Supernatural Vigilante Association – The Voodoo Priestess

I proceeded to the rendezvous on foot, having asked my taxi driver to drop me off a couple of blocks away. This was not the wisest decision in retrospect, but I wanted to keep a low profile and avoid the attentions of both the cops and the gangs who lurked the streets.
I carried a taser and pepper spray in my jacket pockets but doubted these defensive weapons would provide much protection if it came to the worst.

A cold and constant rain fell on my head as I proceeded down the dark and seemingly abandoned road. Many of the streetlights had been vandalised, and the city authorities were understandably reluctant to conduct repairs in this part of town. Therefore, the street I walked was largely shrouded in darkness, but this suited me fine as I wanted to remain hidden in the shadows.

Nevertheless, I surveyed my surroundings carefully as I proceeded slowly towards my destination. The road was quiet. I didn’t see any other pedestrians on the sidewalk or cars on the street, but this didn’t mean I was alone out here.

I listened out intently, only to hear the heavy patter of rain hitting asphalt and the distant barking of dogs echoing off concrete buildings.

There were little in the way of commercial premises in this neighbourhood. The few businesses that had once operated were mostly burnt out during the riots, their charred husks still standing as a lasting monument to anarchy and violence which had engulfed this sprawling metropolis only weeks before.

I shook my head in disgust, looking up into the dark starless sky as the raindrops fell on my face. It wasn’t meant to end up like this. Sure, this once great city had long been plagued by violent crime. But there was still hope, not so long ago.

Many believed the tide was turning, that the unlikely coalition of vigilantes could deliver an ultimate justice upon the human monsters who stalked the streets. But their mission had backfired badly, and now the crime fighters were wanted criminals themselves – fugitives from the law and on the run from the cops.

But what had gone wrong? This was the question which interested me. There was a story to be told, and I wanted this scoop more than anything. This was why I was willing to take a considerable personal risk to attend tonight’s meeting.

I had a long history with the so-called Supernatural Vigilante Association, having been the first journalist to reveal their existence all those years ago. So, when I received the phone call from my source, I couldn’t resist the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I continued to ponder these matters as I proceeded along the empty sidewalk. But I shouldn’t have let my thoughts wander, because I didn’t notice the approaching vehicle until it was too late.

The squad car rounded the corner and glided slowly down the street towards me. Its siren wasn’t blaring, and the blue lights were off, so I guessed this was just a routine patrol. Nevertheless, I was concerned as the police car crept alongside me until the vehicle was directly adjacent to the pavement.

I slowly and nervously turned my head in time to see the single uniformed officer in the driver’s seat – a grey-haired veteran with hard eyes which glared towards me suspiciously. I was frozen on the pavement, not knowing what I should do next.

I did briefly consider running, but this would only make me look guilty and surely prompt a pursuit. Technically speaking I wasn’t breaking any laws, but I also didn’t have any good reason for being in this part of the city so late at night.

The cop might use his powers to stop, search, and question me. I could even be detained. The charges wouldn’t stick, but I would miss my meeting, and surely my source wouldn’t give me a second chance. And so I was understandably nervous in that moment, as everything would depend upon the police officer’s next actions.

I stood still as he brought his squad car to a halt and shined a torch in my face. I squinted as the light hit my eyes, temporarily blinding me.

“What are you doing out here kid?” asked the cop, his voice gruff and unfriendly.
I thought for a moment before stuttering my response.

“Good evening officer. It’s a hell of a night, isn’t it?” I shouted, struggling to be heard over the constant rainfall. “I think I got turned around somewhere. Can you tell me where the nearest subway station is?”

The cop lowered his torch but continued to glare at me with suspicion. I felt certain he didn’t buy my weak cover story. The question was whether he cared enough to intervene. A lengthy paused ensued before the cop’s radio burst to life and he received a call from dispatch. I didn’t catch the details through the static and rain, but the policeman’s expression suddenly changed as his attention was drawn away from me.

He offered me quickfire advice before departing, saying – “The subway’s five blocks in that direction. I’d get there quickly if I were you. This is not a safe neighbourhood after dark.”
With that, he put his foot down on the accelerator and sped off into the night – the squad car’s sirens blaring as he rushed to respond to the call.

