Killers Amongst Us: Killers, #1 2d7255

Book 1 of “Killers Amongst Us ” series

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

KILLERS AMONGST US

First edition. February 1, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 Winter Publishing.

ISBN: 978-1393753988

Written by Winter Publishing.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Killers Amongst Us

Part 1

Part 2

Part 1

Part 2

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

About the Author

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Further Reading: Unbreakable

Also By Winter Publishing

Chapter 1 1955 Damion

I lured my prey into the forest, one step at a time over the crunching leaves and debris, sporadically placed on the forest floor. “Mary, I’m glad you came here with me today. There is something I have been dying to tell you. And yes that pun was intended.” “Pun?” she replied, not yet realizing her fate. “Well Mary,” I said wickedly, “it was me all along. I have been going around killing people, everybody in this dire little town. One by one I watched them drop like flies by my hand, and now it is your turn.” I whipped my knife around from its hidden place in my coat pocket and brought it to her throat in one swift motion. Her soft skin is like butter to my knife. I lashed my blade across her neck, enjoying every last drop of warm blood that dripped down her warm milky complexion and onto the crisp autumn leaves. Mary let out a scream as I took away her life. A shadow lingered over her dead body, the shape of a demon. Nothing could take away the feeling of putting a knife to my victim’s skin. The silver blade so easily slicing open the warm soft dough-like skin of my victims, their warm blood rolling down my hand like raindrops. The feeling was so satisfying, it warmed my insides. You would think the scream would turn me off, or give me some sort of excitement. Yet, it's quite different to that actually, in fact, it's although their scream is muted out. All sound is. It’s like I’m in my own world, where nothing and no one exists but me and my prey, and everything else, every noise is on the outside. Killing was my drug. I had been doing it for about three years at this point and still haven't been caught. I'm pretty good at it actually. I crave it, I crave the warmth it gives me and the closeness to my victim. To the outsider, I am just a normal human being, going about life, as any other would. I grew up in a small town in Australia, my community was very small and conservative. I was born in the year of 1940, or so I was told. I was adopted at a young age, though my parents would never tell me anything more than that. Where I was from, children would be expected to be on their best behaviour and not speak unless spoken to. Most families in our community had many children, yet my family just had two. My Brother and I.

Growing up, I had a group of five friends. We were all children of church families and therefore were expected to be very good. Although, when we got together to play we would tell each other secrets and stories that our parents would be appalled to know; wicked ideas we played up in our minds, such as, ‘what if satan ruled the earth, rather than God’ and ‘what would happen if we were ever to leave this town’. I have memories of being young, the only one in my family with auburn hair. I would get up to mischief often and my parents would punish me, telling me I was wicked. I this one instance, I hurt my brother; not unusual for me, yet this time he stopped breathing. I felt wickedness running through my body, enjoying the sensation. By the time my parents found him he was dead. They were horrified and punished me by several lashings and forcing me to endure regular meetings with the church priest. Although they acted as though I were the evilest of all evil, they kept me and made up a lie to cover up what I had done, though there were whispers throughout the town, no one knew for certain. To this day, I have never felt remorse and never understood why they did. After that, I often just killed little things like animals or bugs. Though, as I grew into a teen, the thirst for something bigger became more apparent, nagging in my brain. That is when I began to look at my friends as targets rather than people. One fateful day we were sitting in a circle, having one of our typical talks about life and what was beyond this place we were subject to. I looked at each one of my friends as they spoke, secretly plotting my revenge. As I thought, Robbie, one of the boys in my group came out and said, “Who do you think is responsible for all of these creepy murders?” I watched as one by one, they tried to guess. “You have to give him credit, that's for sure. He hides his tracks well.” another boy in the group said, his name was Marcus. “How do you know it's a he? It could be a Woman!” suggested Mary, one of the girls. “That's a load of crap!” yelled Robbie. “A woman couldn't pull this off!” he laughed at her, forcing her to hide her head in the hands, with embarrassment. The whole group started to argue and try to yell over each other their opinions. Watching them, I laughed to myself, I had such an effect on them and they didn't even realize.

“Who do you think it is Damion?” asked Marcas, the group hushed. “Well my dear Marcas, it was me,” I stated calmly.

“Isn’t it a shame about those poor children that were murdered the other day?” One prissy old bag said to another as I walked through town a few days later. “Yes, whoever did that horrible crime will have to pay. Once the sheriff finds out who it is, he will no doubt be run out of town if not put to death.” “How do you know it was a man and not a woman?” “Oh Sue, don’t be ridiculous! No woman could pull off that sort of thing.” They bantered between themselves. There was a function being held at the local hall, a dance of sorts. It had been prepared to honour the dead. I listened eagerly as these women complimented me on my efforts to pull off such a mass murder without getting caught. I emerged from the darkness in which I had been eavesdropping, “Oh ladies, you flatter me.” I chuckled. “Damion!” One of the old biddies gasped in surprise, “You shouldn’t be out here! Don’t you know there is a killer on the loose, stupid boy.” “Oh ladies, ladies” I ruffled my hair, walking closer to them. “You almost did put together the puzzle. It was me all along you see.” “What do you mean it was you?” they cried in unison, looking at each other unsure of what I was itting to.” “I killed them all. I am the strategic killer and I am going to kill you both, and the rest of this town next.” They stumbled backward but I was too quick for them. I was face to face with sue, so close our noses were touching. I pulled the old engraved lighter I had stolen from my father, out of my pocket and ignited her dress and the other woman’s hair. I watched in delight as they struggled, burning, not able to do anything about it. I let their screams drift away from my ears as I made my way to the hall. I walked through swift and effortlessly lighting peoples outfits on fire. My lips lifted in one corner as I watched them all burn. Curious people coming out to view the pile-up of dead bodies, not knowing that there was a killer on the loose, right amongst them. It was all a bit of a fun time for me, watching my family and their friends, my whole town burning to a crisp. The severity of the

situation amused me greatly and I was eager for more.

Chapter two 1970 Jessie

Jessie, her hair drenched from sweat, stared at her new baby in fear. It dripped down her cheek as she stared wide-eyed at her husband and family, who gazed lovingly at the child. She was baffled as to how they could feel that way. It had been a few hours since she gave birth, and it was the most traumatizing experience of her life. She gave the baby to her husband and stood to relieve herself from the situation. “Are you alright, darling?” her husband asked. “I just need to use the bathroom.” She walked to the bathroom and stood by the toilet, checking the stitches that had just been put in place. She had been told they would dissolve after a few weeks and to keep them clean. Jessie stood, looking at herself in the mirror. Her muddy brown hair looked a mess, her body ached, and her big blue eyes were swollen with burst capillaries. “I don't want this life. I don’t want to be a mother,” she said in a low tone, rubbing her aching back. At that moment, Jessie decided to run. She decided to run from her baby, from her husband, from her family, and from her responsibilities. While she had been happy in her marriage, she wasn’t happy that she became pregnant. And the birth just reminded her of the struggles and sacrifices she would have to make for her growing child. Reflecting on her childhood, she shuddered. Growing up in an orphanage was not something she liked to , and not having real parents of her own, her adoptive ones not rising to the occasion, she didn’t know the first thing about raising a child. She washed her face and hair in the sink and opened the door a crack to peer out at her bewitched family. She didn't want to wear a hospital gown, just in case it aroused suspicion and prevented her getaway. “Honey, could you please me an outfit? I want to have a shower,” she said, her deep blue eyes mesmerizing him. He adored her always, but after watching her give birth, he was in awe. “Of course, my love.” He ed her a band t-shirt, a souvenir from the time they had attended a concert together, and some loose-fitting pants. Her preferred outfit would usually be jeans, though she needed to make an amendment. Tossing the oversized shirt over her hair and pulling up her pants, she spotted the nurse’s entrance to the bathroom.

“Babe, could you actually just me my entire bag? I need some other things.” She peered out of the door at her husband, who was still looking at their brunette son, his soft newborn hair glistening in the lights. Her heart started to throb as her husband handed the baby to his mother and carried her bag to the door... “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her lightly on her full lips. She smiled weakly, a tear in her eye, ing all of the amazing moments they had experienced together and that her husband would have with their new child. Turning slowly, she made her escape. Once outside, she looked desperately for a taxi to pick her up from the side of the dry, dusty Arizona road and take her away to God knows where, just not here. She looked back, panicked that her estranged husband would be looking for her. Maybe he would try to take her back to the life she didn't want. Or worse. He could have her locked up in a mental ward for abandoning her family due to postpartum depression. They would blame it on that, not on the fact that she never wanted a baby. But she did it to fulfill her husband's dream of becoming a father. A cab pulled up to the curb, and she opened the door and jumped in. “Take me anywhere with food and footwear,” she said. The driver took off and she looked out the window, watching the road and other cars go by. About ten minutes into the drive, she realized that someone had probably alerted authorities that she was missing. They would for sure alert the taxi company, and though they were currently in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t care. “Drop me here.” “I thought you wanted a shopping center, ma'am?” “I said drop me here! I’ll walk!” The cab pulled to the curb, slowing down as Jessie jumped out. The cab driver yelled at her out of the window for payment. She started walking...faster...even though her body ached, she soon began to notice the pain fade into the back of her mind before disappearing altogether. Before long, her jog turned to running. Every stride pounded at her broken heart. Just when she thought her mattered feet couldn't take her any further through the desert atmosphere, the adrenaline hit. It became effortless to lift her feet one after another. She felt as though she were flying. She had power. It was as though her post-birth body were giving

her a new instinct, and that was to run and never stop. She picked up the pace as her legs became stronger and her body more agile. After a while, she spotted an old gas station and made her way to it. When she entered, she found an overweight man standing alone at the counter. The dusty room was run down, just like any old gas station would be. He stood there staring blankly as though riddled with boredom. Jessie grabbed things like a clean T-shirt and soap to wash the blood from her mangled feet. Now that she had stopped moving, the place where her stitches held her together hurt again. She moved slowly as she continued to grab snacks, a bag, and flip flops, putting them into the duffel bag that she had taken with her from the hospital. The guy at the counter didn't chase her as she started to walk out, so she kept a normal pace. Eventually, she heard him calling, “Ma’am, you have to pay for those. I am not a charity.” She ignored him as she removed her sweaty shirt and replaced it with the new one. Her pants were surprisingly still intact after her journey in the wilderness. She put the flip flops on and continued walking. The calling stopped soon after...but she wouldn't have cared if it hadn't.

