Which made using a registered domain name associated with the site in Kansas problematic in linking it with Kasas or Koomacas. At least until Brant utilized the C-O-M in “.com.” While a handful of domain names had been registered to the location's physical address, only KaosKansas.com fit. And as far as Brant Wilson was concerned, that corroborated the usage of Kasas Koomacas in using a communication spell contained in Inferum Demergis Coniungere, because using the Ouija to contact the demon wouldn't suffice. Too many questions to have to spell out everything.
Brant's flesh crawled in anticipation of casting his first spell. He'd studied the associated pages late into the night, with Katie by his side quietly listening to music with her earbuds as she sent text messages presumably to friends in Wichita Falls, Dallas, or perhaps new friends she'd made at Java Joe's.
Brant took a deep drink of whiskey as he etched cryptic symbols in chalk on the basement floor. Then, once he was satisfied he'd written them correctly, he lighted black candles he'd purchased in a pagan shop downtown. Flames from the candles braced again the basement chill when Brant passed by them to switch off the electric lights and prepared himself mentally to begin reading the incantation. He drained the large bulbous whiskey glass of its spirits and freed his penis. Then he filled the glass with urine. The fluid remained clear with a weak yellowish tinge.
“Salve!” Brant greeted the netherworld in Latin.
Using a butcher knife he sliced open the palm of a hand. “Unge esta vas!” He made a fist and squeezed droplets of blood into first the urine-filled glass and then across key symbols he'd written across the floor, to anoint them.
“Veni, Kasas! Veni, Koomacas! Invoco te, Kasas! Invoco te, Koomacas! Veni, Kasas Koomacas! Invoco te, Kasas Koomacas! Autem! Ut mihi non loquaris via esta crystallum vas!”
The spell called for the entity to speak with the invoker, by using the vessel much like a crystal ball.
“Servus tuus petitiones consilium vobiscum!” Your servant requests counsel with you.
A loud bell rang as the cell phone in Brant's pocket vibrated to life, startling him.
Goddamn it, he thought, but ignored the device.
“Kasas Koomacas, placet, obsecro consilium.” Brant pleaded for counsel.
Now the cell phone began to ring with an incoming call that Brant annoyingly ignored and instead continued with the Latin inscribed within Inferum Demergis Coniungere.
The cell phone ceased its ring and the urine within the glassware began to swirl and mix with the droplets of blood within it.
It's working, Brant thought. It's really working!
He began to repeat the request, pulse quickening, as the fluid swirled faster. It grew cloudy and a tiny whirlpool developed within it. The glass began to throw off heat such that perspiration began to bead on his forehead, and he jumped again when the phone buzzed and beeped – a voice message awaited him.
And then it happened. A deep baritone voice that resonated in Brant's body like a teen driving by with loud thumping bass.
Yes, servant?
A fight or flight response struck Brant. He hadn't felt so nervous since that first interview with Silicon Solutions shortly after meeting the recruiter at a campus job fair. Today's fright trumped that tenfold.
“Kasas? Koomacas?”
Kasas shall suffice.
Brant dropped to his knees and squinted at the swirling glass but saw nothing but clouded urine and blood.
“Joshua Elliot says you wish that I represent your technological dealings.”
You do, do you not?
“I do. Gladly I do. Yet I'm not clear exactly what you wish to accomplish. To provide cryptic, occult knowledge to those who would painstakingly seek it out?”
Yes.
“And host depravity in all its forms?”
Yes! Yes!
“I have many ideas. Co-location of services, redundancy, separation of...”
Yes, Brant Wilson. You represent my best, my most depraved and diabolical desires.
“I do. I will. While I'm not clear on what all that might entail, I can create the infrastructure you need, the computing and communication power you desire, but it won't come cheaply.”
Money is of no object.
“It will also take time.”
Decades pass like days to me.
“I'll require a staff of six to start. We'll begin by building one site. I have much to learn before we can interface with your world the way you obviously want, with all the bandwidth you desire. We'll setup servers to track and monitor anyone seeking knowledge of the occult on-line. That's simply the beginning. We'll—”
Is that all, mortal?
“Can you tell me more about yourself? I know very little.”
Mortals call me Kasas Koomacas. I'm known by them as a lover of depravity and debasement and pure corruption. Knowledge is power, as mortals might say, and complete understanding corrupts completely. As my representative I expect nothing less of you.
“Thank you, Kasas Koomacas. I'll let Elliot know what I need.”
Heat from the glass suddenly stopped; the spinning fluid lost momentum, and Brant realized he was again alone. His body shuddered.
A representative of Kasas Koomacas
Demon of knowledge and depravity
An open checkbook to create the greatest computer network in the country
In the world
An opportunity of a lifetime
He wanted to celebrate
Brant checked his cell phone to find that Evelyn had been the one trying to contact him. Someone had made an offer on the house. A low offer – much too low in Brant's opinion – and Evelyn expected them to accept the offer because she wanted her half of the money. She suggested they discuss it tonight over dinner.
I don't think so, Brant thought.