I breathed a deep sigh of relief as I watched him go. I was soaked through to the skin, but nothing could dampen my spirits as I took my final strides towards the meeting place.

The rendezvous was a seedy hotel located on a back street and away from prying eyes. The establishment’s name was The Sanctuary Inn, and it was one of the few remaining businesses in this neighbourhood, although the small and run-down hotel was anything but legitimate.

I felt a twinge of doubt when I looked upon the glaring neon sign hanging above the reinforced steel door. I had a pretty good idea what happened inside this joint. To the best of my knowledge, its main customers were junkies shooting up and prostitutes entertaining their johns.

It seemed ironic that former crime fighters would end up taking refuge in a den of sin such as this, but desperate times made for strange bed fellows.

Under normal circumstances I would never enter such an establishment, but this was where the story had brought me, and I had to follow the lead.

I swallowed my fear as I approached the fortified and uninviting front entrance, pressing the intercom button with a shaking finger as I nervously looked up at the security camera. There was a short pause followed by a burst of static and a deep voice which called out from the other side.

“Who the fuck are you?” he swore.

I was somewhat taken aback but answered nonetheless, lowering my head so I could speak directly into the intercom.

“My name’s Carter. I’m here to see Mandrake. He’s expecting me.”

Another pause followed and for a moment I feared I’d made a mistake, but after a few seconds I heard a satisfying buzzing sound as the door’s lock was opened. Pushing through, I shook off the rain as well as I could before entering the dimly lit and grimy hotel lobby. My nostrils were soon hit by the stench of mould, damp and bodily odours which I didn’t want to think about.

I proceeded across the suspiciously sticky floor towards the front desk, which I noted was surrounded by a security cage. I ignored the sign on the far wall listing the hourly rate for rooms and prices for ‘miscellaneous services’, instead looking to the unpleasant man who sat behind the desk, his long hair greasy and his eyes filled with malice and lust.

His crusty lips curled into a crude smile as he looked me up and down with contempt. I noted how his right hand was under the desk and reckoned he was probably reaching for a gun. A television was blaring in the background, but the weasel-faced man was focussed upon me, for the time being at least.

“So, you’re the journo?” he asked dismissively, “You don’t look like much to me. Not built for this world, are you kid? Sure you don’t want to run home to your mama?”

He laughed cruelly in open mockery. I was pissed off but kept my cool, not rising to the bait as I replied through clenched teeth.

“I’m here to see Mandrake. Can you take me to him?”

The foul receptionist scoffed as he looked away from me and back at the TV set.
“Mandrake’s in Room 13, on the second floor. The elevator’s bust so you’ll have to take the stairs.”

With that said he was done with me. I elected not to thank the man as I proceeded to the staircase under the dim lights. Walking up the stairs and along the narrow corridor on the second floor, I ignored the shouts and moans coming from the other rooms as I reached No 13 and knocked firmly on the door.

“Come in. It’s open.” was the reply.

I froze for a second since I recognised the voice all too well – even though I’d never met the man face-to-face. I experienced a cold chill in the second before I grasped hold of the door handle, twisting it and proceeding inside of the small and squalid hotel room.

The man inside looked totally out of place in this vile establishment, and yet here he was. Mandrake sat up from the mattress, shooting me a charming smile as he offered his hand in friendship. I noted the immaculate three-piece suit he wore and the wide grin on his lips which showed off his pearly white teeth.

Mandrake exerted the same charisma and confidence in real life as he had done in the many online videos he’d recorded and uploaded over the years, as he’d performed his role as the public face of the SVA. I took his hand and shook it, noting his tight grip as he pulled me in closer.

In another life, Mandrake might have been a businessman or media personality. But there was another side to him which I knew all too well, as I’d spent years studying the man and reporting upon the many killings he’d ordered and co-ordinated.

But, even if I hadn’t known Mandrake’s history, there was something in his eyes which would have given him away. There was a darkness in those eyes – the killer’s look which he couldn’t fully hide, even beneath all his charm and smiles.

