Authors: Stylo Fantome
The smell hit Dulcie the moment she walked into Con's house. She started to gag and she turned in a circle, looking around for him.
“Sorry,” he called out, and she looked up to find him jogging down the stairs. “Sorry about the smell. I'm not sure which is worse.”
“Is that
alcohol?
It smells like a vodka factory!” she snapped, holding her sleeve over her nose. His voice was loud as he laughed.
“I wish.”
“And what is that … that …
god
, what is that!?” she wasn't able to articulate what the other smell was – just that it was the most vile odor she'd ever encountered.
“Oh, yeah. You didn't smell it last night cause I left him in the shed. I put him at the table – seemed fitting,” Con said by way of an explanation. Dulcie turned to look in the dining room and instantly started retching.
The table cloth and dishes were still in a mess on the floor. Several chairs were overturned, including Con's, but not Dulcie's. Her chair had been placed upright again, and now held an occupant.
Jebediah Masters once again sat at the head of his dining room table. Though of course, he probably looked much worse than he had the last time he'd been there. He'd been dead and buried for two months – the night before, while Dulcie had painted their heart, Con had dug him up. She'd known what he'd been doing, but she hadn't realized he was going to seat his dad at the table.
“I can't,” she gagged again. “I'm gonna … throw up.”
“Squeamish? I'm shocked,” Con made fun of her, then moved past her into the dining room. He grabbed the tablecloth off the floor and draped it over the body.
“No, not squeamish. Just … the smell … good god,” she tried to explain. It was too much, she really was going to vomit. She pressed both hands over her mouth and ran up the stairs. She made a beeline to the room with the heart and then she took great gasping breaths of air, smelling only the paint fumes.
“Better?” Con's voice was behind her.
“A little,” she nodded her head.
“Good. How did it go?”
She turned around to face him.
“I went to my mom's place, I gave her all the money you gave me,” she started.
“All of it!?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus, Dulcie. Awfully fucking generous.”
“Matt wasn't there, I didn't know what to do. I wanted to offer him the money, try to bribe him, but he wasn't there. So I gave it to my mom, knowing she'd tell him about it. Then when I left, he was waiting outside,” she told him.
“Did he try anything?” he asked. She nodded.
“Threatened to burn my eye out with a lit cigarette. Told me
you
should be afraid of
him
. Told me he was going to make you watch while he raped me,” she laid it all out. Con clenched his teeth together for a second and took several deep breaths through his nose.
“I don't think you have any idea how much I'm going to enjoy this,” he finally responded, his voice so low she had trouble hearing it. She swallowed thickly.
“I think I have an inkling. What if something goes wrong? What if -” she started talking fast. He reached out and pinched her lips together.
“Stop it. Be brave.
Be who you were
meant
to be
,” he whispered, then he leaned in and kissed her.
Nothing on earth was like kissing Constantine. It was like for that moment, she was inside him. She was
fused
to him, one with him. He never held back, he poured every emotion he had into all his kisses. It blew her mind that he'd ever had casual sex, or that she had, for that matter, because there was
nothing
casual about what went on between them. It was as serious as …
… as a heart attack.
He moaned into her mouth and speared his hands into her hair, holding her at the angle he liked. He pushed her into place, and she let him, because what other choice did she have? Her back hit the wall and she could feel her clothing sticking to the still tacky paint. Could feel it matting her hair. She sighed and dragged her nails down his forearms before hooking her fingers around his biceps.
“I never got to tell you,” she whispered when he finally pulled away.
“What?” he asked, clenching his hands into fists while he kissed along the side of her jaw.
“I think you're beautiful. That's why I could never draw your face. I could never do you justice. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I just wanted you to know that,” she blurted out.
He stopped kissing her and stood back a little so he could stare into her eyes. His beautiful blue eyes, surrounded by such dark lashes. He'd gotten a buttery tan over the summer, though he was nowhere near as brown as her – he was naturally fair skinned, and it suited him. His brown hair was messy and wavy, probably in need of a cut, but she liked it. It was a little wild, a look he wore well. Her eyes filled with tears and she moved her hands to his chest, pressing them over his heart.
