Hard Spell ocu-1

by Justin Gustainis

  I know for certain what happened next, though. Sligo's hand slowly reached out to the altar for the silver-bladed dagger. I had a moment's panic, thinking that he had somehow defeated Kulick, after all, and was planning to take the knife to Christine again.

  I needn't have worried. He never even looked toward Christine.

  That's not to say that the dagger didn't see a lot of use in the following few minutes – all of it upon the person of Richard Vollman, also known as Sligo.

  I don't think I want to tell you all the things Kulick made Sligo do with that blade. In my job, I see a lot of blood and sadism, but this would have made Satan himself throw up.

  Karl told me once about an article he'd read describing Le Theatre du Grand-Guignol in Paris. I gather that back in the day those sickos used to put on performances that were the ancestors of our modern-day splatter films. What was going on at the front of the pump house was like that – except none of the blood was fake. And there was a lot of blood.

  After a while, I couldn't look any more. You'd think I would be full of vengeful satisfaction over what was happening to that motherfucker, who'd tried to kill me, my partner, and my little girl. At first, yeah, that's pretty much how I felt. But the things Sligo was being made to do to himself with that knife – before I looked away, I actually started to feel some pity for him. Not a lot, but some.

  I assumed this was all going to end by Sligo plunging the silver dagger into his own black heart, achieving true death, and by then glad to get it. But I'd underestimated George Kulick's appetite for revenge.

  Kulick didn't make Sligo kill himself. Instead, when the last full measure of vengeance, short of death, had finally been extracted, he forced Sligo to fling the dagger out of reach – probably so that he couldn't use it for self-destruction.

  Then Kulick just – left.

  I happened to be looking at the precise moment when George Kulick's spirit left Sligo's body. I saw a brief ripple in the air just over where Sligo lay on the blood-soaked floor, and I thought that might be Kulick's departure. Then Sligo started screaming, and I was certain.

  I call it "screaming," but what Sligo was doing sounded more like loud croaking, and it just went on and on. It's hard to scream when you don't have a tongue, or lips or… well, you get the idea.

  I don't know where Kulick went, except that he never returned. He'd saidsomething, back at the parking garage, about being intrigued by the afterlife. I guess he went off to see for himself.

  Fuck both of them. I needed to reach Christine, who was still tied and hanging upside down from the ceiling, bleeding from the stomach puncture as well as the three symbols carved into her flesh. I had to get her loose, and find help for her. Hell, everybody left alive in that room needed help, including me. I tried to look for my cell phone, but every turn of my head brought the vertigo back. Fuck the phone, then.

  Karl still lay in the position he'd landed in. It didn't look like he was still among the living, but I needed to know for sure. I tried to stand, and fell forward on my face. Tried again, with the same result. I'd decided to crawl, all the way to Karl and then to Christine, when I saw Rachel Proctor stir.

  I hadn't even been sure she was alive.

  Rachel moved her legs a little, then a little more. Then she gave the kind of groan you might hear from somebody waking up after a three-day bender. I managed to croak, "Rachel." Even that much made my head throb.

  She started at my voice, then slowly rolled over until she was facing me, from maybe ten feet away.

  Her eyes were open. They were Rachel's gray eyes, and they were open and they looked sane. I felt my heart lift a little, for the first time since I'd burst into this accursed place.

  Rachel blinked a few times, then her gaze went vague, as if she was listening for something. "Kulick," she whispered, looking at me. "Is he really…?"

  "Yeah, Rachel, he's gone… For good, I think."

  "Thank the Goddess," she said, sounding like she meant it. She sat up slowly, and looked around the part of the pump house that was in her view. Fortunately, her back was to the altar area and the atrocities it contained, and she hadn't turned that way yet.

  "Where are we, Stan?" she asked. "And why is it so damn bright in here?"

  Sligo had stopped his inhuman bleating a little while ago. Maybe he'd passed out from blood loss. But now he gave another of those hoarse-sounding croaks that were his version of a scream.

  "Aaah!" Rachel jumped, if you can jump sitting down, then started turning to look behind her. "What the fuck was-"

  "Rachel! Look at me!"

  She turned back quickly. "What is it Stan? What's wrong?"

