The Death Whisperer Read online

  Impossible.

  Kulok lifted a hand to his own neck. The pentagram tat had healed badly—probably because of the blood mixed into the ink—and it was raised ever so slightly. But now, he felt nothing but smooth flesh. The hitman caught his reflection in a nearby window and confirmed what he already suspected. His black magic mark had vanished.

  “Power can be given, and it can be taken.”

  Weylock emerged from the shadows and stepped into the strip of yellow light seeping into the house. His hair looked longer, his clean-cut features were now grizzled and unshaven, and a ragged leather coat had replaced the black suit. The bastard looked like he’d aged twenty years and been wandering around a desert for half of them.

  “What the fuck are you?” Kulok asked, his voice tinged with dark awe.

  “I’m what is waiting for you once these spirits you abused get their revenge.”

  Weylock’s human features morphed into a red-skinned, horned nightmare that seemed to have crawled out of the darkest corners of Hell.

  As Kulok’s mind shattered, and his body instinctively recoiled, the circle of spirits stirred and drew closer, vengeance in their dead black eyes.

  The heavyset Asian man with the scar around his neck popped up behind Kulok, a garotte in his rotting hands. With a ferocious howl, the spirit wrapped the wire around Kulok’s neck and gave the shocked hitman a taste of his own medicine.

  The other spirits, inspired by this first act of revenge against their tormentor, joined in. The accountant Kulok had stabbed to death now brought up a knife and started tearing into him. Next up, the middle-aged Italian he had beaten to a bloody pulp joined the fun and rained punches down on Kulok’s screaming form.

  The Death Whisperer was experiencing the agony of every death he’d inflicted. But even worse than the horror and agony of each new assault was Weylock’s infernal promise.

  Once the spirits were finished with him, Kulok Yanovitch, once the most deadly and sought-after hitman in New York, still had an eternity in Hell to look forward to.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jay watched as the dead went to work on the fucking sadist who’d murdered and enslaved them all. The detective thought of Anne lying dead in their bed, of Todd in a coffin instead of looking at colleges, and he couldn’t wait to join the savage beat-down.

  Vengeance burned in his soul, and his phantom hands tingled with the anticipation of imminent violence.

  A figure sidled up to him. It was the clean-cut FBI agent from the restaurant, except he didn’t look so clean-cut anymore. Then again, neither was he a special agent; he hadn’t been one for a long time. Jay had been watching Kulok investigate the man and knew that Jaxon Weylock had left the Bureau and disappeared after the murder of his wife.

  Clearly, something had happened to him since then.

  “Are you looking forward to your turn?” the man who called himself Weylock asked.

  The sounds of pain drained away in the background, almost as if someone had turned down the volume. Jay nodded, gripped by an inhuman rage that made it hard for him to speak. Never before in his life had he hungered for revenge the way he did right now.

  “You’ve earned your turn. This monster made you suffer. Your anger is justified. I know what you’ve lost. I saw it with my own eyes. I’m sorry about your wife and son.”

  “I’ll make him pay,” Jay said, his voice thick with rage. “I’m going to tear his fucking heart out like he did to me.”

  Weylock nodded as if this was perfectly normal. “Hurting him will offer a moment of satisfaction. But unlike these other souls, the love for the family you lost still beats strong inside of you. Give in to your rage now, and the gulf between you and them will widen. It will keep you from Anne and Todd in the afterlife.”

  Jay forced himself to pay attention to the man’s words, even as the pulsing rage tried to drown them out. “I don’t understand.”

  “Vengeance is your right, detective, but it carries a price. It can turn love into hate so you can’t tell them apart.” He paused. “Trust me on this one.”

  “What are my options here?”

  “Turn your back on all of this. Find Anne and Todd. They’re waiting for you, Jay. If you can let go of your rage, I can take you to them. Would you want me to do that?”

  Jay looked at the hitman, who was a blubbering, bleeding mass, somehow still alive despite his terrible wounds. And then he thought of Anne’s smile. Or the way Todd used to throw his arms around him before he got too old and too cool to hug his old man.

  “It’s your choice, Jay.”

  Jay searched Weylock’s grizzled face and concluded that he trusted the gray eyes staring back at him.

  “Where are they?”

  Weylock nodded at the exit of the house.

  Jay hesitated for just another second. He looked at the spectral mob that was tearing the hitman apart. Whatever violence Jay could inflict on that monster would get lost in the rain of punches, stabbings, and gunfire. But the urge to join in was almost overwhelming. He had to avenge his family… didn’t he?

  He had to decide. Was it going to be vengeance or love?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kulok’s shrill, animalistic screams continued to bounce off the walls as Weylock approached a nearby window. The demon’s magic would keep the asshole alive for as long as the victims needed to get closure. Each spirit would have time to reenact their murder—many times over, if they wanted.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Blocking out the brutality, Weylock looked out the window and watched as Jay found Anne and Todd waiting for him in the tree-lined street. They embraced in a group hug, their love clear to anyone who laid eyes on them.

  Weylock smiled grimly. It was nice to be right.

  Jay was one of the lucky ones. Most people had a much harder time letting go of their negative emotions. They held on too hard until the hate and fear reshaped their souls.

  Kulok’s death screams filled the house. He was pleading for a mercy that would never come.

  Vengeance can set us free, the Hexecutioner thought grimly.

  But then again, so can love, Weylock added as he watched the reunited spectral family vanish into the night.

  The End

  Jaxon Weylock returns in

  The Hexecutioner 6:

  The Demon Within

  Out in 2 weeks! Available now on Preorder.

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  The Hexecutioner 5: The Death Whisperer

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  William Massa’s Night Hunters

  Also by WILLIAM MASSA

  THE HEXECUTIONER

  Game of the Wolf

  Sacrifice of the Sorcerer

  Shadows and Blood

  The Devil’s Apprentice

  The Death Whisperer

  THE NIGHT SLAYER SERIES

  Midnight War

  Monster Quest

  Shadow Plague

  Dark Masters

  THE SHADOW DETECTIVE SERIES

  Cursed City

  Soul Catcher

  Blood Rain

  Demon Dawn

  Skull Master

  Ghoul Night

  Witch Wars

  Crimson Circle

  Hell Breaker

  Dragon Curse

  Vampire Quest

  THE OCCULT ASSASSIN SERIES

  Damnation Code

  Apocalypse Soldier

  Ice Shadows

  Spirit Breaker

&n
bsp; Soul Jacker

  Doomsday Disciples

  THE PARANORMALIST

  Servants of the Endless Night

  Soul Taker

  Curse of the Abyss

  The Unearthly

  THE GARGOYLE KNIGHT SERIES

  Gargoyle Knight

  Gargoyle Quest

  STAND ALONES

  Fear the Light

  Match: A Supernatural Thriller

  SCIENCE FICTION TITLES

  Silicon Man

  Silicon Dawn

  Crossing the Darkness

  About the Author

  William Massa is a produced screenwriter and bestselling Amazon author. His film credits include Return to House on Haunted Hill and he has sold pitches and scripts to Warner, USA TV, Silver Pictures, Dark Castle, Maverick and Sony.

  William has lived in New York, Florida, Europe and now resides in Venice Beach surrounded by skaters and surfers. He writes science fiction and dark fantasy/urban fantasy horror with an action-adventure flavor.

  Writing can be a solitary pursuit but rewriting can be a group effort. I strive to make each book better than the last and feedback is incredibly helpful. If you have notes, thoughts or comments about this book or want to contact me, feel free to contact me at:

  [email protected]

  Hope to hear from you soon!