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None More Black

Page 25

by Williams, Brett


  But he didn't say that. He took a deep breath, let the screams soothe his soul, and slowly exhaled. “Straddle her. Take her by the hair,” he suggested, “pull her head back and drag the blade forcefully across her throat.”

  “Okay,” Katie said to herself, “I can do that. Just like Daddy says.”

  She reacted much like the country girl Brant had imagined, his sister back in Arkansas years ago, severing the head from a chicken for the first time, she had jumped and squealed when the headless chicken began to flop around in the yard. Katie similarly jumped back and watched the expanding pool of blood from the convulsing prostitute as she died.

  “Suscipe sacrificium, Domine Kasas! Implete hunc locum virtute saeculi communicationem admittit!” Accept our sacrifice, O Kasas. Fill this room with power and allow us communication with your world. “Now, the next sacrifice.”

  Katie, less squeamishly, slashed the throat of the next victim as Brant repeated the stanza of the spell. The pool of blood grew as the victims mounted, and by the sixth and final sacrifice, an ex-con with short-cropped hair, Katie, on the verge of hysteria but doing an amazing job of holding herself together, gripped him by the head and pulled back to nearly the snapping point. The man's eyes bugged as he screamed, “Please, no! Not me! I'll leave, go to Mexico, you'll never see or hear from me again, just please don't—”

  “Kill him already.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Katie sniveled as tears rained down on the man's face, also covered in tears. Flesh parted as the blade sliced through deeply, deeper than any of the others. She let loose the head and his face smacked loudly on the blood-pooled concrete of the communications closet.

  The room fell quiet, though not silent. Katie dropped the knife and picked her way carefully across the bloody floor to Brant, who finished the incantation:

  “Gratias tibi, Domine Kasas. Accipite haec sacra nocte.”

  Katie met him with a kiss. “Did I do good, Sir? Tell me I did, Daddy.”

  “You did excellent. I'm proud of you. You'll receive stickers tonight.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Get the knife. Remove your shoes. We'll get you cleaned up, then we must go.”

  “Already?”

  “Yes. Now. Alex will dispose of the bodies. They must stay here for a while longer, to anoint the space.”

  “But we can't be done yet.”

  “Why is that, sweetie?”

  Her chin had begun to quiver again. “B-because you haven't f-fucked me yet.”

  “We'll fuck back at the hotel.”

  “But the others... You fuck them during. Or after.”

  Brant, unable to argue with that logic, he knew she was right. He also understood the how and the why of her desire, and this need became blatantly apparent when she dropped to her knees and started to unfasten his pants.

  Yes, Katie had done well. And she deserved this right here, right now. And he wouldn't deny his daughter her pleasure.

  36

  The thing's mouth, though sewn shut, mewled in misery. Its lips threatened to tear free but so far hadn't. It sat in a wooden chair at a small desk in a corner of the basement, opposite the dorm refrigerator and various alchemy components Brainy and Goth Witch had filed away. A laptop computer sat on the desk, a large flatbed scanner by its side. A more modern version of the one Brant had seen at the lowest level of the now-defunct Kansas site. He and his coven had summoned this being and entrapped it within a pentagram seared on the floor.

  The hour neared midnight and Brant, glass of bourbon in hand, studied the thing as it studied him. Humanoid but pale in complexion, bald, masculine, it looked like some ghoul or perhaps Nosferatu but without the pointed ears or sharp teeth.

  Or perhaps it did have sharp teeth. Brant couldn't tell with its lips sewn shut.

  Brant knew it possessed intelligence. Hell, it could amazingly work a computer. But then again, why shouldn't it? The entire cluster of computing sites interfaced with the unknown, and someone, or something, must be able to understand and deal with the connection on the other end. Not that Brant believed he had somehow interfaced with an old mainframe computer in Hell, but he knew, based on what he'd seen and what he was doing, that things or forces or someone on the other side of whatever or wherever he'd connected to could prove useful to him, here.

