None More Black

by Williams, Brett

  Brant addressed the whore's corpse with a joke: “Hey, baby. How much for head?”

  Obviously, the dead prostitute didn’t reply but the other woman said, “You're evil.”

  “Am I?” Brant answered before the machete slashed through the air with a whistle. It cleaved through the dead woman's neck to send her head bouncing and rolling – and the living woman screaming again.

  With bucket moved to catch blood being spilled, Brant set to tying rope to the ankles of the corpse so that, by use of a pulley system, he hoisted the body off the bed of nails and up into the air where he repositioned the bucket yet again to catch the draining blood.

  Then, as he waited for the bucket to fill, he propped up the severed head in front of the stockade. In his best Humphrey Bogart impersonation, which wasn't good at all, he said, “Here's lookin' at you, kid.”

  A shifting shadow in a corner of the room snagged his attention.

  With a shiver and full realization that he had murdered someone, Brant said, “Here’s lookin' at you, too, Shadow Man, you shifty motherfucker you.”

  A few more minutes passed. Minutes in which Brant cleaned the blade of the knife and returned it to the other room and removed knotted lengths of rope from the torture device to be discarded. Then, after exchanging the blood- and heart-filled bucket with another, trekked through the house, careful no blood sloshed out. Splattered blood dripping from the side of the metal pail, though, could not be helped, yet seemed relatively innocuous – he'd recently come to terms that they were nearing a turning point and things would need to change regarding the goings-on taking place within this hellish McMansion.

  The coven, along with Katie, stood in the hall, sounds of enthusiastic sex emanating from behind the closed door to Jenna's room. The coven, same as he, stood dressed in black robes, Katie in black slacks and black blouse. Brant rapped knuckles on the door. “Dude,” he said, addressing the Austin-based BOFH Joey had hired, “bust a nut and make it snappy. We've got things to do.”

  “Almost there, boss,” came the reply.

  To Katie Brant said, “Call the cleaning company and cancel all service. No one is allowed in the house except those on the list.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Did the dude install the web cams?”

  “Yes, Sir. All are installed, tested, and functional.”

  “Good girl. And the mirrors?”

  “Delivered. In the garage. I'll go to Home Depot and hire a crew of illegals on your say so.”

  “Am I missing anything?” Brant moved his gaze from Katie to Brainy.

  He hadn't missed anything that they had noticed.

  “Great. Soon as this dude gets his rocks off we're in business. Pick up something to eat after you take him back to the office. And tell the fucker to buy a car already. Heaven knows I pay him enough goddamn money.”

  Brant crowded behind his coven of witches as the young man who operated his computer systems vacated the room. A good friend of Joey's, also from Des Moines, Iowa, he frequented the house and regularly enjoyed video games with Katie and sex with Jenna, and, Brant suspected, some nose candy from time to time. Brant wasn't sure why the kid's name hadn't stuck in memory. Not that it mattered. He seemed trustworthy, proficient in his job, worked well with the systems administrators at the other sites, and didn't mind helping out around the house now and again with things such as providing technical support when Katie needed it or Brant wanted something installed. Dude had installed a Wi-Fi repeater in the basement to provide Brainy with a stronger signal. And now the web cams. But the kid still hadn't bought a car, instead relying on a bicycle to ride to work and Jenna or Katie to taxi him to and from the house.

  Katie and the guy left and Brant and the coven entered the room to find a well-fucked Asian-American lying naked and disheveled on the bed.

  “Begone, coke whore,” Brant said as he flung blood on her from his fingertips.

  “Fucking asshole. What's your problem?”

  “My only problem is the heebie-jeebies Shadow Man gives me by following me around like a little lost puppy. Otherwise things are going as planned. I need a cock-sucking coke whore and right now I need her out of this room.”

  “I'm taking a shower, then I'll be right back,” Jenna promised.

  “Take your sweet time... Now,” he addressed the coven, “let's get down to business. Brainy?”

  “Yes.” She nudged her glasses higher, cleared her throat, and began to spew Latin according to the passage in the book she held.

