The place was like goddamn
Green Acres
gone straight to fucking hell. Check that. Gone to hell and turned inside out. And in this Bizarro World version, Eddie Albert was getting ass-raped day and night and smoking crack round the clock just to fucking cope and deal. There were loose chickens clucking and pecking at things on the ground. An old hound dog loped alongside Garner, big pink tongue lolling out of its slobbery mouth. Various young members of the Kincher clan were just hanging out. He saw teenagers lounging sullenly on a rusted-out tractor. They were all ugly as original sin, but this one boy sitting in the tractor’s seat made the rest of them look like pinup models. His head was the size of a pumpkin. A big pumpkin. But his face had this sort of mashed-in look, as if a couple of guys had worked him over with Louisville Sluggers. One eye was at least an inch higher than the other, and a thick white pus wept from the other. The boy didn’t have a nose, at least not in the usual sense. There were some holes the size of peas in the center of his swollen, diseased-looking features. Hoke guessed the poor bastard breathed through them. The boy’s bloated lips twisted and formed the most grotesque smile Hoke had ever seen.
Hoke shivered. “Goddamn. That boy got thumped with the ugly stick so hard the ugly stick done broke. Am I right?”
Garner chuckled. “You admire my work, then?”
“I don’t know if
admire
is the right word, but brother, when you set out to put your blight on a bunch of folks, you sure don’t fuck around. Got to give you that.”
Another chuckle. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until you meet Gladys.”
“Who the fuck is Gladys?”
“Ah, how soon we forget. Gladys is the Kincher matriarch. She is one hundred and seventy-nine years old.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Have I lied to you yet?”
“Uh…no. Guess you haven’t, at that.” Hoke frowned. “So…Whoa, hold on. How does anyone—and I mean anyone other than demon folk like you—get to be one hundred and seventy-nine motherfucking years old?”
By now they had reached the front porch of a house markedly different from the other ramshackle dwellings he’d seen as the Kinchers steered him through the woods to this place. For one thing, it wasn’t a cabin. It was an actual house. Not a new one, granted, but a house nonetheless. Looked like it dated from maybe the middle of the twentieth century, which made it brand spanking new compared to the fucking hovels the other inbred fucks in these parts called home. There was an old-fashioned television antenna on the roof. It was listing to one side and looked ready to fall over. With the advent of digital-only broadcasting, the thing was way obsolete, but it was at least indication of the presence of semimodern technology. Seeing it made him feel a little less like he’d been transported back in time to some hellish version of pioneer days. He was also able to detect the soft glow
of electric lights through the gauze of chintzy curtains hanging over the grimy windows.
Garner climbed the two steps to the porch and turned to gaze down at him. “I am not a demon.”
“Uh-huh. Then what’s with the fucking horns?”
“I am a human-demon hybrid.”
“Right. Okay. Wow. Everything makes sense now.”
Garner’s head tilted to one side in a quizzical expression. “Oh? Good. I’m glad you’re catching on.”
Hoke rolled his eyes. “That was sarcasm, man. None of this makes sense to me. Not one little bit of it. You say you’re gonna use me as your vessel. Take over my body and use it to get around out in the real world where they ain’t used to seeing human-demon hybrids every damn day. I get that. Don’t like it, but I understand. The concept, I mean. The actual process of making that happen…shit, I don’t even wanna think about it. But what I totally don’t get at all is how a demon could mate with a human and produce a viable offspring. You’d think them damn horns would rip a broad’s womb right the fuck up.”
A corner of Garner’s mouth tilted upward. “It’s true. A demon may rut with a human woman, but viable offspring is not possible.”
“So what the fuck, man?”
“I was human once upon a time. I told you before, my people had trouble with the Kinchers long ago.”
Hoke smirked. “Yeah, way back in the old-timey days. Hey, man. Did you have your very own horse-drawn carriage?”
“I did.”
Hoke laughed. “Far the fuck out, man.”
“Indeed.”
Garner’s smile was broader now. He looked genuinely amused. And in an almost benign way, too. Talking to him like this, it was almost like shooting the shit with a
buddy over drinks at a bar. You could almost forget the real truth about the dude for a few moments.
