“It is soothing,” Brainy agreed.
“Feels great to get out of the house, not to be bothered about details of closing down the facility in Kansas. To cruise around aimlessly.”
“We aren't exactly cruising around aimlessly.”
“No, not really. But there's no rush, we have all night. And lately, I rarely leave the house.”
“I can't believe you let me drink in your car. It must be worth as much as my parents' home.” Brainy sipped diet cola through the straw of a fast food cup.
“Are you catching a buzz?” Brant said.
“No. Just feeling warm. Good. Afraid you'll be pulled over for an open container, contributing to the delinquency of a minor?”
“You're not exactly a minor. And, no, I'm not worried. Jesus.”
Brant sensed a grin spread across Brainy's face as she slipped the drink into a cup holder.
“So,” she said, “you knocked up your daughter.”
Now it was Brant's turn to grin.
“Indeed I did.”
“You're a sick, sick man.”
“Is that so?” Brant placed a hand on Brainy's knee. She didn't attempt to remove it.
“Very sick,” she said. “You screw your daughter. Screw me. Who else have you been screwing?”
“Jealous, perhaps?” he teased.
“Ha. You wish. Now tell me.”
“Well, let's see. Besides the two of you there was Jenna.”
“I figured as much.”
“But not in a while, actually. Naturally there is the rest of the coven, but you already knew that.”
“Yes, I was there. Unless there are other rites, other hook-ups, I'm not aware of.”
“No. Just the rites. Then there is my soon-to-be ex-wife.”
“Do you still see her?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Why should you, right? When there are so many young women around.”
“Young women such as yourself,” Brant agreed by gliding his hand higher up her leg. The black stockings she wore under a short skirt, and the promise of what lie beneath, increased his heartbeat.
“I think it's hot,” she said. “You're becoming a powerful warlock. It's a turn-on.”
Brant sensed a but coming.
“But,” Brainy continued, “I'm not getting attached, if that's what you're thinking.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You get it, though, don't you? What this is?”
Brant's hand rode higher. It slid under the skirt to reach creamy warm flesh. “Sure, I do,” he answered. “I'm with Katie, we both know that, and now she's having my baby, which only increases your desirability of me, because—”
“Because of the implications, to both Kasas and the coven.”
“Exactly. Which brings us to us.”
“Us. An interesting word choice.”
“Us,” Brant continued. “My job is computer networks, black magic and depravity.”
“Which brings us to us.”
“Basically, you've become my work wife.”
Brainy snorted with amusement. “Your work wife? That's a laugh.”
“That's what it is, call it what you like.”
“Work wife,” Brainy repeated.
“You're supportive of me personally and professionally, don't wish to stir up trouble. But you also admire me and want to be as close to me physically, emotionally, and, yes, sexually as possible, so long as it doesn't cause problems and furthers both our goals.”
“You've got me pegged, huh?”
“Pegged. Interesting word choice.” Brant, leaning closer, reached higher to run a fingertip along the womanly crease of her black silk panties. He'd yet to see them tonight, and perhaps he wouldn't, but either way he knew they'd be black.
“That's enough, hubby.” Brainy removed his hand. “Last thing we need is to wreck your SUV with an open container in the car. Besides, we aren't simply out for a joyride you know.”
Of course. He hadn't forgotten, merely been sidetracked for a moment. He nudged the volume up on the radio and settled himself in the driver seat with both hands on the wheel.
It was late enough now and Brant, in a meandering way, navigated city streets toward their general destination. As he drove he reflected on recent events:
The sectioning off of part of the basement
They'd used an independent contractor, the same one who had finished the new bathroom
Then Brainy and Katie located a woodworker on Craigslist who specialized in Renaissance era projects
And they'd hired him to construct a few things for them
Which brought Brant to the task at hand
He plucked Brainy's drink from the cup holder and sipped from the straw. The drink, while watered-down from melted ice, coated his parched mouth.
“Hey,” Brainy protested. “That's my drink. You didn't want one.”
“Just wanted a sip. Afraid I have cooties?”
“Hardly.”
Brant, now in a dingy part of the city, slowed the vehicle and made a left-hand turn.
“What about her?” Brant said. “Skanky enough?”
The streetwalker in question strutted along the sidewalk, caboose shaking. She wore red fishnet stockings with enough tears to net nothing but the largest fish and blew cigarette smoke like a chimney.
“Let's consider our options. Preferably someone who doesn't reek of smoke.”
“Did you notice the Adam’s apple? I think she might have been the Malboro man once.”
“Maybe still is.”
“Maybe. Maybe we'll find someone on the next block.”
Brainy said with a mild slur, “We probably shouldn't have brought this car. Too distinguishable.”
“I thought of that,” Brant said. “But I have a plan. Don't worry.”
“Who's worried?”
Brant eased to the curb in front of a pair of prostitutes and lowered the passenger window by button. The working girls approached and one, the most weathered of the two, leaned in the window.
“Hello, there, big boy. You and the little lady lookin' for some company tonight? Me and my friend like to party.”
Brant leaned closer and did the talking. “The little man wants kisses; the little lady likes to watch. Is there someplace close we can go for something quick?”
