The Demon Pool

by Richard B. Dwyer

  “A little light reading?” he asked.

  “What we are doing here could change the world, Robert. You know that better than anyone. I want to understand everything about it.”

  He smiled at the perceived complement. Her voice had lost its coldness. Robert leaned to the right, improving his view of Kat. Her hair was dark with auburn highlights. A week ago, it had been blond. An intoxicating mixture of expensive hair products and even more expensive perfume snuck into Robert’s nostrils. Her smell alone made his heart race.

  “If you are really interested, I could show you some of my research papers sometime,” he said.

  “Where are we going tonight? Some place nice, right?” She shrugged again, more slowly this time, prompting him to put the book down and restart the massage. “You’re going to be a very important man, Robert. It’s time to get used to having the best.”

  His fingers worked their way from her shoulders to her neck and back. Her abrupt change in attitude toward his advances surprised him. When he first brought her into the Infinity project, her rejections had been as coldly efficient as her work. Briggs’ death seemed to have changed the rules of their little game. Unlike the rigid, unbending rules of chess — which he liked — life’s rules had a nasty habit of changing in the middle of the frickin’ game. Normally, he hated that. Consistency and reliability. Those were the qualities that Robert valued. Who knows, maybe this time, change will bring something good.

  ***

  Robert was not the most repulsive man Kat had ever had to deal with, but he was certainly in the top ten. The digital meters and readings remained steady as Robert continued the massage. Kat had decided to think of Robert as a tool, a brilliant computing machine covered with lumpy, unattractive flesh. Something to use, and when appropriate, discard.

  In the past, being this close to Robert would have creeped her out. Hell, he was even less attractive than Bruce, and had nowhere near the money. At least not yet. Nevertheless, now that Briggs was gone, Kat let him into her space, let him touch her. For some reason, she even found herself deeply interested in his research. She turned her head toward him. Her eyes drilled into his and his hands froze on her shoulders. His face went blank. Captured.

  ***

  Baalzaric watched Kat exercise her power over Robert. It pleased him. He knew that Kat would get Robert to do whatever she asked. Every night since the pool, except for the short trip to Naples, Kat had burned candles and chanted. She also began reading the book on Luciferian witchcraft, along with the books on genetics, both full of dense and esoteric writing.

  She had barely scratched the surface of witchcraft, yet her ability to influence people seemed to grow tenfold in just days. With only her eyes, she had just hypnotized Robert and he did not even know it. The true source of her power remained hidden. Baalzaric would keep it that way as long as it served his purposes.

  Not only had Kat’s power to influence and control others grown, she had also experienced an expansion of her intellect. It had been little more than a week since the crash that killed Briggs, and Kat had been able to absorb several years’ worth of highly advanced genetic knowledge.

  Two areas interested Baalzaric — the potential for extreme longevity and the prospect of human cloning. The humans at AGT were on the verge of undoing God’s little trick of limiting their life spans. A trick God put into effect after the Great Rain. To Baalzaric, it looked like God had underestimated the ability of the created to exceed the knowledge and wisdom of their supposed creator.

  While a return to the long lifespans that humans enjoyed before the Great Rain was an exciting prospect for Baalzaric, the science of cloning had far greater implications for the demonic world as a whole. Since humankind had not yet reached a state where demons were able to hijack a human at will, humans had to be open to possession — involved either in the occult, or in some other so-called new age pursuit that exposed them to demonic cohabitation. Baalzaric pondered the possibilities.

  What if cloned humans were bereft of souls? What if avoiding the normal conception process could create spiritually empty, but physically functional, husks?

  What if it were possible to produce thousands, or tens of thousands, or thousands of thousands, of cloned, soulless human beings? Empty houses waiting for their demonic occupants. Moreover, what if those human bodies lived for hundreds or thousands of years? The entire earth would once again become a demonic playground. Baalzaric was pleased. For the first time in several millennia, he felt close to fulfilling his eternal destiny.

