CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kat opened the door to Candle and Wind. She paused for a moment, enjoying the rush of cool air, as a fragrant breeze blew past her carrying the strong, yet pleasant, aroma of scented candles and incense. To Kat’s left was a long, L-shaped glass display case that served as a counter. Wiccan and witchcraft supplies, jewelry, and books filled the case, while flyers and magazines littered the top. Shelves filled with labeled containers of various sizes lined the wall behind. The store resembled a weird blend of apothecary and head shop.
At the end of the counter where the L formed, a saleswoman helped a single customer. Both looked toward the door as Kat entered. The saleswoman, a plain, older woman, smiled at Kat. The customer simply stared.
The gust of indoor air pushed Kat’s hair back away from her face. Intruding sunlight raced in, attacking the dark corners and crevices inside. The customer’s eyes went wide. He blinked several times and his gaze shifted down her torso. Kat looked down and realized that the intruding sunlight likely silhouetted her body through the light material of her short sundress. She could have drawn a straight line between his eyes and the “Y” outline of her Tanga panties. Looking up, she watched his right hand slip from the counter to his crotch as he adjusted himself. She stood in the doorway for a moment longer. Enjoy the view, perv.
Releasing the door, Kat returned the woman’s smile and then looked directly at the man. A weird aura, actually more like an apparition, emanated from his torso, flowing in and around. Kat had never seen anything like it before. It was as if his shadow had come to life, but could not quite detach itself. A second and then a third shadow appeared, dancing around and through him. He seemed oblivious to their presence. What kind of weird shit is that?
The answer leapt into her consciousness. This odd little man standing in front of her, with his long, straight, lifeless hair, Fu Manchu moustache, and wispy beard, did not live alone in his thin, insipid body. He was host to some kind of occult energy or spirit beings. The shadows appeared to bow, in unison, towards Kat before resuming their dance around and through the man.
He stared at Kat as Martha spoke.
“Welcome to the Candle and Wind.”
A single, similar shadow swirled around Martha. It jumped around as if Kat’s presence pleased and excited it.
“We have everything you need. My name is Martha. I’ll be glad to help you when I am done with Kevin.” She nodded past the little freak. “The candle magick supplies are in the back.”
Kat hesitated a second before answering. How did Martha know what she wanted?
“Thanks,” Kat replied. She turned, glanced at Kevin, and then browsed her way toward the candle supplies. She could feel Kevin’s wide-eyed stare following her. God, he’s a weird little shit.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Martha said.
“Yes, very beautiful,” Kevin replied.
They spoke quietly with hushed voices, but in the cool silence of the store Kat could still hear them.
“And she’s going to need my help.”
Kat looked back at Kevin. His expression had an awed quality. Almost reverent. The face of a worshiper. That pleased Kat. She could get used to being worshiped.
***
Baalzaric watched through Kat’s eyes. She spent a few more minutes browsing the shelves and displays as she made her way to the candle magick area. The owners kept the store well-stocked with everything needed for Wiccan, pagan, or occult worship, ceremonies, and rituals. For Baalzaric, it was a cornucopia of demonic delights, a path straight into his world.
He could not remember a time since the birth of the hated Jesus of Nazareth when occult practices had been so widely accepted across so many different cultures. This store, where mystical paraphernalia was sold openly, made it clear that the Adversary was losing ground. Four hundred years ago, witches were burned. Now they publicly plied their craft promising a guilt-free path to knowledge, wisdom, pleasure and power.
Baalzaric, along with an uncountable demonic horde, would be the helpful conduit guiding the human race away from the Jesus lovers, until Prince Lucifer received his rightful kingdom. A kingdom founded upon physical pleasure, fleshly delights, and moral autonomy. And with Kat’s help, Baalzaric would be the one who would bestow upon the demons the ultimate prize — immortal flesh — a prize they greatly desired and certainly deserved.
