Bitter Waters

by Wen Spencer

  “So you chopped him up into pieces.” Flicking back over the evidence left at the farm, Ukiah realized that the cultists must have driven the extended cab pickup to the farm. Socket had been there; she had been the woman that carried Kittanning. Ukiah found Hash’s footprint pressed in the plaster dust of the farmhouse, and Ice’s scent lingering in the second floor. Ukiah guessed that Core would have made the third man, the possible wielder of the axe. Who had been the fourth? Parity? Dongle, who even now chased after Kittanning?

  “We thought he’d fallen, but we were wrong. We did absolution and cleansed ourselves afterward.”

  The pain made it hard to think. Fallen—as in made a Get? Sudden suspicion sent Ukiah searching back through his memories. Had he touched them all? Yes, he had made skin-to-skin contact with all of them during the brief tussle. No, none of them were Ontongard.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Bad Adam was only supposed to take Kittanning, not try his best to kill me? And you killed him for it. Trust me, if Goodman had tried taking my son without taking me down first, I would have ripped his throat out.”

  “We don’t know how the baby ended up with you, and it’s a shame that you got so attached to him, but he’s not your son, and he was never meant for you.”

  “He’s my son,” Ukiah stated firmly.

  “Just because your father found you and adopted you as his son, it doesn’t mean finding a child makes him yours.”

  It hurt Ukiah’s head to work through that statement. With only his public records to work with, the cult must have decided that Max was his adopted parent. They were equating his finding of Kittanning at the airport to Mom Jo finding Ukiah in the woods, not realizing there was a blood relationship between Kittanning and himself.

  The truck turned sharply and climbed, spilling Ukiah sideways onto his side. He groaned with pain, and for a moment wavered in and out of unconsciousness. The truck stopped and started up again, and as Ukiah struggled to stay aware, he realized they had exited the turnpike.

  “You okay, Wolf Boy?” Socket asked.

  “My name is Ukiah!” He wanted to sit up, but moving hurt too much.

  “I’m Socket.”

  “Socket isn’t your real name.”

  “Yes it is. The name our parents give us are just names they make up, usually before we’re even born. But that’s not who we are. Core says that when we choose screen names for ourselves, we’re reaching in and finding an echo of our true names. Just like people didn’t have words for computer stuff until the computers were created, we don’t have the words for our true names, so we just use the echoes. Socket might not be what my parents called me, and what the government thinks my name is, but it’s the closest to my real name that I’ve gotten.”

  Ukiah grunted. Magic Boy could see the reasoning, but Ukiah didn’t want to understand these madmen.

  “Me using my birth name would be like you using Ukiah Oregon,” Socket added. “Ukiah Oregon is a town, not a boy raised by wolves.”

  He snarled, furious at this woman, calmly denying him his own name.

  “See, the wolf is your true nature.”

  Ukiah tried shifting to take the stress on his shoulder, and hissed as a bolt of pain flared out of the shattered bone. “At least I don’t chop my ‘friends’ up in cold blood. I don’t steal babies, torture them to death, and then throw them out in the trash.”

  Socket had started to sputter out a defense, and then fell into shocked silence. Finally in a quiet, hurt tone, she said, “We didn’t hurt the babies.” Did she even believe her own words? “We only needed a little bit of blood to test them; a simple finger prick.”

  “I’ve seen the FBI photos. Kimmie and Isaiah were tortured with burns all over their bodies and dropped in Dumpsters like so much garbage. Are they all dead, and we just haven’t found all the bodies, or are the other two still alive?”

  “They’re dead? No! No, they can’t be! They were supposed to go back home none the worse.” She seemed very rattled by the news. “God damn his soul to hell. Adam must have killed them. Core gave them to Adam to return, but he must have killed them for his own sick fun. He was a monster, even if he wasn’t fallen. Core said God had brought them together and he would not lightly turn away God’s tool.”

  “Goodman wouldn’t join the cult, would he? That’s why he’s Adam and not some silly computer name.”

