I could’ve killed you there, she thinks.
“No,” Paul says. “You couldn’t have.”
His hands are like winter stone and his touch chills her spine.
In the moon’s glow his flesh takes on that same translucence from the church. And there’s an inhuman shape moving beneath it, gliding back and forth like a parasite hiding inside a host.
Jaime reaches out and takes him in the palm of her hand. The simple touch makes him purr. “I’m ready,” she says and then braces for it.
Rebecca retreats further into her subconscious.
Jaime wraps her legs around Paul and digs her nails into his back, cracking his skin and peeling it away like hunks of ice, her hands finding the flaky paper of a hornet’s nest beneath. Behold, the flesh of a god.
Rebecca can’t fight this. She feels the love Jaime has for . . . it. It’s more than she’s got left. Every parent worth their salt wants this very thing for their child. The one thing that’s almost certain to elude them the rest of their lives.
Happiness.
And, Jesus, Jaime’s got it in spades.
Jaime bucks as He pushes deeper inside her. The voice is still Rebecca’s, but Jaime wields it. Moaning and screaming His name now, not Paul’s, because it’s been so long and it feels so good and there was never anyone else.
“I love you so much,” she cries.
Her enthusiasm ignites Him. Inspires Him. His rhythm twists and she’s already close.
Rebecca’s thoughts and memories are on the precipice, and she casts them willingly into the void, one-by-one. This peace she feels is new.
Here’s the choice. And it isn’t much of one. She thinks of that night with the macaroni lion and holds that memory in her hand when all the others have since jumped into the abyss. At last she has an answer to the question of what that night represents. Jaime’s future. She’s grateful for it. And then Rebecca hurls it too into oblivion with the rest of her mind.
Jaime throws her hands on His shoulders, desperately trying to keep Him close as His flesh continues flaking off under her touch, revealing that gray-skinned, featureless hive creature beneath. Its coiled and dangling mouth falls to her breasts, sucking greedily on them. His flickering tongue is a swollen insect with its own dancing apparatuses. It tickles her flesh, bringing indescribable pleasure.
The crowd gasps. Begins to chant excitedly.
Jaime should be terrified, but Rebecca searches her thoughts and finds nothing of the sort. Even now, there’s only love.
And Tanner Red handles her with the same amount of care. Every thrust fills her with warmth. Fills her with hope. Fills her with the truth.
This whole time, Jaime was right. Paul was right.
The book was true. They did what the members of FindingTheVeil could not. Many of whom are probably here tonight, basking in failure.
That matters. They deserve this. This puts Rebecca at ease.
Rebecca was certain it was revenge she needed. But now her little girl’s come back.
It’s not worth fighting anymore. With one final bit of energy and like a dying star, Rebecca sends one last beam of light and love to her daughter.
Gonna tell our baby all about you, Mom. What you did for us.
Rebecca thinks that’s nice. Something to remember her by.
Overhead, dawn starts to break. Warmth beating down the frost. At last, spring is in the air.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book wouldn’t have been possible without the following contributions and support.
Thanks to Carrie and Andy at Grindhouse for giving this book a home, and for making sure it got done right. You guys are the gold standard by which all other small presses should be judged. I mean that sincerely and I’ll work with you again in a heartbeat if you’ll have me.
Scott Cole, for somehow knowing what should go on the cover of this book, and then for designing it. And much love to the rest of the Black T-Shirt gang for their continued advice and support: Adam Cesare, Pat Lacey, Aaron Dries.
Special shout outs to Gabino Iglesias for supporting his fellow authors like it’s a full-time job. J. David Osborne for insight and wisdom when I needed it. Erik Van Der Wolf and Buz Wallick for that special thing we’re working on.
Last, but not least, my endlessly supportive wife, Michelle, who gets to deal with having a writer in the family. I’d include my kids, too, but after reading this book I’m not sure it’s a great idea to remind you I have them.
- Matt 3/30/19
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Matt Serafini is the author of Ocean Grave, Island Red, Under the Blade, and Feral. He also co-authored a collection of short stories with Adam Cesare called All-Night Terror.
He has written extensively on the subjects of film and literature for numerous websites including Dread Central and Shock Till You Drop. His nonfiction has appeared in Fangoria and HorrorHound magazines. He spends a significant portion of his free time tracking down obscure slasher films, and hopes one day to parlay that knowledge into a definitive history book on the subject.
His novels are available in ebook and paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all other fine retailers.
Matt lives in Massachusetts with his wife and children.
Please visit https://mattserafini.com/ to learn more.
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Rites of Extinction Page 13