He had other plans. Many other plans, in fact. He started with a telephone call to Joshua Elliot's office and followed up with a text message to his daughter. There were things Brant needed and he didn't want to wait. He vowed never to wait again, and so his next call went to the local Range Rover dealership. He'd been planning to buy a new car before he'd been so rudely downsized. Now seemed a perfect time to indulge that desire.
“This SUV,” Katie exclaimed for the third time tonight, “is sick.”
“Pretty fucking bitchin',” Brant agreed.
“So sexy and black. You look amazing behind the wheel.”
“You're just saying that because now you have a BMW to drive.”
Katie giggled. “I can't believe it. Thank you so much, Daddy. And thank you for the charm bracelet.”
“You're very welcome, sweetie.”
“Ugh. I'm stuffed. That steak was so good. And you insisted on dessert. Now I have 10,000 calories to burn!”
“Not quite that many, but I know what you mean. Don't worry though, I believe we'll be burning plenty of calories.”
Katie, giggling again, reached over to rest a hand on his thigh.
Brant turned into the drive and pressed a button on the remote garage door opener clipped to the visor. One of two garage doors of a four-car garage – one on the far left – began to roll up. He pulled inside and parked the brand-new vehicle. Its interior smelled like heaven laced with desire, considering Katie's perfume.
As soon as they entered the kitchen Brant stopped Katie for a passionate kiss.
“I'm so happy you're here,” he reminded her.
“Yeah?” She seductively bit her lip.
“Very much so.”
“Make me yours. Claim me.”
Brant planned to claim Katie in his marital bed, so he swept her off her feet and dashed her up the stairs as she kicked and squealed with excitement.
Blushing nipples pebbled on teacup breasts as he freed her nubile body from the confines of tight clothing. A firm, subtly curvy bottom awaited atop long, lithe legs. Brant Wilson could hardly wait to bury himself inside his daughter.
A representative of a depraved demon.
That had nothing to do with what was about to happen, yet the thought flitting through his mind served to fuel his desire.
Katie further fueled it when she dropped to her knees and freed his erection before waiting lips. Brant removed his shirt as she worked him with her mouth.
“Claim me, Daddy. Claim me as your little girl slut.”
He lifted her onto the bed and tasted her sweet peach before position himself between her legs.
“It's so big. What if it won't fit?”
“You're so wet, I'll make it fit.”
“Ohhh... Daddy!”
“You're mine now, sweetie.”
“Always! Ohhh.... Fuck me.”
She squirmed and thrashed in ecstasy, clawed at his back, screamed with passion. Doorbell chimes, eventually, accompanied their lovemaking and Brant remembered:
The many text messages Evelyn had sent during the day
Powering off his cell phone during dinner
How Evelyn had ignored his messages in the past
How she wanted him to accept the low-ball offer on the house
How Joshua Elliot, acting anonymously in Brant's behalf, would make a similar but slightly higher offer on the house
As soon as the paperwork for Brant's consulting LLC had been filed
And before Elliott's office filed divorce papers for Brant
“Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me.”
“Louder, baby girl. Daddy can't hear you.”
Brant pounded his young lover until the doorbell chimes stopped playing. And then, after switching positions yet again, brought himself to a most wonderful climax across his daughter's adorable face.
Part II - Black Systems
11
Screw you, Infocom, Gary Dowdy thought of the old text-based computer game You've got nothing on this.
This of course being his real-time on-line adventure of scouring the deepest, darkest corners of the Internet for something worthy of his social engineering and hacking skills. Gary was having a blast playing this “game” of deep cover operative, even though he merely worked for himself, not any official agency. He just did it for kicks. Currently he had many windows open across the dual-monitor setup in his bedroom/computer lab/headquarters, including:
A half dozen IRC windows scrolling as users chatted
Each of those windows running his script, Lurk N Log, to capture to disk their conversations
A real-time chat window with a claimed pedophile by the handle of FreddieFingers
A web browser with multiple tabbed sites opened to information on ritual sacrifice, human trafficking, and whois lookup information regarding the domain kiddielover.com
And an instant message toolbar which dinged with an alert
FragMasterD >Dood! Lets frag!
FragMasterD was the handle Gary's teen gaming buddy went by. Gary's handle similarly reflected his ego.
WhiteHat007 >Sorry dood. Im busy.
FragMasterD >Lame!
WhiteHat007 >L8r
Gary wouldn't have minded a nice gaming session with FragMasterD, except he knew the session would be short-lived with school tomorrow. Besides, FreddieFingers had just offered Gary another image file, or “pic” in on-line parlance, for transfer. Gary begrudgingly accepted the file. He loathed to receive these pics but needed to earn trust from Freddie and must play the part of a pedophile himself. The received image instantly opened on-screen. The disgusting image featured a man's hairy arm and a very young girl wearing a frilly pink dress. A wilted bow tied back hair from a mildly frightened and slightly doped-looking face. Freddie's fingers disappeared under her skirt.
“You sick fuck,” Gary said as he immediately deleted the file. A program to scrub the computer's swap space was scheduled to run later. He didn't dare keep stuff like this on his hard drive. Gary used a different handle with Freddie in this window. He replied.