  Brant, meanwhile, set aside the pail of blood and instructed the rest of the coven, with hand signals and a soft voice, to removed everything from the walls and help him pull furniture, primarily a heavy dresser and the headboard of the bed, away from the wall.

  Then the coven shed robes and began to finger-paint practiced symbols on the walls, ceiling and floor in blood. Crimson rained down upon them as Latin echoed all around. Brant caught glimpse of Shadow Man peering from over the headboard as he removed the bloody heart from the pail. Brant said:

  “We partake of the flesh to control the spirit.”

  Brainy repeated the sentiment in Latin.

  Brant, after taking a bite from the organ, passed it to Fat Witch, who he knew would eat anything. Each witch in turn partook of the offering and passed it along until little remained of the sacrifice. Then, with the incantation complete, Brant took Brainy carnally against the wall as the others began to explore each other's bodies or tease their own. Brant found himself wanting relations with Skinny Witch so he enjoyed her next. He loved watching Sassy go down on Brainy so he violently penetrated Sassy in turn. Fat Witch begged him for a ride and he dutifully allowed her to straddle him until she bucked in ecstasy. It seemed unfair to neglect Goth Witch, after all she'd done for him, during a blood orgy of such monumental importance. So he ravaged her too, with blood and a sheen of perspiration coating their bodies, until he too was spent.

  Thus concluded the first part of the spell. The next would be performed once the blood had dried and Mexicans had mounted mirrors to cover every inch of the walls and ceiling, including new sliding mirrored doors for the closet. The plan, of course, being to trap Shadow Man in the mirrored hell that Jenna's room would become. And they'd catch it all on web cam to offer online.

  “What the hell is this shit?” Jenna asked, hair damp and covered in a robe.

  “You'll know soon enough,” Brant promised.

  The coven dispersed singly and in pairs to bathe in one of the many bathrooms throughout the house.

  31

  “Ha-ha! I totally killed your ass, again.”

  “Laugh all you want, but when you camp and snipe, killing my ass isn't so tough.”

  “Whatev,” Becky said as she set aside the game controller. It was a word she'd picked up from a sci-fi novel she liked titled Feed. Gary had similarly enjoyed the M.T. Anderson novel.

  He asked, “Want to do something else?”

  “Like fuck? I'll pass. My pussy is sore.”

  “Really?” Gary didn't like the sound of that.

  “No. I'm screwing with you. Are there any chocolate-covered cherries left? Alcohol might be nice.”

  “Yeah, there are some left. We also have beer, vodka, and schnapps.”

  “Raspberry vodka? The kind I like?”

  “The very same.”

  “Oh! Pour me a drink, baby.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Gary poured the drink and opted for a bottle of beer for himself. If he drank vodka too, they'd run out before Becky had gotten her fill. He knew because, for the past couple months, they'd spent a lot of time together. Gary didn't have many friends and Becky, due to her charming personality, seemed to have even less.

  “What's taking so long in there?” she asked. “I'm dying of thirst in here.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You want ice, don't you?”

  Of course she did. Vodka, straight from the freezer, with plenty of ice. Gary called it Eskimo piss on an igloo.
She was waiting for him in the command center, spinning around like usual on the office chair. He'd since bought another recliner for the living room, just for her.

  “Pull up that website,” Becky said as she accepted the candy and drink. “Let's see what's new.”

  “Nothing is new. You know that.”

  “Just pull it up.” Becky popped a chocolate-covered cherry in her mouth.

  “Fine. Give me the chair.”

  “You should totally buy another,” Becky said. “Like you did with the recliner.”

  It made sense, as much as she enjoyed surfing the web with him. It was mind-boggling that she liked porn as much, if not more, than he did. Gary made a mental note to further furnish his humble studio apartment. Hell, as much time as she spent here, he figured upgrading to a two-bedroom unit might be called for, once his lease came up for renewal.

  He swiveled to the keyboard, pulled up KaosKansas.com in a web browser.

