Authors: Bryan Smith
His eyes brimmed with tears yet again. “I’m sorry.”
She dropped her hands and shook her head. “Just listen to me for a minute. You’re right. That wasn’t us. I don’t blame you or Jared or Kevin for any of it. But everything changed for me that night, Mark.
Everything
. You understand? There are things I want to do with my life. Things that take a lot of work. And I won’t be able to have those things if I stay on that path.” She laughed without humor. “I can’t be a ‘Dark One’ anymore.”
Mark thought he saw a small glimmer of hope. “But . . . if it’s just about all the partying and all, I can give that up. I mean . . .” He strained for the right thing to say. “Look, I love you. I’d, you know . . . support you.” He forced a weak smile. “No matter what.”
She didn’t reply right away. Seconds passed as they stood there staring at each other. As the silence lengthened, her hard mask began to crack and her eyes grew wet. “You’d try. I don’t know.” She looked away from him, stared out at the empty residential street. “I need time. A lot of time. I need to think. I won’t say we’re done forever, but I won’t promise you anything either. All I know is I can’t go on like we were. So give me some time, okay?”
Mark swallowed another thick lump in his throat. “Yeah. Okay. Of course.” He glanced at the house, frowning again. “That guy . . .”
She laughed. “Chris Harknell. He’s cool.”
“Huh.”
Natasha laughed. “He’s also gay.”
Mark blinked. “Oh.”
“He talked me into joining the drama club.” She smiled. “Can you believe that? I’m in the goddamn drama club.”
“That’s cool, I guess.”
“Damn right. I’m gonna make movies someday, you know.”
Mark nodded. “I know. Look . . . I hate to change the subject, but you really need to come out tonight.”
Natasha groaned. “Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” He strove for a tone solemn enough to show her how serious this was. “That night in the basement . . . you know it wasn’t natural. Hell, it was
super
natural. And Clayton, I shit you not, knows something about it. Something to do with his dad.”
“Isn’t his dad dead?”
“Yeah, but listen, he says we let a demon out of its prison that night and now it’s, I don’t know, possessing one of us.”
Natasha gaped at him. “Mark . . . are you serious?”
Now it was his turn to be impatient. “Yeah, I’m goddamn serious. You were there, Natasha. You know what happened. It’s no goddamn joke. Clayton says the thing that put us through all that rode out of there inside one of us. And we have to, I don’t know . . .
do something
about it.”
“No.”
“Huh? But—”
“I’m not Buffy the fucking Vampire Slayer, okay? I’m not about to go chasing demons or whatever. You’re right. I was there. I know something fucking evil happened. I’m not about to go looking for it again. And you shouldn’t either. You know we can’t fight something like that.”
Mark knew he was losing the battle, but he wasn’t willing to give up just yet. “I’m gonna be at Clayton’s tonight to hear what he has to say. You should come. What harm is there in just listening?”
She shook her head. “I’ll think about it. No promises. I probably won’t come, but . . . I’ll think about it.” She moved away from him and started toward the house, pausing a moment to glance back at him over her shoulder. “I’ve got things to do, okay? So . . . goodbye.”
She hurried into the house before he could reply.
There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but it would have to wait. And he would just have to hope she would have a change of heart about tonight. Maybe she would come, maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, he felt like he’d won something. A little something. A
chance
. But that was okay. Compared to what he’d had only a few minutes earlier, it was everything in the world.
He took his leave of the Wagner residence via the open Weaver backyard and continued through their front lawn to the street beyond. He turned right when he hit the street, continuing up a long and sharply rising straight stretch of Spring Circle. The steep hill was the best place for sledding in the winter. There had been a good bit of snow last winter, more than usual for Tennessee, and he and his new friends had spent several late nights taking plunge after plunge down the hill. They only had two sleds, so they would take turns, the others standing at the top of the hill and sharing around a bottle of Southern Comfort while waiting for the sledders to reach the bottom and trudge back uphill. It had been a lot of damn fun, too much for anyone to care much about the bitter cold. What did cold matter when you had the amazing good fortune to have such cool friends? He started to smile at the memory, but it faded and he began to feel depressed again.
