The Mutilation Machination Read Free Page A

she’s coming.” Christian smiled. “I can feel her.”
    Dan shook his head. “Whatever. Now get out there and play before
we have a riot.”
    A knock at the door interrupted them and a large, muscled young
man entered. He fidgeted from one foot to the other. “Mr Vane, there’s been a
problem.”
    Dan threw his arms in the air and shook his head. “Give me bloody
strength. What now?”
    The man bowed his head. “It’s the alto. He’s, erm, dead.”
    “Jesus, Mary, mother of God,” Dan bellowed. “That’s all we need.”
    Christian looked across at Dan and smiled. “It’s not a problem. I
know how keen you are for the show to go on. Well, it’s time to put your money
where your mouth is, or rather other people’s money.” He nodded to the man who
had entered the room. “If you would be so kind as to restrain Mr Summer.”
    Dan backed away, hands held up to ward them off. “You can’t. Not
me,” he wailed.
    Christian smiled. “Oh, I think I can. As you said, if you don’t
perform, what use are you.”
     
    The curtain drew back, revealing a stage illuminated by red
spotlights. Bound figures sat in chairs or lay on raised podiums in the centre
of the stage. As Christian walked onto the stage, the crowd cheered and roared.
    He bowed and smiled. The adulation always lifted him up, making
him feel ten feet tall. He approached the bound figures and looked them over.
If their appearance was any indication, some wouldn’t last the show.
    Dan bucked and wrestled against the bindings that attached him to
one of the chairs. He stared wide eyed at Christian, sweat coated his face.
    “You can’t do this to me.” he screamed. “What the fuck do you
think you’re doing?”
    “I would have thought it’s obvious.”
    Christian surveyed the array of sharp implements laid out on the
table beside Dan before selecting a long, spiked tube. He tested the sharpness
of the point against his thumb.
    “You can’t be serious,” Dan said, swallowing.
    “We were short an alto, and only a hack artist would perform
without an alto – and as I told you, I’m a virtuoso. Now it’s time to strike
the band. The audience is waiting, and I have a concert to perform.”
    Using the implements at hand, Christian coerced a range of screams
from his captive orchestra. The excruciating pain inflicted upon them stretched
their vocal cords to the limit, creating sounds otherwise thought impossible –
sounds that combined to form sweet music.
    His trained ear allowed him to know when the screams reached a
pleasing musical pitch, and he moderated his torture to sustain the note.
    As the finale approached, he skewered Dan’s thighs with long
spikes, prodding and gouging to play his human instrument, counter pointing it
with a woman’s shrill tones as he sliced her bare thighs with a blood smeared
blade. His manager’s screams varied in pitch and volume until his voice reached
a perfect alto and then petered out.
    “Looks like my muse arrived in the nick of time,” Christian
whispered in Dan’s ear before he slumped forwards, his wide eyes closing.
    Applause filled the silence, and Christian Vane bowed triumphantly
before walking off stage to a standing ovation.
     

Not So Different
     
    The blare of a horn startled Daniel Gerard from his slumber. He
opened his eyes, unsure where he was – then it all came back as quick as the
road along which he hurtled at the wheel of his Mitsubishi L200 truck. His
heart turned to a block of ice, pumping cold blood through his veins. The car
horn sounded dangerously close, and a quick glance in the rear view mirror
revealed a vehicle that flashed its lights to indicate an imminent collision.
Daniel grimaced. His truck had already strayed across the road, and he quickly
turned the wheel, steering back into the nearside lane.
    Daniel let out a huge sigh; felt devoid of strength. Up ahead, a
sign indicated a rest area, and he signalled and pulled over.
    That was just too damn close. He covered