GABRIEL (Killer Book 2) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Warning

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  WARNING:

  The content in this novel is taboo, grotesque and disturbing.

  If you’re looking for a knight in shining armor, a princess or a fairy godmother, then this is not the story for you.

  Read at your own risk.

  GABRIEL

  Copyright Bonny Capps 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person (alive or dead) is coincidental. The characters and story were created strictly from the author’s imagination.

  This eBook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements:

  This book is dedicated to everyone who made me realize that my dream could be a reality. Without my readers, this sequel would never have happened.

  Thank you for reading my work, you really are making a dream come true.

  I want to thank my wonderful mother for reading through and proofing my books, no-matter how scary they may be at times. You and dad have supported my dream from the beginning.

  I love you both.

  I want to thank my phenomenal husband for being such a great support and my kids for behaving so well on my writing days. I love you all to the moon and back.

  To my wonderful sister, who has always been my number one fan: I love you, seester!

  Ebony McMillan – you have been the most amazing PA that a girl could ask you. Thank you for being amazing!

  To all of the veteran authors who took me under their wing and held my hand through this entire process, I’m forever thankful!

  Cover Credit: tverdohlib

  “It is madness for sheep to talk peace with a wolf.”

  -Thomas Fuller

  1

  "The more I looked at people, the more I hated them."

  -Charles Starkweather

  Age 12 - Emerson hospital (Concord, MA)

  “Grandma.” mom whispered, running the back of her fingers along my great grandmother’s cheek. The sudden stroke left her face sagging, but the intensity in her eyes clearly indicated that something was very wrong. She wanted to say something, but the stroke left her unable to speak, and the frustration showed in my mother’s eyes as her eyebrows pinched together.

  My great grandmother’s old, withered fingers clung to the thin, paper like sheet. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her chest noticeably shook as her heart thrummed away.

  She was afraid, yet she couldn’t speak a word. Her mouth would open and close, but it wasn’t any use, and as I watched, I couldn’t respond either. Mostly because I was often the one who never spoke a word, but also because I felt such remorse as my beloved great-grandmother laid before me helplessly. I wanted so badly to reach my arms out and hug her, but emotions were something that I’d always been weary of.

  The doctor appeared in the doorway with a kind smile spread across his face. “A word?” He asked and my mother nodded slowly as she tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear.

  We stood in the hallway, and I held onto my little sister’s hand as I watched the shadow man walk towards my great-grandmother’s room. I could never see his face, it was always covered, but I knew he wasn’t a real… Or was he? I could never tell, I did know that he was always there. He was always watching.

  He stopped momentarily as his hooded head turned slowly. I was sure that he was staring right at me, and I swallowed hard when he lifted his index finger to his lips. They were the only visible part of him that I could see.

  He was dressed in all black, just like the grim reaper.

  My mother raised an eyebrow when she looked to me, and then her gaze followed my own. I was sure that she couldn’t see the shadow man, after all, he’d already went into the room with my great-grandmother. She once again focused on the doctor as his lips moved rapidly. He spoke at a fast pace, and I remember wanting to shake him and tell him to please slow down, but I never got a chance, because the horrendous flat-line alarm rang throughout the entire wing, sending the doctors and nurses running straight to my great-grandmother’s room.

  We followed behind the staff and gasped at what we found. Great-Grandmother’s eyes were frozen wide with death, the fear still evident as the doctors and nurses tried to revive her, but it was no use.

  The window was wide open, and when I ran over and peered into the busy street, my heart was racing.

  There he was, standing on the ledge of the building. As fast as he appeared, he was gone.

  My mother dropped to her knees and grasped my shoulders, “Gabriel, what did you see when you were staring earlier? Tell me!”

  I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t say a word, because as far as I knew, I was the only one who could see him…

  And that wasn’t the last time that I would see him. Unfortunately, he would become a massive part of my life.

  A shadow that represented the darkest parts of my mind.

  THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

  “Gabriel.” She whispers through parted lips as I make love to her. Her auburn hair falls over the satin pillow as her chest rises and falls beneath my own. Her eyes flutter and she tightens around my length as I fill her. Long nails sink into my back as I relish in the pain inflicted by another lover.

  I watch her pulse drum away beneath the soft skin of her neck, and I want more than ever to sink my teeth into her skin. I want to strangle her, cut her, and kill her.

  I always find the sad beauties, and I help them escape.

  The red in her hair caught my eye as it captured the low lighting in the dive bar. She was alone, the tears in her eyes glistened as she drank to numb herself. I’d like to say that I’m filling a void in her life. She’s in her mid-thirties, and from what I’ve learned, she’s a nurse.