  "Don't look back there, yet. Please."

  "Why? What's-" She started to turn again.

  " Rachel!"

  God, that made my head throb.

  She looked at me again, eyes wide with concern.

  "What, Stan? What's the-"

  "Rachel, I'm not… tracking too well. I'm concussed, pretty bad. Maybe I can't… explain stuff as well as normal, okay?"

  "Sure, but if you're concussed-"

  " Will you fucking listen to me?" Bad idea, yelling. Oh, God, my head… "Sorry, I'm sorry, but there's something… behind you, that I don't… want you to see, yet. It's what's making that… sound. There's no danger, honest."

  "All right, Stan. Whatever you say." Rachel spoke in the soothing tones you use with a lunatic. Who knows – maybe she was right.

  "Short version: we're in the pump house, Lake Scranton Dam. Sligo… guy Kulick was after, was gonna do some big ritual, become a super-vampire."

  "A what? A super… what?"

  "Later. This is… short version, okay? When ick got here, he left your body… went into Sligo's. That's the guy… tortured Kulick, remember that?"

  "Remember it? I lived it, through Kulick's memories."

  "Right, sorry. Okay, so Kulick left you, then… possessed… Sligo. Took control. Then – payback time."

  "You mean, he…? Oh, dear Goddess, no!"

  "Yeah. He made Sligo… use a silver knife on himself. It's bad, Rachel – real bad. Then Kulick split… left Sligo still alive. That's him you hear. I think he's trying to scream."

  "Stan, we've got to help the poor man-"

  "Might not say… 'poor man,' if you knew… But we'll help him, in a minute. First, think you can help me… sit up?"

  "Sure. Come on." Rachel got one arm around my shoulders and lifted. I assisted as much as I could, and then I was sitting up again. The vertigo came back, but then receded. Progress, I guess.

  "Now, check on Karl," I said. "Please."

  "Karl? Your partner?"

  "Over there." I pointed. "Behind the pillar. I think maybe he's…" I couldn't finish the sentence.

  Rachel said, "Can you stay upright by yourself?"

  "Think so," I said. "If not, doesn't matter. Not far… to fall. Now go."

  She hustled over to where Karl lay so still. I saw her press two fingers against his neck, frown, then try another spot.

  No pulse. He's gone. Jeez, Karl, goddamn fucking "Stan? He's alive."

  With an effort, I pulled myself out of my wallow. " What? You sure? "

  "I'm getting a pulse, but it's weak, and fast. He's hurt bad, Stan. I think his… back is broken, and he's been bleeding from the nose and mouth. Internal injuries. He needs a hospital, and quick!"

  "See if you can find my phone," I said. "It's around here… someplace. Gotta be. Must've been jarred loose, when I hit the wall."

  Rachel started casting about the floor, looking. At least, it wasn't hard to see in there, with all of Sligo's fucking lights.

  "I don't see it, Stan. Are you sure you had it with you?"

  "Yeah, I had it… oh, shit." I just remembered that I'd slipped the phone into my right hip pocket. It was so thin, and I already hurt all over anyway, I didn't even notice I'd been sitting on the damn thing. I reached back and pulled it out with clumsy fingers.

  The phone had taken the
full impact of my body against the wall. It was nothing more than cracked and broken junk. "Fuck!" I threw it aside, then looked at Rachel.

  "Can't you do some… I dunno… healing magic, get him stabilized, until we get… paramedics here?"

  She shook her head sadly. "I've got none of my gear with me, Stan, and no spells prepared in advance. For the moment, I'm all out of magic. I'm sorry."

  "Shit." I tried to think, but my head hurt so much, and the vertigo kept coming and going, coming and going.

  "Rachel."

  "Yes?"

  "My weapon's… here someplace. Two weapons, actually – pistol and shotgun. See if you can find the pistol, okay?"

  "All right."

  Rachel got slowly to her feet, tottered for a few steps, then began to walk around this part of the room, eyes on the floor. "Okay, found it."

  "Bring it over here, will you?"

  In a moment she was kneeling next to me. She handed me the Beretta, and I checked the loads. Silver. Good. That was what I'd thought, but I wasn't trusting my memory for anything, at the moment. I replaced the clip, then worked the action to bring a round into the chamber.

