Sin-eater.com, Page 2

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  Gabe burst into the apartment and locked the door. He spilled the bottle of holy water into a bowl, dipped a bullet in to fill the hollow tip, and then sealed the bullet with melted wax from a pink birthday candle.

  A rattle at the door shot Gabe's heart into his throat.

  He jammed the bullet into the pistol and pulled the slide, hoping the wax wasn't torn from the bullet as the slide snapped back.

  Gun pointed at the door, Gabe backed into the living room.

  A key slid into the lock, turned.

  Gabe felt wetness in his hand, hoped it was just sweat and not the bullet leaking its precious load.

  The door slowly opened.

  The gun shook in Gabe's hands.

  Into the apartment stepped—

  "Bethany?" Gabe squinted and lowered the gun.

  "Gabe, what's wrong?" Bethany shut the door and moved a step closer. "Are you okay?"

  "Bethany?" Gabe couldn't think of anything else to say. Memories that seemed from two different lives swirled in his head like shattered fragments of half-forgotten dreams. What happened to Angie?

  "Everything's okay, Gabe." Bethany led him to the couch and sat down beside him. "Are you hungry? I brought food." She held up a grease-spotted bag of Billy Burgers.

  "Hungry?" Gabe shook his head. "Um, yeah, I guess, but—"

  "Put the gun away, Gabe," Bethany said. "It scares me."

  Gabe hesitated. Something was wrong here, but his mind wasn't cooperating.

  "You're dizzy is all," Bethany said. "You need food. Put the gun away."

  "Yeah, okay." Gabe shoved the pistol under a couch cushion. He looked down at the burger and fries in front of him; his stomach roiled and his mouth filled with saliva. He swallowed back the taste of vomit, grabbed a handful of fries, and offered them toward Bethany's mouth. "Here, you have some first."

  Bethany smiled--a strange, crooked, half-smile--and then she lunged forward, gnashing Gabe's fingers between her teeth.

  "Aahh!" Gabe screamed as she bit through his flesh, grinding delicate bones. Searing agony shot up his left arm as Bethany shook her head like a lioness tearing the leg from an antelope.

  "Did you miss me, Gabe?" Bethany growled through clenched teeth. "I don't think you did. I think you were hoping for that poor little bitch, Angie!"

  Gabe reached his right arm back and hit her in the cheek. The motion of her head jerking back increased his anguish. His hand burned with pain, his mind with confusion. He struck her again and again, each blow separating his fingers from his hand a fraction more.

  The black comfort of unconsciousness clawed at his mind.

  Bethany smiled, snarling, blood dripping from her chin and smashed nose.

  "What the hell's going on here?" Angie shouted from the doorway. "What--you brought Bethany Lancer to my house?"

  Gabe clawed beneath the couch cushion and pulled out the gun, pointed it at Bethany's bestial visage.

  The dark release of oblivion claimed him as the gun fired and Bethany's head jerked back, her teeth ripping at his fingers.

  #

  Gabe awoke on the couch. His mouth tasted like he'd eaten a bottle of kindergarten paste mixed with cat litter. He raised his arm and waited for his eyes to swirl into focus. His fingers poked out of a bloodied bandage made out of a flowery pillow case.

  "They're all still there."

  He looked up at Angie looking down at him. "Is it really you?" It certainly looked like her: the glossy black hair, the brown eyes that sparkled like reflected sunshine when she was happy, or clouded over--like now--when she was sad or upset.

  "Yeah, it's me. But why was Bethany Lancer in my apartment? And why did she disappear in a puff of smoke when you shot her?"

  "I don't know. It wasn't her, I guess; it was some succubus or something." He shook his head and sat up. "So it wasn't a dream then?"

  Angie sighed, shook her head and sat next to him.

  "Was it a dream that you still have our pictures next to your bed?" Gabe asked.

  Angie's face reddened. Gabe smiled despite the pain of his hand. He rested his head on Angie's shoulder and let out a long breath. It seemed he'd been holding his breath, that this was the first fresh air he'd tasted in years.

  "What the hell's going on, Gabe?"

  Gabe told Angie about his theory and what had happened. "But I have an idea. Can you bring me the phone?"

  "Who're you gonna call?" Angie said. "Ghost Busters? No one's gonna believe this!"

  "I'm calling my lawyer."

  "Your lawyer? I told you her body disappeared--why do you need a lawyer?"

  "Coming back here made me realize what makes you more beautiful than someone like Bethany Lancer could ever be," Gabe said. "It's because you have a soul. And that made me realize something else. I had an offer to buy my website, but I didn't want to sell out to a soulless corporation--now I realize that's exactly what I need to do! That way no one gets hurt."

  "No one gets hurt?" Angie shook her head. "Won't this corporation still be taking people's money?"

  Gabe frowned. "Um, yeah, good point. Okay, how about I donate all the money from the sale and start an internet campaign to make sure they don't take advantage of anyone else?"

  Angie shrugged. "I dunno."

  "It'll work," Gabe said. "Together, we can work out all the details, no matter how long it takes."

  After a moment, Angie nodded. "You're right," she said with the faintest hint of a smile. "We've got our whole lives."

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  About the author:

  Mark lives in California with his beautiful wife Panji, who helped him learn that even the rockiest road can lead to a happy ending. Mark is currently working on a novel entitled "Love & Taxes", which he hopes will one day be not only finished, but published and found at your local book store as well.

  Visit Mark at www.mythic-picnic.com or www.genre-trash.com or www.love-and-taxes.com