Perfectly Wicked, Chapter 10
Perfectly Wicked
By Jason D. Karl
Author's Note:
This story is dark, twisted, erotic fantasy fiction about a gay vigilante killer with paranormal abilities. It is the product of the author's imagination and should not be construed as real in any way. This should be read only by adults of legal age. The story contains explicit gay sex and the type of violence found in vampire stories. Don't try this at home or anywhere else.
Link to character images for this story.
Chapter 10: Twice Is a Conspiracy
Fuck! How the hell much goddamn shit did Kyle have to put up with at once! And it had started out so nicely. He'd devirginized a very willing guy and topped it off by murdering a sadistic bitch. Good times. Then the shit hit the fan, and he'd been forced by whatever the Skapararnir put in him to go on a killing rampage and not even enjoy it. Then he'd found out that he was being framed for crimes he was, in fact, guilty of. And now Spencer had just blurted out, "Because Kyle is The Bleeder."
Shit! Damn! Fuck!
And how the fuck did Spencer know? Kyle was fucking un-seeable when he was taking down prey! So what the fuck?
Kyle thought for a moment about modifying the memories of Spencer and Abuelita (funny how he'd gotten used to calling Señora Navarro that), but he decided against it.
Abuelita broke the silence. "What makes you think that, Spencer?"
He blurted out something that would never have occurred to Kyle, "I know because I'm a telepath."
"A telepath? Seriously?" Abuelita asked.
For a moment, Kyle thought his foster brother must've been smoking something more than just weed. But then Spencer said, "How else could I know that the reason you started fostering gay boys is because the person who saved you from your husband asked you to do it as payment?"
From the look on Abuelita's face, Kyle could tell Spencer was right. He'd never looked into her mind before or even wanted to. But times change and needs must, so he looked. She knew. She'd known ever since he'd killed Roger's dad eight years ago. She even suspected Kyle wasn't entirely human.
And she was okay with it.
Kyle shut down the connection. He wouldn't violate her trust any further. Instead, he looked into Spencer's mind. Or tried to at any rate. It was like trying to get into Kushim's mind without an invitation. But he did capture a few snippets. Spencer had been to La Chien Royal. He knew Kushim.
Well, shit.
The timing couldn't have been worse because they were all stoned--and not just a little high, but Purple Kush high. But the truth wasn't going to wait for morning, let alone the right time. So Kyle decided to just come out with it. He got to his feet and announced, "Yeah, I'm The Bleeder and proud of it." He even took a stage bow. "But what I want to know is whether murdering your mother is the price for keeping this a secret?"
Spencer plopped down in an armchair, made to get another joint, apparently thought better of it, and put it back in the tin. "No. If I told anyone, they might try to stop you. And I don't want you to kill my mother: I just want you to help me do it myself."
Kyle mulled over this. Except for the few murders he'd committed with Javert and Kushim, he'd always killed alone. Murder was kind of like masturbation: a private pleasure one didn't normally speak of.
His reverie was interrupted when Abuelita said, "From the looks of it, Spencer, you're the only one in this room who isn't a murderer. You sure you want to join Club Death because there's no coming back from it?"
Kyle was truly stunned. He asked her, "You killed someone?"
Abuelita took a sip of beer. "That fucking social worker, Mr. Heuchler. He said that you needed a 'godly' home to be brought up in the ways of the lord. And with the Family Values Tabernacle of all places. Well, a little aconitine goes a long way."
Kyle was impressed. "So you're saying you killed Mr. Heuchler so you could keep being my foster parent?"
"Yes, Kyle, I killed that sanctimonious asshole."
"Any others?"
"Yes, but none worth losing any sleep over," she said.
Kyle switched his attention to Spencer. "You sure you want to be a murderer, bro?"
