Authors: Dean Covin
Naked or not, Vicki immediately stood angled in attack formation, holding her waist beneath the surface in her defensive squat, preparing to strike.
The water terror rose to standing before her, the light in the night transforming the threat into a glistening, flawless female form of silver perfection, emblazoned by the white firelight of the enormous moon.
“Glorious evening, don’t you think?”
The lunar light didn’t reflect off her creamy skin; it joined with it, as if the woman’s shimmering flesh gave off its own organic light. The luminance of her defined shape beneath the moon gave the woman a haunting, gravitational influence.
Even as she fixated on the glowing silhouette, Vicki couldn’t be sure that the figure was even real. The naked woman’s form stood tall—the glass surface rippling at her thighs—dripping above Vicki’s cowering face, looking down into her, penetrating her with eyes of moonlit fire-white sapphires.
Vicki hadn’t recognized the platinum-white hair in the night, but the woman’s witch eyes exposed her. Sky Veil’s mystical presence washed away as Vicki saw her own bare skin glowing beneath the brilliant moon. Not as fair, but she, too, was a glowing splendor—nothing supernatural.
“What are you doing here?” Vicki panted.
“Same as you. Bathing within the Great Mother.”
Vicki held her defensive posture, standing confused and starstruck. Sky’s very presence confirmed that hers was not the body of a forty-four-year-old woman, the white silk of her wet hair lying against her illuminated flesh. “You colored your hair.” It should have been as raven as the night.
“No, it’s still my real hair—my moonlight hair.” If anything looked otherworldly, it was that.
“That isn’t possible.” Yet Vicki could tell the wet hair was no wig.
“Isn’t it?” The self-stylized witch smiled and then slipped beneath the surface, leaving a drifting torrent toward the left.
Vicki shivered in the warm water as the woman playfully swam a close, unnerving circle around Vicki and then stood before her again. Sky’s inviting smile worked in concert with her flashing eyes to draw Vicki in. She held out both hands to Vicki.
Vicki instinctively lifted her hands from the water to meet the witch’s. She felt awkward raising her nude body above the black glassy surface and into the blazing moonlight, but she rose regardless.
Sky’s gaze never left Vicki’s. “Frightened, my dear?”
Vicki’s granite body took this as permission and quivered.
“Nothing to be frightened of,” Sky said and then nodded toward the blackness of the trees. “Well, maybe them, but not me.”
Vicki dropped Sky’s hands, covering herself as best she could, as she scanned the black stretching arms of the forest—the strong feeling of an ever-dark presence.
“Poor dear.” Sky’s voice was smooth as blown glass. “You’re so frightened. I’d suggest you thank the water and the night for your evening repose and return to shore. Though I doubt there will be any clothes there waiting for you.”
Vicki’s face locked in horror. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t believe your belongings are there anymore.”
Vicki flashed with anger as she wrapped her arms tight. “What did you do with my clothes?”
“Me? Nothing. I came from over there.” Her long, smooth arm stretched back along the deepening of the lake, toward the far arc of the shore, amplifying her impeccable chest beneath the moonbeams.
“How do you know they’re gone then?”
She looked at her kindly. “Don’t you?”
Vicki turned to the gray shore and knew it was true. Still, she looked back at the naked witch. “I have to check.”
“Suit yourself.” Sky crouched on her haunches, the water’s surface at her neck, watching Vicki expectantly.
“Aren’t you coming?” Vicki asked like a nervous child.
“No need. They’re not there.” Wisdom emanated from her eyes. “But, if you must validate your intuition, who am I to question? I’ll be waiting for you here.”
Vicki moved to speak but said nothing. She couldn’t manage to squeeze herself tighter. This had been such a stupid idea, she thought.
Reckless.
Vicki felt helpless and exposed as she approached the shore, naked and scarcely able to cover it. She was certain she could feel a ravenous, perverted gaze crawling over her flesh, trying to pry up into her.