The recognition and deference of the demons inhabiting the little man at the counter had pleased Baalzaric. He welcomed their bow to his superior position and power. Baalzaric had need of faithful followers. Followers committed to his plan and his vision for a world of fleshly pleasures and power. When he succeeded, even Lucifer would praise him.
***
Kat was amazed at the selection of candles. The shelves and baskets contained a variety of standard taper candles in many colors and sizes, as well as specialty candles — shape candles, pillar candles, natural soy wax candles, and spell candles. Candles for every possible supernatural circumstance.
Next to the displays, racks, and tubs containing the candles was a selection of books and magazines about witchcraft and candle magick. Kat picked up one of the candle magick magazines and flipped the pages. The skin on her neck and arms prickled. Something special had come into her life. The magazine’s pages zipped by until one article caught her eye. In large, bold letters the title confirmed her feelings. Magick is Real. Magick IS real. Damn straight it is.
She put the magazine down and selected candles in the colors she needed. For now, she would stick to the simple, eight-inch taper candles. The specialty candles seemed more like gimmicks than true vehicles for power through magick. She returned to the front of the store and sat the candles on the counter in front of Martha. Kevin hovered around the short end of the L-shaped cabinet, his eyes darting between the pages of a magazine and Kat. Martha smiled.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”
Kat smiled back. “I’ve never been in a store quite like this.” For some reason, she felt an affinity for Martha that she rarely felt for another human being, let alone a stranger.
“How did you know I needed candles?”
“I seem to have a talent for knowing certain things. It’s a gift. I’ve learned to never question it.”
Martha picked up the candles, one by one, and entered the prices into the cash register. She finished ringing up the purchase and gave Kat a knowing look.
“There is another level, you know. Are you willing to do some reading?”
Kat hesitated for a moment. Another level of what?
“I don’t have a lot of extra time. I work two jobs.”
Martha put the candles and the receipt in a bag.
“Time is our most precious resource. None of us ever seem to have enough. I would never waste your time, sweetheart. Give me a second.”
Kat waited as Martha went into a small room behind the counter. Kevin moved closer to Kat so that she was between him and the door. The little perv is looking for another show.
He exchanged the magazine for another one. Kevin’s shadows jumped and danced around him. He looked up from the magazine and Kat locked eyes with him.
“I can help you,” Kevin said.
***
Martha watched the brief exchange between Kevin and Kat from inside the doorway of the small room. She stepped out and placed a book on the counter. Kat turned away from Kevin, releasing the connection she had established. He blinked as if a camera flash had gone off in his eyes.
Martha spoke as if she were sharing an unquestionable truth. “This will take your power to a new level.”
She softly, almost lovingly, caressed the cover of the book. The cover was ornate, decorated with symbols and elegant lettering. In the center was an artist’s representation of a being who might have been none other than Lucifer himself. Kat read the title that stretched across the top in two rows of embossed text.
The Left Hand Path: Luciferian Witchcraft and the Keys to Powe
r.
She picked up the book. Thick and heavy, its cover felt like soft leather. Almost like a baby’s skin. Kat let it rest in the palm of her right hand as she opened it. Inside, on the first page, was a brief inscription.
Fear not the source of power, fear only that you will die without ever knowing your own greatness.
No source or name followed the quote.
Kat turned the pages, looking at the dense text and occasional drawings. She stopped at a chapter titled Azal’ucel: The Risen God Within. She scanned the subtitles that stretched down the page. Luciferian Tantra, The Obscene Kiss, Sexual Sorcery, Infernal Sex Magick. The book talked about things that went far beyond simple candle magick. Kat closed the book and sat it back on the counter.
“How much is it?”
Kevin reached over to take the book, but Martha picked it up first. She looked at Kevin.
“You’re not ready for this.”
Kevin sunk back as Martha took the book and put it into the bag with the candles. She held out the bag to Kat.
“There’s no price. It can’t be purchased, at least not with money.”
