Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (classic literature list .txt) 📗

his weakness in the yard of the first sacrifice, where his body betrayed him and he vomited after removing the child’s intestines from his body. He thanked God for forgiving him and allowing him to complete his second sacrifice in a much stronger fashion. He chronicled his brilliance that allowed him to sit and wait for the sinners to come to him, rather than having to hunt them down. He advised on how to effectively evade detection by the federal agents.

And of course, he warned them of the meddling detective and his companion—the bewitched whore who called herself Maureen.

THIRTY-THREE

Manny opened his eyes to the sunlight glaring in through the window. As he yawned, the dull ache in the back of his head and the cotton in his mouth reminded him of how much he had drunk the night before. The light stung his eyes. His stomach bubbled. He was lying naked in bed and felt amazing.

The memories of the night before played out like a movie in his mind. The moment his lips met Maureen’s was a revelation. He’d never been with a woman who did the things that she did. She’d finished him so quickly on the couch that he almost felt ashamed. But she’d taken him by the hand back to his bedroom, brought him back to life, and proceeded to continue blowing his mind with how she made love. The way she took his bottom lip between her teeth and used her hand on the small of his back to guide him into her. The way her breasts heaved as she rode him furiously just to the point of a second completion and then backed off to tease him some more. To his mind, it was the best he’d ever had, and by the time he and Maureen had finally curled up in each other’s arms, he had begun to think he might actually be falling in love with her.

Manny rolled over to throw his arm around Maureen and found her side of the bed empty. The shock of sitting up as quickly as he did sent a jolt of pain through his head. He steadied himself for a moment before he could focus his vision on any one thing. Around his room were the signs of their night together. His jeans and shirt were crumpled on the floor by the door. His boxers were at the foot of his bed. He found Maureen’s satin thong lying next to them. He picked them up and twirled them around his finger like some kind of immature college student before he carefully laid them on top of his comforter on the bed. Her jeans were still on the floor where she had stepped out of them after pushing him onto the bed. He knew that her tank top and bra were likely still in the living room where she had taken them off. What he didn’t know was where she was.

Manny pulled on a pair of shorts and tiptoed out of his room and into the hallway. He moved slowly, trying to keep the dizziness at bay. The first place he looked was the bathroom across the hall. The door was closed so Manny tapped on it softly and whispered her name. There was no answer, and he could not hear any water running in the shower so he tried the knob. It was unlocked, and the door swung open with a push. The bathroom was dark and empty. Manny flipped on the light and the florescent glow of the fixture in the ceiling hit his eyes like an ice pick. The stab in his brain brought to him an awareness of his own body that reminded him that hangovers weren’t the only aftermath of a night of drinking. He stepped over to the toilet to relieve the pressure in his bladder and was almost amused to notice two condoms sitting atop the refuse in the wastebasket. He didn’t remember going through two—or going into the bathroom to throw them away afterward—but then, he wouldn’t have been surprised if there were gaps in his memory. He hadn’t drunk the way they had in years.

Manny flushed the toilet, washed his hands quickly, and went back out to continue his search for Maureen. He poked his head into the two other bedrooms on the way down the hall toward the living area. They were empty as well. He came to the end of the hall where he had partial views of both the living room and the kitchen. He went to his right when he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye. Manny moved toward it, rubbing his eyes to clear them a bit more and was met with a startling sight.

Maureen was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, her back against the cabinets below the sink, rocking slowly back and forth. Her eyes stared through the wall opposite her. She was naked, and her lips were parted, moving ever so slightly as if a silent dialogue were being carried out. In her right hand was a kitchen knife that she was lightly gliding across the floor.

Manny carefully stepped around her and sat down on her left, away from the blade. He slowly put his arm around her and gently reached for the knife. To his surprise, she handed it to him with no objection and turned her head to him. Despite the desperation deep in her eyes, her face was even.

“He took another one,” she said softly. “It just happened. Maybe less than half an hour ago.”

Her eyes moved back to the floor where she had been dragging the knife. He followed them with his own and saw that she had carved the now familiar Aramaic characters. םירִוא Urim. Light.

Manny couldn’t be totally sure whether the churning in his stomach was due to Maureen’s chilling revelation, or the remnants of the previous night, but he forced himself to his feet, sticking the