They

by J. F. Gonzalez

“The Kingdom is yours, Andrew,” Brian said. His eyes were locked on Vince’s; his angular, handsome features were now menacing, yet triumphant. Kimberly beamed beside him. “You are the gateway. Once you’ve fulfilled your duty, you will be rewarded like no other human being on earth.”

  Vince’s mind was a rustling vortex. He felt his emotions crumble. A tear slid down his cheek as he saw his memories rush by in a whirlwind; his mother, memories of his upbringing, his years in Pennsylvania, the fights with his mother over her increasingly strict Christian ways (she knew, she knew the whole time and that’s why she turned so Christian, she knew what I was and she didn’t want to kill me, she wanted to save me, she thought that by saving me it would thwart His plans), his flight to California, graduate school, his marriage to Laura, his friendship with Brian, whom he thought was his friend. More tears slid down his cheek. His voice cracked. “What’s happening? I still don’t understand.”

  Tracy stepped forward and now she was holding him and he was letting her. His mind wasn’t even registering what he already knew about her, that she wasn’t even human. His senses weren’t even registering the faint scent of brimstone and rot that seemed to permeate from her pores, the heat that radiated from her body as she took him in her arms, pressing him close to her. He didn’t resist as he felt himself lust for her, felt his penis rise to the occasion. He felt another flush of heat rise through his groin as she placed her lips to the cusp of his ear and began to whisper to him, and what she whispered to him was what he’d been thinking for the past week, not seriously, but as a bad joke. It had all seemed like a bad joke back then, even when he’d brought it up to Frank Black. Now the bad joke was not only confirmed as being real, it was real.

  “Your mother took you from us,” Tracy whispered, her voice deep and ancient and evil. “We didn’t foresee that; your mother’s state of mind hid that from even Sam. She’d been gone for over a week by the time her husband came home, and by then she’d erased her tracks. They went crazy looking for you—after all, you’re the Dark Prince, the Red Opener, who will allow the Dark Father into this world to reclaim it for us and defeat the lowly prince of hypocrisy. You were our only hope, we couldn’t let Maggie bring us down. Satan promised he would bring you back; as your father, He saw this as an opportunity to expose you to the world, to allow your mind to develop on its own. Sam was wary, but he allowed it. The dark seed was planted inside you, and we knew it would grow, that it would need time to grow, that there was no fertilizer better than His Kingdom, what god gave him when he cast our Father into the pits of hell.”

  Samuel Garrison continued. “On your twenty-second year, we conjured a Succubus from bodily fluids that we preserved from some clothes your mother left behind when you fled. She was designed for the purpose of zeroing in on you, and it didn’t take long. She located you here, in Orange County, and we couldn’t have been more delighted.” He laughed; it sounded like hot coals being rustled by a barbecue stick. “I knew then that the Dark Lord had kept his promise; He’d protected you; His guiding hand had led you back to your birthplace.”

  “We worked at bringing you back into the fold,” Brian Dennison continued the narrative. Vince felt the walls close in on him as the nightmare unfolded. “Once Diana learned your name, it was easy to find your mother. It turned out that in the end her loyalty to us won out. She could have killed you hundreds of times after she took you, but she didn’t. She let you live because deep down, she knew that this was what her blind, idiot god wanted.”

  “No,” Vince said, shaking his head.

  “When we found you, I came in to your life and offered you the position at Corporate Financial, which is actually a front company for our global expansion. And through it all we groomed you for your future position as the years went by. Rituals were held, sacrifices made for the Lord of Darkness to protect you and give you strength. You learned fast. Rituals were performed to awaken your memories on your thirty-third birthday, a magical year for us because it coincides with Christ’s thirty-three years on earth. You would achieve magical powers on this year in your life. All that was needed was to bring Diana back in to your life as Tracy. She worked in protecting and guiding you. We knew there might be danger, and there was. Those assassination attempts…you thought that was us?” Brian shook his head, chuckling, a slight grin on his face. “That was the work of a defector of The Children of the Night, a member who knew of His plans. A renegade Christian cult that thought they could go against their god’s plan by killing the Anti-Christ. What fools!” Brian shrugged, his eyes glimmering. “After introducing Tracy back into your life, it was a simple matter of taking your mother out once and for all and then—”