Kat accepted the bag. Kevin looked disappointed and Martha gave him a sympathetic look.
“Just keep following The Light, Kevin. The Light will tell you when you are ready.”
Kat looked at Kevin, somehow knowing the truth of Martha’s admonition.
“She’s right, Kevin, you’re not ready.” A subtle mocking infiltrated her voice. “Just keep following The Light.”
As Kat opened the door to leave, sunlight again burst into the store. She paused in the doorway for a moment while her eyes adjusted to its brightness. The light bathed her body and she was sure that if she looked back she would catch Kevin staring bug-eyed again. She turned and his eyes met hers.
“Martha is right, Kevin.” You sick little bastard. “Just follow the light.”
Kevin started for the door. Toward the light.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kevin Williams is a freak.
Jim considered the thought as he cruised east toward I-75, passing the strip malls, cheap motels, and tourist traps lining the roadway leading out of Ft. Myers. Something about Williams disturbed him. It had nagged at him all afternoon Friday and now, on Saturday, it still bothered him. Something about that little creep isn’t right.
It would not surprise him if someday they discovered Williams had been a serial killer who scattered his victims around South Florida as the wind scattered the remnants of an August thunderstorm.
Jim had taken the entire video server Williams had given him at the traffic management center to the closest Pack and Mail store. Jim had it carefully packed up, sealed with security tape, and shipped to the state’s computer forensics lab. If they could not recover the video from last Wednesday night, then Jim would request that they ship the server to the FBI. Hell, if he had to, Jim would fight to have the server sent to NASA or the NSA.
Some lunatic out there had demonstrated a willingness to put innocent lives at risk, using a speeding car as a murder weapon, probably for the simple thrill of going fast. He would not let that lunatic get away with it. Hell, no, Bucko. Not on my watch and not on my highway.
The Saturday after Labor Day weekend had blossomed into a beautiful day. Jim had taken the extra Saturday shift as a favor to Trooper Carl Johns. The Army had ordered Carl’s reserve unit back to the Middle East and he wanted some extra time off with his family before deploying again. Jim and Carl had attended the FHP academy together, and although Jim ragged on Carl about being a dogface Army National Guard soldier, Jim liked Carl and could not turn him down. Especially since he did not have to have Linda’s permission anymore to help a friend.
The crackling police radio shattered Jim’s hope for a quiet, post-holiday shift. He reached for the handset, hoping that the call would be something simple, like a motorist reporting a breakdown, or maybe a large chunk of tractor-trailer tire on one of the interstate travel lanes.
Jim answered the call. Dispatch reported a motor vehicle accident with injuries two miles south of Ft. Myers. So much for a quiet shift.
He hit his lights and siren. To his left, a woman stepped out of a store in a shabby little strip mall that sold some kind of occult crap. As he passed the store, he glimpsed the tail end of a red, high-dollar sports car parked next to a piece-of-crap hippy van. An oncoming minivan, slowing down and pulling over to get out of the way, interrupted his view. His attention went back to the road in front of the Charger as he accelerated toward the freeway.
***
Kat stepped outside into what had to be the world’s largest sauna. She released the door but it didn’t close and Kevin popped out behind her. He reached for Kat and grabbed her arm, stopping her momentarily. She pulled away, but Williams held on tight. A Florida Highway Patrol Charger raced past.
“What?” she asked, her voice harsh.
“There,” Williams hissed, pointing toward the accelerating Charger as it raced past a minivan. “That one, there. I know that cop. He’s looking for you. You and your red car.”
The Charger sped away toward the interstate.
“Maybe he was too busy to notice,” Kevin said. “Maybe he didn’t see us.”
Despite his diminutive size, Williams’ grip was strong. Nevertheless, Kat was stronger and she reached over and pried her arm loose. The custom choppers had left. Only the Viper, partially shielded by Williams’ van, and the van itself, remained in the parking lot.