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Chapter three 1940 Santa

Amidst the chaos of World War II lurked a much more sinister event. Hidden in the shadows amongst the devastating ongoings of the time was one of Hitler's soldiers. He went by the name of Nicholas, though he was soon given the nickname, "Saint Nick." To the outsider, he gained his nickname through his humanitarian work with the victim children of war. He vowed he was taking the children to an orphanage to prevent them from becoming involved in any war like nastiness. But he was actually taking them somewhere much more sinister. Nicholas worked alone, and with Hitler to conduct unspeakable experiments on captive victims, conducting unspeakable "punishments" and experiments on victims that were taken captive. He had a strong interest in creating his own race. As a team, they conducted horrific experiments, including injecting dye into the eyes of twins to see if the iris would change colour. Bone marrow experiments were a popular choice, too. Transplanting it from one person to another, inspecting if they could be successful. These were just a few of the horrific experiments they conducted. They would do anything they could think of to the prisoners, consenting or not. Prisoners were locked in monitoring rooms to keep track of the progress. All of the progress was not enough for Nicholas, as he desired to create something of his own. While working with adults scratched his itch... his main interest was to specialize in children. He wanted to create something mankind had never witnessed and hopefully never would again. His deep desire was to open his own centre where he could conduct unlimited experiments without the help or monitoring of other sergeants in Hitler's service. “Tell Nicholas I wish to speak with him regarding a private matter,” Hitler said to one of his sergeants, Luis. Luis hurried without any hesitation into the experimental lab where Nickolas was at work on his lab rats. Once Luis reached him, he stood silent, not showing any emotion. Though what he witnessed was common for Nazi testing and trials, it was scarring nonetheless. Nicholas was hovering over his work desk, tools splayed out everywhere in no organized manner. He appeared to be searching for something, his hair a tattered mess of white curls. Luis spied a child on the lab table across from the one Nicholas was collecting tools from. The child looked either dead or under heavy sedation. They didn't usually use any aids to numb the pain, though, so this child would

have had horrible injuries to be this limp. Nicholas acknowledged Luis without looking his way. “What do you want?” he asked in a rushed tone, squirting liquid out of a syringe. Luis kept his order. “Adolf wishes to speak with you,” he said, keeping his cool despite his rage. As Luis was a part of Hitler's service, it was up to him and the others to look the other way, not assume, and not comment on anything that went on, despite how horrified they might be. To this, Nicholas turned and made eye . “Did he say regarding what matter?” “No, sir,” Luis replied stiffly. “When does he wish to speak with me?” “At once, sir.” Nickolas looked at his patient. “This will have to wait,” he sighed. He set the syringe down and walked out, locking the door behind him. He made sure that Luis was outside of it before leaving. Hitler was seated at his desk, as pristine as his appearance, dressed head to toe in his uniform, badges and all. Nickolas stood at the entrance of his office doorway, waiting for a signal to come in. “Please enter, my friend. I have a proposition for you,” Adolf stated as he stood and began to pace the room. “We have made some amazing discoveries through our experiments thus far. You have been doing great work and so, I propose we take this study further. I have found a great spot in Antarctica. It is hidden and has a lot of room to expand. I believe you will do great work there.” “Sir,” Nickolas started, “are you saying we are moving to Antarctica? What will happen to your duties here?” He scuffled about in his chair excitedly. “No, my dear friend. I am saying that you will be moving there. Well, you will be stationed there, in your own lab. We will have your patients shipped there with you so you may continue your work,” he said. “Now, before you say anything, I know that you have been wanting to work on your own. Luis has told me of your desires,” he continued as Nicholas shifted uncomfortably in his

chair. “And don't worry, I am not mad. You have proven yourself. and so, I would like to give you this.” He nodded in Nicholas’s direction. “Thank you, sir,” Nicholas said, beginning to stand. “You are most welcome.” Hilter shook his hand proudly. “Word is, you have earned yourself a nickname. Saint Nick, is it?” He chuckled. “Yes, sir, some call me Santa, for my work with children,” Nicholas uttered, almost embarrassed. “Well, isn’t that sadistic.” Hitler chuckled once again. “Sir, what I am doing...what we are doing,” he said, “is for the good of the people.” “Yes, that is a good attitude,” Hitler said, patting him on the back. “I will send word of your journey to come.” He nodded at him, sitting back at his desk and releasing Nicholas from the conversation. Back at his current lab, Nicholas unlocked the door to continue his satanic ion, only to find that the child he was working on had disappeared. He gasped, desperately searching under all surfaces that a child could hide in to no avail. Suddenly, he thought of Luis in the room earlier. “I bet he took the child,” he huffed angrily, racing out the door and making sure to shut it behind him. After searching in every room leading up the large corridor, he came to a bedroom that multiple children shared. There he was, Luis, kneeling by the bed with a wet cloth to the child's head. “What are you doing?” he cried, marching toward them. “Give that child back at once!” He grabbed the child's lifeless body. Luis spoke, “I found this child amidst a fit on your workshop floor. I had to do something.” “You should have left it well alone!” Nicholas spoke back. “Now give me that child so I can finish my work.” “The child has perished!” Luis stood, his frame towering over Nicholas’s

“Perished?!” Nicholas was outraged. “Yes, perished. I cared for the child, but it was too late.” Luis hung his head in shame. Santa hit the wall with force. “Well, chuck the child on the pile with the others on your way out. You are released from the service for intruding on my private workspace,” Santa said angrily. “Released?” Luis asked horrified. “You can’t do that. Only Hitler himself can release me.” he protested. “I am sure he will agree with me when he hears what you have done. So go ahead, Luis. Leave now,” he commanded. Luis walked away.

Chapter Four 1970 Damion

Running around, playing with my siblings, I knew one of us would soon be collected for our next round of experiments at any time. All the children would run when it was time, even though we knew that the pain was worth it to help the greater good. We were still scared because the pain was so intense. I spotted the guard coming. “Who will it be today?” he grumbled. I could tell he hated his job, but for some reason he did it anyway. There was a signal we used to alert one another a guard was coming. A bird call. It came from when Father was experimenting on "exotic birds". Number 250 did the call this time around and we all started running. Each of us had numbers instead of names, which I soon learned wasn't normal. My number was 155. Amidst the scramble, the guard managed to grab 105, who was obviously too slow. We heard his scream from down the hall. Although it was terrifying and we felt awful for him, we were glad that it wasn't one of us. Though we all knew that sooner or later...we all got a turn. “Hey, Red,” said a scruffy-sounding Australian voice, which almost matched my own, though it was a bit rougher. I looked up, letting my memories fade away. My hazel eyes met those of a man in a wife-beater singlet and a bit too much chub around his middle. “Is this what you were after?” He gestured towards a yellow 1974 Ford XA 351 GT. “That'll do me fine,” I said, grabbing the keys that dangled from his hand. “So you will have this back to me, when?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, I would say in a few days at most. Monday latest,” I replied. “No worries, mate. Enjoy,” he grumbled as he plodded back to the workshop. I knew well and good that I wasn’t returning this vehicle. And since that old dickhead didn’t have my real name or any of my information, he wouldn’t be chasing me down for it either. I drove down the dusty Alice Springs road, arm out the window, breeze in my auburn hair, no particular destination in mind. I felt the breeze on my fingertips, the ones that ended so many lives. I felt carefree and motivated to continue my sadistic journey in my home country. My life now was so different from the

memories that kept flooding my mind. I didn’t know where they came from or if they were just figments of my imagination. My thoughts were interrupted once again as I spotted a woman. Simple with brunette hair, big beautiful blue eyes, and nice lips. She wore sweatpants and an Arizona tourist T-shirt and seemed to be fatigued. Her shoes looked like they had seen better days. Her hair was sweaty and her perfect cheekbones were smeared with dirt. Curiosity got the better of me as I pulled to the side of the road. She walked over to my car, looking desperate. “Hi there. Can I help you get somewhere?” I asked casually. “Yes,” she stated, not looking for conversation. Just the type of victim I liked, an easy target, no chit chat to get in the way. She got into the car, staring straight ahead. “Where can I take you?” I looked at her quizzically. She had an American accent. “Anywhere but here,” she stated. “I just walked here from the airport. I couldn’t afford a cab.” I breathed out of my slightly-parted lips and smiled toward the road, accelerating. I hadn’t imagined her in my plan, yet this could work. She was obviously on the run, so no one would miss her. At least not here. Maybe back home. A wicked grin worked its way across my face as I planned the next few hours. My day had suddenly gotten much brighter.

Chapter Five 1970 Jessie

After what seemed like weeks, I had managed to meet a guy selling fake ports in the back room of a petrol station. I hadn’t intended to cross the border, but it just seemed like a good opportunity when I overheard a man speaking with a worker about it while I was picking up more supplies. “Can you tell Todd I am here, please?” he had asked in a hushed tone. “What’s the code?” he replied. “108.” “Come on through.” It was my turn to be served and I couldn’t help myself. I placed my items on the counter, and the worker asked, “Is that all for today?” I quickly said, “Actually, I’m here to see Todd.” He looked at me suspiciously, “Code,” he quipped. “108,” I braced. “Go on through.” He watched me, unsure as I grabbed my items off the bench and hastily walked to the back room. Looking around, it seemed to be a staff room. There was a microwave displayed on the bench-top and lunch boxes piled up on the sink. “And you are?” said a very skinny man appearing to be in his mid-forties. Dirty brown hair fell in tangled curls around his face. “I need a port,” I said in a low tone. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else, and I’m done for the day.” He pushed back his chair with his legs and stood up. “Please,” I said, “I can’t be here.'' My voice sounded desperate. He looked at me, his stern face turning soft. "Fine," he sighed, "take a seat. What's your name?" I grimaced, resisting.