“You know it, baby. The alley a half block up.”
“Later,” Brant said as he pulled from the curb.
“Hey!” the working girl said. “Stupid motherfucker!”
“Your plan,” Brainy said, “is to piss off prostitutes?”
“In a roundabout way, sure.”
“Job well done.”
Brant circled the block and parked illegally such that he gained a good view of the alley, then shut off the engine.
“Now what?” The straw squelched as Brainy drained the contents of the cup.
“Now we wait. Hopefully not very long.”
A few long boring minutes passed.
Brainy said, “This isn't how I imagined this taking place.”
“If you'd prefer to kill a little time...” Brant placed a hand on her knee, “I have twenty bucks.”
“Get bent.”
“Fifty?”
“Fuck you.”
“That's the general idea.”
Brainy removed his hand and changed the subject to a potential incantation she'd recently discovered. Brant listened as she explained its finer details and how it, like many of their rites, would work to stoke the energy within the house. She went on for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, Brant wasn't sure, about how this particular incantation, while performed either solo or as part of a coven, could be performed equally well without any sort of sexual relations. Brant didn't know who she was trying to fool, him or herself, with such nonsensical talk, but held his tongue until he noticed what he'd been waiting for. A pair of headlights exiting the alley.
The headlights belonged to a nondescript white family car with a Chevro
let emblem on the grill. A bald man with a bushy mustache and flabby jowls sat behind the wheel.
Brant started the engine and, as soon as the car pulled onto the street, Brant cut across to enter the alleyway.
“Swift move,” Brainy said. “This is a one-way street and you’re going the wrong direction.”
“So what? Prostitution is illegal. So is kidnapping.”
Twin headlight beams flooding the alley in light caught the attention of the sex worker, the less weathered of the pair they'd spoken with at the curb. She stepped to the side and stopped as the vehicle slowed.
Brant lowered the window and said, “The little lady decided to participate. She thinks you're cute.”
“Cute?” the formerly beautiful but obviously strung-out woman with long, dishwater blonde curls said. “You're downright adorable, baby. And you're not half bad yourself.”
“It's your lucky night, darling,” Brant said to Brainy. “Let the lady in.”
Brainy opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle and folded the seat forward to allow the prostitute in back.”
“I have a room a block from here,” she said.
“If you don't mind, we'd prefer to take you home, to take our time. We'll make it worth your while.”
“With a ride like this, shit, I know that ain't no problem. My meter's runnin', baby.”
“We'll keep it running all night,” Brant promised.
Though they'd driven around for well over an hour earlier, once on the interstate with home as their destination, the drive only lasted about twenty minutes. The prostitute, whose name, at least the one she went by, was Vanessa, struck up a conversation with Brainy, of which Brant, trying to tune out the drone and concentrate, caught little. He did notice the woman's jitters, caused by drug withdrawal, he assumed. She'd want to fix soon and he hoped she was into cocaine but figured she wouldn't pass up the opportunity for a free score even if she wasn’t.
Katie's car was in the garage when they arrived home.
“Nice digs,” Vanessa said.
“I can't complain,” Brant said. “Care for a drink?” he added as they entered the home.
“Sure.”
“Daddy, you're home.” Katie met Brant with a hug and kiss. “Who is she?”
“I figured Jenna could use a playmate. What do you think, Jenna?”
“I need a line. Don't leave me hanging like this.”
“You did a line before you left. How was the movie?”
“Fantabulous, Daddy. You should've seen it.”
“Drinks all round,” Brant said. “Then we'll get down to business. Vanessa, you like coke?”
“You pay, I'll play.”
“Works for me,” Brant said and Brainy grinned.
Jenna poured drinks for everyone – a virgin margarita for Katie – before everyone graduated to the master bedroom suite.
“Sometimes I miss it, Daddy,” Katie said as he removed cocaine from the wall safe.
“Of course you do, sweetie. That's what addiction does to a person. Do you want to end up like Jenna?”
“No.”
“Hurry,” Jenna urged.
“What about this skanky whore?”
“Hey,” Vanessa said. “I don't have to listen to this shit.”
Brant, removing his wallet, asked, “Is a grand and free blow enough for tonight?”
“Hell, I'll fuck all y'all and the family pet for a grand.”
“My point,” Brant said before handing first Vanessa the cash and then Jenna a double dose of cocaine. “Be a good girl and share with your new friend. In your bedroom.”
The two left the room.
Brainy said, “This wasn't part of the plan.”
Brant flashed a smile. “I like to improvise.”
“Improvise what, Daddy? I'm confused.”
“You're fine, sweetie. Tell me about the movie, just the highlights, the Reader's Digest version.”
“Okay, you see...” Katie animatedly gave a skeleton outline of the movie's plot. As she did, the atmosphere grew heavy and Brant knew the activities taking place in Jenna's room had attracted the attention of Shadow Man.
Once Katie finished her plot synopsis, Brant told her to bring him the package of zip ties he'd asked her to buy at the hardware store. He opened the package and removed several. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked Brainy. “Katie can help me.”