Cryptic1 >Nice. But not what Im lkn 4
FreddieFingers >Ritualistic shit, eh?
Cryptic1 >U no it
Gary liked to dumb down his typing skills when dealing with these cretin. It deservedly filled him with a sense of superiority.
FreddieFingers >I might know a guy who knows a guy.
Gary smiled. He knew this day would come.
Cryptic1 >U da man
It helped to play to their ego.
FreddieFingers >You looking for something like this?
Freddie offered Gary a file transfer and Gary accepted it. A moment later another image popped open on Gary's screen. A pregnant teenage girl had been bound to a table in what appeared to be a dungeon. She too appeared doped or otherwise intoxicated. Men who, besides wearing masks depicting goats and wolves, stood nakedly erect in anticipation while other men similarly masked had their way with the girl. Flushed areas on exposed skin alluded to areas where the girl had been slapped or whipped. One of the men brandished a dagger and the overall impression of the image was one of authenticity, unlike some that Gary had found on-line that were obviously staged and included models of legal age.
Gary shivered. He truly believed these men planned to butcher the girl for her baby and it perhaps sacrificed later in a ritualistic manner.
Cryptic1 > Yes. Exactly like this. Where u get it?
FreddieFingers > Can't say but I'll chat with the guy for you. Want more pics?
To maintain the ruse, Gary couldn't refuse. He received a dozen more images, each more disturbing and bloody than the last. Several involved much younger girls, girls which Freddie might prefer. Freddie likely possessed terabytes of images and perhaps video files on his drive akin to the ones he'd transferred and Gary feared some of those might be of the snuff variety, although Freddie didn't seem to be into that. Perhaps Freddie deleted those files much as Gary immediately deleted these. Which, as horrible a person as Freddie was, whoever he'd gotten these files from was much worse. And that's why Gary ignored Freddie's indiscretions. He was after the big fish, much like a DEA agent passing up pushers and peddlers and perhaps even distributors to zero in on traffickers.
Gary and Freddie ended their chat session and Gary thought some first-person shooting game might be in order. He could imagine the Viet Cong were pedophiles as he shot each one. He sent an instant message to FragMasterD but received no reply. Gary figured he'd try contacting him in the other room via game console, and so he left the room with each scrolling conversation logging to disk. He'd use search scripts on the log files later to see what might turn up. The scene in his room reminded him of Matthew Broderick's room in the film classic War Games, except instead of trying to hack into W.O.P.R. via an acoustic coupler and copper telephone line, he had gigabit fiber and the entire global network at his fingertips. The quintessential line from the movie echoed in Gary's head:
Shall we play a game?
Hell, yes.
He'd frag some scumbags as his subconscious mind processed his next move and the Linux box named Tux E Do gathered information for him, its penguin in white tailed formal wear and matching top hat working tirelessly for him.
Oh, yes!
12
Katie sat legs-crossed in bed, poking at her smart phone, as Brant entered the master bedroom.
“Look,” Katie held out the phone, “isn't this hot?”
Intriguing? Yes. Hot? Brant reserved judgment.
“This one, too,” Katie said. She began to cycle through a series of animated GIFs on the screen:
A nude young woman being slapped across the face while kneeling before an aroused man
A cute derrière with a gaping anus as a massive erection vacated it
A woman's breasts being slapped by a man fucking her
A young woman wearing juvenile clothes sucking a man's penis
A woman bent over a knee being spanked
A legal teen licking a lollipop while a caption below read, “Daddy, may I lick you?”
Each short animated clip ran in an infinite loop.
“It's very empowering to give yourself wholly to
someone,” Katie explained. “It demands complete trust.”
“I'm sure it does.” Brant joined Katie on the bed with a kiss.
“I'm yours, Daddy,” she reminded him. “I trust you so much... I...”
“What is it, sweetie?”
She shyly looked away. “Li'l girls like me... Sometimes we need guidance. I need you, Daddy, so I don't get into trouble like I did in Dallas.”
“What do you mean?” He hugged her close.
“Well... I mean... You see, when I'm bad I need to be punished.”
“But you're a very good girl, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you. You turned your life around since Dallas, you're doing a great job at Java Joe's, and you're very helpful to me around the house.”
Katie gazed up with big brown eyes. “Really? You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Sometimes, though, I'm not always good, and I need to be reminded. It's called maintenance, Daddy, and sometimes you need to ruin me. Like this.” She flashed an image from the phone again. A different but similar GIF of the girl being slapped in the first image.
“You want it rough so you remember that you're the little one and I'm the daddy. Right?”
“Yes, please.”
“Hm... You're a very good girl who doesn't seem to need reminding. I'll think about it though.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Katie threw arms around his neck and hugged him tight. She whispered, “I love you so much. I'll do anything to please you, anything at all. Whenever you want me, any way you want me, you just tell me. Okay?”
“Okay, sweetie. I love you, too.”
If they hadn't “played” recently Brant would have initiated things now. But he was exhausted from a long day of reading and planning and—
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