Dr. Franklin Terzini contacted Eugene by telephone late Saturday night, shortly after he arrived in New York. He had barely settled into his cottage when Terzini informed him that Gabriel had presented with a flaw and was to be killed. But not before another matter was dealt with first. An additional problem had arisen, one that demanded his immediate attention.
After apprising him of the recent developments between Gabriel and a human teenager, his maker charged him with another task. He was to hunt down and kill a seventeen-year-old girl named Melissa Martin before he executed Gabriel. Eugene was given her address and wasted no time in his pursuit. He quickly traveled to her home, his insides trilling all the while.
Though hardly a worthy adversary, the thought of slaughtering a weak, female adolescent excited him. He had never killed a girl before. He wondered what differences the experience would offer.
Receiving permission to kill gave Eugene the chance to do what he excelled at, what he hungered for, what he enjoyed. The addition of a foreign element heightened his anticipation.
He parked his Hummer at the bottom of Blackstone Drive. Barely able to contain his enthusiasm, he traveled on foot up the steep slope of Melissa’s street.
Thanks to the season and colder weather that accompanied it, neighbors were not roaming about. Eugene moved past Melissa’s house unquestioned and noticed that a second-story window was illuminated.
He boldly stepped on to the Martin property and strode across grass hardened by frost to the back of the structure. No one saw him or stopped him from proceeding. He heard neither the baying of dogs nor the shouting of concerned citizens.
He climbed a flight of small wooden steps to a door. He tried the handle, found it locked. But the door yielded effortlessly to Eugene’s strength. The owner had not bothered to engage the deadbolt.
Eugene crossed the threshold of Melissa’s Martin’s home.
He entered through the rear of the house and found himself in a rectangular room. Framed photographs filled with smiling faces stared at him and lined the far wall. Under the photographs, a flat-screen television resided, along with an unstable looking desk equipped with a personal computer. A leather sectional rested against the outer wall. No one sat upon it. The room was unoccupied.
Silently, Eugene continued. He crossed the unoccupied space and entered a small dining area next to a living room. Still, he encountered no one.
He skulked through both areas before prowling down a short hallway. His shoes strode soundlessly on the hardwood flooring.
At the end of the corridor, Eugene was at a landing between a flight of steps and the front door. He paused briefly to listen for the home’s residents. He heard the faint sound of music coming from upstairs.
With feline grace and agility, he scaled the steep staircase, his strides remarkably quiet despite his size. He quickly climbed the incline of stairs and was in a long hallway.
Music permeated the stillness of the house, the sound amplified.
He moved toward the increasingly loud music, down the carpeted hallway and found a haloed doorway.
Eugene followed the light.
As he approached the door, a sign shaped like a crown with the words “Princess Melissa’s Room” emblazoned on it signified that Eugene had located his prey.