  “But Tracy isn’t even…human!” Vince was confused; his mind was whirling. “How could…I mean…when I met Laura shortly after…”

  Brian’s smile faded a little. “We never anticipated that,” he said. “How could we? You were doing so well. Your love for money, for mammon, had been greater than love for your fellow man for so long that when that part of you was awakened by Laura, we knew something had to be done. So,” he shrugged, “it was taken care of.”

  The implications of what Brian just said hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind reeled. He blinked back more tears, feeling the fear that had gripped his chest melt into something else, something that grew hot and bubbled to the surface of his psyche as he struggled to contain his emotions. “You…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You had her killed? But she…” he gasped, thinking back on that day when Laura had her accident. “But she…it was an accident! You mean to tell me you…cursed her somehow? Caused her car to lose control and fly off the road like that?”

  “Of course,” Brian said, smiling. His eyes were black pits that reflected the depths of his soul. “What else would you expect us to do?”

  The memories he had of Laura, his best friend, the woman who had awakened feelings he never thought he would have, the woman who had made him a man, bubbled to the surface. He experienced a brief epiphany of not only her memories, but what had been lurking in the shadows the entire time he’d been with her; Brian and Kimberly Dennison, their friends, wearing masks of kindness and love all the while secretly plotting Laura’s demise. And all because Vince had allowed Laura into his life, had allowed himself to feel the love of another person. If he hadn’t let Laura into his life she’d still be alive. The pain of her death that had fallen on her parents, her family, her friends, wouldn’t have happened. And as he realized this, the heat that Vince felt bubbling to the surface came pouring out of him. It came out of him like a blinding white-hot miasma, pouring out of him in waves. He let it propel his emotions forward and he screamed in anguish, at the pain he felt over her death. He tipped his head back and screamed in agony and hate, his eyes closed against the world, seeing only red.

  “Yes, Andrew,” Samuel Garrison said. His wizened features were wrinkled in triumph. His dark eyes blazed. “Let the anger and the hate pour out of you. Let it be your guide. Let it compel you!”

  Vince continued screaming, no longer able to control himself. All he could experience, all he could feel, was the blind hate he now felt. He’d found all of this so unbelievable, so fantastically absurd, that now that it was staring him in the face he couldn’t deal with it. Worse, they’d killed Laura! Why couldn’t they have just…

  “We couldn’t have just left her alone, Andrew,” Samuel Garrison said, now joining Tracy at his side. The old man was standing next to him, his face inches from Vince’s. “She was part of it; she was nudged into your life by the Dark Father himself. She was a willing sacrifice and she didn’t even know it. Her death was to prove that what is inside you would come out and it’s coming out just fine now, so let it out. Let the hate and the anger and the rage you feel come out and take over. Let it overwhelm you. And then use it to your advantage; use it to do the bidding that you were born to do!”

  His rage and hate was pouring out of him so swiftly, so fiercely, that he didn’t even
know he’d so much in him. He felt it invade every pore, every blood vessel, every nook and cranny in his system and it was so overwhelming, all so pervading, that he felt something else enter him. And when he felt it, it seemed like a switch went on in his head and then he felt a sudden surge of power! And the power he felt was good. It was filling him with something he could only describe as otherworldly, spiritual. And as he screamed in rage and frustration he heard the dim voices of the people in the room as they crowded around him, encouraging him on, chanting beside him. He opened his eyes, not even aware that a spark had lit them, that they now glimmered with something else, something dark and full of rage and purpose. And when they saw it, the people in the room—Gladys and Tom Black, Paul and Opal, his old childhood friend Nellie and her father, Samuel Garrison, Brian and Kimberly Dennison, all of them began chanting.

  “Hail Satan!” Brian and Kimberly Dennison chanted in unison, looking at Vince with what looked like awe.