I tried to stop myself from trembling as I reluctantly met Mandrake’s gaze. But I wasn’t fooling anybody, lest of all my host. He knew I was afraid of him and yet I’d come to meet this man in a place of his choosing.

I experienced a sickness in the pit of my stomach upon realising a simple fact – that Mandrake could kill me right here in this seedy hotel room, perhaps to take revenge for all the negative articles I’d published over the years which had damaged the SVA’s reputation. I had to trust that he was genuine about wanting to tell his story, and I was his means of doing so.

“Mr Carter.” he said amicably whilst maintaining a tight hold of my hand, “What a pleasure to meet you at long last. Please, grab a seat and take off your wet coat. May I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you.” I answered nervously before taking the chair closest to the bedroom door. Mandrake nodded knowingly as he sat back down upon the mattress facing me.

“I apologise about the venue. Regrettably, this is what we’ve been reduced to as we try to keep one step ahead of the authorities. I’m sure you met Eddy on the front desk?”

“Yes.” I replied hesitantly, “He is certainly a colourful character.”

“He’s scum.” Mandrake answered through clenched teeth. “Vermin. A pimp and a dealer, the type of which we would have gladly dispatched in years past. But Eddy knows which side his bread is buttered, and we can count on his co-operation and discretion during our brief stay.”

I looked him in the eye uncertainly before replying. “That’s good. Now, Mr Mandrake…As you know, I’ve taken a considerable risk in coming here today. But I’m eager to hear your side of the story.”

I’d practised those words repeatedly in preparation for this meeting, and I tried to exert confidence in my voice…even though I was frightened by the perilous situation.

“You told me over the phone that you’ve got someone for me to meet.” I continued, “A former SVA member who wants to give their side of events.”

Mandrake nodded his head and smiled faintly before replying. “You are indeed eager, Mr Carter. Always keen to pursue the story. I admire this about you, even though your reporting has often damaged our organisation’s standing.”

He cast me a hard glare which made my blood turn to ice.
“But don’t worry my friend.” Mandrake continued, “This is all water under the bridge. I do indeed have someone important for you to meet tonight. In fact, she’s waiting in the next room.”

He nodded towards the inner doorway which connected Rooms 13 and 14.

“But first, I want to speak with you one-to-one, Mr Carter. To provide you with a brief history of our organisation so you can better understand where we came from and how we got here.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I knew what was coming – a propaganda speech from the representative of a designated terrorist group. I’d heard this many times before but felt like I needed to humour Mandrake to keep his good faith.

“We have all witnessed the failure of our justice system.” he began, “We know the endless victims who have been let down, while perpetrators walk free or are handed out pathetic sentences. I and a few others decided enough was enough.

We identified a number of special individuals with powers beyond conventional understanding. Many of these candidates had been victims themselves, but they lacked the capability and resources to retaliate against those who’d wronged them.

That’s where the plan for the Supernatural Vigilante Association came in. Our plan was to utilise the powers of these extraordinary individuals to target the right people – the truly evil motherfuckers who deserve to be put down. But you need to understand, Mr Carter. We didn’t go into this blind. We knew the risks of taking the law into our own hands. Who polices the police, right? Our intention was…”

I interjected at this point. It wasn’t wise to interrupt Mandrake in mid-flow, but I lost my temper upon hearing this all too familiar justification.

“With respect Mr Mandrake, none of this is new information. I have reported extensively on the origins and formation of the SVA. The public know all too well how this started, and how it ended. What they want to know is what went wrong, and how you arrived at this dark place.”

I regretted the words as soon as I’d spoken them. I saw the anger in Mandrake’s eyes, the resentment and rage which boiled just below the surface. He glared at me with murder in his eyes and I felt my body stiffen. I started to reach for the taser in my inside pocket but didn’t think it would do me much good.

I felt certain that violence would ensue, but thankfully Mandrake pulled himself back from the brink, exhaling deeply before the smile returned to his lips and he answered calmly.
“Of course. You are quite correct Mr Carter. Our time is limited and we must press on. If today’s interview goes well, I hope to arrange further meetings so you can speak with more of my comrades. These brave men and women have stories that need to be heard. Now, let me introduce you to the voodoo priestess – one of our very first SVA activists.”

