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I wanted to hit him but I could barely lift my arms.
    “Please,” I sobbed, “please, stop.”
    He ignored me and continued to move the tattoo machine with precision. “ Tsea ,” he breathed, and lightly rubbed my arm with his gloved hands, “do you know what it means?” He didn’t wait around for me to answer. “It means ‘soiled’ in Hebrew. That’s what you are. So, so filthy.”
    I shook my head, crying from the pain and the realization that this was the end for me. No one was coming. “Please,” I tried one last time, as darkness spotted my vision.
    “Don’t worry. Through your death, I will bring life.”
    It was the last thing I heard before I allowed the pain to overcome me.

Chapter 15

    The girl had fallen limp. Stoker ran a hand down her beautiful skin. It was so, so soft. He could well imagine a mortal man falling prey to her spells. Her curly hair splayed out beneath her head and her precious eyes were tightly shut, a flutter of eyelashes resting against prominent cheeks.
    He gently lay her on the cement floor and drew a tendril of hair away from her shoulder. The tattoo on her arm puffed with red irritation and he blew against it.
    She did not stir.
    He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. The time of her execution was fast approaching. Stoker felt excitement stirring in his stomach. What a fitting ending. A young woman, separating her body from her common sense, had followed her basest instincts only to end up here. She had lived her life in pleasure and she would die in pain.
    Stoker rose to his feet and blew her a kiss. His last tsea . Surely he had accomplished his mission by making examples of these fornicators, these harbingers of sin. This road of wickedness led to death. He had simply accelerated the process. The world would know that women of the night were meeting their just punishments.
    He smiled to himself as he opened the black door and stepped into the chamber in which he stored his sword. It hung on the wall, recently sharpened and cleaned after his last sacrifice. He thought of the last girl. What a strange name she’d had. Essence . He chuckled as he grasped the hilt in his palms, feeling the weight as comfortable as it always was.
    The weapon had been specially designed for beheadings. It was quite a feat that he’d found it when he had. It was almost… divine. The sword was delivered with a mission to save the little girls and as such, he felt that success was eminent.
    A thump resounded in the quiet space. Stoker froze. Something wasn’t right. He moved slowly, turning on his heels as the thumps merged into a clatter of footsteps. No! It couldn’t be. Men in black suits bearing flashlights and rifles suddenly barreled into his sanctuary.
    Stoker wielded his sword, urging them backward. They wouldn’t understand. They’d let her live, knowing who she was.
    “Put the weapon down!” A man dressed in a black vest commanded.
    Stoker lowered the hilt and stared at the ground. These men stood between him and his mission. He glanced up, pulling the sword from its case. It separated with a metallic clang. “No.”
    Immediately, shots rang out, singing the exposed walls and clicking against the cement floor. The sword fell from Stoker’s limp hands. He warbled backwards, remaining on his feet for an incredible amount of time before he finally fell, face first.
    “ Tsea ,” he whispered on his last breath. 

    “ Jade! Jade! No! This is not the way you’re leaving me. Do you hear? I know you’re too stubborn to give up like this. You’ve got to breathe.”
    Frantic words pierced the darkness.
    Carlos?
    “ Come on, Jade. You’ve got to take a breath. Just breathe with me. ”
    I felt hands pressing my chest, air bubbling through my nose. I coughed and my eyes flew open. Carlos’s dark brown eyes gazed down. “That’s right,” he coaxed, “take it easy.”
    I looked past him to the EMTs and police officers gathered around me and roaming The Executioner’s