by Dean Drinkel
Three final quick thrusts and wow, his penis did spurt – he was right in his assumption – the semen flowed.
Though Henri didn’t have any time to enjoy the moment because just as his dick erupted, Isabella screamed and the skylight above them, exploded...
...someone, something came hurtling through the skylight, bringing with it shards and shards of broken glass which landed on the bed, the floor, Henri managed to roll away, taking Isabella with him.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” he screamed. “What the fuck is going on?!”
With great difficulty he disentangled himself from her, both were covered in blood but he was unsure whether that was from the glass or their lovemaking. He managed to get to his feet, but he was transfixed by the look on Isabella’s face, it was as if she had seen a ghost, her features seemingly frozen in terror. “What’s got into you?” He turned; there was movement on the bed. “What the fuck?!”
Whatever the hell it was, it moved at amazing speed – a large black blur. Isabella raised her head and one arm, but that was about it – time for her, had run out. The blur picked up the knives and one by one threw them at her, every one landed true, pinning her to the floor. A puddle of blood quickly forming underneath her juddering body.
“ISABELLA!” Henri screamed, he tried to get to her, to protect her, but he slipped in the blood, he fell spread-eagled to the floor.
There was laughter from the bed, and a horrible, terrifying sound.
The blur sprung into the air, landing on Henri’s back and that was when the real violence, the real horror began for the punk was literally torn apart, limbs dislocated, ripped from their sockets, his neck quickly broken, his spine snapped. Henri’s jugular was caressed then slashed…the thing feasted on Henri’s blood then once it had satiated itself, it moved to the puddle underneath the girl.
Isabella wasn’t quite dead at that point, there appeared to be a spark of life still burning, she managed to lift her head – this was the thing she had seen out of the corner of her eyes, this was the thing she had seen in her nightmares…
“Lucien,” she whispered. “Lucien.”
The blur unfurled its talons then leapt into the air and landed on her head with a squelch…
Interlude
...Lucien was carried into the massage room – he was laid out on the table.
“Christ, Christ, Christ,” Kotcheff panicked as he took off his mask, dropping it to the floor. “Why did I let this happen to you? To any of you? I should have put a stop to this to a long long time ago.” He put a finger to the boy’s throat. There was still a pulse.
Kotcheff paced the room he ran both hands through his hair, wiped the grime from his face. He ripped off his bloody clothes; luckily he was wearing a t-shirt, some shorts underneath.
He needed to make a decision and quickly. “Okay, okay. There’s nothing...I have too...” He nodded his head. He went back to the table, made sure that the sheet was wrapped tightly around Lucien. It was already sodden with blood. Kotcheff picked him up.
He kicked open the door, ran down the maze of corridors and rooms but instead of going back out into the lobby he swung a left and ended up in the kitchen. He tried the back door but that was locked.
“Everything alright?” a voice behind him asked. “Or is that a stupid question?”
It was Claudette, the house-keeper. She had been washing a lettuce or something and was drying her hands. “What have you got there?”
Kotcheff looked down at Lucien; he was going extremely white in colour, all his blood was being drained away after all. “We...I...need to get him to a hospital. There’s been an accident...”
“Is he...?”
“He’s alive, just. But we have to be quick otherwise he won’t make it.”
“What happened?”
They both knew the rules; no-one was allowed to talk about what occurred in the Creator’s bedroom – that was the law. A wall of silence existed, even if everyone did have their suspicions...
“That doesn’t matter right now, but please, can you open this door,” he implored.
Claudette stared at him - she was unsure what to do.
“You know if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t ask...please help me...this one is special. We can’t lose him.”
She folded her towel, carefully laid it down then motioned to the rack hanging on the wall. “You will need the key...third on the right. I will have nothing to do with whatever you are planning to do...it will bring trouble to us all.”
“I’ll keep you out of it, if there’s any fall-out, I promise.” He blew her a kiss as he crossed the room, to where she had pointed, grabbed two sets of keys. “And before you ask, I’ll be back before anyone misses me...they are...otherwise engaged.”
Claudette turned her back. “Make sure you bring the car back in one piece.”
“I will, I will.”
“And I don’t want to see any blood on the upholstery! Now, hurry up, your friend is dripping on the floor.”
Kotcheff looked down. She was right. Several droplets had leaked and landed near his feet.
He had to go and go now.
He knew that she had helped him enough so he didn’t ask her to unlock the door for him, but he managed it himself after a couple of unsuccessful attempts. He pulled it shut behind him then ran down the steps, along the path then looked at the cars parked there in the driveway. He saw the small grey Citroën; pressed the button on the key-ring and disabled the alarm. He inserted the key, unlocked the car. He opened the back door, laid Lucien down on the seat.