  Brant sipped his drink and mused, “You aren't Charles Babbage, are you, buddy? That would be crazy. Steve Jobs? Nah. No black mock turtleneck. He hasn't been gone long enough to be as fucked-up looking as you.” Brant drained his glass. “Back to work. I'm not paying you to shoot the shit.”

  Pleased with himself, Brant headed up the stairs and switched off the lights. Let the thing bask in the glow of the laptop screen, scanner bed lights, and candles. Those dead black eyes could probably see in the dark anyway.

  Things were going well and happiness filled Brant.

  The final site would be on-line soon

  The sales force was proving successful at bringing existing clients on board

  Due to a marketing efforts, the team had begun promoting a new crop of cam girl business

  The beta test of DevilSearch and its sister pornography search engine Goo-gal were also gaining popularity

  The spells had worked

  The entity in the basement proved helpful, as hoped

  If all went well, a team of such beings could be harnessed for all sorts of uses

  A low moan from the torture chamber caused Brant's skin to crawl in a most delightful way. He returned the drink glass to the kitchen and noticed Katie and the kid he thought of simply as “dude” were no longer playing video games in the living room. He also noticed louder moans of a sexual nature coming from upstairs and imagined Shadow Man having his way with Jenna.

  Spells and mirrors didn't confine Shadow Man to Jenna's room any more than the deadbolt lock on the outside of her bedroom door confined her to the room. She was locked in during the night and often throughout the day. Whatever seemed most convenient for Brant's purposes. Typically, if Shadow Man became annoying (though Brant and even Katie had somewhat grown accustomed to his surprising and often frightening appearances) or if Jenna became a nuisance regarding her cocaine habit, Brant would use the drug to lure her back into her room.

  Shadow Man seemed to slip free when Jenna left, and typically followed when she returned, though not always and not immediately. But once inside, he seemed reluctant or, due to mirrors and spells, unable to leave.

  Brant had eventually seen the order in the chaos and used it to his advantage. It worked. And he found himself quite at peace with his life.

  And then the sound of someone approaching, Brainy, he assumed, caught his attention.

  “There you are. I've been looking for you,” Jenna, looking ragged, said. “Where have you been?”

  As if it's any business of yours, Brant thought, but said, “Business to attend to at the Austin office most of the day. I've been down in the basement enjoying a drink.”

  “Well, shit, man... I need some nose candy. I've been jonesing all damn day. You were gone when I woke—I haven't had anything since last night.”

  Brant bit back a snide comment due to an otherwise great mood. He knew she'd went a long time without her drug. And besides, he hadn't intended to make her go without for so long.

  “All right,” Brant said, “I was headed upstairs anyway.”

  He noticed the jittery way in which Jenna moved, as they made their way up the stairs. She was jumpy and not just from withdrawals. They were nervous, frightened movements. Just for the hell of it, Brant tapped her on the shoulder opposite him as they walked and she spun quickly, with fear in her eyes.

  “Fuck,” she said. “I thought it was him.”

  Shadow Man.

  Fear of Shadow Man, intensified by cocaine-fueled paranoia.

  “Sorry, I couldn't resist.”

  “Just, please, get me my shit.”

  Upstairs, the sound of moaning grew louder and Bran
t's heart dropped to his stomach.

  Someone is having sex

  Jenna is with me

  The sound originated behind the closed door of his and Katie's bedroom

  The moans weren't simply Katie playing with her toys, and for a moment Brant thought – no, he hoped – she might be watching a pornographic movie on television while she played. But the sound seemed too organic, not canned or staged in such a way he'd tell the difference. Besides, he recognized Katie's girlish whimpers.

  He barged into the room with gasoline rage tossed on the smoldering coals of his emotions.

  “The fuck is going on here?” he screamed in the direction of Katie lying, legs spread wide, beneath the dude.

  “He's fucking me, Daddy. It's okay, I double-checked.”

  “It most certainly is not okay.” First Evelyn, now Katie. Right in his goddamn bed.