  “We’re not a cult,” Socket snapped. “The word cult has lots of negative connotations to it. We’re warriors of a religious order, like the Knights Templar; the ancient ones, not the modern ones—they’re just a bunch of Shriners.”

  “He wouldn’t join.”

  Socket was silent for several minutes, and then said quietly, “Adam had an attitude problem. He refused to attend Ice’s kendo lessons, saying he learned whoop-ass in prison. Ice tried to get him to spar, and Adam waited until Ice turned away and hit him with a cue stick. Ice beat the shit out of him then, and Core nearly threw Adam out then for hurting Ice.”

  “Why did Adam stay?”

  “Adam stayed for the sex. He liked the Blissfire, and he liked hurting . . .” She fell abruptly silent.

  “He forced you,” Ukiah guessed. Socket was, after all, exactly the fair hair, doe-eyed type that Goodman preferred. “Did he hurt you?”

  There was a sound like a sob from Socket, and then a soft, hoarse, “No.” She cleared his throat and said, “Core wouldn’t let him do everything he . . . Blissfire makes it all . . . feel . . . great . . . Core stopped him.”

  As with Eve, Ukiah wasn’t sure whether to pity Socket or be angry with her for staying in the situation.

  “Adam wouldn’t do the mental training either.” Socket continued in a ragged voice. “We’re God’s warriors; our minds are our greatest weapon, and must be honed. Adam refused to do the purification ritual in the waterfall, or keep night vigils, or do the fasting.”

  Ukiah was partially tempted to ridicule the training; Max had told him that cults used such tactics to brainwash their members. When Max talked about it, it seemed so clinically cruel. Yet now, Ukiah could remember times in his life that Magic Boy sought the spirits, fasting and keep vigils in the same manner. The difference was that when he stripped away all his defenses and opened himself, it was in solitude to receive God’s touch; the cult used that time of defenselessness to their own ends, molding the person to their own needs, supplanting God.

  A growl rose in his chest. “Why do you stay with them? They’re just using you, keeping you ignorant. Is it sex? As long as Adam keeps away from you that is.”

  “I’m making the world a safer place,” Socket said.

  “By killing babies.”

  “We didn’t kill any babies!” Socket shouted. “Adam did! He was a monster only interested in serving his sexual appetite. We’re saving the world. We put our lives on the line to fight the spawn of the devil! We’re like Buffy the vampire slayer and the Scoobie gang. Evil walks among us in the guise of humans, and we’re the only ones that know, that can stop them.”

  “You’ve been killing vampires?”

  “In a way. They’re demons.” Whatever anger had been carrying her fled, and she mumbled, “You don’t believe me. I didn’t believe until Core took me to a slaying. I was horrified at first, but then I saw that Core was right, that the thing wasn’t human, that all its pieces would come alive and try to escape.”

  “If the demons look human, how can you tell you’re not attacking a human by mistake?”

  “Usually you can tell just by watching them walk, how they hold themselves, how they talk, that someone is a demon. Once you get good at spotting them, you can scan a crowd and see them; they stand out like someone with a physical handicap.”

  Full of memories of other bodies, the Gets moved with machine precision, lacking the fluid grace of the Pack who embraced their humanity.

  Socket had paused, and now she continued, slower. “Actually, it’s like a TV show where some magical device swaps everyone’s b
ody around, and the actors mimic how the other people play their characters, so Dick is now Jane, and Jane is Baby, and Baby is Dick. The first time it happens, someone has to explain it, but after that, you don’t need explanations to see who is in which body.

  “Once someone tells you to watch closely, you can see the demon inside. It’s like there’s only one demon, and we keep killing him again and again. They always react the same way and once you find a trap that works, it will keep on working until you’re out of demons.”

  They could recognize Hex no matter what body he infested! Ukiah suddenly realized that the cult would have many advantages over the Pack in fighting the Ontongard. Hidden by the masses, human hunters could approach the Gets without being noticed, pick their attack point and never mentally signal their intent to their victim.