“Hang on in there kid, I’ll get us to the hospital as soon as possible, I promise. Just don’t due on me, do you hear? Don’t you die on me!”
Kotcheff slammed the back door then got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“I need some assistance here, can someone help please!”
A nurse signalled to her colleagues, they rushed over to where Kotcheff was standing in the middle of the doorway.
“What’s happened?” a doctor asked as he approached.
“He’s been stabbed. My son has been stabbed. He’s dying. Please...there’s a pulse but...”
“It’s okay,” a nurse said smiling. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take it from here.”
Two orderlies appeared, pushing a gurney. Lucien was carefully laid down. Kotcheff moved aside as one of the nurses began connecting Lucien to different pieces of mobile machinery while the other applied as much pressure as she could to the gash to the boy’s neck.
“Okay, okay, let’s go...hurry please...” The doctor led the team to two plastic double doors. “Let’s get him to the emergency ward, quickly, quickly.”
Kotcheff wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked, he was covered in blood, it was on his clothes, in the pores of his skin.
He stayed exactly where he was for several moments then thought the best thing to do was get the hell out of there before he was missed back at the chateau but also before he was asked any awkward questions by the medical staff. He knew people were staring at him as it was...perhaps they had called the police too...
...Kotcheff turned, headed back to the entrance then stopped, there was a small child standing there. In his hand he held a metal toy, he held it up.
“I was told to give this to you,” the boy said.
Kotcheff took it turned it over.
It was a crimson butterfly.
“Thanks...told? Who told you to give it to me?”
The boy looked about him. “He’s gone now...he said his name was Rom...”
Nine
Louvois stood by the window.
“He’s coming,” he kept repeating over and over.
Behind him, at the small metal trolley was a nurse, Agathe Gillain. She was searching through the drawers of the medicine cabinet whilst at the same time cross-checking the notes scribbled on the clipboard which she held in her other hand.
“Please Monsieur Barlan, can you sit d
own!” she ordered as she selected various pills, dropping them one by one into the plastic organiser tray. When that was full she closed the cabinet doors, noted something down.
He scratched at his arms; the red tracks there suggested this was a normal occurrence. “Didn’t you hear me you stupid bitch?! I said he was coming!” Louvois snapped. Then added. “And boy is he angry, he’s fucking angry.”
Agathe slammed her fist down on the trolley, her pen fell to the floor, several of the pills were spilt too. “Now look what you’ve made me do you crazy little fuck!”
She took a deep breath, bent down, tried to gather up her scattered items. Why oh why oh why had she stayed on so long? This was only supposed to be a temporary placement but she’d been here three months – she had served her purpose, saved up the money she needed, she wanted to get the hell out of her apartment, she had her eye on that small house in Provence.
Agathe looked over to where Barlan was standing - a puddle had formed by his feet.
“Shit. Now what are you doing?” The anger rose in her voice.
Louvois wasn’t listening, neither did he seem to mind that he had pissed himself, he was concentrating on what was happening outside. Something definitely had his attention.
“This will not do, not do at all Monsieur Barlan. We will have to have you washed and changed, as well as having the floor scrubbed and sterilised. Why can’t you cunts ever do as you’re told?!”
Her jaw fell, had she really just said that?
Agathe grinned, her eyes wide. Yes, she had.
She looked around, there was nobody there, nobody had heard her outburst; it was the middle of the night after all.
Tonight’s shift there was only a handful of staff on. She only had to really worry about Pascal the ward supervisor and she hadn’t seen him for a good hour or so – he was probably in the rest-room jerking off!
There would be Felix of course, the security watch – she didn’t mind him at all, so much so that now and again she had sucked his cock – usually when he was flush with cash (normally after some good luck on the horses or if he’d won at poker with some of the other orderlies) and she didn’t mind being paid for what she did; it had only been once or twice so far and if truth be told, she didn’t mind doing it, not at all, she loved dick and couldn’t get enough of it! Big ones, small ones, thin ones, thick ones – she fucking loved them. Her only two provisos: they had to be clean and they had to be hard. Other than that: she wasn’t picky.
Now and again (she couldn’t believe she was actually admitting this), she’d also blown some of the patients but she’d almost got into trouble once, almost got caught. If push had come to shove though she would have talked her way out of that (blaming the insane patient obviously), even if she had had a cock in her mouth at the time. Sadly, most of the patients (probably because of the drugs they were on) couldn’t manage to get it up in the first place, let alone stay hard once they had.
She stared at Barlan – he really was a class-a nut-ball. She didn’t know much about him, but what she did know, she wasn’t impressed with. Saying that one thing she was aware of was that he wasn’t too dangerous - not a murderer or something. It could have been said that he was just one of those poor unfortunates thrust into the world, someone who couldn’t cope with modern life. Precious. Fragile. Something had happened to him when he was a kid or a teenager, she wasn’t sure of all the details and more recently he had gone a little more ‘loop-o’ than usual and was totally obsessed with butterflies.
