By Richard Laymon
Utilizing historical black magic a deadly, vindictive maniac is made omnipotent via his skill to develop into invisible. Raping and murdering his means round the States, he's biding his time sooner than gratifying his one hope - to get in spite of the highschool belle who rejected him years ahead of.
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Her hand paused on the ignition. She wanted to go home, take a long bath, and get to bed. But she couldn’t. Maybe it was none of her business. Knowing Red’s plan, though, she wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t at least talk to him, warn him of the possible consequences. You don’t blow a man apart with a shotgun because he killed your dog. Not unless you want a prison stretch. Even shooting an intruder, unless the man is armed, could mean more trouble than Red probably bargained for. She started her car and drove the three blocks to Hoffman’s Market.
She seemed to have an exaggerated fear of burning. He’d noted the same dread in the man named Walter. The muscular fellow had acted brazen, at first, during Dukane’s interrogation three nights before the bayou gathering. Like Alice, he’d claimed to be invulnerable. He’d refused to talk. But he broke down, whimpering and pleading, when Dukane doused him with gasoline. In short order, he told about Laveda’s group, its structure and purposes, the extent of its membership, the time and location of the meeting.
The teeth indentations had disappeared, but her nipples were purple. She touched one and winced. Her body was seamed with fingernail scratches: her shoulders and upper arms, her sides, her belly, her thighs. At least he hadn’t raked her breasts, and none of the scratches would show when she was clothed—the silver lining. She tested the water with a foot. Hot, but not burning. She climbed in and slowly lowered herself, clenching rigid with pain as the water seared the raw lips of her vagina. The pain faded, and she let herself down the rest of the way.
Beware by Richard Laymon