  She saves lives, and I take them.

  I find my release as she clings to me, her cognac colored eyes finding mine. Her lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She murmurs, “That was amazing.”

  I smile as I lean down and kiss her smooth cheek before rolling off of her and retrieving my pants.

  “I… I should go.” She whispers as she sits up. I look over towards her and stare into her questioning eyes.

  “Don’t go.” I respond. Th
at one sentiment makes happiness dance in her once sad eyes. My grin widens as I stand and approach the door, “I’ll go get us a drink.”

  I walk through the halls as the voices of countless victims whisper to me. The cold floor creaks with each step that I take as the last minutes of her life tick away.

  I’m no fool. I know that each action has a consequence. The father that I never knew learned that lesson. My mother would never speak of him, but everyone knew, including myself. The internet is a beautiful thing, especially when you want answers and when your father was a famous killer - and your mother, a survivor.

  As for the man that raised me, I did follow in his footsteps. I partnered with him and together, we’ve built a very profitable contracting business. My biological father’s inheritance and the success of my contracting firm as left me very wealthy, but it’s never enough. His sick seed created another killer, but I’d like to think that I’m not as monstrous.

  Though, it’s hard to deny who I am. I have his eyes, his hair and his build. I would find loathing in my own mother’s eyes when she looked at me. I can’t blame her. As I grew older, she saw him when she saw me.

  People are funny; they deny the truth when it stares them in the eye – it’s as if silence is a Band-Aid to block out the past, but it really isn’t. No. Silence is a lie. You can either have a lie pour from your lips, or you can keep it locked inside of your mind forever.

  Unfortunately, I’m afraid that I am the biggest liar of them all.

  My entire life, I felt like I didn’t belong. When others in high school were falling in love, it was glaringly obvious that I was not… I had several girlfriends, but I wasn’t like the other guys. My eyes would zero in on their necks, and I would watch their pulse drum away, or I would become entranced by how their mouths would move, but I’d never hear a word. I would usually scare them off with my unusual sexual appetite.

  I soon became obsessed with the human anatomy, and my mind became my favorite place to be. When I began to notice that I didn’t have mom’s brown hair or my dad’s blue eyes, I became suspicious.

  That’s when I discovered Gabe Thibault.

  My father, a murderer, a monster.

  I was blown away when I saw his picture pull up on the computer screen. The resemblance was uncanny, and I then understood why my mother looked at me the way that she did.

  My hatred for him grew. When I read about his victims, I was disgusted – yet intrigued. His hands were capable of terrible, grisly acts, and the more that I read about him, the angrier and more obsessed I became.

  When I saw more of him in myself than me, I decided that I would also need to feed my demon – the evil spirit that had a pension for blood – the shadow that followed me everywhere that I went.

  I was desperate to understand my warped mind, yet I still didn’t have it in me to hurt those who do not wish to be hurt.

  I became depressed and discovered online groups, people felt the same desperation that I had. They wanted death more than anything, while I only wanted a way to quiet my mind.

  So, I found a way to help them and myself. My skill as a carpenter allowed me to build a home fit for someone as sick as me, a place to let my demons coexist with the sad souls that wish for nothing more than to end their lives.

  While my father relished in the pain of others, I used my deviance to help those who wished to end their pain.

  I reach the kitchen and pull two wine glasses from the cabinet. I fill both with a fine cabernet before opening the small vile and emptying its contents into one of the glasses. I am sure to hold my glass in my left hand, keeping mind not to mix the glasses.

  Walking back towards the master bedroom, I count each step as if my sanity relies on it. It does. It reminds me of what I’m doing. It keeps me in the present and as close to reality as possible.

  I enter the room and see her sitting up in the bed with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. I sit on the edge of the bed and hand her the glass.

  “Thank you.” She says softly before taking a sip of the wine.

  Looking around, her eyes dance with curiosity, “You havea really nice place, it is beautiful, but it seems so far from town. You must enjoy your privacy.”

  I smile, “A private life can be underestimated. I like silence after a busy day.”

  She nods, “Touché… I like noise. It keeps my mind busy, reminds me that I’m not alone in this world.”

  I grin as I raise my glass, “To busy minds.”

  She giggles nervously as she clinks her glass against mine, and I watch with eager eyes as she tilts the glass back and drinks every last drop.

  Immediately, I see her eyebrows pinch together as the drug does its job of drawing her into unconsciousness.

  She clumsily places the glass on the nightstand before placing her palm against her forehead.

  “I…I…” She trails off as her eyelids become heavy.