Mandrake raised his volume as he shouted through the connecting door.
“Tabitha, can you please come in here?”

A tense pause ensued before the door swung open and an astonishing woman entered. I sat forward in dismay as I watched the beautiful, dark-skinned woman dressed in a traditional and colourful dashiki walk into the room. Her brown eyes glistened as she looked down upon me, her powerful gaze drawing me in. But my instincts told me not to stare into those eyes for too long, lest I get sucked in by her dark power.

I noted the Ankara bag she carried over her shoulder and dreaded to think what was contained within. And I felt a strange mixture of fear and frustration in that moment, struggling to stand as I took Tabitha’s hand – experiencing a surge of energy as our palms touched.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Carter. I have read all of your articles. Your work is illuminating, if not always accurate.”

I stared into her deep brown eyes and my knees felt weak, like I was a nervous teenager talking to a pretty girl for the first time.

“Well.” I muttered nervously, “That’s why I’m here. To get your perspective.”

Tabitha smiled sweetly, although I noticed a menacing glint in her eye which made me feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I took my seat whilst Tabitha sat on the hard mattress opposite me.

“I’ll leave you both to it.” said Mandrake, as he made for the door.

He turned his head briefly before exiting, looking to his female comrade before saying – “Shout if you need me, Tabitha.”

His comment struck me as odd. I was certainly no threat to Tabitha – quite the opposite in fact. But a moment later he left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two of us to speak in private.

Once Mandrake was gone, Tabitha looked me straight in the eye, and once again I felt myself slipping into a dark abyss. That was until I forced myself to look away.

“I want you to know something.” she said firmly, “I’m not just another freak of nature who inherited a supernatural power beyond their understanding. My power was taught, passed down through multiple generations through the female line. Ours is an ancient tradition…a religion charting its origins back to Africa, through Haiti, and finally here – to the city shrouded in darkness.”

She sighed deeply and lowered her head before continuing in a softer tone.
“But I’m not here to provide a history of my people or of voodooism. We did not start as vigilantes, although the priestesses who joined the SVA had their reasons. They call us witches…They think we’re devil worshippers. Everyone knows what happened, about what we’ve done. But I need you to understand why…”

“That’s what I want to know.” I answered nervously, still not daring to look the woman in the eye.

She exhaled deeply before speaking again.

“For me, it began with my parents. My mother was a powerful priestess, capable of great things. But she had a fatal weakness – her husband…my father. He was a brute who beat her constantly. Father was a large man and he could hit hard, but mother had the power to bring him to heel. She could have ended him with a mere click of her fingers, but she wouldn’t.

She loved him, you see. Mother kept telling herself that he’d change…that the latest beating would be the last. She kept believing that lie until he put her in the grave.”
Tabitha looked up, a fiery defiance entering her voice as she delivered her next line.

“I could do nothing as a child. But, as my powers grew, I vowed I would never let this happen again.”

“So, that’s how it started for you?” I asked curiously, “To seek justice for your mother?”

“In a sense.” she confirmed, “I wanted to stop abusers from getting away with their hideous crimes. To make them feel the pain and suffering they inflicted upon others. But, before I unleashed justice upon the unrighteous, I needed a test run. As it happened, there was a suitable candidate in my own apartment building, not even half a mile from where we now sit.”

I raised an eyebrow, chilled by where this account was going but also intrigued. I thought back on all the SVA related murders I’d reported on but couldn’t recall one linked to Tabitha. I sat back in silence whilst patiently waiting for her to continue.

“They were my neighbours who lived on the same floor. The woman was called Tracy and the man was Kyle. They kept themselves to themselves at first and seemed like a nice and happy couple to the untrained eye. But I’d grown up in an abusive household and knew the signs to look for.

I noticed how Tracy wore extra clothes to cover up her bruises, how she always seemed nervous when I saw them together in the elevator. And I recognised the look in his eyes – the unjustified hatred and barely concealed rage. I knew a killer when I saw one and realised it would only be a matter of time before he ended his girlfriend’s life.”
She paused, swallowing deeply in an attempt to control her emotions.

