Chapter 2The 98-Pound Curse

The chat exploded.

[Holy crap, the head is gone. Is this guy for real or just a hack?]

[How did he know that was a photo? Must be a paid actor in the stream.]

[Yeah, and he said he couldn't leak secrets, then he goes and shows him that?]

The Master spoke up: "I can't reveal the secrets of heaven to everyone, but I have the spiritual protection to resist the fallout. You ordinary people do not."

The doubts continued. One comment caught my eye:

[Wait, don't you need a birth date and time for a reading? This guy never gave his birthday.]

Right!

I hadn't given him any of my info. How could he know my head would be separated from my body?

I let out a breath. He almost got me.

Livestream psychics are just entertainment, right? I couldn't take it seriously.

I closed the app and got ready to pick up Mia.

Since this was our first time meeting in person, I put on my best clothes and bought a bouquet of flowers.

When I arrived at the station, Mia’s train had just pulled in.

After a short wait, a girl in a white trench coat walked out. She was wearing a matching "couples' bracelet" I had sent her. It was Mia.

She looked exactly like her photos—tall, pretty, and elegant. A total dream girl.

The meeting went smoothly. She was a bit shy but politely thanked me for letting her stay. It was clear she was happy with what she saw in me, too.

I took her luggage and called an Uber to take her back to my place.

While waiting for the car, I asked, "Can you tell me more about what happened upstairs at your old place?"

Mia shivered at the memory.

"You have no idea. I honestly thought I wasn't going to make it out alive..."

She explained that when she went to confront the guy, his door was slightly ajar. She knocked for a long time, but no one answered. So, she just pushed it open.

"There was a loud thumping sound inside. Like someone was chopping something. Thump, thump, thump. It was so loud he didn't hear me."

She paused, swallowing hard.

"I walked into the living room and called out. He finally heard me and came out of the kitchen."

I found myself getting tense as she spoke.

"The guy was huge. He had this long, nasty scar across his face. He was holding a knife dripping with blood. It was all over his pants. I almost died of fright right then and there."

"But..."

"Even though I was terrified, I told him to stop dropping cigarettes on my balcony."

"What did he say?"

Before she could answer, a horn honked. Our Uber had arrived.

We sat in the back seat together, and Mia continued:

"After I told him why I was there, he went ballistic. He screamed at me for coming in, completely ignored what I said, told me to get the hell out, and promised to gut me!"

"Why was he so aggressive?" I asked.

Mia frowned. "I don't know. As I was leaving, I glanced into the kitchen. The counters were covered in blood. And the thing on the cutting board... it was weird. I couldn't see clearly from the door, but it was a pale body with dark hair. I don't know what kind of animal it was."

I felt a chill. "What if it wasn't an animal?"

"Oh god! You don't think I stumbled onto a serial killer, do you?"

I tried to comfort her. "Probably not. What are the odds?"

"I hope so. But either way, I couldn't live under a guy like that. I had to get out."

Then, the driver in the front seat let out a chuckle. "That’s funny."

Mia was startled. "What's funny, sir?"

The driver had been listening to us. He sounded like an expert on the subject.

"You kids have quite the imagination. Dismemberment? Do you know how much strength it takes to chop up a body? Unless a guy is built like an ox, he isn't doing that alone."

I looked at the driver. He looked to be in his late fifties, gray hair at his temples, looking fairly energetic. He didn't look like a bad guy.

Mia thought for a second. "Is a pro boxer strong enough? That neighbor had trophies and boxing certificates all over his walls."

The driver made a sound of surprise. "Well, then, maybe. My son is a heavyweight boxer. Those guys are all muscle. They definitely have the strength."

I looked at my own skinny arms and silently put my jacket on.

I didn't want to talk about this anymore, so I changed the subject.

The station was crowded with cars. The driver’s phone rang. After a quick talk, he turned to us.

"Hey, do you guys mind a carpool? My son just arrived at the station too. If I pick him up, I'll give you half off the fare."

I wanted to say no—I didn't want to look cheap on our first date—but Mia beat me to it.

"Sure! We can do a carpool." She smiled at me. "Every dollar counts, right? You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." I admired how down-to-earth she was.

I pulled out my phone and peeked at the Master's stream again. People were still asking about me. I typed: [Picked up the girlfriend. Everything is fine. Thanks for the concern.]

"Babe, look at that." Mia nudged my elbow.

She was pointing at a dark stain on the back of the front seat that trailed down to the floor mats. It was dark and dry, hard to see on the black interior unless you looked closely.

"Looks like... blood," I whispered. "Probably just spilled some groceries or something."

"My son is here," the driver said. "Let’s get moving."

A massive, dark-skinned man with bulging muscles opened the door and sat in the passenger seat.

The moment she saw him, Mia's entire body went rigid.

She started shaking. Her eyes went wide, her eyelashes trembling.

"What’s wrong?" I whispered.

Mia pointed a shaking finger at the man in front. "It’s... it's him..."

She was so terrified she had lost her voice.

"Damn it, what a bad day!" the man in the front seat growled to the driver. "That girl from downstairs saw me today. I heard she took a train here to the city. I need to find her and kill her before she talks."

My heart stopped.

Is he...?

"Watch your mouth! We have passengers," the driver scolded him, then turned to us with a fake smile. "Sorry about that. My son talks nonsense. He’s never killed anyone."

The scarred man finally looked at us.

He stared at Mia for two seconds, then slowly licked the scar on his lip.

"Dad, quit the act. This is the girl from downstairs."

Holy...

"Are you sure?" the driver asked.

"I’d know that face anywhere."

"Well then." The driver reached under his seat and sighed. "I hate to get my car messy again."

He pulled out a long, blood-stained meat cleaver.

I went into a state of primal shock. I tried to pull the door handle, but it wouldn't move. The windows were locked. The car had been modified.

The driver floored the gas.

He handed the cleaver to his son.

The scarred man shifted in his seat, tilted his head, and looked at us with a grin.

"So, which one of you goes first? Do you want to be chopped up, or should I just take the head?"