  Brant grabbed hold of the kid by the shoulders and pulled him off. Then he slung him headlong across the room and into a dresser, thus cracking the mirror behind it.

  “Chill out, man,” the dude said. “This isn't cool.”

  “No shit, it's not cool, man.”

  Brant spun the guy's naked body around and raised a fist.

  “No, Daddy! Don't hit him.”

  The hell I won't, Brant thought as he landed a punch square in the kisser. A second punch connected with the guy's face despite him throwing up hands in defense. Blood drooled from his mouth as a third blow knocked him to the floor.

  Brant, shaking pain from his hand, proceeded to kick and stomp the man as he attempted to roll away.

  “No, Daddy! You'll hurt him!”

  Katie latched onto Brant's arm and held him for a moment. Just long enough for the dude to roll just out of reach.

  “Goddamn it,” Brant said as he whirled around. He slapped his daughter across the face and sent her sprawling across the disheveled bed.

  “It's okay,” Katie, now crying and nearly hysterical, tried to explain. “Don't do this,” she pleaded as Brant grabbed the guy by an ankle and told Jenna:

  “Grab the other and help me, if you want your fucking coke.”

  Between the two of them they dragged the dude down the hall. Shadow Man, peering around a darkened corner, watched.

  “You haven’t seen anying yet,” Brant told the phantom as they passed.

  The dude grabbed a newel post as they started down the stairs but Brant kicked him in the ass and threatened to kick him in the balls the next time if he didn't cooperate. Katie, perhaps sensing Brant's intention, pleaded profusely for her lover's release.

  “Not gonna happen,” Brant said as they started down the next flight of stairs toward the basement.

  “No way, man. Not down there. Don't you dare take me down there.”

  It didn't matter how much the man pleaded, Brant's mind was made. The dead-eyed thing turned from the glowing screen as they entered the basement.

  “In here,” Brant told Jenna. “Drag him in here.”

  The dude, now struggling like a fish on a line, tried to halt their progress but couldn't. He begged a crying and screaming Katie for help but she seemed unable or unwilling to go against her father's wishes. It took some time, but after landing a few more hits and kicks, Brant got the guy, with Jenna's help, secured in the stockade.

  “Scream all you want, motherfucker,” Brant told him. “You're not going anywhere.”

  “My coke,” Jenna said. “Don't forget my coke.”

  Brant, ignoring the reminder, turned to Katie, about ready to explode. “What the fuck?” he said, allowing his anger to grow, otherwise sadness would take over. There could never be another like Katie – he had only one daughter – and her actions threatened to break his heart.

  “It's okay, Daddy. Really. You said it was okay.”

  Her chin quivered and tears streamed from her eyes.

  “The fuck are you talking about? You were fucking him. In our bed. It most certainly is not okay.”

  “But... But... But Daddy, your rules said no sex outside the house without your consent. I wasn't out of the house. I was in the house, in our bed. No rule said I couldn't fuck him. I didn't know. I didn't know.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Brant said, but Katie had already ran crying from the torture room. Pleas of the guy in the stockade barely registered, as did moans of pain from the whore stretched out on the rack.

  “What about my coke?” Jenna said.

  Brant nearly hit her. He wanted to explode. But more than anything, he wanted to take of business with Jenna, lock her away, get her off his back. Shadow Man, too. And he wanted to lash out at Katie.

  Kill two birds with one stone, Brant told himself.

  Yes, that's what he'd do. Then he'd provide Katie with much-needed maintenance.

  Jenna followed him up to his room, where they found Katie, face buried in a pillow, bawling her eyes out.

  Brant slapped her on the ass and said, “Get up. I have a new chore for you.”

  Katie sniffled, wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes, Daddy. Anything.”

  “From now on, you're in charge of giving Jenna her 'medication'.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” He whispered the combination to the safe in Katie's ear and helped her to unlock it for the first time. Then he explained the proper dosing intervals he wished for her to maintain. She handed her friend a dose of drug and then they locked Jenna back in her bedroom.

