“Living Dead Girl” – Rob Zombie

I step off the plane, parting ways with Donovan as I head toward the waiting car. Igor stands next to the open door with a solemn look on his face.

"She got out," he says as I bend to slide into the car.

"I'm sorry?"

The door slams shut and the car pulls off. "Camilla got out."

"You say that as though she's nothing but a stray dog." I groan. "How difficult is it to keep one woman locked in a room? How many men did she kill this time?" It shouldn't excite me, to think of the anger swirling in her eyes as she goes on a killing rampage, but it does.

"One, and she stole a car."

"Of course she did."

"We have the GPS coordinates. She's in Moscow."

"And... why is no one after her?" I just had the most spiritual moment of my life with that nuclear weapon only to have it tainted by a level of incompetency I cannot understand.

He shifts in the seat. "We thought it would be best if you handled her."

I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up the GPS. The little red dot blips right outside The Kremlin. Of course, she's not hiding. She knows better.

Half an hour later, the car pulls into a crowded parking lot. Through the window I can see my Jaguar. The hood is smashed, sides dented, and a lovely array of bullet holes decorate the back. Now that makes me angry.

Before the driver has a chance to climb out, I throw open the door and step into the frigid wind. Igor opens his door, and I hold up a finger, halting him. "Stay here, Igor," I say as I pull my coat together and head down the snow laced sidewalk. I round the corner, stepping between a group of women, and there Camilla stands at the gate of the Kremlin, dressed in a fur coat with her back to the street. She did this just to defy me. To get a rise. My jaw tics, and I close my eyes. She craves my anger, so she shall not have it. "Have you had enough sightseeing and murder for the day?" I ask, stepping up behind her.

She glances over her shoulder, and a sheet of dark hair falls over one side of her face. "It was one guy. I just wanted to see Moscow. I don't appreciate being locked up like a rebelling child."

I study her face. The flicker of fearlessness that dances within her eyes gives me a rise I rather enjoy, but this defiance... It gives me much more than a rise, and I need to snuff this out immediately. I grab her firmly by the elbow, and walk, pulling her behind me as I head toward the car. Igor is waiting with the door open, and I shove Camilla inside. I climb in followed by Igor, and as the car pulls away she points through the window, smiling.

"Sorry about your Jaguar," she says. "It was a nice car."

I pull a cigar from my jacket and light it, staring at her as the smoke streams in front of my face.

She holds up her hands. "Just take it out of Gabe's cut of...whatever."

My blood pressure steadily ticks up notch by notch. She doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut, and there's a fine line between entertainment and annoyance. Part of me wishes for nothing more than to teach her what true fear means, for me to go back to my roots and soak my hands in blood; then part of me wants to fuck her while I choke her, taking her to the very brink of death while I'm buried deep inside her. How this all plays out in the end will be a surprise to us both, that I'm certain of.

I glance at Igor. "She says I treat her like a rebellious child," I say, smirking as I look at Camilla. "She doesn't appreciate how kind I've been with providing her with such lavish accommodations, so maybe she'll appreciate if I treat her like the hostage she truly is." I stroke my finger over her cheek. "I will miss looking at your pretty face though."

She knows she's in trouble, yet she holds her head high. She does wear that arrogance like a crown. Oh, what fun she’ll have in the cold basement with all those other poor souls. I'd be lying if the thought of her suffering didn't utterly delight me. I'm sick, possibly even horrible, but what good man would ever be in my position? I'd take power over morals any day.

It's been two days since Camilla was taken into the old bomb shelter underneath this house. Two days of quiet. I sit with my brandy and cigar in hand, watching the news. So it seems the Gobi Desert was bombed by one of China's enemies a few days ago. How terribly awful. What is this world coming to? I find myself smiling.

My attention is drawn away from the carnage when the door to the living room creaks open. Igor steps into the room, his cheeks flushed, and a phone pressed to his ear. "Kill them," he says before hanging up.

"What's happened now?" I ask, taking a sip of brandy.

"The last shipment of Devil's Dust was stolen."

My teeth grind together, tension building in my neck. "Did you track it? Where is it?"

"At one of Estrada's safe houses."

I laugh. Of course it is. Funny that only two days after his sister escaped, a shipment of presumably useless powder goes missing and ends up at her stupid brother's house. Anger heats my blood, coiling around me as I stare through Igor. "Did you have someone detain him?"

"Yes, boss."

I swallow hard before pushing to my feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of my shirt. "I'm going down to pay her a visit.” I’m barely able to restrain my voice. Her complete disregard for her own life thrills me to no end. Camilla is the very definition of reckless. She has no control, and that is like an aphrodisiac to me, because when there is no fear, no concern for one's self, the possibilities of what I could do to her are infinitely endless.