“What name do you want on your port?” He looked at me, his head cocked, impatient. “Dahlia.” “Last name?” he continued “Black.” “Black Dahlia?” He laughed and shook his head. “Black Dahlia it is.” He pulled out a camera. “Smile,” he said, pressing the button. I held a straight face, lips tight. “Or don’t,” he followed, snapping the photo. “This is going to take a few if you want to wait or go for a walk and come back.” He stood and walked to his work desk across the room. “I’ll wait,” I replied dimly, crossing my arms and shifting in my chair uncomfortably. All I could think about was my next destination and my family, most likely looking for me. Surely there would be a search warrant out for me by now. “Hey, lady, what’s your story anyway? What are you running from?” The man looked in my direction quickly before going back to his work. I shifted uncomfortably once again. “Who?” he continued, quizzing me after I hadn’t answered. “Look, I just need my port and I’ll be on my way.” I tapped my nails on the desk in front of me impatiently, feeling like a child waiting for candy after dinner. He ignored me and kept working. “Done,” he announced a few minutes later. “Finally,” I mumbled under my breath, rolling my eyes. “How much do I owe you?” “Ugh. Let’s say one hundy. That should cut it.” I shoved my hand in my pocket, only to realize I had spent the money that I had

found in the back of the taxi earlier." “Ugh, can I come back and pay it? I’m all out,” I said, fiddling with my pockets. “I’m sorry, but that’s not how it works.” He eye-balled me. “I will keep this and you can come back later, or I can think of another way you can pay me,” he said shifting toward me, his air sleazy and dark. I moved backwards, running into a wall. He pressed himself against me and pulled at my clothes. I felt darkness rise up within me like untamed powerful energy. I took hold of his wrists and shoved him. Shock overpowered his features but quickly changed to iration...then dare. I could tell he saw this as a challenge when he tried grabbing me again. I wasn't proud of what I did next. It was completely unexpected, but, in all honesty, he deserved it. I took my port from his mangled hand and ran. I stopped around the corner to look at my hands—which had turned to claws— and my arms, which had very pronounced veins along them. I couldn’t stop thinking about how my body was changing. I had noticed the bleeding had stopped when I last checked in the bathroom, which I knew from research wasn’t normal. I could only put it down to my body's way of reacting to birth. It felt as though I had been walking for days. My feet were messed up and I was exhausted and hungry. I made it to Alice Spring airport, which I chose due to it being a less-populated part of Australia. It was also somewhere no one would expect me to be. And I had been walking ever since, trying to figure out my next step. I saw a yellow car coming down the dirt road at an impressive speed and thought this would be a prime opportunity to have a rest and get to a new location. I put my thumb up, signalling for a lift. A red-headed man in his mid-twenties with hazel-brown eyes and freckles pulled up to the curb. His olive skin matched mine almost perfectly. “Hi there. Can I help you get somewhere?” he asked, his cheek resting on his hand as he leaned on the window.

“Yes, ” I stated plainly, not looking to start a conversation and reveal who I was. I was probably on the missing person list by now. I got into the enger side of the car, staring straight ahead. “Where can I take you?” I wasn't used to his accent, Australian. “Anywhere but here,” I said. I heard him breath out sharply, and I wondered what he was thinking. But I didn’t care enough to ask. Suddenly, I felt the car accelerate, working up gears. I wondered where we were going. After hours of driving and him trying to make small talk no matter how much I resisted, we pulled into a gas station. “I need to use the bathroom,” I said as I got out of the car. Something caught my eye. Walking into the petrol station, I spied a newspaper. The cover stood out to me like a sore thumb; for I was the cover. My face, along with the words, “A twenty-six-year-old American woman going by the name of Jessie Walker went missing from Arizona State Hospital one week ago today. If anyone has any information or knows the whereabouts of this woman please this number.” “Well, well, well,” my red-headed inquisitor said with a smirk, as he walked up behind me, “Mrs. Jessie Walker.” Well, fuck.

Chapter Six 1942 Santa

Two years into his work and Nickolas’s formula was complete. He was well underway with his experiments, using highly-classified equipment to create something evil. In his mind, of course, he thought he was doing good. But to the rest of civilization, he was insane, and he was one of two of his kind. Working from a secret underground building in Antarctica he created his masterpiece: a race of children with fire red hair and skin as white as snow. He took advantage of the innocence children were granted. The hundred-odd kids in his torture lair were being bred with the intention of becoming killing machines. They were supernatural beings. At least, as super as humankind can be altered to be. Within the next few years, these children would be programmed and trained. They would be sent to different orphanages and families to be raised in different parts of the world, activating at certain times in their lives. The least-sinister detail about these children, though possibly the most disturbing, was that they were to be Santa’s gift to their adoptive families. The true meaning of Christmas. I knew from a young age that there was something different about me. I was set to work for a bigger purpose, not to live an ordinary life like every other peasant and no-hoper. So, when the war started and I had first heard Hitler's ideas and plan of action, I knew it was the right path for me to be on. I did everything I could so he would notice me. I was already being trained as a Sergeant, and I knew that once I applied for a position within his army he was bound to notice me for the work I had performed on subjects in the past. Those experiments mostly took place on animals. Though I was destined for that role, I needed a helping hand to get an interview. Which was where my cousin Arnold came in. Arnold was in Hitler’s service already and put in a good word for me. Once I got to speak to Adolf himself I got to explain to him my intentions and the way I planned to help him with his service. He was instantly impressed by my ability and keenness for his work and offered me a position on the spot. I intended to work my way up within a couple of months and finally be included in his trusted circle, close enough to call myself a friend. From that point on I shared with him my plans for a new race. He enjoyed my intentions thoroughly as he had similar plans himself. When he

offered to have a lab built for me in the far north of Antarctica, I was thrilled and eager to get started right away. Finally, my lifelong dreams were coming to fruition. And with an endless supply of subjects to experiment with, I would have no limits. I soon came to discover that the great thing about children was that they were so trusting. You didn’t have to be nice to them. If they believed you were their parent or someone to look up to, you could do anything to them and they would still love you unconditionally. There came a time when I had been working on children long enough that I realized I needed babies, embryos to be more specific, so I could alter their DNA to be more precise. As I desired to genetically modify them to be a certain way, I needed to alter the cells when they were still embryos. This was when the DNA was injected. I would take eggs and sperm from adult subjects, used for different experiments entirely, and curate them into embryos. Next, I would alter the DNA. I took from different animals, such as apes for the auburn hair. I used an array of animals, experimenting with eye colours, coming up with an array of blue, green, and brown. I used snow from the tip of the arctic for the creamy complexion. Next was the muscle tone. This was a difficult element to source as I needed to take this from animals such as gorillas, muskox, tigers, and elephants, which required sellers. That was both expensive and time-consuming, yet Hitler had connections, which made that goal a possibility. My research on serial killers revealed that they all had a gene in common. Combining this with the DNA prototype and the combination of the MAO and CDH 13 genes helped create the perfect evil killing machine. After testing myself to see if I contained this combination, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I did. The gene was only consistent in great minds and was the final touch. My masterpiece was completed. I spent years and many tools creating human-sized incubators to grow the embryos in. Once the incubators were ready, I compiled a selection of employees that I believed I could trust to operate the process line. My team of subjects was collected from different war barracks. All of them were used as experimental subjects and were not missed by anyone. I had total faith that they

would abide by my rules. If they didn't, there would be major consequences. The incubators moved along a rotating line as the embryos were injected with the hormones, DNA, and muscle. They then sat for six months, brewing until they were ready to come out.

Chapter Seven 1970 Damion

“Mrs. Jessie Walker,” I smirked, finally knowing who this mystery woman was. This would make the trip a lot more fun. She thought she could get along just ignoring me, not letting me in on her little secret, but was she just hellishly wrong. “We all have secrets, Jessie,” I uttered as she peered at me with a curious look. “You will find out mine soon enough.” I glared at her, knowing full well that my plan to slowly kill her was going to be as juicy as it was satisfying. We got back in the car and resumed our journey, my arm resting over the back of her headrest. After about an hour of driving, I couldn’t take the silence any longer...“Want to play truth or dare?” “No.” “Oh, come on, beautiful.” She turned to me, her eyes wide and her hair blowing around her face. “What do you want to know? Huh? How I’m so fucked up? How could I leave my family? My husband? My baby? Well, I don’t know. I just couldn’t be there. It’s not what I wanted. And stop calling me beautiful.” She turned back around to face the road, arms by her sides, hands gripping the seat with a pained expression painted across her face. I was taken aback by her honesty after two days of silence. A sudden hit of attraction for her washed through me. I stared at her, thoughts of desire filling my mind. “Watch the road, jackass!” she yelled, bracing herself for a crash. “Don’t be dramatic,” I uttered as I slowed down, pulling onto the side of the road which happened to back onto a field. “What are you doing?” She looked at me suspiciously as I climbed out of the car. “Stretching my legs,” I replied, lifting my arms above my head and ruffling my auburn hair. I let my arms fall onto the car roof as I leaned against it. She got out too and stretched her arms behind her back, arching it and exposing her medium-sized breasts. I watched in awe, my desire growing rapidly. I pushed my pelvis against the car in an attempt to hide my fast-growing sexual feelings. Not that I really cared at the end of the day if she noticed, as she would

be dead soon. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She ran her fingers through her hair, her dark blue eyes glistening and long dark eyelashes framing them perfectly. She was a beauty if I ever saw it, and she wasn’t even trying. Her hips swayed naturally as she turned toward me, likely feeling my gaze upon her. Staring back at me, her expression changed from inpatient to wonderous. “Why do you keep staring at me, huh? What is it?” she said. “Do you find me attractive or something?” she continued before I had a chance to reply. “I do.” I laughed, once again taken aback by her forward personality, new to me after her reserved one back in the car. “Are you a Gemini by any chance?” I looked at her, one eyebrow cocked. “Yes?” She looked at me with curiosity. “Why do you ask?” “No reason,” I replied, proud of my intuition. She was the only person I could not fully read, which intrigued me greatly. “Why don’t you kiss me, then?” she teased, leaning against the car and watching me intently. “Where did this sudden tolerance for me come from?” I asked, unable to resist her much longer. She moved to the front of the car and sat on the bonnet. “I’m bored...maybe a bit lonely, too.” I moved toward her swiftly, the urge to rip her clothes off and wring her neck equally great. I grabbed her thighs firmly as she ran her fingers along the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling me to her. She kissed me ionately. I realized pretty fast that she got her rocks off from people iring her. I wrapped her chocolate hair around my hand and pulled it, anchoring her head back as I dragged my lips down her olive skin, which oddly matched mine in colour. It didn't bother me, though. Quite the opposite, in fact, as I loved my looks. Her nails worked their way across my back, down my right arm, and to my ass, gripping it tightly. Her other hand went back up to my head, grasping my hair

once more as she pulled it, yanking my head backward. I suddenly felt her strength as I tried to readjust my head to face her and couldn’t. I grabbed her wrist from behind my back, attempting to yank it, unsuccessful. I swiftly grabbed her neck, trying again, but I was still unsuccessful. I gazed at her, surprised. The shock factor wore off quickly as it turned to fright, a feeling I had not experienced since I was a child. My fear suddenly turned to anguish as pain surfaced in my neck and shoulders. She looked equally surprised by her strength, as though she had not experienced it before. Suddenly, she let go and scrambled back to the car windscreen, breathing heavily with a wicked smile etched into her lips. “What the fuck was that?” I yelled. “I don’t know.” She looked flustered. “I’m going to have to punish you for that,” I said, etching toward her. The urge to kill was strong. I longed for her blood. “You look confused.” I tilted my head. “What do you mean by punishment? Is that like some sex thing?” “No, it’s like some killing thing.” An evil grin played on my face as my excitement grew for the events ahead.