“The police would do nothing. There were no witnesses and no real evidence. I knew I’d need to take it into my own hands. Now, you’ve seen all the depictions of voodoo in the movies. Pricking pins into dolls and all that bullshit.

We don’t do that – but there are methods…dark magic we can use to punish our enemies. It took me a while to make the necessary preparations and to gather the material I needed for the ritual. I won’t betray the secrets of my craft. You understand that I still owe loyalty to the spiritual movement which trained me. Suffice to say, I obtained personal items relating to my target – a strand of hair, a treasured heirloom. I have my means, and I’m patient.
When all was in place I conducted the ritual and evoked a dark spirit to set upon my target. Now, I didn’t set out to kill Kyle. I wasn’t ready to use such extreme measures at that time. Perhaps I was weak, I don’t know…”

She hesitated again as a sadness became evident in her dark brown eyes. I felt obligated to reach forward and touch her hand, shooting Tabitha a sympathetic smile as I prompted her to go on.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I thought I could weaken him.” she said softly, “My plan was to break his spirit – to make him sick and weak so he couldn’t hurt her anymore…”

“But it didn’t work?” I asked, whilst withdrawing my hand and looking her straight in the eye.

“Oh, the spell worked fine.” Tabitha replied defensively, “I know for a fact that he was bedridden and in agony. Tracy told me as much when I saw her…” she sighed aloud, “I guess I should’ve seen it coming. It’s the same pattern playing over again…with my mother, with Tracy.

Kyle getting sick didn’t set her free, it bound her to him. I thought she’d use the opportunity to escape from the abusive relationship. But I guess Kyle had her firmly under his control, because Tracy stayed by his side and wanted to nurse her abuser through his illness.”

“Jesus.” I swore in shock.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” she replied.

“What did you do then?” I pressed.

Tabitha shook her head, and I could tell she was trying to hold back the tears.

“The sickness spell wore off, and of course he started hurting her again. I knew there was only one way to end the cycle.” she explained emotionally, “I realised that I had to kill him. It was within my power to do so, but I hesitated. Perhaps murder comes naturally to some, but not to me.

All was ready on that night, and I truly believe I would have gone through with it. I was prepared to speak the words and summon the darkest of spirits from the underworld. But I waited too long.”

We were briefly distracted by a noise from the next room. I swore I heard Mandrake’s voice, and he sounded agitated. This was worrying, but I choose to ignore the potential danger because I needed to hear the conclusion of Tabitha’s story.

“Just before midnight, I heard raised voices and crashing sounds coming from Tracy’s apartment.” Tabitha explained, “I knew what this meant and so I leapt up onto my feet, running out into the corridor and banging on their front door. I heard Tracy’s screams from inside the apartment and knew there was no time. So I used my bag of tricks to force open the door before I burst inside.

But it was already too late. Tracy was on the floor in a pool of her own blood, a dozen stab wounds punctuating her torso as she slowly choked to death, and the lifeforce drained from her frightened and pained eyes.

And Kyle stood over her – a manic look in his eyes and the bloody knife in his hand. He glared at me with a murderous glint and snarled through curled lips. He called me a bitch and claimed I’d turned his girlfriend against him. Kyle was going to make me pay.

With that, he charged towards me with the knife in hand. I cried out and tried to flee, but Kyle was on me in a second, knocking me to the ground and pinning me down. The monster was on top of me, his eyes bulging and spittle flying from his mouth as he tried to bring the blade down and plunge it into my chest.

I expended all of my physical strength to prevent him from doing so, but my mind was in another place. I spoke the words and used my true power, evoking the darkest of spirits from the other side to claim his wicked soul. Kyle suddenly stopped his attack, dropping the knife and climbing off me – his eyes now filled with unadulterated fear as his face turned a ghostly pale.

I spotted it before he did – the dark shadow which appeared as if from nowhere, taking the shape of a man as it glided across the apartment floor. Kyle turned around slowly, screaming in sheer terror as he saw the demon approach.

I’d never seen one of these dark spirits in action before, and I must admit it was horrifying. What monster had I brought into this world? I wondered in that moment, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I remained frozen on the floor, watching on in terrified awe as the demon consumed the screaming Kyle in its dark form, crushing him and sucking his soul from his physical body. The deal was done – and Kyle was dragged to hell, leaving his lifeless corpse to collapse to the ground.”