Hoke’s mind flashed back to the rain of blood and body parts in the horse stall.
Almost forget.
Garner’s expression abruptly sobered. “My clan was new to the area. This was a short while after the states war. There was a land dispute. We staked a legitimate, legal claim. Money was paid, and all the right documents filed with the local government. But the Kinchers claimed the land was theirs and vowed to keep it regardless of what some piece of paper said. We tried moving in anyway. One night the Kinchers raided our camp. They took my wife and daughter. They raped and tortured them. My wife died, but my daughter escaped. She came home minus an eye and several fingers. She woke up screaming every night until I put her out of her misery with a dose of arsenic in her tea.”
Hoke’s face had turned pale. “Damn, bro. No wonder you went medieval on their asses.”
One of Garner’s blood-red cheeks twitched. More than a century and a half had passed since the atrocity he described had been committed, but the anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “I knew no ordinary form of justice would suffice. I went down to New Orleans and consulted with a witch doctor.”
“The real deal, right? Not one of those hokum merchants they got now.”
Garner nodded. “As you say, the real deal. He helped me summon a demon. Again, the real deal, straight from one of the inner circles of hell. This demon agreed to help me, at the expense of my soul.”
Hoke shook his head. “Goddamn, you are hard-core. Your fucking
soul,
man. Shit.”
“Yes.”
Garner’s dark eyes had a faraway glint for a moment. Hoke supposed he was staring into the distant past. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for the guy, the real Garner, the human. Tried to see himself in his shoes and contemplating that decision. But he just couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have happened. He was just too damned selfish. Or maybe it was a combination of selfish and lazy. Sure, he would’ve exacted some kind of revenge, but it would have been more along the lines of lying in wait for the bastards with a rifle somewhere and ambushing their murdering asses. Something simple like that, and sure as hell nothing as bat-shit insane as going down to N’awlins to find a witch doctor and raise a goddamn demon. Holy shit.
Garner was looking at him again and seemed to sense his thoughts. “I loved my wife and daughter more than I can express to you. More than life itself. Giving up my soul to have the kind of revenge I desired was nothing.”
“Okay.”
Nothing, my scrawny white ass.
“The deal was sealed in a bath of hellfire. It seared every inch of my flesh and spirit. And when it was done, I was part demon, and my soul was no longer mine. I’ll surrender it soon after my eventual descent to Satan’s domain.”
“Yeah? When’s that gonna be?”
“Sooner than I’d like.”
“Well, we all gotta go sometime, I guess.”
Garner smiled. “It’s why I need a mortal vessel. The effects of the hellfire that changed me are beginning to ebb, and when it fades entirely, so will I. However, I can stave off my demise indefinitely by inhabiting a succession of human bodies. Beginning with you.”
“Ain’t I a lucky motherfucker?”
Garner didn’t say anything this time, just kept smiling.
It made Hoke nervous as all get-out, but what could he do?
“Well…anyway…”
“Are you ready to see Gladys now?”
“I don’t know if
ready
is the right word. Ain’t like I’ve got a choice in the matter. And you still haven’t told me why we’re seeing her.”
“Gladys Kincher rode roughshod over the rest of her clan. Wasn’t the usual way of things in those days, but the usual way of things has always been somewhat skewed in Hopkins Bend. She gave the orders that doomed my wife and daughter. I wanted her suffering to be exquisitely immense and long lasting. I’ve used the abilities granted me to prolong her life force. The blight began with her. She had babies that weren’t right. They were missing fingers and eyes.”
Hoke whistled. “Like your daughter.”
“Like my daughter.”
“But you didn’t stop there. The shit wrong with these fuckers is way beyond missing digits and eyeballs.”
“My need for revenge could not have been satisfied with a mere eye for an eye. I wished to ruin their clan forever.”
Hoke thought of ol’ Pus Eye leering at him from the tractor seat. “Well, all I can say to that is, mission fucking accomplished, bro. I have never laid eyes on a more ruined bunch of motherfuckers in my entire fucking life.”
“It gives me great pleasure to hear you say that. It reaffirms my belief that my mission here has reached its proper conclusion. Now that I have ruined them, I must end them. And then I can leave this blighted place once and for all.”
