The Lamplighters Read Online Free PDF Page B

steady as a tiller’s, he made yet more cuts in beautifully straight lines. Each one was a crimson ribbon, each one intersecting in his perfect design. Soon the girl’s skin was divided up, like tectonic plates floating above the lava of her viscera.
    Satisfied with his pattern making, he put the scalpel down and picked up the flesh-comb. He marveled for a moment at its sleek design, surgical steel head, ivory handle. Inserting it into the first intersection, he began to peel back the skin carefully. The red ribbons became folds of velvet meat, which he folded lovingly and placed in the basin next to the gurney.
    The hardest part was always around the nails, and the face. His mouth locked into a grimace of concentration. The greatest care was required to lift these layers of derma without tearing them. Softly, softly, he worked the skin upwards from her face.
    Then, disaster. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the girl’s eyes. The dead black pool of her pupil revealed him at once. Why had he looked? Why was she looking? The connection broke the spell, and his concentration, at once. Before he could halt his movements, he felt the skin tear at the corner of her eye socket.
    Clenching his teeth against the rage, he put aside the flesh-comb and put her eyes out. Both of them. With his thumbs. There, she could mock his mistake no longer. He tore the scalp from her head with a violent wrenching motion. Plunging her blood-slicked hair into the metal waste bin, he struggled for a moment to regain his composure.
    Exuding calm, deliberate breaths he vowed to blind the next one before he skinned it. He couldn’t afford the tiniest mistake. Absolute perfection was required of him, and of his prey. But the base matter before him was substandard, distracting him. For absolute perfection, he would have to wait.
    He would have to be patient.

Chapter Eight
    The crewmembers were a quiet bunch. At the start of the journey, Marla had tried to spark a bit of small talk with one of the security guards, a particularly handsome, dark-skinned guy about the same age as her, mid-twenties. He had politely all but blanked her, explaining that conversation with employees was forbidden while he was on duty. She’d smiled as she turned away from his stony face; she couldn't help it. His eyes had betrayed him, and for a split second he definitely checked her out, which was more action than she’d had in a long time.
    Marla made her way to the head of the boat, enjoying the slightly scary incline and the rocking motion as it sped through the waves. Holding on tight to the handrail, Marla held her head high and breathed in the cool, refreshing sea air. Every now and then, ocean spray coated her skin and she luxuriated in its touch. The wind picked up a notch and the craft altered course slightly, prompting her to look aft. Beyond the rear of the boat, Marla could only see a wide expanse of blue, curving as if at the edge of the world. Turning back to the head of the boat, the same vista greeted her. She really was in the middle of nowhere, hurtling ever onwards in this black vessel to…where exactly?
    Several minutes later, her eyes finally gave the answer. In the far distance Marla could just pick out a vague landmass. Anders hollered to his men, barking orders. Within seconds, the boat was a hive of activity and Marla was ushered to the rear deck by Mr. Handsome.
    “Almost home, miss,” he said softly, out of earshot of his crewmates.
    Home . Marla leaned back against the rear rails and craned her neck out to see. The island's details were becoming clearer as the boat ploughed on towards it. She could now make out sharp craggy rocks, with waves crashing onto them dramatically. Above this steep rocky perimeter were signs of lush vegetation, and terraces cut into the cliffs and hills. Nestled there were several white buildings, huge mansions the size of which Marla had only ever seen in the pages of celebrity magazines. The boat’s engine