“My God.” I exclaimed upon hearing the end of Tabitha’s tragic tale, “I heard nothing about this killing. It wasn’t claimed as a SVA operation, was it?”

“No.” Tabitha said with a faint smile.

She looked towards the connecting door and I noticed how Mandrake’s voice had increased in volume, as it seemed he was shouting down the phone in the next room.

“Back then, Mandrake had connections with the local police.” Tabitha explained, “They covered up the crime, writing it off as a murder-suicide. No-one ever knew the truth of Kyle’s death, until now. Mr Mandrake said I did the right thing. He told me I was a special talent, and they needed me as a full-time SVA operative. But I couldn’t. I’m not a killer. And I can’t live with the guilt, so I’ve decided to come clean – no matter what the consequences.”

She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes, perhaps hoping for empathy or absolution. My jaw dropped and I found myself speechless. I hadn’t expected this. I’d always considered the SVA as ruthless killers who eliminated their targets without remorse or afterthought. But Tabitha didn’t fit the bill. She genuinely regretted her actions.

But why had Mandrake introduced me to her on this night? Was he deliberately trying to show a more sympathetic side of his violent vigilante organisation? I wanted to ask these questions and many more. But there was no time, as a moment later, Mandrake burst through the connecting door and shouted a frantic warning.

“We need to leave right fucking now!” Mandrake exclaimed, his eyes full of intensity and his face red.

“What the hell Mandrake?” Tabitha replied.

“They’ve found us.” Mandrake confirmed.

Tabitha’s eyes widened in shock as she struggled to reply. “Who has? The cops?”

“No.” Mandrake answered firmly, “It’s that son-of-a-bitch Hennessey. The PI. He wants the bounty on my head all for himself. That rat bastard Eddy sold us out.”

We heard the heavy thumping of boots in the corridor outside and I knew the threat was real.

“You can deal with this.” Mandrake said whilst speaking directly to Tabitha. I noted how he pointed to her Ankara bag whilst doing so.

“You can summon the dark spirit and send Hennessey straight to hell!” the vigilante exclaimed.

“No!” Tabitha replied firmly and without hesitation, “I won’t do it. Not again.”

Mandrake appeared angry for a moment, glaring at Tabitha as if to challenge her defiance. But the voodoo priestess was not backing down.

“Oh well.” Mandrake said in a more conciliatory tone, “I guess it’s time for less subtle methods.”

Next, he got down on his knees and retrieved a weapon previously hidden under the bed, which I instantly recognised as a pump-action shotgun. He worked the gun and loaded a shell into the chamber before turning to us both and giving a firm order.

“We’re going out. Stay behind me.”

We both obeyed as Mandrake opened the bedroom door and the three of us tumbled out into the corridor. I glanced into the darkness and saw two men charging towards us, their faces illuminated by the dim strip lights.

The first man I recognised as Eddy, the greasy hotel receptionist turned traitor. Eddy’s eyes widened in shock as he realised his betrayal had been discovered, and he scampered backwards to take shelter.

Meanwhile, the second man dropped down to one knee and aimed a pistol in our direction. I saw he was dressed in a dark trench coat and had a deep scar across his cheek, but I could see little else in the dark, other than the gun. I assumed this newcomer was Hennessey, a bounty hunter in pursuit of Mandrake and his people.

“Give it up Mandrake!” Hennessey shouted in a gruff voice, “It’s all over for you!”

“The hell it is!” Mandrake replied defiantly.

And then he opened fire with his shotgun. The buckshot tore down the corridor, winging Hennessey but failing to take him down. A moment later, the bounty hunter returned fire with his pistol, his bullets missing us by mere inches and slamming into the wall behind us.
“Go!” Mandrake screamed over his shoulder, “Get to the fire escape. I’ll meet you on the street.”

His frantic orders were directed towards Tabitha and me, and we didn’t hesitate – dashing down the corridor side-by-side whilst more bullets whizzed over our heads.