“Little girl,” he sighed. “You have
got
to start trusting me.”
“
I do,
” she snapped, and a tear finally spilled over onto her cheek. He was quick to wipe it up with his thumb.
“Then trust me when I say we'll get out of this just fine. Just trust me, and do everything I said, and
don't be scared
, and we'll be
just fine,
” he assured her.
“If you say so,” she mumbled. He chuckled.
“
I do
. And you will get to experience all this magnificent beauty for as long as you want,” he teased, pressing his forehead to hers. “And I'll get to experience yours. Just get through tonight. That's all you have to do, and then we can be together in whatever way we want.”
At the end of his statement, a thought flashed across Dulcie's mind.
And what way is that? Without this town, without this kindling for our fire, what do we have?
She wasn't given a chance to explore her thoughts. Con's hands moved to her ribs and he squeezed, gently lifting her off the ground. He was so much stronger than her. So much bigger. He could almost lift her small frame over his head. He didn't, though, and she wrapped her legs around him. She was pressed back up against the wall, then his pelvis was pressed to hers, and suddenly there was a much more important issue at hand. They might not survive the night – did she really want to spend their last moments together talking about the future?
Con apparently felt the same way, and in a matter of minutes she was stripped of her shorts and thrown to the floor. They knocked over a can of paint, and as they pushed and pulled against each others bodies, screamed and cried out as they tore into each others souls, everything was coated in black.
In hindsight, taking a shower was stupid. But the paint was drying and itchy, and the bits of her that weren't covered in paint were soaked in sweat, so they didn't even think about it. They went into the big bathroom at the end of the hall and both stood under the spray, wiping away the layers of paint.
She wanted to wash her hair, so after giving her a big kiss and stealing her breath away, Con stepped out of the shower. She watched through the glass shower door as he pulled on a pair of old jeans, then he walked out of the room.
It was maybe ten minutes later when the power went out.
Thank god I rinsed out the shampoo
.
In an instant, she had the water turned off. She stood in the stall for a second, holding as still as possible while she strained her ears. All she could hear was water dripping off her body, so she pushed open the door and stepped out onto the bath mat.
The room was pitch black, no windows at all. She dropped to a crouch and shuffled across the floor, her arm stretched out in front of her. When her hand finally collided with the wicker hamper, she breathed a sigh of relief. The master bedroom's en suite was nice enough, but the bathroom at the back of the house was much bigger, with a jacuzzi tub and a separate shower that was easily big enough for eight people. She and Con preferred to use it when they showered together, and so a lot of their clothing was shed in that bathroom.
She pulled items out of the hamper till she felt a small piece of denim. Shorts. She wiggled into them, still staying low to the floor, then went back to digging. When she grabbed what felt like a t-shirt, she pulled it on, then quickly realized it was one of Con's. At least she wasn't naked, she figured, so she stood up and shuffled back towards the door.
She pressed her ear to the wood and listened. She could hear something, but it was faint. It almost sounded like laughing. People, hooting and hollering, rummaging around in the rooms. She couldn't tell how many, though. There was a faint light coming in under the door, so she laid flat on her stomach and tried to look out.
BANG
.
Something hitting the door. So quick, so abruptly, she actually shrieked. She jumped to her feet and took a couple steps back. There was some more banging, then the knob slowly began to turn. She hadn't bothered to lock it. The door swung open, and she was blind for a moment as a lantern was held in her face.
“Well, well, well! What do we have here? And she's already wet, my favorite,” a voice hissed.
Dulcie had no clue who the man in front of her was; he was tall, with dark hair and spotty skin. He was holding a camping lantern and was swinging it gently. Back and forth, to and fro. She held up her hand to block the light and frowned.
“What are you doing in my house?” she demanded.
“Don't play that game with me, girlie. Matty told us all about yer rich boyfriend. Told us all about what you done to poor ol' Larry. I think we're gonna be movin' in with y'all. So why don't you come over here and give us a good welcome home,” he suggested, then reached out to grab her arm. She slapped at his hand.
“Don't you fucking touch me!” she shouted.