  “Hail Andrew!” The room chanted.

  “Hail to the One Who Will Claim the World as Ours!” Samuel Garrison thundered.

  A roaring cacophony: “Hail Satan! Ruler of the Earth, Destroyer of Christ, Savior to Us All. All Hail the Red Opener, gateway to Hanbi! Hail Satan! Hail Andrew!”

  And as the voices roared in his head, as the people gathered in the room paid him the ultimate knowledge, Vincent Walters tipped his head back and let his rage and hate and anger take over, and then he really went mad.

  Epilogue

  September 13, 2004

  VINCE WALTERS WAS in his office going over contracts when his secretary called him on his secure line.

  Vince answered on speaker-phone. “Yes.”

  “There’s a woman here to see you,” Barbara said. She sounded flustered. “She doesn’t have an appointment and—”

  “Then send her away,” Vince said, turning back to his paperwork, dismissing her.

  “I’ve tried and I was just about to call security but she’s insisting I call you first.” Barbara sounded pissed off now and Vince looked up from his paperwork, curious. Barbara never got angry. She could turn away the most ambitious salesman. Whoever this woman was, she’d really gotten under Barbara’s skin.

  “Who is she?” Vince asked.

  “She says—” Barbara began and then she was cut off by the sound of another woman’s voice, demanding something. Barbara said, “Ma’am, I’m telling him. Now will you please be patient!” To Vince: “She says her name is Brandy Black and that you knew her husband Frank. She’s requesting a meeting and I’ve told her that your calendar—”

  “Send her in,” Vince said, frowning.

  Barbara started, her voice surprised. “Send her in?”

  “Send her in,” Vince confirmed. He hung up and began sweeping the papers he was working on into a folder labeled Al Azif Project. He’d finished the deal on this last year, shortly after making presidency of the corporation. He was not only in charge of World Accounts, the Al Azif project had been handed to him without question. He invested the funds in high yield stocks and bonds, channeled the profits to various offshore accounts and wiped his hands clean of it. In the years to come, the project would fund various weapons technologies intended for the US Government’s so-called War Against Terror. It would also fund biological research that would be a fundamental part of this new weapon. Once engaged, the group’s plans could move forward.

  He swept the file into the top folder of his desk, making a mental note to place it in his safe when the door to his office opened and a dark-haired woman walked in.

  Barbara was behind her, looking flustered. “Mr. Walters I tried to—”

  “It’s all right,” Vince said, rising to his feet and buttoning his sport coat. He held his hand out to one of the two soft leather chairs in front of his desk and smiled at Brandy Black. “Mrs. Black. Nice to meet you. Please, have a seat.”

  “No thanks, I’ll stand.” Brandy Black had crossed the room and now stood in front of the desk, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes smoldering. She was a stunningly attractive woman; five foot five with a trim, athletic body. Her features were beautifully sculptured; high cheekbones, full lips, perfect nose, stunning eyes, and luscious black hair that fell to her shoulders. She and Frank must have made a beautiful couple.

  “Fine,” Vince said. He caught Barbara’s eye and nodded. Barbara got the hint and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Frank smiled at Brandy and sank back into his chair. “Well then,” he said, leaning back. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Black?”

  “Don’t you know?” Like Barbara, Brandy looked pissed. Only she looked like she had a mission.

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” Vince said. “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

  Brandy relaxed a little bit; her shoulders slumped slightly, her features softened. “I…um, listen, I’m sorry if I was nasty to your secretary back there, but she really pissed me off.”

  Vince smiled. “Barbara’s been known to do that to even International Investors. That’s why I’ve retained her services.”

  “Yeah, well, she wouldn’t even listen to me as I tried to tell her why I needed to see you,” Brandy said, and now she was slipping into another persona, one that was probably more normal for her. “If she hadn’t been so difficult, I wouldn’t have gotten so mad at her and I wouldn’t have stormed in here like some Nazi Storm-Trooper.”

  Vince chuckled. “Nazi Storm-Trooper. I like that. Has a nice ring to it.”