I can barely remember our escape down the back staircase, as I remained in a state of acute panic throughout the mad dash. I don’t know how we made it out, but miraculously Tabitha and I reached the relative safety of the rubbish-strewn alley behind the hotel.

I noted how the rain had now stopped and thanked God for small mercies, but we weren’t out of the woods yet. I could still hear gunshots and frantic shouting from inside of the building, and also the sound of distant sirens on the city streets, as surely the cops had been alerted by the gunfire.

I looked to Tabitha in a blind panic, only to find her surprisingly calm.

“We need to go!” I shouted frantically.

“Just wait.” Tabitha responded whilst looking back towards the fire escape, “Mandrake will make it out. He always does.”

I shook my head in disbelief and prepared to flee as the police sirens grew louder. But Tabitha was right, as a moment later Mandrake sprinted down the staircase. He appeared frazzled and the still smoking shotgun remained in his hands, but the vigilante leader was still very much alive.

“The fuckers will get me one day! But not today!” he proclaimed defiantly with a smile on his lips, “My story does not end here!”

No doubt he wanted the valiant quote to appear in my article, and I must admit that he struck an impressive pose in that back alley – an anti-hero fighting back against the odds. But Mandrake wasn’t stupid, and he wouldn’t wait around for the cops to arrest him.
He promptly grabbed a hold of Tabitha’s hand before shouting in her ear.

“Come on priestess. Our carriage awaits.”

The unlikely couple made to flee. But before he ran, Mandrake cried over his shoulder towards me, saying – “Mr Carter. I trust you can make your own way home. Keep your phone on please. I’ll be in touch.”

I watched the pair flee down the darkened alleyway, noting how Tabitha shot a looked of sadness and regret before she was led into the shadows.

I was frozen in disbelief for a brief moment, but the ever-increasing din of sirens brought me back to life, and so I took off in the opposite direction and disappeared into the night.
My editor was very happy with the story I delivered, but less so with the risks I’d taken to land it. Nevertheless, my exclusive hit the front page and promised to be the biggest scoop of my career. But the story didn’t end there.

A week later I got word that Tabitha had walked into a police station to hand herself in, making a full confession for her part in Kyle’s violent death. I guess she couldn’t live with the guilt any longer. There is a lot of interest in the case and some debate over whether the voodoo priestess will ever stand trial. To the best of my knowledge there are no laws against summoning a dark spirit as a means of self-defence.

In another development, the body of Eddy – the Hotel Sanctuary’s sleazy proprietor – was found abandoned in an alleyway, his flesh being gnawed at by rats and other vermin. Eddy’s hands were tightly bound behind him, and he’d been shot twice in the back of his head – execution style.

There were no witnesses and no forensic evidence, but it was obvious to me who was responsible. Surely Mandrake had taken revenge on Eddy, punishing the hotelier for his betrayal. This murder would send a powerful message to anyone who was tempted to sell him out.

And now Mandrake is the most wanted man in the city. The entire municipal police force is on his tail, not to mention Hennessey and a dozen other heavily armed bounty hunters. The price on the vigilante’s head has now doubled, rising to a cool two million.

But at the time of writing, my most prized source is still at large…and he’s not done with me yet. Just yesterday I received a call from an unknown number, and I instantly recognised the charismatic voice on the other end.

“Mr Carter,” Mandrake said enthusiastically, “I did enjoy reading your latest article. I think perhaps you’re beginning to see things from our perspective? It’s a shame about Tabitha. The woman had so much potential, but she lacked the stomach for our line of work. Still, like I told you that night in the alleyway, my story isn’t over…and neither is yours.”

“What do you mean?” I said, feeling apprehensive but also intrigued.

“I have more special people for you to meet.” Mandrake said coyly, “More extraordinary stories for you to hear. I’ll be in contact when I can arrange a secure place to meet.”

I know the risks involved. I almost died the last time around, and I’ve no doubt that Mandrake is dangerous and highly manipulative. And yet, I can’t walk away from this story.

The vigilante has me on the hook, and he knows it. But Mandrake’s narrative isn’t necessarily the reality, and I must do my due diligence as a professional. I shall uncover the dark truth of the SVA, no matter what the cost.

Credit: Woundlicker

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