To Awaken a Monster

Sam Crescent

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0129-5

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

As always, to my readers.

Thank you for your continued love and support.

TO AWAKEN A MONSTER

In the Arms of Monsters, 1 of 3

Sam Crescent

Chapter One

“You know, I hate the scent of human rats, no matter the time of day or night.” Preacher ran his hand across the man’s head, feeling how sweaty and disgusting it was. “They don’t smell like actual vermin. No, actual vermin are easy to kill, and I don’t mind them. Not when they’re cleaning up the trash. You see, the thing about rats, their teeth are constantly growing. Needing to chew their way through things because the length of their teeth, it drives them crazy.” He chuckled.

“Preacher, please.”

“You know what I also love about actual rats? They can tell you when certain disasters are happening. They will literally run away from any sign of danger.” He didn’t know if this was accurate or not. He’d never taken the time to watch rats. If he saw them, he killed them, simple as that. Only rodents got an easier death than most human rats. He tutted. “You know what, Phillip? You are such a disappointment to me.”

Phillip whimpered as Preacher ran the blade across the front of his mouth.

“Stick out your tongue.”

“What? Why?”

“Stick out your fucking tongue.”

Preacher didn’t need to ask a third time. Phillip, sobbing, stuck out his tongue, and without care, Preacher slid the blade across it, slicing it off in one sharp swipe. Screams filled the room, and Preacher stepped back as the blood began to soak down Phillip’s body. He stared at the single piece of flesh.

“You should be thanking me for this. This right here, it got you in trouble, and I’ve dealt with it. You don’t ever have to worry about it again.”

The screams continued to fill the abandoned garage station, and Preacher stuck the severed tongue into a bag. It would help serve as a lesson to others. Not that Phillip would ever be walking out of the garage alive. Nope.

No rat had ever left Preacher’s company alive, unless he wanted to send a message, and then when their job was done, he took care of them in any of several different ways.