“I told you I could help you,” Kevin said. Reverence shined from the eyes of the pathetic, little freak standing beside her.
Kat stared down the highway. How many red sports cars were there in South Florida — dozens, hundreds? But it would be stupid to get overconfident without knowing more.
“Maybe he saw us, maybe he didn’t,” Kat told him, as the red and blue lights got smaller and smaller.
“Maybe he didn’t.” She repeated, speaking as much to herself as to Kevin. “But we need to assume that he did.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Robert Teal pressed his right eye against the eyecup of the security sensor. He placed his right index finger on the fingerprint pad next to the heavy security door leading to the Infinity project labs. The sensors identified Robert’s iris and fingerprints and verified Robert’s body temperature, a combination that ensured the heavy vault door would be impenetrable to unauthorized entry.
The door lock released with a heavy clunk and Robert entered the administrative office for the lab. Kat Connors sat at her terminal in the control room just beyond the office. She had her back to the door, monitoring the myriad of instruments tracking the status of the life support systems for the fetal farm.
The fetal farm had been Robert Teal’s brainchild, his baby, so to speak. Two dozen artificial wombs held the first batch of genetically superior fetuses that could be harvested for stem cells and organs. In the future, once grown into fully developed human beings, they might even be the recipients of another person’s brain. Immortality would no longer be the sole purview of science fiction writers and religious charlatans.
Yet, in spite of everything that had gone right on this project, Robert Teal had a problem. Two problems actually. Briggs’ death had created two dilemmas for Robert — the first, how to continue funneling the money into the Infinity project without arousing the suspicion of government regulators, religious busybodies, and dumbass corporate types. While Robert’s brilliance in the lab was undeniable, Briggs had been the political and financial genius behind AGT. Fetal farming for stem cells, currently the heart of AGT’s secret process, was a concept that most Bible-belt politicians and their constituents simply would not accept.
Robert’s second dilemma was almost as interesting and challenging: how to get Kat Connors into bed. She had taken a week’s vacation the same week that Briggs had been killed. Now, back at work, she seemed more amenable to his advances. And to think, I almost got her fired by telling Briggs about her little s
ide job.
Everything had changed so quickly, and, potentially, so wonderfully. The Highway Patrol had informed him that Briggs may have died while racing someone on the freeway. Somehow, that did not surprise him. Briggs had a penchant for taking chances that other people thought were foolish. Yet, that risk taking had made Briggs a very wealthy man. Sadly, for Briggs, it apparently had also made him a very dead one.
On the plus side, Briggs’ death had unexpectedly made Robert the most important person at AGT. Neither the vice president of operations nor the vice president of finance had a clue as to the true extent of Robert’s research. New money had flooded the research budget from several foundations and from federal stimulus funding for stem cell research. His research would soon see tens of millions more from new State of Florida bonds — if nothing got in the way.
He glanced at Kat. Brigg’s death seemed to have changed his relationship with her as well. She had started as a lab technician in the stem cell research section. Robert personally brought her into the Infinity project, attracted by both her looks and her ruthless efficiency. Unfortunately, she had been just as ruthless in refusing his advances. She reminded him of a strip club version of La Femme Nikita. He walked into the control room, stood behind her, and rubbed her shoulders.
“Are we still on for tonight?” He felt her shoulders rise up in a slow shrug, and he took that as a signal to continue the massage.
“The sensors in Bay 3 keep going offline,” she said.
Robert leaned in closer. Keeping his left hand on her shoulder, he took control of the workstation’s mouse and clicked on telemetry icon for Bay 3. A number of digital readings and meters appeared on the screen. Everything looked normal.
“Probably a loose sensor connection. I doubt it’s anything serious,” he replied. Robert let go of the mouse and picked up a book lying next to the mouse pad — Principles of Gene Manipulation and Genomics, 7th edition. He opened the book where a bookmark had been inserted and read the chapter title, “Applications of Gene Manipulation and Genomics.”
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