Spencer answered without hesitation. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
This Spencer was a far cry from the timid Spencer of just a few months ago. Perhaps a steady supply of sex and weed had brought him out of his shell? But could this Spencer handle committing murder? After all, saying and doing were very different things. Perhaps a test, a dry run? So Kyle said, "Then on my next kill you can come with me. If you can stomach it when I bash their head in, then I'll help you murder your mother. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."
"Okay," was all that Spencer had to say.
Kyle mentally put the "so Spencer's a telepath " and "can Spencer kill " issues on the back burner because he had more cards to lay on the table. "It turns out that Reverend Jackson's had a busy week. On top of getting child abusers out of jail, he's paying Detective Klootzak to frame 'a sodomite whore' as The Bleeder. They picked me. They're planning on framing me for crimes I actually committed."
Abuelita grimaced. "That fucking piece of shit!"
Spencer asked, "What's in it for Jackson?"
Kyle knew the answer. "Jackson wants to be mayor. What better way to win votes than by playing the hero saving the city from 'the sodomite menace'? That fucker even paid the Ferreira cartel to take out his own son and make it look like a hate crime committed by 'sodomites'."
Abuelita's face contorted in disgust at the news. "Not complaining (junior was a piece of shit), but what the fuck?"
"His son was getting too public with his crimes. Kinda hard to paint himself as the moral pillar of the universe with a son openly leading a gang. His son was in the way of his plans to be mayor, so he had to go."
"But you are the one who actually killed him?" Spencer said, putting exaggerated emphasis on the word "are."
"Yeah. I didn't know about all this when I took him out. He was just an asshole to kill. But I made sure to get on surveillance cameras close enough to the time of the murder that it's a solid alibi. So Jackson and Klootzak are going to claim that The Bleeder is a team of 'sodomites butchering god-fearing men', and that's why the police can't find any individual person who could have killed them all. And Jackson's got the power and money to make that shit stick."
Spencer offered a suggestion. "Then let's turn the tables on him. When I kill my mother, we could make it look like Reverend Jackson did it."
Abuelita looked intrigued but doubtful. "How?"
Spencer smiled. "Jackson goes through a lot of wives, but my mother's been his mistress as long as I can remember. Now she's getting released from prison only to marry one of his deacons. What if we make it look like he went into a jealous rage and killed them both?"
Kyle liked the notion but knew it wouldn't be easy. "Jackson's got powerful connections and lives in a fortress, but I know someone who might be able to help. Don't wait up for me."
With that, he stepped outside and rode the shadows to La Chien Royal. He emerged, not in the shop, but in the dungeon underneath.
Javert was putting what was left of Travis Bingham into a meat grinder. Kyle felt a tad envious because he'd wanted to be the one to murder him. But, apparently, not even magic could keep Travis alive after all they'd put him through.
Kushim was talking to another man who Kyle didn't know but could tell right away was Erkek.
"Good evening, Kyle. I wasn't expecting you so soon after what happened. But allow me to introduce you to Sven."
Kyle remembered seeing the tidbit from Spencer's mind about having been to La Chien Royal, so he asked, "Are you the Sven who Spencer's been seeing?"
Sven gave a slight nod. "Yes, but we're just fuck buddies."
"Does he know what you really are?" Kyle asked.
Sven nodded again. "Yes. We told him earlier tonight. Did you know that he's part Erkek?"
"Spencer? No, I had no idea." Turning to address Kushim, he said, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Kushim did the palms-up shrug. "I didn't know for sure until tonight, but Spencer is definitely half Erkek."
Kyle needed time to process this news, and he needed to get to the point of his visit. "Okay. Well, whatever Spencer is, his mother is being released from prison to marry one of Reverend Jackson's deacons. Spencer is rather determined to kill her and frame Jackson for it. We need help." Kyle went on to explain about how Jackson was planning to frame him in order to get elected mayor.
Javert tossed Travis's head into the meat grinder and wiped a smear of blood from his chin. "Sounds like fun."
Kushim offered a more direct approach. "It'd be easier just to kill the mother, Jackson, and whoever else is involved."