  "Stan," Rachel said, "whatever you're thinking about doing, think some more. Please. We can do better for Karl than that."

  "It's not for Karl."

  I motioned toward the front of the room. "See the girl suspended from the ceiling? She's bleeding. Passed out, maybe."

  Rachel turned and stared. "Oh my Goddess, Stan. Who is she? We've got to-"

  "We will. Or, you will. She's a vampire, but… not one of… bad guys. Supposed to be… sacrifice number five."

  "The poor girl, she looks like she's hurt pretty bad."

  "Motherfucker cut her and stabbed her. Name's Christine. She's my… daughter."

  Rachel nodded. "This must be so awful for you, Stan."

  "Don't… seem surprised."

  She shrugged. "I heard the rumor about Stan Markowski's vampire daughter more than a year ago. The way you were always going on about how you hated vamps, I figured it just might be true. But not my business."

  "She is now," I said. "Knife, over there, on the floor. Cut her down, careful. Like you said, she's hurt bad."

  "I will be – but why the gun? Surely you're not going to…?"

  "Christine? No way," I said. I hefted the Beretta. "You know how to use one…?"

  "Yes, I went to the range a few times, with an old boyfriend. Why?"

  "When you've seen… Sligo, you'll know why. He's a vamp, but… bullets're silver. Get as close as you can stand to get, put two in his head. Make sure."

  Rachel shook her head slowly. "Stan, that can't be the only way to help him."

  "Only help he deserves, the worthless fuck… Look, even if we could keep him alive, or undead, whatever – he'd hate us for it. Christ, I'm almost tempted." I shook my head, which was a mistake. "You'll know, once you've seen what's left of him."

  She was silent, but her face was distressed.

  "Rachel?"

  "What?"

  "You got no idea, how fucking awful… Hate to ask you, but I'm too fucked-up. Guy's been savaged. Everything you could do to somebody, without… killing him, everything – Kulick did it. Major fucking nightmare material, okay? You'll puke, probably. Normal. Then, use the gun. Two rounds… finish him, then help Christine. Will you do that, Rachel?" I swallowed, or tried to. "For me? For… them?"

  I held out the Beretta, with a hand that shook bad. After a brief hesitation that didn't seem to last longer than two hours, she took it.

  "All right, Stan. You know what's been going on, and I don't. I'll rely on your judgment, fucked-up though it may be."

  "Good. My judgment… my responsibility. Mine – not yours. Go on, get it done. Christine needs you."

  I must have passed out again, because I suddenly realized I was on my back, squinting against the lights bouncing off the white stucco ceiling, with no memory of how I'd got there. I tried to turn my head toward the altar, but the pain and throbbing started, worse than before. Maybe I'd whacked my skull again when I fell over. Moving just hurt too fucking much, so I lay there, staring at the white – and listening.

  I couldn't have been out for long, because the next thing I heard was Rachel's voice. " Oh, dear fucking God… oh, fuck, noooo… " Then came the soundsf vomiting. I can't say I blamed her.

  After a while, the vomiting noises stopped, to be replaced by the sound of a woman crying. Didn't blame her for that, either. But it didn't last long.

  I heard footsteps, moving fast, as if someone were in a hurry. Then they stopped abruptly.

  Even though I'd been expecting it, the sound of the shots startled me. I guess that adrenaline rush overloaded my stressed circuits, because I found myself fading away again.

  Three. She fired three times. Wanted to be absolutely sure, I guess.

  "Stan? Can you hear me? Stan?"

  Rachel's voice brought me up from the depths, like a diver heading for the light and air. I opened my eyes to find her face a few feet above mine.

  "Stan?"

  "Yeah, okay."

  "It's done, Stan. I mean… Sligo. I…"

  "I know. I heard."

  "And I got Christine down and cut her loose. The rope had silver worked into it, and she had burns where she was tied up."

  "Fucker. Maybe you shouldn't have…"

  "She's still bleeding, Stan, from where he cut her. I thought vampires healed quickly, from non-mortal wounds."

  "Not when it's silver… or wood. Sometimes they heal, sometimes don't. Can still die, later. All depends…"

  "On what? Depends on what?"

