Merida jerked, yanked, tore at the cuffs. She had to get her hands free.
Returning to the table, Elsa chose one of the rotary cutters. She visually examined Merida’s face, then hooked the handles of the diagonal pliers in her cleavage. At last she walked to the chair, where Merida was trapped, handcuffed, bound head, hand and foot. Elsa leaned forward, so close her breath brushed Merida’s face. She smelled minty, fresh, not at all like a macabre butcher. She said, “This work takes concentration. Dawkins never appreciated that. He would always pace and urge me to hurry. That’s why I tore the first face. Let me assure you, your face will be an elegant work of art.” Easing the rotary cutter out of her cleavage, she removed the blade guard and placed it against Merida’s temple.
The cool, light touch galvanized Merida. She jerked hard on the nylon handcuff.
Her right hand popped free. Both hands … were loose.
Elsa jumped back. “Be careful! Your face is my chef d’oeuvre, my work of art. Do not spoil it for me. That would not go well for you. I can make you suffer … more.”
Now. Merida had one chance of success. With her gaze fixed on Elsa’s face, she weighed her options. She needed Elsa to lean close again, to concentrate on the task at hand.
Elsa again placed the rotary cutter against her temple. “I always love the first cut,” she said. “When it’s done well, I mean.”
Merida clenched her teeth. That initial incision … that’s when Elsa’s focus would be at its height.
That’s when the pain would give Merida the incentive she needed.
Elsa pressed hard.
The blade slid through Merida’s skin and onto the bone at her temple.
The pain!
Elsa rolled the rotary blade down toward Merida’s ear.
Merida brought her arms around, snatched the diagonal pliers out of Elsa’s cleavage. With a violent upward swing, she stabbed them into the soft part under Elsa’s chin.
Elsa’s mouth opened; blood gushed.
Merida yanked the pliers free.
Elsa fell backward onto the hardwood floor and rolled in agony, shrieking with the volume and the undulation of a fire alarm.
At the door, the handle rattled.
Merida ripped the tape off her forehead; hair came, too, and skin, and that hurt like hell. Leaning over, she used the pliers to clip the zip ties. Standing, she stepped toward the suit of armor.
In the corridor, people shouted.
Swift as a Gila monster, Elsa swiveled and crawled close enough to grab Merida’s ankle.
Merida kicked at her.
Elsa slashed her skin with the rotary cutter.
Merida screamed in silent agony, strained and reached. Bolstered by pain-induced adrenaline, she dragged Elsa with her. She grasped the hilt of the long sword, pulled it away from the knight, lifted the heavy blade and swung.
Elsa’s severed forearm rested on the rug.
Elsa screamed again and with the other hand raised her now unsheathed paring knife toward Merida’s knee.
With a downward stab, Merida drove the sword through Elsa’s back, through her heart and into the floor, pinning her there like exhibit A in the serial killer museum.
The door burst open.
Benedict ran into the room.
Kateri followed on his heels, pistol in hand and pointed at the scene.
Sean Weston in police uniform. Phoebe Glass in her robe. Lilith … they all piled into the room. All witnesses to Merida’s achievement.
Merida lifted her gaze from the bloody wreckage of her would-be assassin. She wiped at the blood trickling down her face with the back of her equally bloody hand.
Using her tongue and teeth and vocal cords, she slowly and distinctly said, “I saved myself.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Lacey stood in the door of Kateri’s office and barked.
Kateri glanced at the clock, then at the rather surprising report in her hand. “Yes, you’re right, it’s past time for dinner.” Turning off her desk light, she wandered through the patrol room smiling at her guys.
They all smiled back.
Everybody was happy. Everyone felt as if they’d accomplished something great—even though, as Merida Falcon had said, she’d saved herself. But to have the monster off the streets, to know they would see no more mutilated corpses, that was a great thing.
Lacey raced to the outer door and waited.
Kateri opened it and the dog bounded out, license rattling, down the stairs and onto the street.
At the press briefing, even Councilman Venegra had had to offer up a grudging, “Well done.” Then he had, of course, asked about John Terrance. But after the gruesomeness of these murders, John Terrance had become a lesser terror and, as Bertha told the entire town, the press and Venegra, she’d put so much buckshot in Terrance, his ass was dragging.
Bertha was now a bona fide Virtue Falls hero.
Truthfully, like Bertha, Kateri hoped John Terrance had died alone in the woods, a pain-filled septic death, one that in some small part made up for the misery he had caused Rainbow. And her.
Kateri and Lacey called on the park across the street—Kateri found herself revisiting the wonderful world of dog poo removal—then Lacey trotted past the Oceanview Café, past the Gem Lounge, headed for home.
Or so Kateri thought. But to her surprise, Lacey missed the turn for their apartment. Kateri called her, but Lacey continued trotting toward the marina, into the cool, softly lit mist that crept off the ocean. The light fog crept over the streets, bringing a magic to the evening. The shops had closed. The restaurants and bars were humming; people greeted her by name, congratulated her on making Virtue Falls safe once more.
Lacey was right. It was a good night for a walk.
As Kateri crossed at the corner of Ocean and Marina, on a quiet stretch of sidewalk, she heard the rolling thump of a suitcase on the sidewalk. No, two suitcases.
Lacey gave a bark and ran toward the sound, disappearing for a long moment.
Kateri heard a murmur of voices, then out of the mist stepped Lacey, proudly leading Merida and Benedict. Merida's hands were bandaged as was the side of her face.
Both pulled a light suitcase and looked dressed for travel.
Interesting.
In her newly found, soft voice, Merida said, “Kateri, I’m so glad Lacey found us. We’re off on an adventure, and I wanted to say good-bye.” Putting her suitcase onto its four wheels, she stepped forward and hugged Kateri, hugged her hard, looked into her face and hugged her again. “Thank you for all you’ve done. You’ve been … the truest friend…” She choked up, then stepped back and signed, “… anyone could ever have.”
Kateri recognized the genuine emotion behind the words, and choked up in her turn. “I’m so glad … you came to Virtue Falls. I’m glad for whatever help I could render.”