WAR: Hell Hath No Fury

Hell Hath No Fury

Hanna Clay

April 21st, Las Vegas, NV

Jenny stared intently as she watched Hanna clean up her mess.  Every move was deliberate and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world.  Which, Jenny thought to herself, they did.

“Don’t be too sure about that, Jennifer dear.  Thoughts like that will cause you to be arrogant, and arrogance will get you killed,” Hanna chided as she tossed the last chunk of Tony into the vat before her.  With each person, Hanna insisted on preparing the room so there would be no evidence left of any kind.  Plastic tarp, the kind laid down in holes that had been dug to keep water out, like with pools and graves when it rains, was laid out on the floor.  Other than the G-chair and one table for instruments, the vat was the only other piece of “furniture”, if it could be called that, in the room.

Jenny still didn’t know what it was that Hanna did to keep the sound from escaping.  She would simply stand in the corner, not interfering, letting Jenny vent her pain and fury.  No matter how much any of them screamed, begged, no sound ever escaped that room.

Tony was only the third one so far.  Lance, she had made last for almost 4 days before his heart finally gave out. Hanna offered to make him a ghoul, give him some of her blood as he died so that he would remain half alive, but Jenny declined.  She wanted to get to the others, and Lance got boring when all he would do was whimper.  She wanted them to scream.  Needed to hear more than just “Please stop!”  Jerry only lasted a day.  Hanna fetched him while she slept (Jenny thought about asking how she was able to move around during the day), and when Jenny saw his face, she went straight for his throat.  Literally.

Hanna didn’t chastise her for killing him so quickly.  She never criticized anything Jenny did, and only the once with Lance did she even offer to help.  This was Jenny’s vengeance, only she had the right to it, and Hanna made sure she had no interruptions.

Jenny fingered the serrated knife she had used on Tony.  The pieces Hanna was discarding slowly, making sure each was fully eaten before tossing in the next piece, Jenny had cut off him.  She cut each and every inch of his body off a piece at a time while he screamed.  She almost gagged him to death when she cut off his penis and shoved it piece by piece into his mouth, forcing him with her hand working his jaw then stroking his throat, to eat it.  She made sure she left out the tendons, anything that he could have choked on, just feeding him chunks of flesh.  When he tried to vomit, she made him eat anything that came up.  Hanna taught her the trick of being able to glamour him, and she found it hilarious to make him act as if he relished the taste of vomit and his own flesh.

Rather that stitching the flesh where his penis had been, Hanna showed her how to use her own blood to seal the wound: just a little bit of it, traced across the flesh, and concentrating on knitting it together.  She had said most Kindred used the trick, only with their saliva, to hide bite marks after they had fed.  She had said it was more effective when blood was used, but that it risked the chance of making the person into a ghoul.  But neither of them were worried about that with Tony: he wasn’t going to live long enough to become a ghoul.

She watched Hanna’s face, trying to see if there was any flicker of emotion as she put the last chunk in the vat. She said this was a trick she had learned from August in Casa Loma.  That was before Spike had grabbed Jenny, so Jenny didn’t know anything about it.  When she tried to ask, Hanna looked at her, the normally violet eyes glowing red, and commanded in her broken glass voice, “Don’t ask.”

Still, Jenny thought the piranhas were a clever touch.  They stripped away everything, leaving only bones.  Hanna said when they were done in Vegas, she would deal with the bones and the piranhas.  They only had two more left here; everyone else on the “List” had moved on to other places.  And they were going to hunt them all down. Hanna actually remembered each one chronologically, and it was that way they would die.  In order.  If they had to go back to somewhere simply because one of the people was there, just it wasn’t their position on the “List”, then they would go back.  Hanna was absolute in her certainty that each of Jenny’s “demons” needed to be dealt with in the order they had harmed her.  Jenny didn’t mind.  She just wanted them.  She wanted to feel each of their lives as she ripped it away from them, wanted to feel their fear, their pain, their terror.  Just like what they did to her.

“There are only so many though,” Jenny whispered, almost sadly.  “When we get to the end…”

“I’ve been saving him.”

Jenny looked at her, completely at a loss.

“He isn’t dead.  I made certain of it.  I put word out, everywhere.  Others are watching him for me.  And everyone knows, no matter what, that he is to be kept alive for me.  Even if they have to stake him and put him into Torpor until I can collect him.”  She looked at Jenny and smiled, and Jenny almost cringed at the light in Hanna’s eyes.

“Davistch will be last, Jennifer dear.  He survives, until you are ready.  Just remember that whenever you revenge yourself on these human monsters.  The real one, the one who started this for you, waits at the end.”

If anyone could have seen them then, the terror would have been absolute.  Their smiles were identical, promising agony, suffering, eternal pain…

About Kristi Deming

RAFO

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