She scanned the dark forest, wondering who watched as she approached. Stepping onto the sand, she froze when she thought she heard a snap in the trees. She swallowed hard, shivering in the otherwise warm midnight air. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” she chanted under her breath as she stalked slowly toward the tree line.
She traced her footprints to her tree. Her clothes were gone. She trembled—so was her gun.
Fuck me
. She stood for a moment in the raw darkness when an overwhelming sense of panic took her. She scanned the black camouflage surrounding her, begging God for bigger hands to cover herself. Blood rushed through her ears, and the sensation shot up her bare back. She ran for the water with the flight of a terrified child and dove in.
“What the hell am I going to do?”
“Can you swim?”
“Of course.”
“My house is around that crest in the lake, to the mouth, then four hundred yards up Cherrybrook. I have clothes there.”
Vicki didn’t want to take the half-mile swim with this woman. But what else could she do? As nice as Sky appeared, Vicki didn’t trust her. There were still too many questions.
Vicki’s jeans were gone, so that meant her car keys as well. Her cell was in her purse, beneath her seat. The thought of walking alone, naked through the forest to get to the edge of town, even this late at night, had zero appeal. Then what? Streak down Main Street? Whoever was in the woods could still be there … with her weapon, if not their own.
As if reading her, Sky said, “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of men leaving the bar tonight, happy to be of assistance.”
Meaning she knew that the shortest route to town would take Vicki through the forest to the back of the Lee-Lee’s Pub. Like the cat that had cornered the mouse, Sky’s grin revealed that she, too, knew this was not an option.
“You don’t have a car,” Vicki recalled. “Do you have a phone?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then how am I going to—”
“Who needs a phone when you have Skype?” She grinned. “Shall we?” She slid into the water making gliding strokes into the darkness.
† †
†
Before anything else, the woman stoked the fire. Grabbing two robes and slinging them over a chair, Sky handed Vicki a towel gesturing toward the shower nook next to the fireplace. The stone shower was open to the rest of the room.
“I have no need of privacy,” the woman said. “And keep the tap in the middle. The pipes run through the fireplace.”
“I suppose modesty is irrelevant now.”
The comment rolled off Sky unnoticed as she brewed her tea naked.
Vicki stepped beneath the hot shower. As clean as the lake had appeared, washing it away felt good. She shuddered against the memory of slimy weeds stroking and attempting to probe her, as if they wanted to swim up into her. She knew that came from her sudden feeling of exposure in the lake. The hot water helped to wash away the tremors. She felt herself relax. Even in the openness of the bizarre witch’s abode, the feeling of home grew on Vicki. “What kind of shampoo is this?”
“I make it with a blend of roots, fruits and herbs with an olive oil base.”
“It’s divine.”
She smiled.
Vicki rinsed and then reached for a towel, exchanging places with Sky. Vicki pulled on the robe and grabbed the cup of tea Sky had set out, feeling comfortable enough to claim a corner on the woman’s couch in front of the fire. The lingering tingle of fragrance infused her senses.
Don’t get too cozy with her,
Vicki thought. Feeling comfortable here was so easy—too easy. Wasn’t there something she had to do? Yes, calm her savaged psyche. Strange as the home was, it felt alive around her, as if life itself enveloped her like a warm blanket as the fire serenaded her with its soft crackles and pops.
Seeing the woman so openly naked shouldn’t have felt unusual. Vicki wasn’t immune to the attraction of a beautiful woman’s body—a woman like this should be a no-brainer. But there was a comfort, rather than a sexual attraction, that put Vicki at ease in spite of her reverence.
Sky pulled on her robe and joined Vicki with her cup of tea. “Feeling better?”
She nodded. “And thank you, Miss Veil. You didn’t have to help me.”
“Of course I did. We’re all daughters beneath Her loving light.”
Right.
