounded shakier than it had before. A chill of fear ran down my spine when I realized the old man was probably more afraid of The Manticore than he was of me.
“What did he do?” I demanded. “Tell me everything.”
“He came in with a young Asian girl,” the man stuttered. “And he was laughing and joking around; he was in a real good mood.”
“And then?” I growled in exasperation. “Tell me the good stuff, old man!”
“I’m getting there,” he said calmly. “He’s wooing the girl, and then another young man comes in, oh, I don’t know, early twenties. The young guy makes the mistake of sitting down on the other side of the girl. He got up and slashed him right across the chest, with an odd sort of knife. The girl screamed and then before I knew what was going on, she was on the floor, covered in blood. He cut up both of them like pieces of fruit and then left.”
My jaw hung open. “Holy shit.” I breathed. “How long did this take?”
“About five minutes. And then he sent the junkies in here to clean, as usual.”
“Okay, thanks. Keep me informed every time he comes in. Not just this one, do you understand?”
“I get it,” the man said drily. “I have to go now.”
I hung up without saying goodbye. My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe someone was impersonating The Manticore to this level of verisimilitude. It was frightening; it was almost like the real Manticore had come back from the grave to haunt me. I shivered as I hunkered down in the driver’s seat and pushed my foot to the floor.
Lily’s apartment was empty when I got there, and another stab of fear pierced my heart. I dialed her cell phone, but she didn’t answer, and a wave of anxiety passed through me.
“Lily, call me back as soon as you hear this,” I growled out into her voicemail. “This isn’t a fuckin’ joke, princess, call me right the fuck back.” Angrily, I threw my phone across the room. It hit a mirror and broke the glass, sending shards everywhere. I knew I should clean it up, but I couldn’t even focus at the moment.
Lily’s laptop was open to a search page. When I realized she’d been researching The Manticore and the slashing murders, I was angry, but not before a headline caught my eyes. Manticore On the Loose: Citizens Terrified.
Some say The Manticore disappeared, but authorities are convinced he’s back after an attack on a group of young girls at the Rockwood subway station. Four 15 and 16-year-old girls were attacked by a single man after taking the last train of the evening. All four of them were killed with a single slash to the chest. Police are on the hunt for anyone who resembles this profile: dark skin, long dark hair, bright eyes possibly colored with contacts. It is thought that the perpetrator is carrying a long machete. He is considered armed and dangerous. If you encounter this suspect, do not try to fend him off. Instead, you should hide and call the police as soon as possible.
A chill ran through me. Was this what Lily was trying to tell me? I rolled my eyes; sometimes she made absolutely no sense. Yeah, this was creepy, but it wasn’t like what happened to Rose.
Something struck me, and I looked at the picture again. The bodies had been removed, but the photo showed a subway station covered in blood spatters and smears. There was a set of bloody handprints leading over to a giant pool of blood. Although, at first, it looked like the person who was stabbed had lain there dying, on closer inspection I realized they had been crawling away; the handprints pointed in a different direction. My heart sank when I realized it was exactly like another crime scene photo that I’d studied too many times before.
Rose’s.
The image would forever be burned into my brain. Our old living room, with that shitty oak table. The chairs turned over and covered in bloody handprints. Handprints all over that peeling wallpaper and some of the carpet. In the official photo, Rose’s body had been removed, but I’d seen it while she was still there. She’d died a few feet away from where she’d been slashed. She’d somehow managed to crawl away from the puddle of blood and into the kitchen.
It was similar to the photo from the subway station, from only a few days ago. The bad feeling in my stomach turned to lead as I studied the photo even more closely. Aside from the difference of scene, everything matched.
There was a sinking feeling in my chest, and I closed my eyes, leaning against the back of the couch and covering my eyes with my hands. How was it possible that I’d spent so much time looking for the wrong guy? And if The Manticore was really alive, he must have known that I was searching for the boss of the Iron Angels, not The Manticore himself. It was even more unsettling to realize that I’d been the pawn of a cat and mouse game the whole time. I’d been protecting Lily from the wrong people, and going after the wrong people for Rose’s death.
I hadn’t wanted to believe that The Manticore was back. Maybe it was the idea of confronting an almost superhuman villain, or maybe it was the idea of failing. And I almost certainly would fail; he was capable of killing a human being with a single flick of the wrist. No amount of training would ever be able to save me now.
The only way I’d be able to win was through speed. I knew I wasn’t stronger or more dangerous than The Manticore, but I could be quicker. With a deep breath, I checked the gun in my waistband. It was a powerful little Smith & Wesson, but it felt like a toy in my hands. I knew I was going to need something a lot stronger to fell The Manticore.
Suddenly, little things started to make sense… How those junkies in the alley were convinced the killer was The Manticore… And the guy with the machete in the bar who killed the younger kid and that Asian girl… And the schoolgirls, murdered at the subway station… And the junkie henchmen he would deploy to clean up the bar after he was done.
I suddenly knew he was supplying them with heroin from the Iron Angels; probably the same heroin that I’d sold myself.
The Manticore was still alive. And now I knew it was only a matter of time before he came for me.