  “How many humans have you killed by mistake?”

  “Adam was the only one,” Socket said. “And I’m not sure that was a mistake. He was evil still in human form.”

  “Are you sure? Core didn’t make any mistakes before he could recognize them in a crowd?”

  “Core’s been touched by God,” she said with full conviction. “God opened his eyes and made him to see, choosing him as His holy warrior.”

  “How do you know that these are demons?” Ukiah pressed, hoping that they were only killing Ontongard; that the Pack had slipped their notice, and that innocent humans weren’t dying in scores.

  “In Luke twenty, Jesus says, ‘But those who are counted worthy to attain that age, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry nor are given in marriage; nor can they die anymore, for they are equal to the angels and are sons of God.’ ”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that angels and demons and nephilim can return from the dead.”

  “So you kill them like Adam, cut them up?”

  “Yes, and burn them quickly, before they can re-form and come back.”

  “How do you know you’re not killing angels along with the demons?”

  She laughed. “If you could see how ugly these things are, you would know. It’s like all sense of God’s beauty is blasted out of them.”

  Yes, that was an apt description of Ontongard. “And no one has noticed scores of dead bodies lying around?”

  “One of our burn sites had been found. That’s why we left New England. Between Ice and Hash, though, it will never be linked back to us.”

  Hutchinson had recognized Adam’s death as similar to other murders; he had linked the Temple to the burn sites. Had he worried that Socket had been one of the dead, or one of the killers?

  Thinking of the agent’s reaction, Ukiah remembered how Hutchinson found the farm, and Indigo’s discovery that other surveillance systems had been compromised. “You spy on the demons?”

  “How else can we know where and when to get them alone? They’re stronger and faster than humans. You need to set an ambush and take them out in one shot, and then box them before the separate parts can escape.”

  The truck had been pausing at random points, red lights and stop signs, but this time it stopped and the engine went quiet. Outside the truck, a man called out a surprised but pleased welcome of “That was fast! We haven’t even started a second load.”

  “Get Core, Io. We had problems.” Ice got out of the driver’s door, slammed the door shut. “And they haven’t gone away.”

  Ukiah heard Io move off, calling “Core!” The passenger door opened and the truck shifted as the others got out. A host of other voices gathered around the truck, asking questions of the returning three and getting no answers.

  Silence moved suddenly through the cultists, and then a deep rich voice said, “What happened?”

  “We were almost to Ohio when the Wolf Boy showed up on a motorcycle.” Ice spoke, but it wasn’t the same bullying Ice. This Ice was quiet and respectful. He jangled keys, hunting for the one for the padlock. “The Jimmy is toast, so is the trailer, and everything on the trailer is now roadkill, including at least one of the founts.”

  “Which one?”

  “Huey is the only one on the truck,” Ice murmured. “We loaded in such a rush; I don’t know which fount was on the trailer or if there was more than one.”

  “Io,” Core called out. “Go check on the founts. See which ones are missing.”

  “What if we lost Dewey?” Ice pulled free the padlock with a rattle of metal on metal.

  “There is still Louie and Chewie,” Core said.

  “We didn’t know what to do, Core,” Parity whined.

  “You did the right thing,” Core said. “You returned for guidance.”

  The gate rattled up and the interior light went on. William Robert Harris—Billy Bob—Core stood framed in the doorway, the rich velvet of night backdropping him. Deep gold hair down to his shoulders, and his beard trimmed into a goatee, Core obviously had cultivated a Christ-like appearance since Hutchinson’s photo had been taken. His gaze was at once warm and compelling in a way that no picture could convey. The others watched him with a mixture of respect and love. He wore black like the others, but with slacks and a silk dress shirt and a black silk duster standing in for robes.

  Ukiah growled at him.

  “Ah, the famous Wolf Boy.”

  “Ah, the famous killer of babies.”

  “Who killed what babies?” Parity asked.