  “See,” Becky said, leaning over his shoulder, “there's something new.”

  There was something new. A text file in the home directory of the elusive arcane information which never opened. It read, simply:

  Coming soon

  Access to everything you ever wanted

  And then some

  No credit card required

  No hidden fees

  Simply information

  For blood

  For blood? What a fucking trip, Gary thought.

  “Go back,” Becky said. “I saw something one directory up.”

  Yes, Gary had noticed it too. A new subdirectory.

  /webcam

  He clicked the link and another browser tab opened.

  A message filled the frame: Buffering feed...

  It took a moment for a grainy image to form.

  “What is that?” Gary asked rhetorically.

  “You see, Gar,” Becky teased, “that is called a female. They are much like a male, except without the junk and have more fatty tissue up-top.”

  “I know what a female is. I have you, don't I?”

  “Yes, you do, sweetie.”

  “But what's she doing lying there naked?”

  “It's called masturbation, darling.”

  “But look at the size of that toy. Wow.”

  “Some girls don't have a stud muffin like you to get them off.”

  “Yeah, well, you haven't known me that long. Do you have—”

  “Shh... Look.” Becky pointed at a shadow on the screen. It shifted nearly out of camera range, at the headboard of the bed.

  “That's weird. What do you think it was?”

  “How the fuck should I know. What are those doohickeys?”

  “How the heck should I know,” Gary replied, although he knew exactly what Becky had pointed at. Several numbered buttons were aligned along the bottom of the screen. The first appeared depressed. He clicked the second and said, “They are obviously various camera feeds,” when the image switched to a different camera angle.

  “Obviously,” Becky repeated after a sip of vodka. “Obvious to the computer nerd with plenty of web cam experience. Would you like me to get hand lotion and a tissue for you, baby?”

  “Maybe later,” Gary said to ignore the jeer. “And by the way, the term is computer geek.”

  “More like freak, but not compared to this bitch. Try number three.”

  Gary switched angles again.

  “What's up with all the mirrors?” Gary asked.

  “I don't know but they cover the walls. And look, there on the dresser. Another mirror. It's kind of hard to tell but it looks like someone's been chopping coke to snort before her toyfest.”

  “Looks that way,” Gary agreed. The image, grainy and monochrome, alluded to a low-light situation. Perhaps the woman had dimmed the lights. Or perhaps the lights were switched off and minimal light somehow filtered in. Angle four seemed to support that theory.

  “Oh, my god. What's that?”

  “Where?”

  “There.”

  Gary cycled through angles to track down the source of Becky's inquiry. A shadow had temporarily blocked angle four and now, via angle two, the image became clear. Or, rather, clearer.

  “Oh, man...” Becky snorted. “The toyfest is about to become a sausagefest. Some dude is totally going to fuck her. Are you sure you aren't being charged $2.99 a minute?”

  “No way.”

  Instinctively, Gary checked the browser for the tell-tale symbol of a secure, encrypted connection. But this browser simply displayed an unsecured video stream. However, for just a moment, he wondered if something else might be running in the background, perhaps attempting to install itself on his PC but saw no tell-tale sign of that either.

  “Are you sure that's a guy?” Gary asked.

  It was hard to tell since the figure simply looked like a shadow-shaped man.

  “Maybe he's wearing a suit,” Becky said. “Maybe like the Gimp in Pulp Fiction.”

  “The Gimp was homosexual,” Gary pointed out.

  “Not necessarily. You keep a Gimp in a trunk, guy, girl, or horse, he'll fuck it or suck it once you let him out.”

  It was tough to argue with that sort of logic. So, Gary sipped beer and ignored the comment.

  “Sweet Mother Supreme,” Becky exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “See the way that shadow man shimmers?”

  Now that she mentioned it, yes, he did. He'd first thought it an optical illusion created by the graininess of the image in combination with the low frame rate of the video. But she was correct: “That dude is shimmering. Must be some sort of goofy CGI effect or something. Maybe this isn't a live feed. Maybe it's a gimmick to make you believe it is. I mean, we just happen to stumble upon this 'live feed' when all the good stuff starts to happen? Yeah, right. More like she should be out shopping or asleep.”