Their circle was broken, the unique bond shattered. Maybe forever.
Shit
.
The Kelly house was near the top of the hill on the right, close to where the road curved to the right and looped around until it became Washington Avenue. The house looked like a mini-mansion, with plantation-style columns bracketing the wide front porch and a long, ornate second-story balcony overlooking the front yard. Jared answered his knock, closing the door behind him as he stepped outside and stood on the porch.
“What’s up?”
Jared’s demeanor wasn’t as guarded as Mark had expected. The guy had been playing the avoidance game as hard as any of them, so this was surprising. Mark eyed him closely for a moment, not knowing quite how to start. “Um . . . are you, uh . . . okay?”
Jared scowled. “Don’t get all emo on me, man.”
Mark nodded. “Right. But . . . are you?”
Jared shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Yeah. I won’t lie. Those first couple nights . . . I had some seriously messed-up nightmares. Could barely look at myself in the mirror, dude. But then I decided to stop being a pussy and got over it. So . . . what brings you here?”
Mark took a deep breath. “Can you come out tonight?”
Jared tilted his head. “Dunno. Maybe. Why?”
Mark told him about the meeting at Clayton’s house and the possibility that the thing they’d released was possessing one of their friends. “So . . . can you come?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Mark couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face then. The gratitude he felt in that moment was overwhelming. At least one of his friends was joining him in this—and without any obvious reluctance. The feeling of intense loneliness that had been gripping him for days eased just a little. “Cool. I already talked to Natasha. Not sure if she’s coming, can’t count on it, but she might. I’m heading over to Fiona’s after this and then to Derek’s.”
Jared glanced up at the sky and squinted. “Weird being outside this time of day.”
“No shit. Feel like I’ve been cured of vampirism.”
“Yeah.” Jared looked at him. “I’d steer clear of Derek.”
Mark frowned. “Why?”
“Pretty sure he’s the one got hijacked by your fucking demon.”
“But how do—”
“I know. Trust me.” The troubled set of his features was more obvious now. His eyes looked haunted. “I went over there. To offer my condolences. And . . . I got as far as the front door. I heard screaming. I started looking in windows. I couldn’t see anything. I went around to the back and hopped the fence. I was thinking maybe I should call the cops, but I don’t know why, I felt like I should check it out myself first. I peeked in through a window. This time I saw something.”
“What did you see?”
Jared visibly shivered. “I think if they’d spotted me, I’d be dead now, or I’d be a part of whatever fucked-up shit is going on at that house.”
Mark was getting impatient. “Would you just tell me what you fucking saw?”
Jared grimaced. “You asked for it, remember that.”
He told Mark every detail of what he could remember from that brief glimpse through the window at the back of the McGregor house. It was more than enough to convince him that Jared’s suspicion was probably true. “Holy shit.”
Jared nodded.
They stood there in silence for a time, each of them wrapped up in their own hopeless thoughts.
Then Jared said, “Fuck it. I know where we can get some beer. Wanna go for a ride?”
Mark didn’t hesitate. “Hell, yeah.”
T
WENTY-EIGHT
She couldn’t think of any realistic way out of the situation and was again beginning to wish they’d just kill her and be done with it. But that wasn’t about to happen. Andras, the infernal thing walking around inside Derek McGregor’s skin, was having far too much fun with her. Lydia’s mind boggled at the wide array of sickening and perverse acts she’d been forced to either witness or participate in since being dragged away from her home earlier in the day. The demon delighted in cruel acts of humiliation and torture. The sense of shame she felt in the wake of some of these acts was bad. The occasional moments of nerve-shredding agony were very bad. But the very worst part of it was how he was able to make her enjoy every second of it. He could make her body convulse with orgasm after orgasm even as she lay bleeding in a pool of her own vomit. Those moments of having no control over her own body stretched her sanity very near to the breaking point.