“No. I want to do it.”
“Okay, then. Let's do this.”
They barged into Jenna's room with Brant leading the way. The two young women, embraced in a 69 with Jenna positioned below, face buried between the nasty woman's thighs, lapped at each other's sex without the faintest regard for the disturbance.
Not until Brant, grabbing Vanessa by the arms and pulling them roughly behind her back, did she begin to vocalize complaints with salty language.
“Damn, she's strong,” Brant said. “Quick. Zip-tie her wrists.”
Plastic bands bit into flesh as Brainy ratcheted the tension.
“Fuck you, motherfuckers,” Vanessa shouted. “Tyrone will kill every last one of you motherfuckers.”
Brant didn't know Tyrone but figured he must be Vanessa's pimp. And he figured he must be dangerous. He also figured Tyrone didn't have the foggiest idea where his whore had wondered off to and so he didn't give it another thought.
Vanessa flopped onto her back and started to kick.
“Help me,” Brant said. “Grab a leg.”
“The fuck is going on?” Jenna, not having been privy to the plan, said.
Katie hadn't known either, but being the trooper that she was, took a few kicks, one in a breast and a pair in the belly, caught a leg in her arms as Brant snatched an ankle out of the air. They wrestled to bring the ankles together, where Brainy adeptly threaded another zip-tie to lock the ankles tight.
“Now what?” Brainy said. Vanessa, no longer a flight risk, continued to thrash and curse on the bed.
“Give me a couple of zip-ties.”
Brant caught the whore's legs as she kicked at him and flipped her onto her belly. He then, after forcing back legs, used the ties to form links which combined to hogtie the woman's legs to her wrists.
“That's got to hurt,” Katie said.
Blood had already begun to ooze from the woman's wrists but Brant didn't care. If she didn't struggle, she wouldn't bleed. And yet, like an idiot, she continued to do so.
“Everyone,” Brant said, “grab an arm or a leg. Time to haul this bitch to the dungeon.
Shadow Man followed them down, as the whore's screams shook the house.
30
The woman lay on a bed of nails, wrists and ankles bound by rope at the corners. Her raw breasts jiggled as leather straps of the short, hand-held whip came slapping across bare flesh. She'd been there for days, long enough for her shaved pubic region to have sprouted dark stubble, which clashed greatly, in Brant's opinion, with the matted blonde hair on her head. He whipped her again for that reason alone.
He whipped breasts, whipped belly, whipped thighs... and found himself growing stiff. This common prostitute, a streetwalker no less, the thought of her, how she'd fuck for money, for a hit, for a man who beat her and put her on the street, for a roof over her head... He wanted to fuck her, just for the sheer depravity of it. Just to hear her screams, which came as music to his ears.
But he wouldn't.
Not himself physically.
But he would with the handle of the whip.
He turned the whip around in his fist and jammed it in dryly. Surely she'd fucked men under similar circumstances.
Well, Brant thought, perhaps never on a bed of nails, but the thought of a hit couldn't turn her on, lube her up. Or could it?
He didn't know, didn't care, didn't give it another thought as he thrust the goddamn thing in and out of her barely yielding orifice and reveled in her screams.
He caught the woman in the stockade, another streetwalker from another city, watching intently.
>
“You want some of my attention?” Brant asked. “Are you sure?”
Fuck her, he thought. She'll have a bed of nails to relax on soon enough.
Or would she prefer to be stretched? He'd decide later. Several torture devices begged to be used. Not enough screams echoed throughout the house so he whipped the woman in the stockade across her blood-weeping, furrowed back.
Then he set aside the whip in favor of a knife and returned to the woman on the bed. He supposed he might have somehow procured a scalpel but why minimize the sheer horror of it all? Why allow this whore the benefit of a surgical blade when a butcher's would suffice?
He prodded a breast with its sharp tip. A drop of blood welled up from flesh much as tears welled up from her eyes. The drop swelled, broke free to trail along the gentle slope, to drip free to anoint the bed of nails.
The spell required blood. Much blood. And a heart.
The house needed the energy of her screams.
The knife rose high above her as terror shone in her eyes.
“It's nothing personal,” Brant told her. “The spell simply requires blood of the socially diseased and the heart of the brokenhearted and lost. Today, your pain ends.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
The blade stabbed into her body. The body convulsed slightly but pulled taut by ropes didn't enjoy the needed slack to do much more.
Screams (and expletives) intensified, both hers and the woman's in the stockade, as Brant sawed open a large enough crevasse in the body. The screams seemed to shake the house as terror sang to him. A moment later, as he reached into the gaping chest cavity and tore free her still-beating heart, her screams stopped. The woman in the stockade's screams, however, intensified.
“Scream, baby, scream,” Brant urged as he tossed the organ into a nearby bucket. “Scream for me. Scream for your life!”
It was so amusing, really. She had nothing to fear. Not today. The other whore would provide what they needed for the time being. Let her scream, though. It made everything better.
He glanced around the room, spotted what he needed and retrieved it. A machete. He used it first to sever ropes pinning down the dead body, as they were no longer needed. The nails the body lie on would provide any needed traction.
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