DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 5-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network and The Toy Taker. Luke Delaney

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      19

      None of it matters to me any more. The police. My wife. My children. Staying here, in London. I always knew it would only be a matter of time before I had to move on, but it’s not quite come to that yet. There’s one further game to play.

      My target has been selected. Nothing can save them now. It will happen exactly as I have pictured it. But don’t feel sad for them: be sad I have not chosen you. Once my hand touches them, they’ll be more in death than they had ever been in life.

      The next will be the most difficult and therefore the best yet. It will be worth the risks. Besides, I’ve made allowances. The police are drinking from a mirage. I will let them fill their bellies with sand.

      I wish I could reveal myself to you. Let you share my secrets. Unfortunately I cannot. For the moment, all I can give you is the gift of my nature.

      I would like nothing better than to put my name to my work, but so few of you would be capable of understanding. You should sing my praises as a genius, but instead you would put me in a cage. How your psychiatrists and psychologists would like that. They could waste their time poking and prodding me. Would they tear up their textbooks when I tell them I had a happy childhood? That I never bit my classmates or tortured animals? Never killed the family cat and buried it in the woods?

      I don’t hear voices in my head. I won’t claim God ordered me to kill. I’m not a disciple of Satan. I don’t believe in either. I don’t hate you. You are simply nothing to me.

      I scored well in my exams. Took part in school plays. Played hockey and cricket for my county. Was the favourite brother to my sisters, son to my mother and father. I went to a famous university and obtained a degree in accountancy. I was admired by my peers and respected by my tutors. I had several girlfriends, some serious, some not. I got drunk on Fridays and felt sick most Saturdays. I took my washing home for my mother once a fortnight. I was popular.

      None of it meant a thing.

      I’m not sure how old I was when I first felt it. Maybe five, maybe younger. I constantly checked the mirror. How could I look the same when clearly I was so different? I was both scared and exhilarated. So young to be absolutely alone. So young to be freed from the mediocrity and pointlessness of a normal life.

      Despite my age, I knew not to mention it to anyone. Not to talk to anyone about it. I had to bide my time. Fit in. Imitate those around me. I did very well in school, but was careful not to excel. Not to stand out. I realized I was just a chrysalis that protected the embryo within.

      The years passed painfully slowly. Still I resisted the temptation to explore my growing strength. I waited patiently. I didn’t know when the time would come, only that it would.

      As I grew older, I continued to gather the trinkets of normal life. A job. A wife. A house. Children. They were my sheep’s clothing. My smiling mask. And all the while I was waiting.

      Then, a few months ago, I awoke. I looked in the mirror and knew the moment had arrived. To everyone else I seemed the same, but not to myself. A new creation stared back upon itself. At last.

      My first instinct was to slaughter my family, but I quickly realized I wasn’t strong enough yet. I had only just been born. I was still covered in Nature’s afterbirth. I still needed their protection. But with each visit I grow stronger and stronger. I become more complete, what I am meant to be: not a man, but a man above men. A different evolutionary strain of man. To you, almost a god.