The Demon's Debt

The crisp, fall air fills the room as Eron tosses his rain-soaked mask onto the desk. He stalks to the kitchen and pours himself a drink before plopping his worn-out body down on the couch and flipping on the tv. “The Midnight Vigilante has done it again folks. This evening a gang known as The Machetes were found bound and gagged in an alley next to the movie theatre. Once police found them, they were…” the screen goes black as he tosses the remote to the side. If only these people knew what he was truly capable of. If only they knew the debts he was trying to repay. He shakes the thoughts away and heads to his room to wash away the guilt and grime before falling into another restless sleep.

“Please, please let me go! I promise I won’t go to the police; I just want to go home to my kids.” A wicked grin spreads across Eron’s face as he lifts the knife for one final slash. Silence. He takes care to wipe everything clean before wrapping the body in a fresh tarp and dropping it into the bed of his pickup truck. Another family will be on the news tomorrow, begging for any information the public may have on their missing relative. He chuckles at the thought. The power rush it gives him to know he is the one responsible makes his head spin. “Beep, beep, beep” The alarm wakes him from this nightmare. The same one, every night, for the last nine years. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and slowly rolls out of bed. He catches a glimpse of his reflection and instead of looking away like he usually does, he takes the time to look at himself. Dark, floppy hair frames his angular face. He rubs one hand along his chiseled jaw line and takes a long stare into his piercing green eyes. Those eyes have been the last thing countless women have ever seen. He shuts them tight and walks away from the mirror.

After his third cup of coffee, Eron throws on a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans before heading out the door. On the news this morning there was yet another report of an unnamed crook terrorizing the streets of Salem. “As if this town wasn’t haunted enough” he thought to himself as he drove down the street listening to the description of the perpetrator, “Witnesses say he is a white man, somewhere near 6ft tall with a muscular build. He was last seen wearing a bandana over his mouth, a red flannel shirt and ripped jeans. No one has been able to give a description of his face, but three of the victims say his eyes were unnaturally blue”. Eron takes a deep breath. “One victim was lucky enough to escape. Despite a deep knife wound to her throat, she was able to crawl her way to a nearby home where police and an ambulance were called. When asked for a description of her attacker, the only thing she could recall were piercing green eyes.” He once again shakes the thought away as he pulls into the diner on Boston Street.

“Hi Eron baby, what will it be today?” Charlene had been his waitress for as long as he could remember. She knew how he took his coffee, how he liked his eggs, and how crispy to make his bacon. She was the closest thing to a Mother he’d ever had. Her kind nature and southern accent had made her one of the only people he swore to never hurt. “Just a cup of coffee today Charlene I didn’t sleep well”. Eron looked out the window at the rain that had just started falling. “Again? Honey, you need to see a doctor about that” Charlene chided. “Yes ma’am”. He gave her a weary smile and pulled out his phone.

He felt the man coming before he saw him. Like calls to like and he knew the instant the doorbells chimed that he was going to have fun today. He was exactly as witnesses described him, tall, muscular and had eyes like a husky. It made Eron’s hair stand on end just seeing him so close to Charlene. “Hi sugar, what can I get for you this morning?” Eron swallowed down the bile forcing its way up his throat. Suddenly Charlene was every woman he’d ever murdered. She was every mother, frantically searching for their child. It made him physically sick. If remorse was a person, he was it. He’d paid his debts for nine years, and it would never be enough. He watched as this broad stranger ordered a cup of coffee and began subtly recording Charlene. He knew he would have to act fast, but he needed to ground himself. If he didn’t think this through, he would ruin everything. He dropped a $20 bill down onto the table and walked out to his truck.

“Abigail Lynn Lawrence, age 22. Found with her throat slashed and her hands and feet bound. Her and her husband had just welcomed their first child into the world. Jasmine Denise Lawson, age 24. Found with multiple contusions on her face and multiple stab wounds to her chest and back. She had just graduated from nursing school and was set to start her new job the following Monday. Rebecca Jean Cole, age 21. Found with her hands bound behind her back and her throat slashed so deep she was nearly decapitated. She had just gotten engaged to her high school sweetheart. They had plans to move to Vermont later in the year.” The tears streamed down Eron’s face as he pulled on his black coveralls. The crimes that used to bring him pleasure, he now used as fuel for his rage. There were plenty more where they came from, but he wouldn’t let himself think of them now. He needed to focus.