Chapter Eight 1970 Jessie

Damion straddled my legs as I looked at him in both surprise and anguish. His grip on me was tight enough to cause pain. I had teased him, yes. Though I was not really sure why. Perhaps I was lonely or bored. Whatever the reason, my loins ached for him, but my body was still healing from birth, not really allowing me to follow through. “What do you mean by punishment? Is that like some sex thing?” I uttered. “No, it’s like some killing thing.” He smirked at me. Rather than fear, which would be a natural reaction to a reply like that, intrigue and curiosity washed through me like waves. Though I hadn’t intended it, I pulled him to me, kissing him wildly, our bodies smashing together. My strength, unknown to me, pulled him in. Unable to escape it, he had no choice but to follow me into the deepest kiss known to man. The kiss was obviously too much for him to handle as he pushed me onto the hood of the car with immense force. Continuing, he pushed his hand into my neck, his thumb digging its way into my main artery. I felt the blood draining from my face. I kicked him off me, then flipped him over with my legs, landing on top of him. The strength and speed that I could only assume had come from the trauma of birth consumed me. I had experienced it earlier in that servo station, yet this was taking me to a whole different place. What was it that drove me to this point? My thoughts were interrupted by a knife to my throat. I hadn’t taken his threat seriously until this point. “What are you doing?” I yelled. “I told you, I'm going to kill you,” he breathed as he pressed the knife further, cutting off my air supply and breaking the skin. It suddenly hit me that I knew nothing about this person. Who was he? Was he wanted for murder? Regardless, it seemed I was next. Before too long, his tongue was tracing my neck where the blood had started to run from my wound. His action soon turned to traces of soft kisses as he made his way down my body. I should have been running toward the hills, yet an unusual desire was taking over. A desire one could only get from another person who was sharing the same amount of strength as themselves. I guided him

through the stages as our bodies intertwined. The thrill of knowing he could kill me at any moment kept my body tingling, goosebumps trailing down my skin. What happened after that was the most ionate and sadistic encounter I had ever experienced, and I was sure I would never experience it again. Succumbing to one another, we lay on the car bonnet, enthralled. My pants still in a pile on the floor and my knee-length boots accentuated my slim legs. In the distance, amongst the dirt floating through the air, approached a man, about six feet in height and wearing a hiker’s pack. His hair was in tangled curls. As he got closer and closer, I realized he was fairly young. As he neared us, my reaction was to leap. Suddenly, I was on my feet, feeling more powerful than I had a moment earlier. It was obvious to anyone that I was growing stronger, but why? The man stood there, staring. His demeanor irritated me, so I strode toward him. No thoughts had really come to me about what I was going to do once I got to him, yet I knew I wasn’t going to stand still and let this perv stare. Once I had reached him, the look in his eyes told me that he knew I wasn’t down to play. In an instant my hands were around his neck, my strength crushing him, his extremities turning a pleasing shade of blue. “Wait!” he squeaked. “You’re going to want to hear what I know.'' “What do you mean?” I asked, annoyed that he was still breathing. “I know what you are. What you both are.” “What do you mean what we both are?” Damion said, suddenly by my side. “You are not human. You’re very strong. Both of you. Your power is unmatched to anyone.” “What do you mean?” I breathed. "You were created by Santa," he said. I scoffed, “Santa? Like Christmas?” “That mad scientist from Antarctica,” Damion uttered in a low knowing tone. I looked back and forth between the two, bewildered.

Damion spoke again, “You’re kidding. That explains so much. I knew I was meant for something better, some great plan. I’m a masterpiece.” “Settle down,” I said. “How do you know this? And why should we believe you? You’re a desert rodent by the looks of you.” “You will not speak to me like that! I am a respected messenger in Santa's army. And you are both miraculous works of art made by his hand.” He stood his ground. “So, is that what you came to tell us? Your purpose is served?” I asked. “He wants to see you both. He wants you to come home.” “And why would we do that?” I replied sarcastically. “You are part of a greater plan. You were set out in this world to complete a purpose, and so far you have failed.” “Don’t tell me I have failed at life, you C-” Damion was cut off by the man's eagerness to continue. “You must complete the plan. You must go to Santa.” “Don’t tell me what I must do!” countered Damion. “You are ruining the order! He has a plan for the world and you disobedient children are wrecking it!” At this, Damion grabbed his neck, crushing it. “There’s nothing I like more than a good murder,” he said. “You want to murder him?” I gasped. “Of course. Don’t you? That’s literally what we were made to do.” “What?” “Have you really not heard any of the stories about Santa?” “No?” “Well, you have a lot to learn, girly.” After a short while, we walked away, the man's body a mangled mess of blood, seared skin, and dirt. What I had witnessed Damion do, and what I had done

myself, was nothing short of a brutal murder. Thinking about what we had just done triggered forgotten memories... “Father, why are you doing this to me?” I cried as I was strapped to a wooden chair with handcuffs. “Daughter, you are contributing to a great cause. Be thankful that you get to be a part of it,” my father had said. I looked beside me to see another small child. The child had no skin from the mid-shin down and was laying on the cold hard floor. I looked back to my father grabbing my leg, scalpel in hand. Shivering mid-memory, I looked down at my own leg to see a horrific scar, not ever knowing how it got there. Now It all made sense. I was part of his plan...his tortured children.

Chapter Nine 1942 Santa

My daughter Elizabeth was my pride and joy. Though she didn’t know it, she was my favourite of all of the children. Her mother was one of the women Hitler had given me. She belonged to the Jewish sector, as did many of the others that I experimented on. She was different from any Jew I had met before with a permanently innocent look on her face. She died shortly after Elizabeth was born, giving me one of my two genetically-related children. This made Elizabeth and one other child the only ones to not have red hair. Though she was my own flesh and blood, I did add a few details into her DNA via injections to make her strong when provoked. This also made her stand out from the others and gave her a vulnerability that would make anyone trust her, unlike her siblings who were pure killing machines. When it came to experiments, she was given no special treatment and endured as much as the others. I was careful never to show the children affection aside from the occasional sit on my lap and stroke of their hair. I would often observe Elizabeth playing with the other children. She had a different nature to her than the others. She was kind and easily intimidated, yet she was always a great planner, a quality I ired. She would always carefully structure the games that the children played. This is why I should not have been surprised when she planned her escape. It was just another day. The children were playing and I had sent Lorent, one of the guards on my payroll, to collect a child for experiments. On this occasion, it was Elizabeth's turn, as I had not used her in a few weeks. Lorent said later that he heard Elizabeth speaking with one of the other children about escaping, yet he put it down to child's play, nothing but innocent banter. “You can use the tunnel by room forty-five. I will keep watch and then come after you when I know no one is coming,” said Elizabeth, Number 155 replied, "But what about the others?" “It is too risky,” Elizabeth responded. At this point, Lorent grabbed Elizabeth for collection. He arrived in the room in which I was working on another child who had ed out on the floor. He placed Elizabeth in the chair and strapped her in. I saw the fright in her eyes,

especially when she noticed the other child on the floor with the skin removed from his foot. This was a new method I had come up with to test the pace of skin growth on their manipulated cells. This particular experiment I liked to call "Santa's Christmas Stocking." “Why are you doing this?” Elizabeth cried. “Oh, dear daughter, do not be afraid. You are part of a bigger plan.” I prepared my tools. Approaching her with a scalpel, I held her ankle down as she wiggled and squealed. I had no idea why the children did this, couldn't they see that a little pain could contribute to a world of new scientific evidence? I sliced at the skin, blood making its way to her toes. She ed out at this point as the other children did, probably from the pain. I laid her on the floor, hanging the skin glove up to bleed out, before applying a serum to the glove to test for another project that I was working on. I then rubbed ointment on her foot for healing. Later that day, I bandaged up the children and placed them in a room filled with beds. Yet, when I went to check on their progress later that night, Elizabeth was gone. Annoyed at the thought that she had gone to play with the other children against my instruction, I paced out to the foyer to find her. “Elizabeth!” No response. “Elizabeth!” I called again, growing angrier by the second. This daughter of mine did love to test my patience, often reminding me of myself as a child. “Lorent, find Elizabeth.” I walked back to my room, retiring for bed. As I put on my nightgown and began to pull back the cover of my bed Lorent yelled, “System breach!” I ran out to see what the problem was. “Two children are missing and the security door has been unlocked!” he yelled. Horror washed through me as I tried to comprehend what had happened. “Take me through this again,'' I replied, shock obvious in my voice. “The security gates have been opened and two children are missing,” Lorent repeated sternly. “Let's do a headcount and find out exactly what happened,” I said, walking to the children's room hastily. We woke up the children, counting the numbers on

their lasered-on stamps—a coding system we used to keep track of all of the children. Elizabeth and 155 were missing. It appeared to me that Elizabeth's innocent plan to escape earlier was nothing short of a real one. “She is injured. She couldn’t have gotten far,” I said as I thought through the possibilities. “How could this even happen? How could they have broken out?” I continued. “It seems that the lock has been forced open with a great amount of strength,” Lorent replied. Suddenly, it dawned on me that the children's strength was beginning to take over, thus making my experiments fruitful. Amazed, I ordered Lorent to secure the door and get a stronger metal. There were two incredibly strong killing weapons on the loose.

