The Magic Of Insanity (A Jeff The Killer Romance) [Discontinued]

Chapter 9

This won't take long at all, he thought to himself. His heart was pounding in his chest as he imagined the look of fear that would come over his prey and the pleads for mercy that would satisfy his ever present desires.

He swiftly ran into a clump of trees which stood tall and thick beside the old library and climbed to the top of the tallest one with the agility and grace of a cat.

This gave him a view of the street below, where he saw the figure of a woman with a cloak covering her head and a bag in her hand. His heart jumped slightly before he quickly composed himself. For a brief second, he had thought about whether or not it was the pesky little witch. He quickly shook this thought aside when he realized that she did not smell like a witch.

There was something else there though. The smell of magic which Jeff had come to discover actually existed.

As soon as the woman was almost directly in front of the tree, the killer leapt down from the top and landed directly in front of her in a crouch with a loud thud.

She gasped in surprise and fear as she stared fearfully at the man in front of her who was beginning to rise slowly, revealing his ghastly visage and sinister smile.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? So late at night. On the streets all by her pretty little self."

The woman stared back at him with wide eyes, clutching her bag tightly. In her eyes, Jeff could read a sense of familiarity.

Like she knew who he was.

"Please," she began to plead, and sunk to her knees much to Jeff's delight. "I beg you! Do not kill me. I will do anything to live! I will give you anything!"

Jeff grinned at her shaking, crying form before changing his expression to one of mock sorrow. "Don't cry, lovely."

He pulled her up by her chin so that she would meet his gaze. "I couldn't kill someone like you. You're far too beautiful. So... special." He ran his finger down her cheek gently, and his hot breath was on her face.

She stared back at him, hope igniting in her muddy brown eyes. "R-Really? I--"

She was cut off by his chuckles. They started as a slight sound, buried somewhere in his throat, but then became louder and louder and more hysterical, until they resonated loudly through the night.

His usual grin returned to his face, and his grip on her jaw tightened painfully.

"Did you really think for a second, you filthy whore, that I would think of sparing you?"

He threw her down violently and she grunted in pain as her forehead banged against the gravel  and she began to bleed. He began to laugh even more.

"What do you think would make you so different, hm? You're all pathetic."

He kicked her in the side and she rolled over on to her stomach in pain and began to cough up crimson red liquid.

"Please, Jeff..."

He looked down at her in annoyance, and she stared up at him with pleading eyes. "If you spare me, I have something that I can give to you. Just please."

He felt himself shaking, seething anger and annoyance at the audacity of this human filth sparked fire in his bones.

"What do you think you could offer me, you stupid bitch?" He questioned in contempt through gritted teeth, gripping his knife impossibility tighter.

"I..." she paused to cough,"I'm a servant of Elder Catherine's. I know who you are Jeff and I know that they're after you. B-but please. I have something in my pocket that I'm su-sure you'll find useful if you want to save yourself. B-but it might only be helpful in the right hands. I will give it to you if you spare my life."

He looked at her and let out a dry and humorless laugh. "You're an idiot," he spat. "What makes you think that I can't just take it then kill you? Are you really that arrogant?"

She shook her head slightly, a slight smile forming on her bruised lips. "It's a magically sealed journal. It can only be opened by the powerful magic of witches. I'm just a mere human servant myself, and I stole this journal in hopes of unlocking the secret to her destruction. I was on my way to someone to open it. If you let me go... then I'll go to them and I'll open it and give it to you."

Jeff stood stock still, one emotion after the other plaguing him. He knew within himself that it was only a matter of time before the old woman came to execute him. After all, he was stealing from them and had taken the lives of their kind. All would not be forgiven. He knew that if what this girl was saying was true, he would actually have a chance to fight back.

But, as always, his insanity intertwined with his lust for blood began to cloud his better judgement. He went from being thoughtful to extremely angry.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" He demanded, crushing her jaw once again in his deathly grip.

She gasped out in pain as the sound of her bones cracking and teeth shifting rattled her skull. "I'm not," she somehow managed to say. "I would do just about anything to stay alive."

His grip on his knife tightened as his mind reeled with the decision to be made. His inner instinct would not allow another target to walk away, unharmed and left for another day.

He glared at her grudgefully for about two seconds, before lowering his head slightly and saying, "And that's what makes you so pathetic."

And in a swift motion, he slit her throat and left her lifeless body on the ground, her lifeless eyes staring up at the starry night sky. He didn't bother carving a smile into her face.

She didn't deserve to smile.

After a few seconds of doing nothing, he felt along her pockets and shortly afterwards, his fingers wrapped around a small square object covered in leather. He pulled it out swiftly.

Sure enough, it was a small pocket journal. And he could smell it. Powerful magic that by even just holding the journal made him feel drained. He tried to open it but instead was met with pure pain coursing through his vains and supernatural energy licking every fiber of his being and dominating his senses.

He threw the journal down into the snow and stood up, staggering slightly. Upon recovery, he grabbed it quickly and stuffed it into his pocket, and the magic which eminated from it returned to its normal, less oppressive state.

He trudged along in the snow. He had just destroyed what might have been his chance at survival. His primal nature had caused him to act impulsively once again, but he did not allow himself to regret anything.

A hypocrite, he thought, his logical side kicking in for just long enough to taunt him. You called her pathetic, because she said she would do just about anything to survive.

But... aren't you doing the same thing?