It was nearing 9pm when Eron finally got into his truck. He had kept an eye on the air tag he had dropped into the perpetrator’s truck bed on his way out of the diner. He had become almost too good at tracking these guys down. It was almost comical to him that the police were never able to apprehend them. His humor disappeared as he realized the blue-eyed monster was heading right back to the diner. 9pm was closing time, and he knew Charlene would be alone. She wasn’t supposed to be, but she would never ask any of the younger staff to stay. He was still 10 minutes out and he knew better than anyone that 10 minutes was often the difference between life and death. He dialed the diner and begged for Charlene to pick up. “Doug’s Diner, how can I help you”. He released his breath and sent up a silent thank you, to whoever was out there listening. “Charlene, it’s Eron. I need you to listen to me closely”, “What’s going on hun? Are you okay” he could hear the shake in her voice and it make his chest tighten. “Charlene, there is a man coming to that diner to hurt you. I need you to promise me you will hide yourself in the supply room and you will not come out until I come for you, do you understand?”. He begged she would take him seriously. “Ok honey, no problem. Would you like carry-out or delivery?” Fuck. He stepped on the gas and sped down the dark street. He pulled into the diner parking lot, and his entire world flipped upside down. He could see the blood before he even made it through the door. Her body was face down, with the diner phone still clutched in her hand. The air tag he had planted was sitting in the center of her back, on top of a folded order ticket. He stifled his sob and unfolded the paper. I know who, and what you are Eron Tackett. An eye for an eye, right? His blood turned cold. Who was this man, and how did he know his full name? He put the bloody paper in his pocket and bent down to check her pulse. Nothing. Charlene was gone. The only person he had ever truly loved, gone in an instant, and there was nothing he could do. The grief that hit him was overwhelming, but he didn’t have time to waste. He called the police chief on his way back to the truck. This was their job now, he had unfinished business to attend to.

He had been driving for over an hour when he finally spotted the truck. An old, beat-up Chevrolet set on the edge of the walking path. Eron knew he was walking into a fire, but he had never been afraid to get burned. He pulled his mask over his face and got out of the truck. He was half a mile onto the trail when he heard branches cracking. He spun around to find a man walking onto the path. “Hello, Eron. I bet you don’t remember me”. But he did. He’d never forget that face. It haunted him every single day. “I do. What do you want from me?” His voice quivered despite every attempt to keep it steady. The man chuckled and Eron’s blood boiled. “Janelle Marie Prescott. Age 23. She was on her way home from a first date when she stopped to help a man with a flat tire. But he didn’t have a flat tire, did he Eron?” Eron swallowed hard. He deserved everything this man was about to do to him. “My daughter crawled on her hands and knees over a mile after you left her for dead. My beautiful girl. Mutilated by your hands.” Eron huffed, “yeah, yet she somehow survived and now what? You want to avenge her by hurting other women? That was almost a decade ago and last I checked, she was doing just fine”. The man growled before taking two steps closer to Eron. “My daughter identified you. She knew your name. But for some reason, that didn’t matter, did it?” He ground his teeth as he inched closer. “I went to the Sherrif; I even called the damn mayor and neither of them seemed to be of any help to me. Do you know why that is Eron?” Of course he knew. It was the whole reason he wore this stupid mask. It was the reason he dreamt of these women every single night. Why he’d never live in peace. And why Charlene was dead. Eron took off his mask. “Because the night your daughter was found, I sold my soul to the devil in exchange for my freedom”. The man’s bright blue eyes widened but he stood his ground. “I paid a demon’s debt, Mr. Prescott. And it has cost me everything.”

John Prescott stood ten feet away from his daughter’s killer, but he couldn’t move. He had planned this moment in his mind for months. He would attack, but never injure women in the community, just to get Eron’s attention. When he knew he was on the radar, he would take the most important thing from him. He had watched Eron for months but never saw him interact with another human being, except Charlene. He had pulled public records to find that 32-year-old Eron Tackett had been a ward of the state since he was 15 years old. He began his killing spree a year later. 19 victims in the span of seven years, ending with the attack on his daughter. John had spent countless hours, and thousands of dollars on private investigators only to learn that this brutal serial killer, was now playing vigilante in the city of Salem, Massachusetts. The irony of it all nearly drove him mad. Now, he stood face to face with this murderer and fear, or some other force, kept him from following through with his plan. He took one step closer to Eron, and a pain shot through his chest and down his arm with such force it brought him to his knees. He couldn’t breathe or speak as he saw Eron walk toward him. “I told you Mr. Prescott. I sold my soul in exchange for my freedom. There is nothing you can do to me that I haven’t already tried to do to myself.” John gasped for air as Eron continued walking in his direction. “I am paying my debt to the same evil who drove me to murder all of those women and until that debt is paid, I am stuck here in this miserable existence.” John gave him one final glare before the light in his eyes went black.

Eron carried John Prescott’s body into the city morgue and laid it on the autopsy table. “I’ll count this one Eron, but next time please don’t be so careless” the mayor snapped his latex gloves on and flicked on the overhead light. “What does this make? Seven, eight? I lose count.” Eron took a ragged breath, “this makes eight sir.” The mayor’s eyes flashed black with amusement as he cut John’s sternum open. “Very good. I’ll send you on your way. I’ll send you your next assignment in the morning.” Eron nodded and walked toward the door. “Oh, Eron” the mayor started, “I am sorry about Charlene”. Eron didn’t respond. He just closed the door quietly behind him. One body closer to freedom, one soul further from his own.