And now she was hog-tied on the floor in Suzie McGregor’s living room. All the furniture had been pushed out of the way to form a large open space in the center of the room. Her hands were stretched behind her back at painful angles, her wrists tied to her upraised ankles with electrical cords. The hardwood floor felt cold and uncomfortable against her nude body. Blood was still leaking from the dozens of places where Andras had nicked her flesh with a knife. She could feel it pooling between her breasts and forming a sticky puddle against her abdomen. None of the wounds were lethal, not even combined, but they hurt like hell, causing her to whimper now and then as Andras walked in a slow circle around her and stared down at her.
He knelt next to her and plucked at one of the taut electrical cords, making her arms vibrate with pain again.
She screamed.
He laughed.
Tears dripped from her eyes to the floor. She quivered as he went to one knee next to her and began to caress her bare back and ass, his hand gliding smoothly over the soft, delicate flesh. The touch was gentle, almost loving. She knew better than to trust this impression . . . but it felt so good.
“Do you like that?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
He plucked at the cords again, eliciting another scream.
“What about that, woman? Do you like that?”
She sniffled. “Y-yes.”
He pressed his fingers between her legs and probed at her pussy, causing it to become instantly wet again. He pushed his fingers inside her, deep inside, and flexed them, making her cry out and writhe on the floor. She was helpless to prevent her body’s physical reaction, despite the pain that came with each little twitch. The muscles in her shoulders, thighs, and calves felt like they were on fire. She nonetheless writhed some more and screamed some more as he continued to work at her with his fingers. The sensations became so intense that she forgot all about how he was degrading her and gave herself over to shameful ecstasy. After many minutes of pain intermingled with bliss, he untied her and flipped her over. She spread her legs wide and screamed louder than ever at the penetration that followed. Her eyes went wide and her long nails clawed at his bony shoulders as he began to thrust against her. Her fingernails tore into him, drawing blood as his rhythm increased. She yelped and thrashed and tore at him as her body shook in the grip of cascading orgasms. Her hands were sticky with his blood by the time he shot his seed deep inside her.
He pulled out of her and moved away. A powerful sense of loss brought tears to her eyes. She wanted him back inside her. Wanted him there permanently. She didn’t ever want to stop feeling like that. Andras was beautiful. He was perfect. How could she have ever thought there was anything wrong with this? She lay there panting for several minutes, feeling delirious and dizzy as she stared up at the ceiling. The high didn’t begin to fade until she heard voices and knew the others had returned.
Tom and Suzie.
And Ella, Suzie’s mother-in-law.
They had departed separately, dispatched by Andras to perform various tasks. Ella went out alone, Tom and Suzie together. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared at them through eyes that were still a little bleary. Ella and Suzie were still in the tiny, sexy dresses they’d been wearing upon departing. Suzie looked as sexily immaculate as she had prior to embarking on her errand, but Ella’s little black dress was torn in places and the front of it was soaked with a sticky, dark substance that could only be blood. There was more blood smeared across her face and chest. The severed head of a young man was cradled in the crook of her left arm. The dead man’s face was frozen in an expression of agonized shock. A short piece of his spinal column protruded from the ragged, bloody stump of his neck. Lydia experienced a brief moment of revulsion, but it passed quickly. This had been done by her new master’s bidding. It was his will. And that made it right. That made it good. She suddenly longed to prove her own worth by taking a life, too. She imagined plunging a knife into the trembling body of a terrified victim. The image excited her. She made a husky sound low in her throat and pushed a hand between her legs.
The others stopped talking and watched her.
Her excitement grew by leaps and bounds as they watched her masturbate. She rotated her pelvis as she furiously rubbed at her clit. She was thrilled when she saw how excited she was making the others. Ella lifted the hem of her dress and fingered herself. Suzie separated from the group, staggered awkwardly across the hardwood floor in her heels, and dropped to her knees between Lydia’s spread legs. Suzie’s rapt expression was equal parts desire and hatred. Lydia knew exactly how she felt. She arched her back and slid her butt across the floor.
Suzie wiped away a strand of saliva hanging from a corner of her mouth. “Bitch.”