Kyle shook his head. "That would make Jackson a martyr. Besides, Spencer's going to be the first person they suspect, so somebody else has to be blamed."
Sven interrupted them, "You said Spencer was 'rather determined' to kill his mother. Just how 'determined' was he?"
He thought about it for a moment. "He said he'd never been more sure of anything in his life."
Sven said, "Shit. That might mean he's latched on."
Kushim added, "Kyle, Spencer is starting to manifest Erkek traits. It's entirely possible that he's latched onto his mother as prey. If that's the case, and he doesn't kill her soon, then what happened to you when you refused to kill that boy will happen to Spencer."
Kyle had an oh-shit moment.
Kushim turned to Sven. "I have to wait for Mikado to arrive. Go get Spencer and take him to your apartment. Find out whether he's latched on. You better take Javert with you because if he has, you'll need to fuck his brains out to buy him some time before he has to kill."
"He'll be asleep by now."
"Not if he's latched on," Sven said. "If he has, he won't be able to sleep until he kills his target."
When Sven took Javert's hand to help him ride the shadows, it reminded Kyle just how young and inexperienced of an Erkek Javert was. Hopefully, they'd grab a shower and change of clothes before going to see his foster brother, because the blood and guts on Javert probably wouldn't be Spencer's notion of an aphrodisiac.
After they were gone, Kushim motioned to a bench for Kyle to sit on. "Take a seat. There's a lot we need to talk about."
Kyle sat.
Kushim continued, "When unlikely things happen, once is a coincidence, twice is a conspiracy."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I've been thinking about this since confirming that Spencer is half-Erkek. Hybrids are rare. But what's really astonishing is that two of you are here in the same city, both with active Erkek abilities. That's not just rare, it's practically unheard-of. And then there's the fact that you not only know each other but also ended up with the same foster parent. It seems like too much to just be a series of coincidences."
He didn't know what to make of this bombshell. "So you're saying somebody did all this deliberately?"
"That would be my guess, yes. But I think I've figured out one piece of it: Right around the time Spencer would have been conceived, an Erkek by the name of Vitlaus Bjáni was found dead, here in Pior Fossa. And it was clearly from having had reproductive sex with a female. He was almost certainly Spencer's father."
"I don't give a shit who his father was. And what's this got to do with us now because if he's dead, he's not the one who put us together."
Kushim let out an exasperated breath. "Vitlaus Bjáni was extremely old, maybe thirty thousand years, and one of the most powerful Erkek. And yet he died from having sex with Spencer's mother. He should have been able to withstand that, unless that wasn't his first time fucking a woman."
Kyle put it together. "You think this Erkek was my father too? That Spencer's my actual brother? 'Cause we don't look much alike."
"Possibly. Or Vitlaus might have been your great-grandfather or something. So Spencer might be your brother or uncle or whatever it is heteros call it. But as far as not looking alike, that's only to be expected. Erkek are shapeshifters and go through many appearances when we are on a planet. Any DNA he passed on to his sons would match whatever human form he had at the moment."
"Is Spencer like me, then?"
"An Abjo? No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. He definitely doesn't have a Mana core, but he's still rather powerful. But if you're related, that explains how you came to be in the same city: Vitlaus apparently liked to fuck women here. But none of that explains how, in a city of millions, you came to live in the same house. I can only think of two ways that could happen."
Kyle said, "Either someone who knew what we were put us together, or...?"
"Or Vitlaus Bjáni had so many descendants that it was inevitable that some would meet."
He didn't know what to say. "Shit, you're saying I have other brothers out there somewhere?"
Kushim clearly didn't want to say something, but he pressed on. "I'm afraid it is a lot shittier than that. The leak in your Mana core has improved since you raged. How?"
He threw out his guess. "I was thinking it was the Skapararnir's reward for killing that kid when I didn't want to."
