Henry's Trophies

There was a slight screech as the small wall safe opened. The light from the chandelier in the private library only flooded the smaller opening for a few seconds before a shadow passed over it. The owner of the safe, and the shadow, Henry Richardson, wore a fine smile. He grabbed an ornate box that occupied the safe cavity. He brought it cautiously over to the mahogany coffee table behind him. He set the gilded box down and slowly opened the gold covered lid. Inside the box were a few different items; A lighter with an American flag on it, an old gold ring, a key and now, Henry added a small vulture figurine. His finger lingered on the head of the stained wood when a quick pin prick forced him to push the bird over. He then quickly pulled his finger back towards his mouth. After sucking the blood Henry said,

"Damn that is sharp!"

Instead of admiring his trophies, like usual, he closed the finely decorated box and carefully walked it back to the safe. With a smug smile he closed the safe, replaced the fake wall and moved the five books on human anatomy back to their spot. He did stand there longer than normal, remembering how he came to own these random objects.

Henry took the lighter off of the body of his first kill. He picked up a hitchhiker in South Texas. The urge to strike the chain smoking middle aged man kept growing until they got to North Texas. With a quick verbal distraction about a reflection in the passenger side mirror, Henry plunged his four inch blade into the man's exposed neck. The body was heavier than Henry had thought and the blood got everywhere. After cleaning up the mess he promptly buried the body next to the highway.
The gold ring was off the pinky finger of a well dressed man Henry met in the Everglades. He was an older gentleman, maybe in his sixties. The man was sitting in an all black, white walled 1957 Plymouth Fury. Henry pulled alongside him and invited the old man, Harold Reynolds, to have some tea or coffee with him. The white suit wearing man accepted and slowly got out of his well taken care of classic. After retrieving a similar white fedora the spry older man sauntered to the RV. The two men shared several cups of coffee, talking about seemingly innocent topics. Harold thanked Henry, put on his hat and just stopped moving. With a sick smile Henry collected all of the older man's possessions and then dragged the dead man out into the murky water. Henry brought along his favorite knife and gutted the man. Henry foolishly started dragging the leaking body through the water. Once the water was thigh high and noises started to distract him Henry stopped. He pulled the body around himself in the water and let it float further out into the swamp. Not even five steps back towards the shore before something attacked the floating crimson colored lump from under the water. The death roll gave Henry his confirmation and he quickly retreated back to his home. Several hours passed by before Henry pulled away from the beautiful car, whistling a tune while driving into the sunset of the Florida Everglades.
Henry was riding through Colorado when he picked up the key. It was a storage unit key that was a middle aged woman's home. He never saw the building, but he heard all about it from Sophia Bridges. She caught a ride to Nevada, but she never actually made it. Instead she was a victim of sexual assault and murder. After that she was buried by the highway just a few miles shy of the border.
The latest acquisition was quite peculiar; he took it off an oddly dressed old woman. Henry was very polite during the encounter, but while powerless to stop her own murder, Anastasia Brady was able to curse him before he pounced on her with blade in hand. He found the vulture figurine, perched on nothing, in her purse.
After Henry pushed it into the gold covered box with the other objects the blood activated something. Once complete darkness engulfed the random items the box began to move. The vulture's eyes started to glow a deep crimson before the enclosed items were even sitting in the safe. The woman's spell erupted with magic, using the figurine as the conduit.

"You …," echoed several times, the first few unintelligible, then the ghostly voice continued, "Should not have killed me, idiot!" She paused for a second, "But I can help you rid yourself of the curse."

Scared for his life, Henry asked "Why would you help me?"

"I am trapped here because of you,'' the oddity screamed,'' I want to be free as much as anyone. And I am guessing there will be more to follow." The woman finished with a knowing look.

"What?"

"We are friends of circumstance," the ghost woman sighed, "An unlikely friendship made entirely because of someone's ignorance to the mystical powers of this planet. If you have killed more people before me, we will see them all here and you will be judged."

"How do I stop that from happening?"

"You can't."

They stared at each other for a few long seconds

"But … we can try to get the others you killed to defend you to the judge?" The ghost of Anastasia asked while shrugging her shoulders.

"I doubt that will happen."

"They will be showing up soon." Anastasia declared.

True to her word the woman he had violated appeared wearing what she had died in; short shirt. After her came the well dressed gentleman that had owned the Fury and then came the smoking hitchhiker, begging for Henry to take his body to his home. Henry, with the help of his new friend, tried and failed to persuade anyone into defending him.

"So … What will happen?" Henry asked.

"You all go to hell."

"What?" Henry screamed, "What about heaven?"

"Even if there is one, and I doubt it, it is probably more like Hades than Dante's inferno. And why do you think you would get paradise?"

"Wait, you said 'You all', not we all." Henry stated.

"That is true," Anastasia started with a smile, "I may not have been able to stop you from killing me, but I was prepared to die. And you don't have the time for the story."