  I let air out in a long, loud sigh. "Check Karl again, will you, Rachel? Please?"

  She stared down at me for a little, then said, "Sure. Be right back."

  And she was, too. "Stan?"

  Her face was sad, on top of everything else she'd gone through.

  "Dead?" I asked her.

  "No, but his pulse is even weaker. I… don't think he's got long, Stan. I'm so sorry."

  I nodded, which made my head hurt more, but I didn't care. I had to push through the pain and dizziness and nausea. I had something important to do.

  I asked Rachel, "Can you move Christine? Bring her over here?"

  She bit her lip. "She's dead weight, Stan, or very nearly. I can't carry her, and no magic to help. And the bleeding… if I even try to lift her…"

  "I understand." I commanded my brain to work, to think. "Okay, here's what you do. Get one… those big altar cloths. Put it on floor, next to her. Roll her on to it, careful. Then grab the cloth. Drag it. Drag her. Okay?"

  "I understand what you mean. The travois principle. I can probably do it, but, Stan, is it worth it, just to bring her over here? I could hurt her more."

  "Don't bring… over here. Next to Karl."

  Like I said, I wasn't tracking too well. But Rachel's face was close to mine, and I thought I saw it register surprise, then doubt, then what I'm pretty sure what was determination. Then she was gone, without a word.

  I faded away again, but came back when Rachel's voice, very close, said, "Stan? It's done. I've dragged her over to where Karl is. I don't think I hurt her."

  "Good. Thank you." I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Rachel, how many steps you figure it is, from here to there?"

  She looked up, then back. "Five, maybe six."

  "Okay. Help me up."

  Rachel got me to a sitting position again, then I said, "No, all the way. Wanna stand up."

  "Stan, I'm not sure-"

  "Gotta tak to Christine. Quickest way over is walking. Too weak to crawl, anyway."

  "Stan, don't be stupid. If you can't crawl, what makes you think you can walk six steps, even with help?"

  "Because I have to."

  I dropped heavily to my knees next to Christine, the impact sending new jolts of pain through me, especially my head. I wanted to keep going downward – all the way to the floor and blessed unconsciousne
ss, where I wouldn't have to think any more. But I stayed there, swaying a little, kneeling next to my vampire daughter.

  Christine was still naked. Every inch of her that I could see was either filthy, or bloody, or burned, or some combination. Blood was seeping out of the three carved symbols, and there was a slow but steady flow from the stomach wound.

  I leaned over as far as I could without falling on top of her. "Christine? Can you hear me? Christine?"

  Her eyes were crusted over with dried tears, but she blinked a few times, then opened them. "Daddy?"

  "Hi, baby. Don't try to move. You've been hurt pretty bad."

  "I know. Hurts inside. Burns. Daddy, that man, where-"

  "He's dead, baby. True dead. He won't hurt you anymore."

  She smiled at me. I hadn't seen that smile in a long, long time.

  "I know enough," I said, "about vamps – vampires to realize that you need blood, a lot of it, and soon. If you're gonna have a chance to heal. Otherwise… " I let my voice trail off.

  "We're s'pposed to heal. It's… our nature."

  "Not when it was done with silver – and that's what the sick fuck used, baby. He cut you and burned you with silver, and it won't heal by itself. Not unless you feed."

  "Guess you'd know," she said, so soft I could barely hear her. "I musta skipped that part… of the vampire manual." The smile returned, just for a second.

  I made myself not break down, or pass out, or change my mind. I made myself continue.

  "Karl, my partner, remember him?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  "He's over there."

  She moved her head slowly and looked. "Is he…?"

  "No, he isn't, not yet."

  She turned back, and stared at me, confused and afraid and in pain.

  I turned to Rachel, who was kneeling close by. She looked at me, then at Christine, then Karl. Then back at me. Biting her lower lip, she nodded.

  I didn't need her permission, I knew that. But I was still glad to see that nod.

  I looked down again at my daughter.

  "Christine, honey…" My throat was clogged, and I had to stop and clear it. "Christine, there's something I want you to do…"

  Time passed, as it has a way of doing. I gave depositions to half a dozen law enforcement agencies about certain events taking place at the Scranton Water Authority's pump house on a moonlit night in June.