“And how are you gonna end them?”
Garner went to the front door and wrapped a hand around the doorknob. “Come. See.”
Hoke cast a surreptitious glance at the woods surrounding the Kincher property and gave fleeting consideration to making a run for it. But it was pointless. The goddamn demon—half-demon, what-the-fuck-ever—would haul him back in a heartbeat, and he’d be right back in the same position. Seemed like a lot of fuss and bother to no good end. Why waste his fucking breath?
Yep, I’m a lazy sumbitch.
He heaved a sigh and reluctantly climbed the steps to the porch.
Garner laughed.
There was something insidious and unsettling in the sound. He again considered a run for it. Garner clamped a hand around one of his wrists and held him fast. “You’re going nowhere.”
Hoke winced as the bones in his wrist creaked. “Okay, okay. Shit, you’re gonna twist my fucking hand off. What use would I be as a vessel then?”
More of that demented laughter in lieu of an actual reply.
Garner opened the door and drew Hoke inside after him. He pulled him through a dimly lit foyer and into a living room furnished with pieces that looked as though they’d been salvaged from a pile of Goodwill rejects. An uncomfortable-looking sofa with wooden legs and hideous print upholstery. A rickety green recliner that looked as if it would collapse if anyone weighing more than a buck fifty ever sat in it. A fucking ottoman. Brittle-looking end tables and lamps with holes in the shades. But the decor was the least unsettling aspect of what he saw upon entering the room. The prize for most unsettling went to the array of Kincher freaks who all stood up at their arrival. An about equal number of men and women. Some with big, bulbous heads. A few with
more fingers or limbs than anyone really needed. One had a hump so pronounced it forced him to stand stooped over at the waist all the time. Others had faces mashed up and twisted enough to give any sideshow geek the motherfucking heebie-jeebies. But he was almost used to the freakish appearance of the Kinchers by now. This wasn’t what bothered him.
It was the fact that they were all naked.
Yeah, that bothered him.
Hoke groaned.
He felt light-headed and began to sway on his feet. “Ah, shit.”
Garner strengthened his grip on his wrist and kept him upright. “You see, friend, in order to use you as a vessel, I have to weaken your mind.”
Hoke felt pretty weak already.
Hell, he felt like puking.
The Kinchers were coming toward him, moving in close to form a solid circle of deformed flesh around him. He saw things he didn’t want to see. One woman had a diseased-looking third breast down around her armpit. One of the men had a thick, enormous schlong that hung nearly to the floor—except that now it was stiffening and rising from the floor.
Oh, God…
Hoke was all too aware of his own nudity. He would love nothing more than a barrier of clothes between himself and all these fucking freaks. Scratch that. He’d love nothing more than about ten thousand miles between himself and Garner and these goddamn monstrosities. But he was beginning to understand why Garner had deprived him of his duds. It had been with this very moment in mind all along.
They were closer now.
Closer by the second.
Then their hands were on him, pawing at him.
Garner laughed yet again, relinquished his grip on his wrist, and pushed his way out of the circle. Hoke tried to follow, but the circle closed, and he felt the warm, sweaty press of all that wrong flesh. He whimpered, and tears spilled from his eyes. They grunted and snorted like rutting pigs, made stupid moaning sounds like movie zombies. Their hands roamed over every inch of his flesh. Then he felt their mouths on him, their tongues describing wet, sticky trails of saliva up and down the length of his body. A mouth closed around his cock and began to suck with great enthusiasm. To his horror, Hoke felt it begin to stiffen. He hoped that was a broad sucking him off, then realized it hardly goddamn mattered at this point. He closed his eyes and prayed again for divine deliverance.
Again, it didn’t come.
He opened his eyes again when he realized they were in motion. Hoke glanced over his shoulder and saw Garner trailing along behind them, a truly demonic grin stretched wide across his red face.
The half-demon laughed. “I feel rather confident this will break you.”
Hoke mewled like a baby. “Why?”
They were in a narrow hallway now, moving toward Hoke had no earthly fucking idea where. Garner casually lit another cigarette with maddening deliberation. “To assume control of your body, to enter your mind, you must be broken. Your consciousness ravaged and destroyed. You have to be driven insane.”