  “Now get your fucking journal,” Brant told his daughter. “It's time to amend your rules.”

  They amended the rules before tending to Jenna's very severe corporal punishment that left her trembling, crying, anally and vaginally abraded and sore, and thoroughly sexually satisfied.

  “I l-love you, D-Daddy,” she said, but Brant ignored her. He wanted a drink, a shower, time to think, time to sleep, time to get his emotions in check. Because, he realized, what Katie had done had hurt him more than anything anyone else had done before.

  And he wasn't any better than her.

  And he wasn't sure he that even cared anymore.

  Part IV – Black Heart

  37

  From the refrigerator, Gary grabbed a cold can of Mountain Dew. It had been a long day at work. He'd went into the office an hour early this morning to check logs for software he'd scheduled to compile the night before. Then, after a busy day which included replacing a failed disk drive and dealing with a batch of new lusers who required password resets, he'd stayed late to install a software patch. He'd barely had time to scarf down a Clif bar for lunch. So he found an opened bag of potato chips in the cupboard and stuffed a handful in his mouth. He was washing it down with the soft drink when a knock sounded at the door. Before he could answer, the knob turned and in walked Becky.

  “Good timing, bitch,” she said. “Had you worked any later, I'd've been forced to go home and diddle myself to get off.”

  “You could watch the cam girl screw the ghost.”

  “Been there, done that. Be a sweetie, pour me a drink.”

  Becky helped herself to chips while Gary made her a vodka igloo. They hugged, kissed, and with chips and candy in hand, took their drinks into Gary's headquarters. He'd since invested in another office chair and they both took their seats.

  “Okay,” Becky said. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

  “Here.” Gary pulled up the appropriate links in a browser window. The KaosKansas.com subdirectory with the Latin texts. “Remember when you pricked my finger, per the instructions, and it supposedly allowed me to read the file?”

  “Of course I remember. I'm not a total moron.”

  “Of course you aren't. I tried a few more. See?” Gary opened two other legible files. “I followed their associated instructions and was able to see the text change from gobbledygook to English.”

  “It changed right before your eyes?”

  “No, not exactly. It was gobbledygook the first time I opened the file. The next time I opened it, after followi
ng the instructions—”

  “What did you need to do?”

  Gary hemmed and hawed.

  “Spill,” Becky urged.

  “With one I simply recited some Latin. Google translate showed the Latin roughly amounted to 'Unlock for perversity'.”

  “You pervert,” Becky teased.

  She sipped her drink and Gary crunched chips. Then Gary said, “The other file, though, required I drink urine.”

  Becky nearly spewed vodka out her mouth. “Are you telling me—”

  “That I drank my own pee? Yeah, but just a tiny sip. It's sterile, you know.”

  “Probably tasted like Mountain Dew anyway. But I still can't believe you went through with it.”

  “It was that or sacrifice a cat.”

  “I'd have sacrificed the cat.”

  “I'm allergic to cats. Besides, finding a cat, being shredded by its nails, disposing of its body and dealing with watery eyes and sneezing fits seemed much worse.”

  “Drinking piss: the lesser of two evils. I like your style, babe. Please tell me you've brushed your teeth since then.”

  “Damn. I knew I forgot something.”

  “Oh well, it's not like I've swallowed worse from your plumbing before. But this brings us back to square one. I want to see text change.”

  “I knew you would. Actually, many of the files require the same instructions to unlock their contents. Blood on the keyboard for instance. That unlocked maybe a dozen files. Everything else in the Latin subdirectory is beyond what I'm willing to do, but—”

  “But there are plenty of other subdirectories available.”

  “You read my mind.”

  “It's simple to do, really. You're fairly predictable.”

  “Oh yeah? What am I thinking now?”

  “That you want to hurry and show me how you can unlock a file, then you want to have your way with me on the bed.”

  “Damn, you're good.”

  “That's what they tell me.”

  “They?” Gary inquired.

 

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