"Kyle, I know you don't much like the Skapararnir. Truth be told, neither do I. But, no, they would neither reward us nor punish us, beyond what they built into our design. They don't micromanage."
"So any fucking clue how I got better?"
"Still just a guess, but I think that boy was a descendant of Vitlaus. Not Abjo, but strong enough that killing him partially healed you."
"You're saying I killed my brother?"
"Not a brother, no. Erkek cannot harm each other; it's part of our design. For you to have been able to kill the boy, he couldn't have enough Erkek in him to register as one of your own. I'm guessing it was a very distant cousin. Sometimes Erkek powers become active in someone after generations of lying dormant. And I think that's what happened."
Kyle tried to hold in his temper but wasn't doing a great job of it. "So the key to my survival is killing my own family!"
Kushim had a resigned look on his face. "Kyle, the Skapararnir went out of their way to keep us from reproducing for some damned good reasons. Malicious hybrids are just one of them."
"Then why the fuck didn't they just make you all sterile!"
"Supposedly, it's because we have to pass as real members of the species we're sent to, even after they develop advanced medical technology. A group of males who are mysteriously infertile would be a lot more noticeable than just being gay. At least for most species. The heteros on this planet have some rather odd notions about sex."
Kyle couldn't think of anything to say.
Kushim said, "Listen, I'm expecting Tenno Mikado. He's bringing some equipment from the Empire to help us create a cover story for your raging incident. He should be able to help us with the Reverend Jackson situation. I'll get back with you on that. But for now, you need sex and a lot of it, and I doubt you're in the mood to fuck me."
"Yeah, definitely not you."
He got up and prepared to leave. Just as he was summoning the shadows, he heard Kushim say, "You can help Spencer kill his mother, but he will rage if he's not the one to give the fatal blow."
§§§
Kyle spent the rest of the night hustling in front of The Nitery, but his heart just wasn't in it. Around dawn he almost texted Alejandro Seiver to offer him a freebie but changed his mind. The kid would definitely crush on him, and that was the last thing in the world he needed.
No, what Kyle needed was to unleash his pent-up rage. Sure, he'd committed over 300 murders in the last few days, but only one of those had been voluntary. He needed to commit a nice, refreshing murder. He couldn't risk having an official kill as The Bleeder, so maybe just make it look like gang violence? The Fraldas ought to do the trick. It was a street gang affiliated with Ignacio Ferreira's cartel. There were only about thirty of them. And they'd probably all be passed out about now.
He hid in an alley so he could raise his stealth field. He rode the shadows directly into their drug den. He'd guessed right, they were all asleep or passed out. There was a girlfriend of one of the members there. Kyle used his magic to keep her from waking as he took her to a playground a few blocks away and laid her on a bench.
Back at the Fraldas' drug den, Kyle was at first going to set the place on fire, but there was too much risk of hurting someone innocent. However, he definitely couldn't make it look like The Bleeder did it. So how to kill them all and still have some fun? In the end, the Fraldas themselves provided the means. For fuck-knew-what reason, they had a shit ton of superglue. Maybe they huffed it?
He used his magic to keep them asleep while he bound their hands and feet and gagged them with duct tape. Then he sampled their minds to see where they kept the stash of cartel money. He put it all in an old Amazon delivery box. He emptied their wallets and took off all the gold jewelry the gang members were wearing. Kyle had thought bling had gone out of fashion, but whatever. All told, it was probably 40 thousand in cash alone. He used the shadows to send the money directly to the apartment he kept for seeing closeted johns, but he did keep about 5000 to give to Señora Nevarro as her cut.
Kyle pulled back his magic and let the men wake up. They stared at him in shock, which was precisely what he liked to see. He picked up a tube of superglue and began his usual monologue, explaining that he was giving them a learning opportunity. "You know, guys, cyanoacrylates are fantastic for crafts, fixing things, and even closing small wounds. But when it comes to your nostrils, it's not the best choice." Kyle squirted a generous amount of glue into the first one's nostrils and pinched them shut. It set almost immediately; and, with his mouth covered with duct tape, he soon suffocated.