Chapter Ten 1970 Jessie

Damion looked at me, his hands on the steering wheel once again. “This all makes so much sense. Why I have always been this way,” he said. “What, evil?” I replied snickering to myself. He rolled his eyes at me, “I have always had this darkness inside of me that I couldn’t shake.” He seemed to be reminiscing. “So have I,” I murmured, ing all the times I had thought about hurting my husband, and then my baby once he was born. I never planned to do it, but the impulse was always there. Every rock climb we had done, I imagined pushing him off a cliff. Every time we blazed the trails of a bush, I imagined hitting him over the head with a rock. Every swim in the ocean, I thought about how easy it would be to just drown him. Damion interrupted my train of thought, “I say we find one of those archive libraries and try and find out some more information on this guy...see where we actually come from.” “Sounds good to me.” I rested my head on the car seat, gazing at him, ing our love session from earlier. It was a connection and orgasm intensity that I had never experienced with anyone else. I felt oddly at ease with him, almost like he was protecting me. Though, it was the strangest thing, as he was trying to kill me not much earlier. And then came the thoughts of the murder we had committed together. The blood spray that covered both our bodies. I wiped my cheek, looking at the remainder on my hand. I thought of the way Damion’s fingers had turned to talons and shredded the man's body in two pieces. And then how my hands did the same thing when I touched the body, my instinct to kill coming naturally. It was at that moment, mid-kill, that I understood what Damion meant when he said, “It’s a killing thing.” I, too, had those instincts. I just never thought of them as meaning anything until now. Damion brushed his hand through my hair and splayed his fingers across the back of my neck just as a breeze came in through the car window. “Let's find a hotel to stay in, spend the night. We can plan to look for a library tomorrow,” he

suggested. I nodded, breathing him in. His scent washed through my nostrils. “It's been a big day,” I sighed, a smile creeping up my cheek as I ed the wickedness we had let come out to play. “It sure has,” he replied, grinning and displaying dimpled cheeks. “Are we evil?” I asked. To which he replied, “We were made evil, baby.” I sighed as I unfolded the map that was on the floor in front of me. “There,” I said pointing. “Mount Johns.” “We will stop there for the night,” he breathed, looking at me with lust in his eyes. “There should be at least one hotel taking guests, right?” I pondered. “I’m sure there is. And if not, we will figure something out. We can sleep in the car if we have to,” he responded. A few hours of music and drinking out of an old whiskey bottle that we found in the back of the car, while we filled each other in on our strange childhoods, we arrived in Mount Johns. “This town looks like it’s full of hicks,” Damion said as he studied the road ahead. The town was small with one-lane roads and homely corner stores displayed on each side. We kept creeping along the road until we saw a small inn. “This will have to do,” he stated as he turned off the engine. We got out and headed for the inn labelled “Matt's Inn.” Inside, there was a man standing at the front desk. I assumed he was Matt. “Hi, I’m Matt,” he said in a cheery Irish accent. Yep, my suspicions were correct. Another boring monotone human, running a boring little business, probably hating his life. “I need a room,” Damion stated, slapping his keys on the bench. “Two rooms?”

Matt drawled once again. “Did I say two?” Damion lifted an eyebrow at him, unamused by his obvious insinuations. “One it is.” He put the key on the table. “That will be one hundred.” Damion lifted an eyebrow at me, a wicked smirk on his face, and then looked back at Matt. “How about I pay you in a different way?” he said. “How's that?” Matt inquired. “How about I cut your fucking head off?” Damion replied, tilting his head. Matt laughed, “You have a dark sense of humour.” “I wasn't joking.” Damion reached for his throat, grasping it easily. Matt struggled to breathe, looking pretty terrified at this point. “Why are you doing this? Did Myrtle send you?” “Myrtle?” Damion smirked, amused. “Seems like you have a few enemies, so I'm probably doing them a favour.” He turned to me and said, “Remind me to track down this Myrtle later so that he can thank me.” “Then, why?” Matt exasperated. “Because we are evil killing machines.” Damion sighed, looking at me. “Should we?” “I could go for another round,” I said. Damion didn't need any further convincing. He released Matt's neck and gripped his hair before slamming his head into the counter, knocking him unconscious. “That should do it,” Damion said, walking off. “So much for a t effort,” I chimed in as I followed close behind him. “There will be plenty more,” he reassured me, taking my hand. “Now, what room number are we in?” he pondered, flipping the key in his hand. “Agh, number 3.” As he opened the door, I couldn't help but feel desire for him creep

over me. It was like a force drawing me to him, one I couldn’t control. I pulled him to me, locking him in a ionate embrace, our lips merging and bodies intertwining easily, knowing exactly what to do. I began to remove my jacket, him assisting me. I followed by taking off his band T-shirt and running my fingers down his exposed muscled chest. He had a scar on his right pectoral muscle. I ran my finger over it, making him flinch. “What happened?” I asked, pulling my hand away. “It happened when I was a child,” he said reluctantly, turning his head away from me. “Santa,” I let the words leave my mouth as it dawned on me. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I have these memories that keep coming into my mind, like little glimpses into my past.” He looked at me, and I couldn’t help the surprised look on my face. “So do I,” I replied, thinking before I continued, “What if he is allowing us to have these memories in order for us to find him? It would make sense as to why I had never had any memories before now. Have you?” I asked “No. Only in my childhood years after we escaped,” he reminisced. “As have I,” I said, ing our conversations earlier in the car. He let his hand slide down my arm before releasing his grip on me and walking to the bed, sighing. I followed him and sat down. “Look at my leg,” I said, exposing my scar. He trailed his fingers down it. “This is really messed up if everything they say about this guy is true,” I said, looking across at him. “Well, I would fill you in about what I’ve heard, but you are going to get a more accurate representation tomorrow. I’m sure it will be information overload when we go to the archive library.” He touched my leg, leaving his hand there. “Okay, well, I guess I will see tomorrow,” I said, laying back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. Damion fell next to me. “This place is gross,” I said, looking at the mold stains on the ceiling, hoping nothing would fall on my face while I was sleeping. “Well, look at me instead, then,” he said, climbing on top of me and kissing me

gently. I pushed my hands through his hair. “You know, this makes us kind of connected, both going through the same thing, growing up in that place,” I took a breath, looking into his eyes. “You know this kind of makes us siblings,” he teased, grinning. “Yuck, shut up!” I retorted, pushing him away. “Oh, c’mon, baby. Don’t be like that.” He kissed me repeatedly all over my face, landing on my lips. He leaned his elbow on the bed next to me, kissing me sweetly. Too sweetly. I flipped him over, my strength taking full control. “Well, I could get used to this,” he murmured in my ear, his voice rolling like honey on the tongue. I worked my way down his body, kissing every square inch, making his body my playground. About an hour later, we laid there, breathing heavily. “Well, that was amazing,” I said, tired. “We should get some sleep,” I heard Damion say as I drifted off, already there. The next morning, I woke to Damion dressing and nearing the door. “We better get a move on,” he said as he pulled his hooded sweater down. “Is it cold outside?” I stirred, not ready to get up, “Yeah, a bit. I would put on a jacket if I were you. Those skinny little arms of yours, it will go straight to the bone,” he replied. Moaning, I finally pulled myself out of bed, searching the room for my bag of clothes and settling on a plain black T-shirt and jeans. A short time later, we were at the state archives library sorting through newspaper clippings with a microscope. “He was actually insane.” I shook my head as I read about the horrible things he had done. He had gotten caught just after I escaped according to the articles. And all of the children were so messed up from the experiments that most of them died once being released. The batch that survived, however, was not mentioned in any of the articles.

Damion and I had ended up in the system due to our escape and not having parents. “He was a pretty messed up dude, and probably still is. What do ya say, Jessie, how about we go find this bastard?” “I was thinking the exact same thing.” I looked at him wide-eyed with intrigue. Once I looked back at the files in hand, I noticed something that I had not noticed before. In my hands was the name of an adoption agency in Antarctica, along with photos of children with two men. One was Hitler and I assumed the other was Santa. “Look at this,” I gasped, shoving the pile into Damion’s lap. “Wow. That’s our guy,” he said in awe. “Let's go kill this son of a bitch.” “Oh, I doubt he has a mother. And if he does, I’m sure she would have disowned him a long time ago,” I said. “Well, now that we have both evidence and a name let's call the adoption agency.”

Chapter Eleven 1970 Santa

Lardicus, my new right-hand man, had informed me that many killings had taken place in the last few decades. I had no doubt in my mind that this was the doing of my two escaped children. My last second-in-charge had failed to inform me of such things. But he got what was coming to him. Because of his negligence I had not been able to track them. That was, until now. It was harder to track number 155, due to his keen skills of disappearing at a moment's notice. Undoubtedly due to my own skills in developing him. I had found out about 155, or Damion as he liked to be called, and my dear daughter, going by the name Jessie...the names likely given to them by their adoptive parents. Or perhaps they had chosen them when they ran away from their home. From me. Didn’t they know how it broke me when they left? In their eyes, I now see, thanks to the perspective of Lardicus, that they most likely saw my experiments as painfully terrifying memories. They probably thought they were so clever, running away together, using their highlydeveloped skills to destroy the planet, not the way that I had intended. My dear daughter married and gave birth to a child of her own, something I had never intended for her. Though, in a way it worked out as I now had a direct heir, a boy carrying my genes. Undoubtedly at one stage, ing them onto others as he grows, having his own family. A tradition they upheld in the modern world, I was told. My only hope was that his mother brought him with her and that together, my children and my children's children would live here and continue my legacy. With Jessie and Damion finally understanding as adults, my purpose, and that it was all for the better. Due to research about the two runaways, I discovered that Jessie was much slower to discover her powers. Though once she did, she was as vivacious as Damion. Attacking, killing, and traveling despite her situation, letting the will to live take over and embracing it. Lardicus being so intent on detail filled me in on their lives, their new families, or lack of in Damion’s case. And the most important fact, that they were coming to find me. Oh, if only they knew how I always longed to find them, to have them back in my grasp. I did wonder, however, if they came across their siblings, who were successfully adopted out into homes, that I was able to track.