  ***

  Some unknown force pulled Robert downward until his mouth bumped against a small, soft cushion. He closed his eyes as his lips were forced apart. Some living entity teased, probed, invaded, and finally occupied his mouth. It did not stop there. It pushed its way past his teeth, past his tongue, up through his sinuses. It did not stop there, either. It continued to slide upward until it wrapped itself around his brain. As the thing pushed in and around the soft, cerebral tissue, pressure inside his cranium built to an excruciating level.

  Pictures and memories flashed through his mind. Every pain, every pleasure, every secret thought and deed twisted together into a psychic kaleidoscope of images, thoughts, and feelings. The thing inside his head continued to push and probe. It penetrated his brain’s pleasure center triggering wave after wave of erotic bliss. His body and spirit seemed to melt away. Thinking became impossible as his soul poured out onto a black altar of divine madness.

  When Robert’s eyes reopened, he stared at something he did not understand. Eyes within eyes. It had to be an illusion. A drop of cold sweat slid down his spine. Pulsing drums beat against the sides of his head. Robert blinked, stood straight, rubbed his eyes and then his temples.

  “You okay, Robert?” Kat asked, her voice soft.

  Kat stood and slid her fingers beneath Robert’s fingers. She gently rubbed his temples and the pounding subsided. Robert closed his eyes and opened them again. He looked at Kat. No eyes within eyes. Kat continued her gentle massage.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he replied.

  He licked his lips. Kat wore lipstick, but Robert did not taste it. He was sure that she had started kissing him, but then something had gone wrong. Maybe a mild stroke? No, damn it. I’m too young to have a stroke. God, what just happened?

  More cold sweat rolled down his back. Kat’s fingers slid away from his temples.

  “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

  Kat moved around beside her chair and Robert took her seat.

  He watched the Bay 3 sensors for a moment and waited for his pulse to return to normal. Kat rubbed his shoulders. God, she has strong hands.

  They expertly pushed every bit of stress and tension away. He relaxed and his mind drifted back to what had happened. Did she do something to me? If she did do something to me, how the hell would I know?

  Robert shivered. A sense of dread encircled him, but Kat’s scent and the feeling of her hands on his body incited a stronger sensation. Fear and lust battled briefly. As Kat’s fingers worked their magic on Robert’s shoulders, lust won.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bern’s Steak House had a reputation as one of the finest in Tampa. According to a quote in the local paper, Bern’s was not a place to come and wolf down a meal in half an hour. It was an event, an experience. That was what Robert was going to give Kat tonight. An experience. Hopefully, she would return the favor.

  After a short drive from his house to Kat’s complex, he parked his Lexus sedan in front of her apartment. Although the Lexus was a couple of years old, Robert kept it looking showroom new. The freshly polished, amber pearl exterior gave the vehicle a golden richness that would have been right at home parked in front of one of the five-star clubs in South Beach.

  Robert smiled a self-satisfied smile as he checked himself in the rearview mirror. Tonight, everything would go right. The right car, the right restaurant, the right girl, the right moves. For the first time in
his life, Robert had it all together. At least he hoped he did.

  ***

  Kat stood next to the Lexus and tapped the passenger side window. Robert hit the power door lock and Kat slid into the passenger seat, bringing both legs in together while keeping her short skirt a respectable distance between knees and thighs. She was not being modest for modesty’s sake. She wanted Robert to think goddess, not slut.

  The car stereo oozed smooth jazz, and underneath the music, Kat could hear Robert’s breathing. It reminded her of another Robert. A Robert more disgusting than Robert Teal. She could almost smell Robert Greer’s foul, alcohol-tainted breath, feel his weight pushing down on top of her. Kat shoved the thought out of her mind, ordering her brain to focus. Someday she would find a way to pay back Robert Greer. She would make him suffer one hundred times over for each indecent act, and there had been dozens of them. Tonight, however, belonged to the other Robert.

  ***

  As Kat entered the Lexus, Robert found himself instantly aroused. Oh my God this woman is hot.

  She looked at Robert and her eyes drilled into his. An eternity passed, or maybe just a few seconds. Robert couldn’t tell.

  “I’m hungry, Robert,” she said, reaching for her seatbelt.

  “I hope you like steak,” he replied, his voice cracking.