He moved on to the next man, repeating the process. "This is a good time to learn about the respiratory system. Did you know that your nose is for more than just snorting drugs? It's also quite important for breathing. But get the wrong thing up there, and you can get hypoxia. Who here knows the word 'hypoxia'?"
One by one, Kyle taunted them as he glued their noses shut. The men squirmed, but there would be no escaping the fate Kyle had planned for them. As he worked his way around the room, Kyle skipped over one of them without comment. He orgasmed twice as he went about killing them. Finally, 22 of the men were dead, and only the one he'd skipped was left alive. Kyle pulled the duct tape off his mouth and asked him, "What's your name?"
The man coughed. "Carlo."
"How'd you wind up with these assholes?" Kyle asked.
"My brother, Antonio, forced me. He said if I didn't join, he'd kill me."
"Then why didn't you just kill him yourself?"
Carlo seemed taken aback. "I... I'm too big a coward."
Kyle motioned to the bodies lying around. "Is he one of these?"
"No. He was at a meeting with Ignacio Ferreira last night."
"I believe you, Carlo." He cut the duct tape from Carlo's wrists and ankles. "The trouble is, you're a witness. So I need a little insurance that you'll keep quiet. Either I witness you kill your brother, or I kill both of you." Kyle had no actual intention of killing Carlo (he didn't harm decent people), but he felt Carlo needed a little push.
They slipped out of the drug den into the morning light. Carlo led the way to Antonio's house, a small, run-down place on the edge of the neighborhood.
Inside, Antonio was passed out on a sofa. Kyle slapped him awake. "Wake up, asshole, your little brother's got something to tell you."
Antonio's eyes opened. "What the fuck?"
Kyle smirked. "Carlo has something to tell you, and it's gonna be quite educational."
Carlo said in a shaky voice, "I'm out. I'm done with the Fraldas."
Antonio grunted, "The fuck you are!"
Kyle said, "Oh, yes, he is. And guess what? He's also gay."
Antonio got up off the couch. "You're a fucking liar!"
With the easiest brush of his magic, Kyle knocked Antonio flat on the floor and held him in place. "Just think of this as a learning opportunity. You threatened to kill your brother if he didn't become a criminal like you. Now he's going to teach you how much he's learned."
The needles and drugs lying about gave Kyle an idea. He turned to Carlo. "I'm Brujo, by the way. The best rent boy in Pior Fossa. I've recently upped my rates, but I'll give you a free fuck if you kill your brother while I'm doing it. Think of it as multitasking." He motioned to the drug paraphernalia, so Carlo would know what he meant.
Carlo nodded jerkily. "Okay."
"Really? That easy?"
"Yes," Carlo whispered.
Kyle kissed Carlo while continuing to use his magic to hold Antonio in place. He helped Carlo strip naked and then took his own clothes off. "You're going to love this." Then he deep-throated Carlo's cock.
It was obvious that Carlo knew how addicts shot up heroin because he filled a syringe and injected it into his brother's arm. He did this five more times while Kyle sucked his cock.
Kyle pulled off Carlo and addressed Antonio. "Why didn't you just smoke pot to get high like a regular person? Because, hello, it's legal now. No, you had to shoot up your own shitty product. Do you even know how many toxins are in the crap they cut it with? And you never know how much is too much. Tsk-tsk. ODs happen all the time."
Antonio spat out, "Fuck you!"
Kyle grinned and said to Carlo, "I do believe your brother's making a suggestion. Which do you think will be more illuminating for him--you fuck me, or I fuck you?"
Carlo looked at Kyle, then at Antonio's struggling form; then he straddled Kyle and slid his cock into him without any preamble and started fucking. This was clearly not his first time at topping because he was pounding Kyle's prostate with almost every stroke.