Vicki allowed the woman her esoteric musings. Their exchanges remained light, but Vicki held her suspicions. Her gut insisted that the woman was hiding something. Stripped of her badge—and everything else—Vicki decided now was not the time to pry, and she was genuinely grateful for her help.
Vicki was lucky that Sky had shown up when she did. Was it luck? Could Sky have moved from Vicki’s belongings to the lake without Vicki noticing? It was Sky’s domain—she shouldn’t be underestimated. Vicki cursed herself for being so suspicious. Sky was in the lake when Vicki had felt the stare crawling on her, when she couldn’t find her clothes,
right
?
“Why did you change your name?”
“Wiccans often take a new name. Names have power. We view our parents’ decision as temporary, choosing a name because they liked the sound of it or it meant something to them at the time. It rarely has anything to do with the child, or their ascension to being in this space and time. We release their decision with gratitude.
“You can align your name to the stars following Vedic teachings or the like. Or you can choose your own through deep introspection. I allowed
Her
to gift me my name.”
After discussing Sky’s interesting choices in home decor, a lingering peaceful silence hung between them. How long had it been since Vicki had felt so calm? She blamed the tea.
“This is so good. What is it?”
“My special blend—don’t worry, it won’t poison you. It’s nutrient rich. Your body’s calm because it’s being given everything it needs, which means no stress.”
“Well, it’s delicious.”
Sky smiled, placing a gentle hand on Vicki’s thigh, then looked at her with sudden concern. “What’s that darkness in you?”
“What?”
“Not evil. A time of great fear for you—a young fear. I wonder if it’s not the reason you’re here … in this job, I mean.”
Vicki kept these little bones chained up tight in her closet. But the urge to open up to this woman was overwhelming, as if her earlier exposure had left her free to be emotionally naked as well. Vicki let go.
“I was a ravenous reader of the Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys’ series when I was young—a little dated for my time but loved them regardless.” She sipped her tea. “When I was ten, I was held captive for three days while everyone in the city tried to find me.”
Sky sat quietly and listened.
“Because of my father, everyone assumed that I was taken for ransom, but it was actually my fault. A woman in our neighborhood went missing, but I was the only one who noticed. I was so desperate for a mystery to solve that I decided it was up to me to find her. And I did—in her deep freeze.
“Her husband caught me snooping. He was distraught over his wife and blamed me, saying that it was my fault. I tried to get away, but he held me by the throat and told me why.”
“I never wanted kids.” The husband squeezed Vicki’s tiny throat harder, easing off when she whimpered. “Don’t make me crush your throat.”
Vicki gave her head a tight little shake in compliance.
He continued, “I never understood ’em, especially little girls like you. Tina absolutely loved ’em. When she got pregnant on our wedding night, I pretended to be happy, but I was actually terrified. But I loved my wife, and so I did what I could.
“I made sure I worked a lot so she could stay home and raise Charlotte, and then I didn’t have to be around her much … except when Tina was sick.” He scowled. “I hated that.
“When Charlotte was killed at a crosswalk, I tried to be sympathetic, but Tina called me on my lack of remorse.” Throughout his confession, he was oblivious that he was choking the little girl. “Our fights were devastating, but I knew it was because she was hurting—all because of our stupid little girl. So I got her another one.”
He dragged Vicki down the hall into his basement workshop.
Vicki couldn’t scream with his one hand sealing her mouth and the other squeezing her throat, but she tried. Beside a blood-soaked workbench, where he had cut his beloved to pieces, there was a large dog cage where a little girl was sleeping.
He continued, his voice waking the girl, but she was too frightened to speak—even to Vicki. “But Tina didn’t like it very much. She called me crazy.
Me
! She was the one losing her shit over a stupid little girl. I took a huge risk getting her another one. I had to cross three states to get that kid here, and she gets mad at
me
?” He was squeezing so hard now that young Vicki was losing consciousness. He shook her to attention. “Don’t be so fuckin’ rude. Listen to me,” he yelled.