I was surprised to find that Jessie and Damion had been seen acting like a couple, even with the knowledge that they likely had by now of their relationship. They were not technically related, though by now surely they would have had memories of their time together as children and put together the pieces. Amongst everything, I wondered about how the two of them got on after leaving me. Did they stay together after they escaped? Where had they gone? What did they do once they were out? Were they scared? Did they find shelter straight away or did they struggle?

Chapter Twelve

Part 1

1970 Jessie

The first time we had sex just happened to fall on the week before my period was due. The damn thing still hadn’t arrived. Neither had any cramping or any other indication that it was going to in the near future. Since the day we went searching for the archives and I had found out Damion and I were related, we hadn't had sex or anything of that nature. I knew we weren’t technically related, but still. We called the same man “Father,” so it was close enough. Either way, I needed to get a pregnancy test, and was dreading it. It hadn’t been long since I gave birth the first time, and I wasn’t ready to relive the experience. Not now, not ever. I wandered into the pharmacy, not telling Damion why we needed to make a pitstop there. Walking down the aisle, a worker approached me. “Can I help you?” she asked. “I need to see a pharmacist.” “May I ask why?” she questioned “I need to take a pregnancy test...” I said “Sure, he’s out the back,” she replied, pulling open the barrier that separated us from the back of the shop. “And congratulations,” she said, almost too happy. I looked at her, unimpressed, and she said no more. I bought a bottle of water and sculled it too fast, choking a little. Wiping my mouth, I took a seat outside the pharmacist's clinic door as the worker informed him of my presence. This could not be happening to me again. I ed the terrifying feeling of the last positive test I took. I didn’t want a child then, either, yet my husband insisted. “Please, come through,” the pharmacist called. I stood and walked into the room, looking around at the clean white fixtures. “So, you want a pregnancy test?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, in no mood for chitchat. If I was pregnant with Santa’s grandchild I was going to kill myself. “Congratulations.” He grinned I didn’t reply. He got the kit ready as I watched nervously. “Alright, just take this to the bathroom next door, urinate in the cup, and bring it back,” he said, ing me a little clear sample container.

I did as I was instructed to do, and brought it back. “Thank you,” he said as he took the cup from me, dipping the test stick into it. “Now we wait,” he said, taking a seat and looking at me. “How has your day been so far?” he asked politely. “It has been fine.” I said the results of the test caught my eye. A plus sign. Jesus Christ.

Part 2

Damion I waited for Jessie to come out of the pharmacy so that we could get back on the road and take down this psychopath. I pondered the newfound memories that had been triggered by the newspaper articles. The lost children of masochist Santa the article title read, which had instantly brought up memories of Jessie and I running through the dark gloomy tunnel, finally coming to light as we reached the outside. A place we hadn’t ever set eyes on. It was blinding and terrifying all at once. Our skin burned almost instantly as we ran for our lives, not sure where we were going, finally collapsing. A man walking past the next morning woke us up from our ed out state. “Children, what are you doing out here? Where are your parents?” He looked us up and down, holding onto us by the scruffs of our shirts. “We don’t have parents,” Jessie stated bluntly. “So, you’re immaculate conceptions?” he almost laughed. “Something like that,” Jessie murmured, before saying a bit louder, “Our parents are dead.” With that, he made a call to the social worker. “I have two children here. They say their parents are dead,” he said into the phone, his eyes on us. “Yes, alright, I will take them to Julie’s, get them a milkshake or something until you get here.” With that, he hung up the phone and said, “C’mon kids, let’s go and get a milkshake.” “A what?” we asked in unison, to which he looked at us strangely. We didn’t speak in hopes of not blowing our cover. We didn’t know at that time what an adoption agency was, or a milkshake, or the outside world, but what we did know was that we were scared and way out of our element.

Julie’s seemed to be some sort of place you got food from. We sat very close to each other in the booth, unsure of what to do. A lady in a frilly dress came up to the table and asked what we would like to order. Not knowing what to do, Jessie and I stayed quiet and looked down. The man with us shook his head in surprise and said, “They will have a chocolate milkshake each. Nothing for me.” She nodded and walked off, soon returning with two cups of a brown liquid. We sipped at them hesitantly, scoffing them down when we realized it was food. “Wow, you two must be hungry. Silly me.” He waved over the lady. “Can I get some pancakes for these two, please?” She nodded and walked off once again. When the pancakes arrived we were once again perplexed, not ever seeing anything of this nature before. We looked at them, and then at each other before grabbing the stack with our hands and eating as fast as we could. My memories burst apart as Jessie got back into the car, slamming the door behind her. “Let’s go,” she said, putting on her seatbelt. “Everything okay?” I asked, curious. “Yep,” she replied, putting emphasis on the P. “Okay,” I said, accelerating. Drifting back into my thoughts as I drove... Suddenly a lady ed us at the table, “Hi, my name is Kate.” She looked at Jessie and me, comion on her face. “You look like you have had quite a journey,” she stated, looking at the burns on our pale white skin. We didn’t say anything. “Michael here says your parents have ed away?” she continued. I looked at Elizabeth. I always looked up to her, her being slightly older than me and much taller. “That’s right,” Jessie stated harshly, not enjoying being questioned. She put her arm around my shoulder, as if to protect me. “Do you have any family you can stay with?” Kate spoke again. “No,” replied Jessie.

“Well, would you mind coming with me for a chat at my office?” Kate said. “Why?” Jessie replied, not looking up from her meal. “I would just like to talk to you about finding a permanent home for you both so you don’t have to be on your own anymore,” said Kate. “We are fine on our own,” said Jessie. “I can see that,” said Kate, with sympathy in her voice. “But, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take care of you? Provide you with food, clean water, clothes, a warm bed?” Kate went on. “I suppose,” said Jessie, protective of me, patting my hair, using her hand to turn my face to her. “We are going to be okay. I am going to protect you. We won’t have to deal with him anymore,” she said to me. I nodded. You’re deep in thought, Jessie said, nudging for information on what was going through my brain. “I was just thinking about when we met with that adoption lady.” I looked at her to see if she ed. “You know, that’s the first memory I have of us,” she said, looking back at me. “My memories of us start around that time too,” I continued. “Do you when she promised we would be kept together, but once we got to the orphanage two sets of people took us away from each other?” Jessie reminisced sadly. “Yeah. Kate told us that they only wanted one child each and it was the way it had to be.” I shook my head. “That really messed me up.” “Me too,” agreed Jessie. “That’s why I will never have children,” I said. “No good can come from it. I mean, no offense or anything. Obviously you wanted one and I’m sure he’s great, but it’s just not for me.” I looked at her once she hadn’t replied for a bit. “Nothing to say?” I lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Nope,” she replied, not looking at me. “Look, sorry if I hurt your feelings or something,” I offered “Forget it. I don’t want to discuss this with you,” she retorted “Oh, I get it. You’re sour because you left your baby and now we are talking about children. Sorry I said anything,” I went on. Again, she said nothing as we continued to make our way to Santa’s location.

Chapter Thirteen

Part 1

1970 Damion

“So, what we know is that there are twenty of us,” Jessie said, breaking the silence. “That is correct,” I looked at her, surprised she was speaking to me after hours of silence. “So, what are we going to do about them?” she continued. “Nothing?” I said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “So, they are not going to have anything to do with him or his demise?” she asked, almost angrily. “Well, that is up to them,” I said. “How are they meant to decide when they don’t even know?” she argued. “Well, why don’t you find out who they are and them?” I suggested. “Fine, I will,” she said triumphantly, satisfied she had won the argument. After a bit of a pause, I decided to ask what I was wondering about for most of the trip thus far, “I have to ask, does the reason for you being in such a mood have anything to do with why you went into the pharmacy?” She looked at me suspiciously, as though she thought I was catching onto something, and then replied with a simple, “No?” “Are you sure you’re not on your period or something and that’s why you’re being such a bitch?” I instantly regretted the words as they came out of my mouth. “A bitch...” she repeated slowly, anger making itself known through her words. “Well, not a bitch. But, you know, are you pregnant or something?” She looked at me even more annoyed. “I am going to start calling the agency to find our siblings. I took this directory from the archive library. It has all of the children that were adopted out between 1940 and 1980.” She half-waved the paper near my face. “Good thinking, Father Brown,” I said, rewarding her with a witty joke.

“Sorry?” she asked, sarcastically “You know, Father Brown. He was a famous detective and it works because you have brown hair,” I quipped, impressed with myself yet again. “You’re ridiculous,” she almost-laughed, shaking her head as she flipped through the pages. “I’m going to narrow it down to children that were adopted out from an agency near Antarctica.” “That sounds like as good a place as any to start,” I commended.

Part 2

Jessie I was determined to find our other siblings in hopes that we could all take down this monster together. Aside from that, it was a good way to distract Damion. I had to decide what I was going to do about this baby before I talked to him. I had so much to think about. Was this baby a child of incest? No, we weren’t technically related. Was this baby a conflict of interest? Well, they always were. Was this baby the right thing for my life right now? Probably not. What would it make our relationship? Who knows. We were already in some sort of sibling/dating kind of weird place. I had already abandoned one child. Which made me think, could I even raise another? I had to get these thoughts out of my head... Damion interrupted, “We need to book flights to Antarctica first and foremost.” “Yeah,” I said, “Can’t we just do that when we get to the airport?” “I guess that is our only hope at this point. Surely they are not all booked out. Who goes to Antarctica besides people that live there and explorers, journalists, and the like anyway?” “Us?” I answered, unsure what he was getting at. “Anyway,” I continued, “I am going to call this adoption agency once we get to the airport and see if I can get some numbers.” “What if they don’t give you any, you know, confidentiality and everything?” “Well, I will simply tell them it is an emergency. That this sicko, Santa, is out on an experimental frenzy.” “How about you just say we are organizing a family reunion?” he offered. “That might actually work,” I said. Arriving at the airport, I was full of anxiety. Not only was I about to find, and

possibly meet, a bunch of people I had not seen since I was a child, but I was also going to re-meet my father in all of his sadistic energy. I also had to figure out a way to tell Damion about the pregnancy amidst all of the chaos. Picking up the pay phone, I dialed the number that was on the piece of paper I had taken from the archive library. “Kate speaking,” the voice said through the phone. “As in Kate, the social worker?” I asked, amazed at the possibility that this could be the same person from when we were children. “Well, I used to be. Now I work at the public adoption agency that you are calling. Well, I did, but we are actually in the process of shutting down. Who is this?” she enquired. “This is Jessie. You adopted me out when I was a child. As well as my brother, Damion.” “Wow, I you two.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “How can I help you?” she continued. “I am looking for my siblings,” I said. “Siblings?” she asked, sounding confused. “Yes, turns out we have a whole lot of siblings from the same place that we came from.” Kate paused for so long that I wondered if she had hung up. “Hello?” “You’re not one of Santa's children, are you?” she finally answered. The horror in her voice was hard not to interpret. “Yes, we are,” I replied. “You said your parents were dead.” “And now you know why...” I hated awkward situations like this one. Obviously disturbed by the fact, she dove straight into giving me information,