  “Natalie, let your eyes fall shut.” I whisper as I gently run a finger over her neck.

  She slumps against the headboard and I sigh as I place my full glass of wine beside her empty one.

  Standing, I gently lift her body and make my way down the hall.

  2

  "To me, this world is nothing but evil, and my own evil just happened to come out cause of the circumstances of what I was doing.”

  -Aileen Wuornos

  Age 16

  “Dani girl, my beautiful blue eyed Dani girl.”

  That’s what he would sing as he stalked through the halls to my bedroom at night.

  The house would be so quiet, so quiet, that I could hear the pads of his fingers run across the torn wall paper as he got closer and closer.

  My heart would race, and time after time, I would contemplate jumping under the bed and hiding – wishing and praying that I would somehow disappear. It wouldn’t be any use. He would always find me and hurt me – use me until he was ready to throw me out.

  You know what the sick part is? I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him happy, because maybe then, he would finally love me.

  SIX YEARS LATER

  “Taylor, hand me those scissors, will you?” I say through the pins that are perched in my lips.

  Taylor’s black curls bounce up and down as she runs over to my desk to retrieve the scissors. I look up at the model and wink at her as I force a smile.

  Grabbing the scissors from Taylor I eye my model, “Have you been on the water only diet? It looks like you’ve lost twenty pounds when you didn’t have any pounds to lose!”

  She laughs nervously, “My agent said that I needed to shed some more.”

  I scoff as I look towards Taylor, “The world we live in.”

  Taylor nods in agreement as she looks over her phone, “I’ve set up the venue for the fall fashion show. You have a meeting with the contractor for the stage setup today at one.”

  “Okay.” I say as I pinch the fabric at the model’s waist before retrieving a pin and jabbing it into the material. “What about floral?”

  “I’m down for after your lunch with the contractor. Girl, pre-warning, judging by his picture on the website, he is steamy-mcdreamy.”

  I laugh, “Yeah, well, as long as he can provide the exact stage that I want, that’s all that matters to me.”

  “If you say so…” She murmurs under her breath.

  I shoot her a warning look, “Hey, watch it. I don’t have time for men. When are you going to stop trying to set me up? I’m happy. You can be happy and single.”

  She steps towards me, “Yeah, but doesn’t it get lonely?”

  I smirk, “No, it doesn’t, I’m surrounded by people all the time. Now stop yapping, I need to get back to work.”

  “Well, you better hurry. It’s 12:45.”

  My eyes grow wide, “Shit!”

  With just my luck, it’s pouring rain in Manhattan. I called a cab – and of course four of them passed me up, one of them splashing water all over my shoes.

  This is my life.


  If I’m holding something breakable, I’m bound to drop it.

  If I walk down stairs, I’m bound to trip.

  Catastrophe should be my middle name.

  Once I get into the cab, the rain immediately stops and I roll my eyes.

  I nod to the cabbie and tell him the destination.

  “Make it quick.” I murmur, immediately feeling annoyed that he can’t fly over the cars in the congested lanes. I’ll be lucky if Mr. McSteamy sticks around for our meeting.

  Finally, we reach the restaurant and I step out, pushing through people as they walk through the busy streets to get to the entrance.

  I scoff when I see the setting. It’s dimly lit, obviously intended for the dating scene with its low playing, ambient music. Leave it to Taylor.

  I walk towards the podium and smile at the host, “Hello. I have a reservation with Mr. Smith.”

  He nods curtly, “Yes, of course. Right this way, ma’am.”

  I hate Taylor even more when I see how everyone else is dressed. High fashion is my life. Shit, I do it for a living. However, I stick out like a sore thumb as I walk between tables to reach my destination. My hair is soaked and I quickly make work of twisting it into a bun before smoothing my hands over my airy shirt. I can’t wait to peel these godforsaken wet skinny jeans off of my legs as they rub against my skin uncomfortably. My stilettos are soaked. If I don’t bust my ass right in the middle of this restaurant, I will be forever thankful.

  “Ah, here we are.”

  My eyes dart up and are met with smoking emerald green eyes. I stop in my tracks, nearly bumping right into the host.

  He belongs on the cover of a magazine. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, he’s beautifully masculine; a strong jaw line and brow. His hair looks as though each strand had been meticulously put in its place. Those eyes, though. They look straight through me.

  Not to mention the familiarity of his gaze is absolutely unnerving. In fact, it shoots an icy chill straight down my spine.

  His smile never falters as he stands and reaches a hand towards me, “You must be Ms. LeBlanc. It’s a pleasure. I do have to say, I was ready to leave moments ago. You’re nearly thirty minutes late.”