  Ice grabbed for Ukiah. Ukiah snarled, trying to twist away, but there was no room to turn. Ice caught him by the arm, and yanked Ukiah out of the truck, dropping him hard on the ground, broken shoulder first. Blackness washed over Ukiah, a moment of oblivion as his consciousness drowned in pain and resurfaced.

  He lay on a driveway of cobbled stone in the square of light coming from the back of the truck. The stones were overhung by elm trees, a peaceful garden full of spent roses and daylilies just beyond, with the sound of running water playing nearby. The place had serenity at odds to the violence acting out in the driveway.

  “ . . . will be explained,” Core was saying, examining Parity’s bruised cheek while finger painting the invisible glitter of Blissfire onto the boy’s face. “You’ve been hurt. This needs to be cleaned. Go see Ping.”

  The boy’s eyes dilated wide, and he breathed out, “Ping.” He managed to drag his attention back to Ukiah. “B-b-but . . .”

  Core dipped his right fingers into his pocket and drew them out coated with Blissfire. “There’s no need for you to concern yourself with all this. Go on.” He pressed the drug-coated fingers to Parity’s lips, silencing a protest. “Go to Ping for nursing.”

  Parity wet his lips, inadvertently ingesting the drug, and whispered hoarsely. “Nursing?” The boy lost to the drug’s and Core’s persuasion and stumbled away.

  Core, though, seemed unaffected by handling the Blissfire; apparently he’d built up a resistance to the sexual stimulation.

  “He needs more conditioning,” Ice murmured, so quietly only Core and Ukiah caught the words. “You should have sent him to the waterfall for purification.”

  “All in good time,” Core promised.

  “You’re going to kill him with that poison,” Ukiah growled. In fact, it was probably too late for Parity, for all of the male cultists.

  Core reached out and caught his chin, purring, “My savage little Wolf Boy . . .” The cult leader trailed off, staring into Ukiah’s eyes. While Core might have been resistant to Invisible Red’s normal level of persuasion, the direct skin contact triggered the drug’s defensive protocols designed to keep breeders safe from territorial males. As the chiming in Ukiah’s ears grew louder, and his breathing grew ragged, Core’s gaze shifted from hostility to dreamy sexual interest.

  Ukiah jerked away from Core.

  “Should I take him out and lose him in the backyard?” Hash took out a pistol; it was Goodman’s gun, complete with silencer.

  “No!” Socket cried, her scent suddenly alluring as the drug raced through Ukiah’s system. “There’s no reason to hurt him. He just wants h
is son back. His reasons are good and just.”

  “No,” Core murmured softly, but it was his word that made Hash put the gun away. “He might prove to be useful. Waste not, want not.”

  “Where are the babies?” Socket’s presence, as the only woman in the driveway, sucked in Ukiah’s attention. In his drugged state, he was suddenly painfully aware that Socket wore black leggings like a layer of paint to her athletic legs, a black sweater dress belted with a wide leather belt, and no bra for her small firm breasts. “If we showed him that his son is fine, then maybe he’d join us. He’s a good man.”

  “His son?” Core blinked as if coming out of a daydream. He looked around at the open truck and the cultists gathered around him. “Where’s the puppy?”

  “The crate broke open in the accident,” Ice said. “I left Dongle to chase after it. We’ll have to send someone to pick him and the puppy up.”

  Ukiah had to drag his attention away from Socket. “What do you want with Kittanning?”

  “We know what he is, which is not your son, nor the son of any man of this world. Book of Enoch, chapter six. ‘And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters. And the angels, the children of the heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: “Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.” ’ Their children were known as nephilim!”

  “You think Kittanning’s a nephilim?” Ukiah supposed it was worthless to argue that Kittanning was human, as he currently was a puppy.

  “The Book of Enoch, chapter eight, says that the angel Azazel taught men to make swords, and shields, and breastplates, and made known to them the metals of the earth and the art of working them. Baraqijal taught astrology, Kokabel the constellations, Ezeqeel the knowledge of the clouds, Araqiel the signs of the earth, Shamsiel the signs of the sun, and Sariel the course of the moon.”