“There was an influx of red-headed children that came in from the forties, actually. They were all adopted into different homes, different countries even. What do you want to know about them?” “I was hoping to get some details so I could get a hold of them...see if they wanted to help us take down this bastard,” I said, hopeful that she would be on my side. “We aren't meant to give out this sort of information, but after all the news about him and those poor children, and since we are shutting down and I can’t really get into trouble for this, I suppose I can make an exception.” She drew out the ‘and’s’ as I heard her typing away at a computer. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate this,” I gushed. “I really hope you can take down this monster,” she said, sounding positive. Hanging up, I couldn't wait to tell Damion the good news. “I booked us tickets,” he said as he walked over, waving them in his hand. “And I found our siblings! Well, kind of. I found their numbers,” I said, proud of myself. “Oh, good. So, the adoption agency cooperated?” he asked. “Very willingly. You won’t believe who I got on the phone,” I said. “Who?” he asked, with intrigue. “Kate,” “Kate?” He looked confused. “You know Kate! The lady that found us homes when we were kids!” I said excitedly, still not believing the coincidence. “What? I thought she was a social worker?” “She was...but then she moved to the adoption agency,” I said. Later on, in the plane, we buckled up for take off. This was my least-favourite part. I was prepared to play a movie once we were allowed to use electronics, to

help the time. Damion, on the other hand, had other plans. He tapped my leg and gestured for me to follow him to the lavatory. I did as I was told and was greeted with a ionate kiss. His breath tasted sweet and his body even sweeter. He continued kissing my skin, leaving his mark. I couldn't contain myself when he looked at me in this way. No wonder I was pregnant. I couldn't look his way without feeling like a sex-crazed teenager. After we left the toilet stall, Damion slapped my ass inconspicuously and said, “Well, you are definitely not on your period.” He walked back to his seat. I felt guilt rush throughout my body, though I knew that this was not the right time to tell him.

Chapter Fourteen

Part 1

1970 Santa

If my calculations were correct, the sightings of my children would prove that they were arriving in the next week or two. My lieutenants, however, were unable to track whether or not the child was with them. I eagerly awaited them, hardly able to contain my excitement. Much had happened in my world since they left me. Once all of their siblings had been adopted out, I could tell from the trackers I had placed in their arms that they were doing exactly as I had intended...each of them on a murderous rampage of their own. As of now, I had been working on my new lot of children, conducting different kinds of experiments. With it being 1970 and not wartime, it was harder to obtain children. But I had my ways. These days I had my most trusted workers kidnap children and bring them over here. Of course, Antarctica being a small place, there was not much choice for children, so I had to bring them in from overseas.

Part 2

Damion “So, the others are meeting up at Santa’s Castle of Horrors?” I looked at Jessie, waiting for an answer. “Yes, but only some of them. I was able to convince five to us, but that was it. The others weren't interested,” she replied. “What a shame. They are going to miss one hell of a party.” I chuckled, thinking of the fun we were about to have. “Yeah, well, with our combined strength there should be enough of us to take him down,” she said. “Very true. He is fairly ordinary himself, isn’t he? Just a man trying to create superbeings to big himself up because he will never be one,” I replied. We approached the castle, eager to get inside and take down the bastard. As the car pulled up, the wheels crunched along the snow. Its walls were made of brick so strong that by the looks of it, it could have only been designed in the 1800s. The brick was covered in snow and moss, fitting into the atmosphere perfectly. “Wow, look at this place,” Jessie said. “It’s hard to imagine that so many horrible things happened here...If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that this place was what dreams were made of.” “Yes, well that would be very wrong. It’s no wonder no one suspected anything. Not only is this place so well hidden, but it’s not creepy at all,” I said. “Hmm. I can’t believe he is still here...If he is. I can’t believe how little jail time he had over this,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, it was a different time. War was so chaotic, it would be easy to let something like that go under the radar. Besides, Hitler would have been able to have most of this covered up.” I got out of the car, shutting the door behind me.

My shoes dropped into the snow as it swallowed my feet. “Wow, this was a bad shoe choice,” I said as I dusted off my foot. “Tell me about it. Look what I’m wearing...I don’t think we put enough thought into our outfit choices,” Jessie said, gesturing at her bell bottom jeans. Reaching the door, we discovered a lot of heavy bolted locks. If it wasn’t for our incredible strength, we wouldn’t have gotten in. I inspected the lock, testing its strength against my own. With one swift twist it came loose, the others following its example. Jessie walked in behind me. The dust of the entry room filling our lungs, causing us to cough and splutter. “Well, this isn’t dark and gloomy at all,” Jessie said, folding her arms across her body. “I wonder when the others will get here...” she trailed off as a small brunette child came running out, hugging her leg. We both gasped, not expecting to see anyone here besides Santa. If we even saw him. “Where did you come from, little one?” I asked, looking down at her tiny frame. She said nothing. She let go of Jessie’s leg and ran away. “Wait!” Jessie cried out. “Where are you going?” We looked at each other before running after the girl. If Santa really did still live here, then this girl was in a lot of danger. Unless, of course, we had just crashed into some stranger's house... The further we got into the old brick palace the more gloomy, wet, and cave like the place became. Moss was spread throughout the house and water dripped from the ceiling. Suddenly, we reached a room, bringing me to a halt and causing my boots to skid on the slippery ground. The room was filled with children, all brunette and similar in facial features. At once, the sight brought memories of my own childhood.

Part 3

Jessie My stomach dropped as I saw children running around playing in the open of a large gloomy room. I clutched my stomach protectively, thinking of my unborn child. I decided then and there that I wouldn’t let this baby go. These poor children were repeating my history. Mine and Damion’s. As we watched the children play, I heard a voice. A voice so familiar to me, yet so distant. Accompanying the voice was a man of large proportions. His middle was large and round and his face matched it perfectly. He had an untamed saltand-pepper beard. My heart ached as I recalled the times my father had used and abused me for his torturous experiments. The moment he spotted us, it was obvious to me that he was expecting to see us here. He walked toward me, his arms stretched open as though he was expecting a hug. His face had a wide smile, filled with teeth, and it was flashing in my direction.

Chapter Fifteen 1970 Damion

Our father approached Jessie, his arms open as if expecting a hug. There was no doubt he wanted her to embrace him. I couldn't comprehend how he could be happy right now. What did he think was going to happen when he saw us again? A family reunion? I think not. I stepped in his way to stop the embrace. His eyes fell on me. “Damion? My son? How you have grown!” he said, a sickening grin on his hideous face. “I am not your son,” I said slowly yet firmly. “Are you still angry with me, boy? I thought for sure you would have realised by adulthood that I was only trying to help you, improve you, make you stronger,” he said. His naivety angered me beyond words. I lashed out at him, connecting my fist with his cheek, my strength causing him to cower. “What are you doing?” He seemed truly hurt, both physically and emotionally. “Giving you what you deserve,” I said, my voice growing angrier. Jessie stood between us, “Stop...” she said at me under her breath. “Wait for the others to get here before you start anything. He might be too much for us to handle on our own.” “I don’t think so,” I said, pushing her aside. I saw her grip her stomach, though I didn't think too much of it. Santa looked between Jessie and I as he spoke, “Where is the boy?” “What boy?” I replied. He ignored me and looked at Jessie. “Where is your son? Where is the rightful heir to my throne?” he continued. She looked at the floor as she spoke, “I don’t know.” “What do you mean, you don’t know?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Have you lost my grandson, dear daughter?” “No. He is with his father,” she replied. This being the most I had heard about

the situation thus far, I was intrigued to finally hear the rest of this story. “And when will they be ing us?” he asked. “They won’t be,” Jessie replied, her tone starting to sound annoyed. “And why not?” he continued. “That is none of your business!” Her tone quickly switched to a defensive one. “It is absolutely my business,” he scoffed, offended by her obvious need to keep the matter private from him. “I need an heir to take over my throne and he will be it,” he insisted. “He is a baby! And that is beside the point. He will never come here, or meet you, or be a part of this sick and twisted organisation you have going on,” she yelled in his face. “How dare you take that tone with me! I am to be respected!” he shouted back. That was when I interjected. “How do you come to the conclusion that you are to be respected? You are a psychotic beast!” “How dare you!” he grumbled, frightening us both. Suddenly, I realised that maybe this man was a lot more powerful than we both thought. Suddenly a calmness seemed to wash over him in the silence. His eyes fixed on Jessie. “It seems that I have two grandsons. Suddenly, another heir presents himself.” “What do you mean?” I sneered at him, knowing he was looking to start a fight. I turned to Jessie, who looked pale in the face. She was staring straight at him. “How do you...” she trailed off. “I know everything, daughter. I have been around children, and pregnant women for that matter, for a long time,” he said. “Are you pregnant?” I turned to her, sounding completely shocked, though I knew the answer deep down. If it were true, I would be a father. But did I want to be? I never had before. Though, with Jessie, maybe.