  “It's seven at night.”

  “Your point?”

  “Whatev. We don't even know what time zone she's in.”

  Gary could figure that out, if he was so inclined, by the IP address of the feed but assumed with a domain name of KaosKansas.com Central Daylight Time must be correct.

  The woman, an Asian-American about Becky's age, had discarded the toy and spread her legs in favor of the shimmering figure, who was crawling onto the bed between them.

  “If he's wearing a suit, he'll—”

  “There's an opening in front,” Becky interrupted. “But he's not wearing a suit.” She pressed closer and wrapped an arm around Gary. “That guy is shimmering like the little girl in Kansas.”

  The effect did appear hauntingly familiar.

  “Oh, my god. That coked-out bitch is totally going to fuck a ghost.”

  No. Freaking. Way.

  This couldn't be happening. Gary knew CGI must be involved.

  And yet, despite the graininess of the image, it looked real enough. Well, as real as a woman being screwed by a ghost could look, he supposed. He could see the woman through the man, albeit in an obviously shadowed manner, almost like a woman having sex with the invisible man, except smoky, not invisible.

  A nervous laugh slipped from Becky and Gary knew the vodka had started to work its magic on her. She said, “That shadow man must be hung like a horse. See how her pussy gapes with each thrust?”

  Gary saw it and couldn't believe it.

  Becky said what he'd been thinking, “Fucking creepy shit.”

  Yet they couldn't stop watching. The way the mattress started to bounce, and the bed shook, and the woman thrashed...

  “He's really going to town on her.”

  “Yeah,” Gary agreed.

  Then, like something out of a poltergeist movie, the woman lifted off the mattress, spun around in midair, and slammed back down onto the mattress. A split-second later her ass cheeks mysterious spread apart and...

  “Oh, my god,” Becky said. “Now he's going to fuck her ass.”

  The way the opening widened seemingly of its own accord reinfor
ced the idea of a ghost. And while the feed offered no sound (Gary double-checked various settings as the encounter played out on-screen) the woman's screams of horror became apparent. And Becky, pressed close to Gary, shivered, which resulted in a shudder of his own.

  “How much of this do you want to watch?” Gary said.

  “Hang on. It's nearly over, I think.”

  What appeared to be sex-turned-anal-rape went on for another minute or two before the woman was tossed forcefully against the headboard and Gary needed to switch to another camera angle for a better few. The woman's eyes bugged wide as her mouth opened first in a scream but then as if an invisible object had been forced into her mouth.

  And then...

  “Ew...” Becky said. “That is seriously fucked up. How the hell...?”

  “Ectoplasm,” Gary said. “Just like in Ghostbusters.”

  “We just watched a ghost jizz ectoplasm on someone,” Becky said.

  “I can't believe it either.”

  Gary cycled through the video feeds once again but the shadowy figure appeared to have disappeared behind the dresser or headboard or hidden under the bed. Meanwhile, the woman, obviously horrified and distraught, went to the dresser on wobbly legs to chop out a pair of lines to snort off the mirror before Gary and Becky, also shaken by what they had witnessed, decided that they'd seen enough.

  “The owner of the website,” Becky asked, “can't tell that we surfed their website, can they?”

  “No,” Gary lied. “Hand me your glass, I'll top off your drink. We can watch a movie in the other room, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  32

  “Can you see my li'l bump? Can you, Daddy?”

  She was dressed in a gray ladies' tee and black sweat pants that looked like they'd been shrunk in the wash, but the outfit made Katie look sexy as hell. And, yes, if you knew what to look for you could see it, a slight baby bump that lent a white trash vibe.

  “I can see it, sweetie.”

  She affectionately caressed her belly. “I think it looks sexy,” she confided. “Like I really know how to fuck my Daddy.”

  “Trust me. You certainly know how to fuck me.”