  Kat smiled. “I like everything, Robert.” She paused for a second and leaned toward him. She continued in a breathy, almost Marilyn Monroe voice, “Everything.”

  Kat released him from her stare and he shook his head, as if he were coming out of some trance. His voice almost recovered.

  “Yeah, uh, Bern’s Steak House. Great steaks. Great wine list, too.”

  “Well, let’s go. Show me a good time.”

  Robert put the Lexus in drive. All he could say was, “Yeah, I think you’ll like Bern’s.”

  Kat crossed her legs, right over left, toward Robert. He glanced over at her and then back at the road. Something wasn’t right. He was the boss. He had the power. He should be in control. But at the moment, he did not feel the least bit in control. Doesn’t matter. Just stick to the plan.

  Kat did not look like she weighed more than one-ten, maybe one-fifteen at the most. With her figure, she was probably a light eater. Couple of bottles of wine, some talk about his newfound power and influence at AGT, a few carefully implied promises, and the evening would end exactly where Robert wanted it to — in his bed, lost in the sweet bliss of Kat-candy. After all, she was little more than a lab assistant who moonlighted as a topless dancer. What chance did she have against his superior planning and intellect? Robert smiled. Back in control.

  As soon as they entered Bern’s, Robert discretely and generously tipped the maître d’. He showed them to an excellent table. The headwaiter arrived within seconds, followed by the sommelier, and the couple ordered. Robert chose a nice Eberle Syrah to accompany their steaks. Kat matched him glass for glass, although she had the smallest filet mignon on the menu and Robert had the largest porterhouse. When dessert arrived, a luxurious white chocolate mousse, they switched to a 2000 Vintage Graham’s port. Three glasses each finished the bottle. Robert found it a little hard to focus.

  “I expect I’ll be running AGT now. Nobody else really understands what we do.”

  Kat smiled at him. He reached for his empty wine glass. Under the table, her foot brushed his ankle sending an electric shock through his body. His hand bumped the glass, knocking it over. He quickly righted the glass.

  “Sorry.”

  Kat reached out and put her hand over his.

  “It’s okay. Let’s go someplace quiet where we can talk.”

  Robert glanced toward the lounge. The bar had emptied. He stood, steadied himself, and nodded toward the bar.

  “Looks quiet. After-dinner drinks?”

  “Whatever you want, Robert.”

  ***

  Kat pulled down the driver’s-side visor and opened the lighted mirror. Baalzaric watched her inspect her makeup. Kat was as beautiful as the Calusa woman he had inhabited hundreds of years ago. He had taken that woman from virgin to village priestess, and she had given him pleasure and power for a season. In the hundreds of years that had now passed, Baalzaric had had power, pleasure, warmth, and in between, decades of cold isolation in the pool. Now, things were going to be different. Very different.

  Kat glanced over at Robert. He had passed out. Baalzaric knew that as a scientist, Robert was brilliant. Nonetheless, as a man, he was an idiot — and that was okay. Baalzaric knew, from long experience, that even idiots could be useful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Frustration. Bruce felt it in every cell of his body. Kat had picked him up on Monday, right on time, but then she drove home to her apartment, made an excuse for not inviting him up, and he had not seen her since. It was now Thursday and Kat was not answering her phone. Why is she doing this to me?

  Kat normally worked at the club on Thursday nights. Bruce looked at his watch. Even his ability to afford expensive toys gave him no pleasure today. Four o’clock. Another hour and he would head out the front gate of the base. He picked up his phone and dialed Kat’s cell. It rang several times and Bruce was ready to hang up when Kat answered.

  “Hi, lover.” Kat’s voice was upbeat. “You coming to the club tonight?”

  Caught off guard, Bruce stuttered his reply. “Ah...yeah. I guess so.”

  “I’m starting a little late tonight. I’ll be there around ten.” Kat’s voice softened. “I’ve been missing you, lover.”

  The sweetness in Kat’s voice swept away his anxiety.

  “I was worried. I thought maybe something happened to you. Or maybe you found someone you liked better.” Bruce recognized the plaintive whine in his voice and hated it.

  “Baby, don’t worry. Just come to the club tonight.”