  Brandy turned to Vince, all traces of anger gone. Now she looked serious. “I’m sorry I’ve intruded on you, Mr. Walters, but you’re my only hope. I’ve been…trying to find out what happened to my husband for almost…well, for over two years now, and I’m getting nowhere.”

  “So what do you want me to do?” This was the first time Vince had spoken to Brandy, much less met her. He’d kept tabs, though. The Mike Peterson murder-suicide case had been big news for a while until it was replaced by something else. The police had never questioned Vince in the death of Frank Black. As for Mike’s friend William Grecko, he’d proved to be no problem. Shortly after the Mike Peterson murder-suicide case broke, William Grecko checked himself in to a rehabilitation facility for his chronic alcoholism. He’d remained there for a month, then took a nearly one-year leave of absence from his law firm. The group monitored Grecko closely, but the lawyer seemed to have no interest in the Peterson case. When he did return to work, he took less stressful cases, mostly involving family matters. Shortly after Grecko went into rehab, the law firm’s offices were broken into and the entire suite searched; several computers were taken. The resulting data taken from the pilfered documents and computers stolen from the office suggested that none of William Grecko’s employees had any knowledge of his relationship with Mike Peterson. If Billy had any evidence saved on any electronic media, he’d taken it with him and put it in a safe place. A subsequent search of his home during his stint in rehab had come up with nothing as well.

  That was fine, though. William Grecko couldn’t do anything even if he did reach out to his FBI contact. The group had friends in every government agency. At the first whiff of investigation, certain powers-that-be would make the appropriate moves and the investigation would be stopped.

  In the years that had passed, Vince had resumed his life and position at Corporate Financial. He ascended to a higher role in the organization, began directing certain activities. Outside of the corporate structure, he began directing certain magical activities, including the monitoring of an older ritual the Yazidis developed, one they had practiced fifteen hundred years ago but was said to have elements that went back even further, to Sumerian times. In fact, he’d just received word from a high-ranking member of the group, Julie Montenelli, that the latest in a series of these rituals had just concluded successfully. These rituals, combined with others being practiced by the group, would create the right atmosphere for his own soul-cracking. And then, when the stars were right…

&n
bsp; Brandy Black was an extremely beautiful woman. She was also extremely bold, especially to have hopped on a plane to California to confront him face to face. She was trying hard to control herself; her eyes were smoldering pits and her lips were pressed into a thin line of anger. Vince could detect her anger just simmering beneath the surface. “You’ve been ignoring me for years,” she said, a low whisper, guttural with anger and menace. “He seeks you out because he thinks he can help you…he risks his life because he thinks you’re in danger…” Brandy was lurching closer towards him, looking like she wanted to leap over his desk and throttle him. “…he does all this and you ignore me!”

  Vince looked impassive. “I had no reason to speak to you.”

  “No reason to speak to me?” Brandy looked taken aback by Vince’s stoic demeanor. “My husband wanted to help you! He kept me in the dark about what it was he was working on and all he would tell me was that something happened to you and him when the two of you were kids. Whatever it was, he was paranoid enough to set up these fake IDs for me and the kids, then move us out to the middle of goddamn nowhere—”

  Vince held up his hand. “What is it you want to know?”

  Brandy stopped. For a moment, she looked surprised, as if the years of stonewalling her and ignoring her inquiries had finally resulted in breaking his barrier. “I just want to know the truth,” she said. “What was he so scared of? What happened to him, what happened to you to… to make him do this?”

  Vince shrugged. “I have no idea. I had a perfectly happy childhood. Frank, on the other hand…well, Frank was a troubled child. Seeing him again really brought those memories back and I’m sorry to say, whatever trouble he had only worsened in his adulthood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was incoherent. He didn’t make any sense. He rambled on about his parents, how they were horrible to him and abused him and all that, then he claimed I had witnessed some of it and been abused myself. I was skeptical. He told me about his past, how he ran away, got hooked on dope, the whole nine yards. At first glance, I thought his story bore serious consideration, so I indulged him.”