“Quiet now! Wouldn't want the cops showin' up, would ya? I might have to have a conversation with 'em about some of your extra-curricular activities,” he warned her, then managed to get a grip on her wrist. He braced his shoulder against the door frame and began pulling her to him.
“Stop it!
Stop!
” she shrieked.
There was a loud thunking noise and something wet splashed across her neck. She was struggling to pull his fingers off her wrist when it happened, and she froze for a second. His hand fell away and she looked up, then promptly screamed.
His left eyeball was bulging out of his head. It was frighteningly unnatural looking, with his eyelid almost completely closed behind the orb. He didn't look too bothered, though. His mouth was slack and he seemed to be mumbling something, though she couldn't make sense of it. As she covered her mouth with her hand, she watched as his good eye rolled back in his head and he dropped to his knees. When he pitched forward, she scrambled to get out of the way.
“You okay?”
She looked out the doorway to find Con standing there. The lantern had fallen to the floor in the hall, casting the light up harshly from under him, making him look slightly ghoulish. He still wasn't wearing a shirt, and he had red splatter marks across his chest. She realized it was blood, and she looked down at herself. There was blood on the white t-shirt she was wearing, and when she touched her throat, she saw that's what had splashed against her.
“Fine,” she breathed, her eyes moving to the bat he had in his hand. The same bat she'd used to destroy Jared's house. “Are you?”
The end of the bat had blood on it, so she turned to look down at their fallen guest. Where the back of his skull should have been, there was just mush. Blood and hair and bone. Probably brain matter, she didn't look too close. Con must have come up right next to him, and then just swung away, trying to hit it out of the park.
I would never expect anything less than a home run from Constantine.
“Peachy keen. Let's move,” he answered her, then he pulled her out of the bathroom and shut the door, hiding the body.
Dulcie scooped up the lantern and hurried behind him. He was stalking down the hallway, completely fearless of who might be in the house, or how many of them there were. He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the darkness, so she moved to stand next to him and held up the light.
“What now?” she whispered, glancing up at him. He kept staring at the dark.
“We finish what we started.”
He roughly grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her back down the hall. The lantern fell to the floor and bumped up against a wall. It must have knocked a battery loose, because the light began to flicker erratically, acting like a strobe in the dark house. Con shoved her into their room. Not the master suite, but the room with the heart on the wall.
“What are you doing?” she was stunned as he all but threw her across the doorway. She stumbled and fell against the giant heart.
“You'll be safe in here,” he informed her, then he slammed the door shut.
She pushed off the wall and ran after him, but when she jerked on the knob, she found it was locked. It was an old house, the doors had ancient looking key holes, and a master key worked on all of them. Con had locked her in the room.
“
Stop it!
” she yelled, pounding on the door. “Stop it, don't do this!”
There were footsteps then, but she couldn't tell if it was him running away, or someone else moving around. She could hear movement on the stairs, the hollow thumping sound of someone rushing up them. She lost her shit and began screaming, jerking and yanking on the knob.
What if he gets hurt? What if something happens? I need to be there. If he dies, I have to be a part of it. How could he do this to us?
Something heavy rammed into the door and she jumped back. Then there was complete silence. The only light in the room was coming from the moon outside, making everything around her look silver. Except for the heart on the wall. That was still as black as ever.
Dulcie took a deep breath and dropped to her knees. She leaned in close, trying to look out the key hole. The lantern was still flickering away on the floor. There was a noise in the distance, something or someone shuffling around. She pressed her ear flat to the door for a second, trying to figure out what it was, then she moved to look out the hole again.
“
Dulcie.
”
She was startled, but she didn't move when she saw an eyeball looking back at her. It was blue, but not the deep blue of Con's eye. This blue was dull and pale, surrounded by skin that looked grayer than normal in the strobing light.
“Matt,” she gasped his name. “What are you doing!?”
“You invited me to a party,” he laughed.
“
I did not
.”
“Sure you did. Tell me this guy has lots of money, tell me he's gonna mess me up. Sounds like an invitation to me. So I brought some of my friends to party, hope you're ready,” he told her, then she listened as he jiggled the knob.