  Kat hung up. For a split second, Bruce thought about staying home. Would he go to the club and sell his self-respect for a couple of hours of watching Kat show her goodies to a bunch of leering oafs? Of course he would.

  Bruce walked into the club just before eleven o’clock. He made his way to the VIP section where a table had been reserved for him. Two-thirds of the seats that surrounded the stage were full, as were most of the bar stools. Maybe half a dozen tables and booths remained empty. The men surrounding the stage leered, drank, and waved one, five, and, occasionally, ten dollar bills at the leggy and topless blonde dancing in front of them.

  He looked around, but he did not see Kat. A waitress wearing a tight halter top and short shorts appeared at Bruce’s table. Almost as pretty as Kat, she had served him before. He had often wondered why she worked there. If he had a daughter, he sure as hell would not want her working at the Midnight Oasis. Not even as a waitress. The girl smiled sweetly.

  “Not working tomorrow, Bruce?”

  He always got tongue-tied around the other girls. Even the waitresses, who were models of modesty compared to the dancers, made Bruce nervous. If his two ex-wives had been even slightly above average in appearance, he would have never had the confidence or the courage to approach them. As it was, Bruce painfully recalled, they both had made the first move.

  “Is Kat here?”

  “Somewhere, I think.”

  The waitress leaned forward, pushing her chest toward Bruce.

  “I saw your new car. Pretty hot.”

  A sensation of warmth crept up Bruce’s face. The waitress pushed in closer. Bruce leaned back and tried to look past her most prominent attributes.

  “What would you like, Bruce. Anything special?”

  “He’d like you to get those things out of his face.”

  The girl jumped as Kat reached out and pinched the small muffin top of bare skin that bulged out between the waitress’s short-shorts and her top. Attractive but curvy, she did not have Kat’s trim, fit body. Kat moved in close and slid her right arm about the waitress’s waist. The girl winced and Bruce noted Kat’s vice grip pinching the girl’s skin. Kat had posit
ioned herself where it would be unlikely for anyone but Bruce to notice.

  “I’m sorry, Kat.” The girl’s voice was sobbingly apologetic. “You’re hurting me.”

  Her eyes welled up with tears and she attempted to pull away from Kat. Kat let up on the muffin top death grip just a bit.

  “Stick to serving drinks, sweetie. Understand?”

  The waitress nodded. Kat stopped pinching her, but did not let her go.

  “Bring us a bottle of champagne. The good stuff. Tell the bartender I’m paying.”

  “Sure, Kat.”

  Fear stared through moist eyes.

  “Let me go, OK?”

  Kat withdrew her arm and the girl quickly made her way back to the bar, rubbing her waist where Kat had grabbed her. Bruce gaped wide-eyed at Kat. She looked him dead in the eyes.

  “Do you like her, Bruce?”

  Bruce’s answer was a shake of his head. Kat slid into the booth beside him. “She’s not bad. Kind of soft and curvy.” Kat pressed herself up against Bruce. “But, I’m better. Right Bruce?”

  Kat reached down and gave his side a pinch. He jumped as if she had shot him. The waitress returned with a magnum of champagne and two glasses. She filled them, managing to stay out of Kat’s reach.

  Kat picked up her glass, clicked it against Bruce’s and sipped the champagne. Bruce gulped his down in one long pull. He looked at Kat and found himself captured by her hypnotic gaze. Something inside Bruce tore loose, as if Kat had peeled away the layers of his psyche with just her stare. Her eyes sucked him in. Possessed him without touching him. It was surreal. Soul-sucking surreal.

  “Give me your wallet, lover.”

  Bruce’s brain told him he was floating, which was weird since he could still feel the seat touching his butt. Maybe the whole room is floating?

  Kat’s lips moved, but he did not hear the words, and yet he knew what she wanted. I thought she said she was paying for the champagne.

  Without further thought, he surrendered the wallet and watched as she removed a hundred-dollar bill. She handed his wallet back and he put it away, but his eyes remained fixed on hers. Even when she turned away, toward the waitress, Bruce stared at the side of her head. Why am I just sitting here like an idiot?