Author’s note: This is the second part of Snow Nymphs. This is also my first attempt at horror-erotica. As luck has it, this week’s Wicked Wednesday is “decisions”. Are you ready?
“So, let’s talk Snow Nymphs.”
The room filled with the low rumble of locker room-style uncomfortable laughter.
Sergeant Arnold Roland stood in front of the assembled officers and wished it were summer. In summer he rode a motorcycle in downtown Calgary. He would police along 3rd Avenue, talk to the hookers, chase away johns, and just enjoy the mountain air as he chased the bad guys in the growing oil-city. Much as he enjoyed winter, with its sports and mountainscape view of the Rocky Mountains to the city’s west, he did not enjoy the job in that season. “I know you all think it is funny.” Arnold was also known by another name, The Rogue Beard. He was the only Calgary City Police Department officer to challenge the clean-shaven policy with his full brown beard.
“Yeah, every snowfall, some guys end up naked in the snow after the best fucks of their lives,” Constable Michael Cleveland said with a further chuckle.
“Yes, and people end up dead,” Arnold reminded. Being Arnold found the first body five years ago as a Constable, he always was placed on the Snow Nymph case in winter. “When it snows the Nymphs come out to play.”
The room of about twenty officers quieted this time.
“During the snowfall last Thursday, we have an eye-witness.”
The silent shock of the officers cut through the room. Again, Cleveland that spoke up, “A witness sir? The Nymphs never leave witnesses when they kill.”
“Her name was Jenny Sampson.”
“Yes, Cleveland, was. Ms. Sampson died yesterday of injuries from an axe wound she received last Thursday.”
An uncomfortable murmur filled the room.
“Ms. Sampson had a decision to make…”
The sound was like rhythmless sawing wood muffled by Herman’s whimpers. The unmistakable sound of the wood axe swinging followed leading to a thud. Herman screamed again before a second thud on the floor beside Jenny.
She waited, as all went quiet.
The evening started as many of the evenings had that Jenny spent at Herman’s place. The couple sat down to their weekly viewing of How I Met Your Mother. Each with a beer in hand and, by the end of the show, Jenny had her mouth around Herman’s cock.
All normal…at least until the sound of creaking footsteps suggested someone else in the house upstairs.
Herman no longer made any sound in the dark. Wood creaked above with a slow rhythm.
She jumped as something warm dripped on her shoulder.
The small house Herman owned was in the section of Calgary known as McKenzie Towne in the city’s far southeast. It was walking distance from the local pub, The Kilt and Caber, and generally a quiet area of the growing city and a pub that Jenny and Herman were well known at.
With a pop, the power came on.
The overhead fluorescent blinded Jenny. She saw a blur swinging in front of her. As her eyes adjusted, the blur formed into two feet dangling above.
Hung from the neck, Herman’s naked body rotated on the rope causing the beams above to creak.
Next the severed arm on the hardwood floor beside her caught her attention. Her brown eyes looked up to see drops of blood coming from Herman’s shoulder, where the arm had been attached.
Herman had been curious about the footsteps and went to investigate with Jenny following and his fly still undone. The power went out as they were half-way up the stairs. With no other sounds in the house, the couple divested the rest of their clothing and were soon making love on the stairs.
A whoosh sounded from above as though one of the upstairs windows was open. Then Herman’s body was dragged up the stairs from beneath Jenny with him screaming and thumping as he smacked against each step. Jenny chased him up the stairs. Upon entering the bedroom, a strike of something took her knees out and left her on the floor.
Where she was now.
The power went black again.
Jenny screamed until the sound of the swinging wood axe silenced her.
“Any clues, sir?” Constable Phyllis Gramm asked.
Arnold had trouble answering honestly as he had a thing for Constable Gramm, the gorgeous redhead in her uniform black. “No. We only have the written account of Ms. Sampson.”
“Written?” Gramm asked further.
“The axe wound was to her neck. She typed out her account before she died.”
Constable Rowan Watson was the first to speak, “What aren’t you telling us?”
Arnold’s brown eyes drifted across the officers. “This is a city of one point two million people. The Nymphs come out when we get ten centimetres of snow. Each night the Nymphs are out, we end up with seven to ten men having wonderful sex.”
The officers remained silent.
“And one, dead, hung by the neck.”
“Sir,” Constable Cleveland said with a slight chuckle. “They’re Nymphs.”
“No, Cleveland, it’s a serial killer.” His eyes drilled into Cleveland. “Environment Canada is calling for twenty to thirty centimetres tomorrow.”
The room filled with groans.
“We have our work cut out for us.”
“Sir,” Cleveland interrupted. “You said that Jenny Sampson had a decision. What decision?”
Arnold’s shoulders slumped. “Unknown to you lot and even the press is that we have had witnesses before.”
“Sir?” Cleveland’s blue eyes widened with alarm.
The room’s murmur picked up as well.
“Unlike the other witnesses, all of whom died from their injuries as Ms. Sampson has,” Arnold said holding his hands out to appeal for quiet, “she made the decision to talk to us.”
“Why did the others not talk?”
Arnold sighed again. “There were three. Whatever they saw, they were too scared.”