The other little girl tried to push herself farther into the tight corner of her cage.
“It was Tina who went crazy. I love her, but she was way outta line. She tried to get out of the house, call the cops. What else was I supposed to do? All because of that little shit there.” He screamed at her cage, “It’s all your fucking fault!” This time she was able to let go of a scream. He kicked the cage over and over. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he yelled as tiny Vicki swung helplessly from his grasp. The silence left room so all that could be heard was the girl’s whimpering sobs in her corner.
He continued his story as he tied Vicki to the plumbing. Vicki, being wise enough not to open her mouth, let him talk. “I tried to make her understand. I loved her so much. Couldn’t she see that? Maybe I got her the wrong girl. I don’t know. You all look the same to me.” He glared into Vicki’s face. “You’re like mutts.” He pulled the rope around her legs too tight; she bit back her wince.
“She shoulda been grateful for me trying, though, right?”
The young Vicki nodded.
“Right. But, instead, she slapped me, over and over. Screaming at me. I couldn’t take it. She was breaking my heart. I didn’t mean to…” His eyes started to swell. “I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.” He chewed his lip for a few moments while he finished his knots, and then he got angry again. “So I had to cut her up and stick her in the freezer beside my favorite fucking popsicles while I figured out what to do with her. Add to that, I’m now stuck with this fucking little girl, and I have no idea what to do with her.”
He stood back and appraised his new, freshly bound, problem. “And then there’s you.”
He spent several hours sitting across from the girls, straightening up his tools, warning against idle hands and the like. The little girl wouldn’t even look at Vicki. He assured them both that he wasn’t going to rape them. “I told you. I don’t like kids. You give me the willies.”
When he disappeared upstairs, Vicki tried to cry for help. She didn’t hear him until he opened the door. She thought she was dead for sure now, but he only laughed and pointed around the workshop. “Soundproof, for all the power tools.” He scoffed. “Tina insisted I not wake the baby.”
He stuffed a cracker with whipped cheese into her mouth. Vicki chewed it slowly, trying not to let the pieces choke her dry, bruised throat. She suffered without water for another four hours. The little girl left her cracker untouched on the bottom of her soiled cage.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” he asked.
She did her best to say, “Water.”
He slapped his head. “Fuckin’ dummy. Of course you need water. I’ll bring you some in a minute.” He was excited about something.
He sat down in his paint-covered office chair and explained his decision. He didn’t want to hurt either one of them, but he couldn’t let them go, no matter how much they promised to be good and not tell. So he was going to sell them.
He was in trouble—what with his wife in the deep freeze and all—so he needed a lot of cash quick, and, for him, his brilliant solution would kill two birds with one stone. He was so proud of himself. He did get angry when the girls wouldn’t stop crying at the news, and, at one point, he even slapped Vicki hard across the face, knocking loose one of her teeth.
“The decision’s final,” he said and left.
The other little girl cried to herself a lot but still wouldn’t speak to Vicki. Her throat was too sore to talk anyway. She tried to sleep, but it was hard being tied, standing up, to a cold pipe. The chill was giving her the sniffles. All night Vicki kept telling herself, “Daddy’s coming. Daddy’s coming. Daddy’s coming.”
The man came back the next morning with two PayDay bars and a Sprite.
He pushed pieces of her candy bar into her mouth with his thumb and then poured too much foaming Sprite. The soda shot out her nose, the bubbles burning, sending her gagging.
“You really are little pigs, aren’t you,” he yelled. “Totally fucking useless!”
She tried not to cry when the hard peanuts pressed against her loose tooth. She was too afraid to talk to him. The side of her face was still burning hot and swollen. But the other painful, building pressure was too great; finally she mumbled something.
“What?” he said.
The agony was too intense not to answer. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she mumbled louder.