Kyle suggested, "Let it all out."
Carlo started fucking Kyle harder as he said to Antonio, "You're a motherfucking monster! You beat me and threatened me and forced this life on me. You held a goddamn gun to my head and made me kill our cousin. I fucking wanted to be a doctor! Go to hell, brother!"
Carlo's fucking became savage, almost unhinged. Kyle loved how much it was feeding his already-bloated supply of Mana. He pumped magic into Carlo to fill him with bliss.
Kyle used his magic to make Antonio die just as Carlo shot a load up his ass. Now that was awesome! A nice murder-fuck combo!
But Carlo wasn't having the same reaction. As Antonio's body went still, Carlo pulled out of Kyle, slumped over, and sobbed from the weight of having murdered his brother.
Then the irony of the moment struck Kyle. Here he was, having just pressured a man into committing fratricide; and yet he'd been pouting about having to kill his evil cousin. And, if Kushim was right, Kyle would have to do it again. He said to himself, "Just grow a pair."
When he got up from having been fucked, Carlo's cum poured out of his ass. It had been a bucketload. As much as he liked it, he couldn't leave any evidence behind. He used his magic to remove all traces of their having been there, not that the cops would care enough to conduct a proper investigation. No, it would be ruled an OD.
Hearing Carlo's thoughts, Kyle realized that killing his own brother was something he wasn't likely to recover from. Kyle had thought the murder would have been cathartic and freeing for Carlo. It wasn't. Carlo, despite being caught up in the Fraldas gang, was a decent person.
With a sigh, he put a compulsion over Carlo and rode the shadows to take him back to the drug den. Fortunately, no one had found the bodies yet. He compelled Carlo to lie amid the bodies, restrained him like all the others, and magically made him go to sleep. He put a small amount of superglue in Carlo's nostrils, but he didn't pinch them shut. It would look like he'd just barely survived.
As a final touch, Kyle modified his memories, erasing all knowledge of having killed his brother. He planted a false memory and a compulsion to tell it to Ignacio Ferreira. He would report that Detective Klootzak brought some thugs from a rival cartel and said they'd given him a better offer, and they'd be taking Ferreira out.
With his brother dead, hopefully Carlo would be able to escape the gang. Hell, there were only the four or five who'd not been there still left alive. At any rate, Kyle had done what he could for him.
Before he left, he noticed a tube of lipstick lying in the floor with some other rubble. He picked it up and wrote "So long and thanks for all the fish" on his prey's foreheads, one or two words on each forehead, repeating as necessary. Let Ignacio Ferreira figure out what in the fuck that was all about because Kyle sure as hell didn't know.
§§§
Señora Navarro picked up her phone. Not the usual one, but one that just had a single number stored on it. She made the call.
A familiar voice answered. "I thought we were done."
"Judge Vierme," she said without explanation.
"Fifty grand," the voice said.
"¡Hijo de puta! You owe me for your father's 'heart attack'."
"Judges are more expensive than fathers. I don't do charity."
She had a counteroffer. "No money, but I have a 2-ml vial of Irukanji toxin. Are you familiar with what it can do?"
There was a pause. "Unspeakable agony. And that much would certainly be fatal. How the hell did you get it?"
"You're not the only one who owes me a favor. Now, do we have a deal?"
After a pause, the voice said, "Agreed. Time frame?"
Señora Navarro thought for a moment. "It's already too late for the reason I'm doing this. So just make sure it's painful. I've got stonefish venom if you need it."
"You don't fuck around, Marisol."
Thank you for reading my story. Please let me know if you think I should continue it. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
My other series on Nifty is A Hankering for Pecker which is a comedy about an 19-year-old who comes out to his hillbilly father. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/a-hankering-for-pecker/
I also have a standalone story on Nifty called The Boys Who Loved. It is a sweet fairytale about two boys who fall in love at a tender age and how their parents deal with it. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-boys-who-loved.html
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