“Damion...” she whimpered. “Is it true? Why am I even asking that? Your reaction says it all...” I said, trying to process the news. Just as I thought the situation was going to turn into a huge blow up, I heard a loud bustle of voices. “Are you sure this is the right place?” a woman's voice echoed. “Oh, this is the place...” a man's voice replied. “There they are, over there!” another voice chimed in, a second man. And with that, they came into my eyeline. There was a tall and slender blonde woman and two red-headed men, both about the same height. The three of us watched them as they approached, mesmerised by their good looks. I did wonder, however, why the woman had blonde hair. Was she like Jessie, or had she dyed it? Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted as one of the men yelled, “There he is! There is the bastard that ruined our lives!” “Get him!” yelled the other man as the woman pounced at Santa, her animalistic characteristics taking over as she gashed his face, tearing his skin and causing it to hang. Traumatised, he leapt backward and held his wound. At once, the three of them all lunged at him, taking him down while Jessie and I watched, mesmerised. “Are you going to help, brother?” called the woman, looking right at me as she held Santa on the ground, letting my other siblings have at him. I didn’t need any more convincing. I leapt toward him, my muscles transforming as I ed the fight. My claws came out and I attacked like I never had before. This is what we were made for. I looked at Jessie, wondering why she was still standing there. She looked amazed yet petrified as she held her stomach. Now I knew why. I looked at her, mentally letting her know that I didn’t expect her to help in her condition. A smile began to work its way across her face as she paced toward us, her face growing fierce and her claws making themselves known.

Her determination and pregnant glow made her even more attractive. I never thought I could love someone, but I thought that maybe it was starting to happen. As a team, we tore the man apart. If he had workers, they were too cowardly to make themselves known. Or perhaps, they just saw it coming and thought it was what he deserved. As I stepped back and observed the man's dead body, I thought of the children we had seen earlier. “The children!” I said to Jessie. She looked at me, concerned. “They probably witnessed the whole fight!” she gasped in horror. “What children?” our sister asked. “There were a bunch of children here. That monster was experimenting on them,” Jessie replied as she looked around urgently. Our two brothers were already sussing out the place. “I am definitely moving in here,” one said to the other. The second brother patted him on the back and said, “Me too, brother.” “The important thing right now is that we find the children. Stop being boys for one moment and focus!” said our sister in their direction. They seemed to not hear her. “James, Paul!” she yelled, this time sounding angry. “What?” they yelled back in unison. “Oh, my God,” she replied. “We are coming, jeeze!” one of them murmured. “As you heard, that’s James and Paul. I’m Cynthia,” she said to both Jessie and I, gesturing toward the men and then to herself. Jessie and I nodded, knowing full well who they were. We continued on to find the children, looking in every nook and cranny of every room we could find a door to. Jessie turned to Cynthia. “Where are the others?” she asked. “I’m not sure,” Cynthia replied. “I tried to them when you gave me their

numbers, but only got through to a few.” Jessie nodded and kept searching for the children. “Over here!” yelled Paul, pointing a flashlight he had found along the way to a dark corner. A bunch of shaking children were huddled there, obviously petrified from the fight. Jessie crouched before them, reaching out her hand. “It’s okay, you can come out now.” The children didn’t move. “It’s all over. You are safe,” she continued. One child, a little girl, took her hand shyly. She looked back at the others, as if to let them know that it was okay. She reminded me of Jessie when she was younger, always telling me that it was alright. “We need to the adoption lady,” she said, looking at me. “Come here,” I said to her, also gesturing to the others with a tilt of my head. “Maybe we could live here. Take them in,” I suggested. “What do you mean by live here?” Jessie asked, not sounding keen on the idea. “Us. You, me, the baby,” I continued. “Baby?” Cynthia asked, raising an eyebrow. I looked at Jessie, who was looking down at the ground, and then back to Cynthia, “Yes, we are having a baby, Jessie and I,” I spoke for her. “You two are having a baby...” she said slowly, emphasizing each word. “But...you’re siblings...” she breathed, horrified. “Look, technically we aren't siblings...I am Santa’s biological daughter. Damion was made. Just like you,” Jessie said. Cynthia scoffed, “Like that makes a difference.” She shook her head. “And for your information, I am also his biological daughter. Why do you think I don’t have red hair?” Jessie’s eyes widened. “Well, there you go,” she said awkwardly. “There you go...” Cynthia repeated, just as awkward, pursing her lips. “If they are living here, so am I,” said James suddenly, not seeming to care

about the situation at hand. “Me too!” chimed Paul. “You're all sick!” said Cynthia. “I wish I never came to help you.” “Well, there’s the door,” I said, gesturing to it. Cynthia didn’t budge, instead she crossed her arms. “C’mon, sis, you may as well take your share of the mansion. That way at least we get something good out of our torturous childhood,” said Paul. “I suppose you're right,” said Cynthia under her breath. “It’s settled then, '' said James. “Let's get this place cleaned up. Starting by burning that son of a bitch.” One hour later, we were all standing over his mangled burning body, looking at one another. We bonded as the flames rose on the dark and gloomy brick floor. A turning of events, a full circle moment. The tortured children, taking his home for their own.

Twelve months had ed as I sat upon the throne that Santa had built himself, chuckling to myself at the irony. Jessie bounced our baby son on her lap as we all sat by the large fireplace, surrounded by our siblings. Our little family had expanded as more siblings ed us over the past year. The gaggle of small children ran around the mansion dressed in beautiful clothing that Cynthia has sewn by hand. How this place had changed since we found it. The warmth and light within the building had made it a home. Our effort to clean up the place was not done in vain. Though this sounded like a happy ending, which it was for us, it was not for others, as our combined family had a dark streak. A thirst for blood and a hunger to kill, and we were not putting that to rest now. Our dynasty. Our home. Our blood.

Prologue -Killers Amongst Us: Natural Born Killers 1990

I brushed my hand through my brown hair, the hair that my father had always said looked exactly like my mother’s. He would cry as he brushed it when I was a child. It used to confuse and upset me, seeing my father so distraught. My mother went missing soon after I was born. He had dedicated his life to looking for her, to no avail. When I was six-years-old, he lost all hope and ended up re marrying. My stepmother was nice, yet I always wished my mother would somehow return and take her place in raising me. I had a box of photos of my mother that my father had given me, which I looked at every day. Always keeping them close by. "Silas," my friend Carl said, interrupting my thoughts. He jogged over to me as I wandered down the path to my next class. I smiled in his direction. "Hey, man," I replied, giving him a friendly nudge on the shoulder. "You are the only person I know that wears a backpack to college," he laughed. "I have a lot to carry," I replied, securing it on my shoulder as the strap began to slip. "What did you get up to last night?" he inquired. "Not much. Just homework, you know?" "Wow. You are the only person I know that actually does the homework the professors give us." He shook his head in disapproval. "I can't believe I'm friends with such a nerd," he laughed. I was always a good student, a good son, a good person in general. I guess I took after my father in that way. He was chairman of the board at his company, a kind-hearted man, and a good father and husband. Always fair in every aspect of his life. I shrugged at my friend and took a seat as we had approached our class: criminology. I developed an interest when I was a child, after my father had told me that my mother went missing. Once I reached college age, I was so excited to take the class. The professor started up the screen, "Good morning, class," she said as she

attempted to work out the technology in front of her. "Today we are looking at a very interesting case. Do you all how we looked at the case of Santa? A little recap for those of you that have forgotten...he was an ex-Nazi leader-turned-scientist who use to experiment on children and then adopt them out into society for families to raise. These children were no ordinary children. They were altered to be weapons of war. To kill." I looked at Carl, raising my eyebrows. " this one? It was so gnarly, the things that guy used to do to people." "I ! That guy was sick," he whispered as the teacher went on. "Well, a strange turn of events has happened,” she continued. “He was still alive until about nineteen years ago, so when most of you were being born, when some of his ‘children,’" she held up her hands to make quotation marks in the air, "came back for revenge." She continued, "They killed him brutally, using the tools he gave them, to take over his castle. It was pretty radical." She grinned, excited over the story. "Agh, here we go," she said, pulling up a news clipping and adjusting it on the screen. The title read, Nineteen Years After Nazi Scientist was Brutally Murdered, His 'Children' Live Happily in Mansion. A picture was displayed under it. The image showed three red-headed males and two women, one with blonde hair and the other with brown. The brunette woman helda baby on her lap, grinning widely. Something didn’t seem right about this image, I thought, as I inspected it closer. The woman with brown hair...it was my mother... The teacher talked in the background but all I heard was ringing in my ears, my stomach began to ache, followed by my head. I tried to stand up but my vision went blurry. I tried to walk but I fell. I heard Carl call out my name as I tried to focus on grabbing the railing by my seat. The class begins to bustle as people fuss over me, but all that I continue to see circling around in my head is my mother...

About the Author

Naakaree Griffits is an Australian Author, best known for her novella ‘Two Minds’. She has published other works, such as ‘Killers Amongst Us’. When Naakaree is not writing, coaching authors or reading, she is enjoying time with her husband and two young children. Naakaree & her works Naakareewrites.com Instagram- @Naakaree Facebook - Naakaree Griffits Patreon.com/naakareewrites Did you enjoy this book? Don’t forget to review it Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56291663-unbreakable Sign up to Naakaree’s Newsletter for news on future book releaseshttps://www.naakareewrites.com/ Buy Merch to go with this book - https://winter-publishing.creator-spring.com/? Credits Editor - Silvia’s Reading Corner - https://silviasreading.webs.com/ Also by Naakaree Griffits Two Minds 2020 Unbreakable 2021 Published by

Did you enjoy the book? Please leave a review on Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19835422.Naakaree_Griffits Can’t wait for part two? Sign up to the author’s newsletter for book release updates: naakareewrites.com Want merch from the book? Click here

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Did you love Killers Amongst Us? Then you should read Unbreakable by Naakaree Griffits!

Four civilisations rotated the sun, each with their own rules and regulations, divided by history, blood and death. Once upon a time, they were brought together for the chance of a better world. A common evil that roamed them all had to be defeated, in order to restore the way it once was. Beautiful.Now in 800 BC, in a time when monsters ruled earth, sea and sky, that evil has returned. And another epic battle must occur. A battle so mighty, it would tear kingdoms apart. This battle was to take place in the land of the Vikings, as three people, a fearless Viking warrior, a cast out mermaid and a powerful fairy queen, must make an alliance to bring it all back together.None of these worlds would ever be the same. No hearts would go untouched. Four once separated worlds would now forever be connected, in a way that no one could have expected, making the way for future kingdoms.

Also by Winter Publishing

Dark dynasty Killers Amongst Us

Unbreakable Unbreakable extra chapters

Standalone Two Minds