‘It was easy,’ replied Juraj, whispering as his breath escaped him. He was frightened at first, but now that his fate was staring him straight in the face, he no longer felt the need to be afraid of what was to come next. ‘You left too many clues—you didn’t cover your tracks. You call yourself a killer?’ Juraj spat with venom.
The mad man laughed in reply, a cruel terrible shriek that echoed all around the wooden warehouse like a wolf howling in the moonlight, announcing to all around that his presence was be known and feared.
‘I did what needed to be done,’ he sneered, ‘you couldn’t possibly understand.’ The gun was wavering and shaking at Juraj, the man ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
‘You needed to kill Peter, and Edgar too?’ cried Juraj, anger overtaking his fear now, feeling stronger as he confronted this demon of no remorse. ‘And what of Milos, Lichnova, and me? Are we all nothing to you, just a game in your twisted reality?’
The shadow stood straighter, arching his shoulders broadly. A cloak hid his body, a darkened figure, a spectre. Hauntingly, he laughed once more, staring down at Juraj, helpless on his knees, awaiting his execution.
‘You think you understand it all, don’t you? What makes you think I wanted or planned to kill any of them?’
‘You are a monster,’ replied Juraj, spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor, staring at his captor in disgust.
He would be nothing without that gun, Juraj told himself.
Vladislav leaned in closer to Juraj, almost a whisper from his ear, pressing the gun into Juraj’s chest. The wooden structure around them creaked and the wind howled further outside, but Juraj could focus on none of that. Only his adrenaline guided him into a searing vision of white light, a focus of intense magnitude as his brain desperately scrambled for some way to release himself of the situation.
‘I did what I must to protect what I love most, surely you can understand that, Mr Teralov?’ he snarled defensively.
‘Love?!’ Juraj shouted, with a maddening laughter of his own, ‘What would you know of love?’
The pair stared brutally into each other’s eyes, a showdown of immense proportions, each daring the other to strike first. At least if he shoots me, I will have enough reason to finish him, Juraj thought, ready to attack.
‘I only killed Edgar because I had to—he knew too much. Our fight was never with him. And as for Milos, I pity the fool, but he was captured and blamed. He had seen me just before I killed Edgar—you both had.’
The creature of evil confessed his sin like a patron of the church, whispering his last rites to a priest, releasing himself of burden and freeing his mind and soul before passing. A confession of epic proportions.
‘And now you’ll kill me, too?’ acknowledged Juraj, his tone resolute and accepting, the breath in his lungs the last he’d ever know. He felt every pulse and palpitation of his heart as it beat faster and faster still, wishing death to arrive sooner so that it may be done with.
‘You are mistaken,’ the killer retorted, shaking his head slowly from side to side. ‘My quarrel was never with you—it was never with any of you. I simply existed to protect the one I love most. One day, you will understand this.’
Juraj stood suddenly, ready to grab the gun and fight to the death if he must, but the shadow jumped back, reacting quickly, the gun still pointed directly at Juraj.
‘And you think that by killing me and that you get to live you will protect this person?’ asked Juraj through gritted teeth, his eyes mad with disdain.
‘No, Mr Teralov,’ he replied, ‘only in death now can this secret be held.’
The clerk raised the gun towards Juraj’s head. A loud bang reverberated around the warehouse, each sound bouncing off each wall and enhancing the shot further still.
Juraj stood shaken, frozen in fear as the man in front of him fell sideways and onto the floor. A loud thud cracked bone and flesh as it hit the concrete.
‘What…’ murmured Juraj.
Confused and dazed, his life had flashed momentarily before him. There was Peter and he running around in gardens, giving chase to one another, laughing joyfully. His mother hugging him, telling him how proud of him she was. Then a fair-haired woman kissing him softly and sweetly, telling him how dearly she loved him. Edgar patted him on the back, insisting on what fine accomplishment he was to behold, how grateful he was to have him by his side. And then finally, Lichnova was running ahead of him, encouraging him forward on their hunt.
The gunshot had not been destined for Juraj. The killer had smiled with hatred as he turned the weapon around onto himself, pulling the trigger—all the while staring Juraj directly into his blue sapphire eyes.
Those eyes, Juraj shuddered, crippling down to his knees, broken and weeping, such hate and anger held within them. There was something recognizable within them, a distant familiarity he could not place. Yet in the end, he saw what he could only describe as love. Whatever the killer may have been, it was true he had done it for his definition of love. There was no doubt in his final moments that the same life-force was within his mind as he pulled the trigger and met his fate, bestowed upon oneself.
17.
A rustle and a groan, a shifting of a body on the floor startled Juraj. It cannot be, he said to himself, believing the madman had been reborn into a second life, reincarnated to destroy and haunt him once more.
The next sound was one of much comfort and relief to Juraj, as a