“Christ!” He looked at his intricate rope work. He untied her with one hand, keeping her tender throat in his other. This time he chained her to the pipes giving her freedom to move three feet in each direction. “Here’s a bucket and a box of Kleenex. I’ll give you your privacy. But don’t make a mess or I’ll make you eat it, you hear me?”
She nodded and finished her business.
His frustration grew by the hour. He had his brilliant plan to sell the girls but he had no idea how to go about it. He brought down his video camera, assuming someone would want to see them first. Still, he had no idea where to even begin looking for buyers without getting caught.
His aggressive pacing through his vocal rant terrified his captive audience. He considered using the Internet—a
Usenet
he heard it was called. But he didn’t own a personal computer and all he knew how to use at the office was Lotus Notes—assuring the girls that he’d get caught for sure if he tried it there.
He bloodied his knuckles punching his metal tool cabinet and then screamed at the girls to
shut up
! He followed with a furious right to an old bookshelf as he left, ignoring the crashing of books, boxes and jars stored up high. He stormed back up the stairs, slamming the heavy door behind him.
That’s when Vicki caught the first whiff:
gasoline
. She knew the smell from going on errands with Broderick when he had fueled her father’s numerous cars. A weathered plastic gas can sat skewered on an old pickax in the corner by the shelf, the fragile container split wide, spilling its contents as the room filled with the distinctive fumes.
Vicki watched the fuel snake along the gentle slope of the cement floor, pooling beneath the little girl’s cage. Vicki panicked, screaming, but he couldn’t hear her. When he returned, she begged him to get them out of here.
“Shit. I gotta clean this up first,” he insisted. “It’s dangerous.” His agitated hands scurried about his workbench, seeking anything in the clutter to soak up the large spill. Vicki’s frantic pleas were not helping, but she couldn’t stop. Vicki watched his frenzied shuffling cause the claw hammer to fall, striking the table saw’s fuel-soaked power cord. The gasoline ignited.
The man panicked, rushing for the cage, but as the girl screamed, and the cage burned, he stopped, stood and watched her.
“Help her!” Vicki screamed. He ignored her, instead, reaching out an arm without taking his eyes off the little girl’s terror … and pressed Record. He watched with a twisted, newfound, nervous fascination.
Vicki wanted to remain invisible, but once the girl started to burn, Vicki’s screams couldn’t stop, even in the choking smoke. Regardless his eyes never left the girl in the burning cage. He only moved other items away so nothing else would catch fire.
An hour passed, and he remained fixated on the charred cage, sitting on the floor beside his camera, knees pulled to his chest for protection as he lingered on the girl’s smoldering corpse. Vicki couldn’t escape the saturating stink of the girl’s flesh and bone in the gasoline smoke that soaked into her skin and hair.
Unable to fight her tears any more than she could fight her terror, she struggled to keep it muted.
He walked slowly to the door, processing what he had witnessed. He looked back at Vicki with a new curiosity, then climbed the stairs and closed the door.
Vicki allowed herself to scream until she had no more tears and tasted iron—and even then some. She scanned the room through sand-dry eyes, avoiding the charred cage centered on the barren cellar floor. After moving the scattered possessions away from the fire, he had been too mesmerized to remember to move them back.
She was able to reach a tall cardboard box. In it, she found a few tools, enough for her to work the evening hours to release her bonds and pry open the basement window to freedom before dawn. The authorities found him snoring on the sofa, underwear at his knees—a can of lighter fluid on the coffee table.
Vicki had been praised a hero—an extraordinarily brave little girl who had saved herself and had helped apprehend a killer. All she could think about was the other little girl—and the smell.
Her career path had been set in stone. She had been in therapy for over twelve years, and still she had trouble at the gas pumps.
“Of course you do, you poor child,” Sky said.
Being referred to as a child by a woman who only looked a couple of years older than her was surreal. “But you’re right, that would be a darkness in my life. How could you tell?”
“I can read a lot of things, Vicki. A lot of things.” She held out her hand. “Come, I have something to show you.”