“You can't get in here,” she warned him.
“We'll see about that.”
Before he could make good on his threat, though, there was a crashing noise, followed by a shout. More like a roar. An animalistic sound that made Dulcie's heart beat faster and harder. Matt jumped up and disappeared from her view.
“No! Don't you run away! You fucking come back here!” she started screaming again, beating on the door.
Another figure ran past the key hole, but it was just blackness moving in the bright light. A shadow passing her by. She couldn't tell who it was – where was Con? Was he okay? She couldn't handle this, she was going to go crazy.
Well,
crazier
.
She jumped to her feet and hurried to the other side of the room, careful to skirt where the paint had spilled earlier. The rollers and paintbrushes she'd used the night before were still laid out, but none of them would help her. Then she found Con's shovel, the one he'd used to dig up his father. He'd carried it upstairs with him when he'd joined her in the room.
Dulcie grabbed it and charged back to the front of the room. With a yell, she thrust the blade into the side of the door. She wiggled it back and forth, pulled it out, then shoved it in again. Really worked it in between the door and the frame. One more hit, and when she threw her weight against the handle, the door bowed and the bolt ripped through the frame.
She ran into the hall in time to see Con and Matt struggling at the top of the stairs. She watched as Con was able to hook an arm around the smaller man's torso, allowing him to trip the other guy and send him crashing down the stairs. She listened as the body rolled down the steps. There was yelling, a sickening crunching sound, and then silence for a moment. Then, soft weeping.
“Why?” she whispered, moving to stand next to Con. He was breathing heavy.
“It was him or us, Dulcie, you know I had -”
She smacked him in the back with the shovel, hard enough to make him wince.
“
Why'd you lock me in that fucking room!?
” she shrieked.
“Because you were right, you've done all the heavy hitting up until now. It was my turn.”
Before she could hit him again for making such a selfish statement, he jogged down the steps. It was darker downstairs, all the drapes were drawn, though the front door was standing wide open and letting in moonlight. It fell across Matt's crumpled form, showing a pair of badly broken legs. Something else didn't look right, but Dulcie couldn't put her finger on it.
“Wait,” she called out, following after Con at a more sedate pace. He reached the crying figure and moved to stand over him.
“Oh, I've waited too long for this,” Con sighed, then he bent over and grabbed the other man's head. Dulcie gasped, and at the same time, movement in the doorway caught her eye.
“No, wait! Don't -”
He was beyond listening, though. Con jerked his arms back with such a force, Dulcie could hear the spine break from where she was standing on the stairs. She grimaced as he rested the head backwards at an impossible angle, so it was laying against the body's shoulder blades.
“God, that felt good,” Con groaned, standing upright.
“It wasn't him,” Dulcie whispered, looking past him and out the door.
“What?” he asked, finally turning to see what she was looking at.
“
Holy shit.
”
Matt was standing in the doorway, staring wide eyed at the act of murder he'd just witnessed. Sure, Matt was a bad guy, and probably had no qualms about committing some nasty crimes. He'd been ready to rape his own sister, he was no goody-two-shoes. But murder was another thing entirely, and watching someone do it in cold blood wasn't easy for the average person to witness. Especially when the person being killed was a friend.
“I told you to come see where I live,” Con breathed, and Dulcie watched as his trademark grin spread across his face.
“
You're fucking crazy!
” Matt screamed, stumbling away from the porch.
Con took off after him, laughing loudly and shouting threats.
Dulcie let out a deep breath and went to the foot of the stairs. Stared down at the dead body. It was some guy she'd never met. More like a boy – she couldn't place his age, but he looked young. Probably close to her own age. Matt must have seemed cool to him, probably gave him drugs and promised him a good time. “
Hey, come to a party on the hill, we'll scare some people, steal some shit, have a laugh
”, and now the kid was dead.
She dropped the shovel on him and walked out the door. Con was standing in the driveway, staring into the woods that surrounded the property. She stood next to him for a second, then reached out and grabbed his hand. Linked their fingers together.
“He got away?” she asked.
“Yeah.”