Yes, okay, he had urinated on himself, but she began to think about that cock swinging there between his legs – she’d never seen it but she had heard one of the other nurses talking about it with that gay receptionist…Alexandre, yes…and the way they had described it – she was having naughty thoughts…
What the hell was he doing now?
He was trying to get himself up closer to the window, using the radiator. There was no chance he was going to manage to get through it (if that was indeed that was his intention) – the bars were made of iron for fuck’s sake. And silly boy, his pyjama bottoms were falling down as he climbed up, his (peachy) backside exposed for all to see…well not all, just this audience of one.
“Come back down will you, it’s time you had your pills.” She motioned to the organiser as she poured a beaker of water.
He still wasn’t listening though and truth be told, he hadn’t done half bad. He had one leg up on the window sill, using the bars as leverage. His pyjamas were now down by his knees, she could see his scrotum.
Agathe licked her lips, took a sip of the water, picked up one of the larger blue pills. She knew she shouldn’t, but what the hell? She popped it into her mouth, took another swig.
“Stop doing that, will you?” Not even sounding half convincing.
Louvois scratched at the glass, his attention was totally on something outside there. “He’s almost here,” Louvois stated.
“Who? What is this nonsense?” Agathe pushed the trolley out of the way, she went to the door, took a look through the glass. She was still alone, excellent, excellent. She rubbed her hands together, then reached into the hidden pocked in her uniform, took out the gossamer thin leather gloves, stretching them over her fingers as she pulled them on. There was something about leather on a big hard dick.
She turned and faced him.
“Come on,” she asked in a playful voice. “Why don’t you step down from there, take your pills, the bed is ready, let’s get you out of those wet clothes, we can dry you off, get you some new ones…tell you what, perhaps you don’t need any clothes at all, it’s a hot night…”
Agathe stepped forward. Louvois banged his head on the bars, softly to start with but then harder, much harder. All the time complaining that whoever it was, was coming. She winced as he smacked his head again.
“Will you stop that?” She rushed over, careful not to step in the puddle of piss. She knew she should have been stressed to the eyeballs but that pull was kicking in now. In fact she was felling mellow, she was feeling…turned on. Her skin felt electric, the sexual frisson flowed around her body, all centring on her intimate areas.
He butted his head again, so hard that he almost slipped off the radiator, a large welt had formed on his forehead but she ignored that (as did he if truth be told as he banged his head again). She reached up, touched the back of his thigh, tickled him, it felt amazing for her through the gloves…her heart was pounding hard, her mouth was dry but between her own legs…
…he was muttering something but she wasn’t listening, she was lost in herself. She was so hot. With her other hand she began to undo her uniform, her nipples were instantly hard. She rubbed the back of his legs, lightly skimmed the back of his balls then gently squeezed them. He looked down at her, a slightly confused look on his face.
“Please, the bed…” she managed to say. The shirt of her uniform completely open now, her hand in her bra, feeling her breast.
“What…what are you doing?” he scowled.
Agathe didn’t want to release his scrotum but she knew that was only part of the prize; he gave the flesh between his legs a gentle rub stroke. He purred. She took several steps backwards.
“The bed,” she motioned again. “I want you now…please…” She removed her shirt, undid her bra, dropped them both to the floor.
Slowly, Louvois climbed down from the window. He stepped in his own piss (not that he noticed) but she wasn’t bothered either, she undid her belt.
“Go on,” she said and slowly he did as he was asked – it was her turn to frown. She stared at his penis, it wasn’t all that and it wasn’t even hard! What more was a woman to do, she was offering herself on a plate, she’d caressed him and he hadn’t even got excited!
Louvois stood by the bed, he looked like a little boy lost, kept hitting the back of his head, staring at the window all the time too – what was the matter with him? She wasn’t being big-headed when she thought of herself as attractive and the hotness
of her body had been complimented a few times – she knew how to suck a cock and wasn’t a half-bad lay either – perhaps he just needed a little more encouragement.
Agathe stepped out of her shoes, her trousers, yanked off her panties. She ran a finger down her skin, between her legs.
“This is for you,” she said. “If you want it.” And Christ, she really hoped he did. She was as wet as fuck and she didn’t really fancy walking the corridors looking for someone else to screw. She wanted this nutter and she wanted him now. She pulled out her finger, licked the tip.
“I told you to get on the fucking bed.”
His mouth open, he went to say something but then thought better of it, so he did as he was asked and sat down.
“Lay back you silly fool,” she ordered.
Again, he did as Agathe asked; there was a slight look of panic on his face.
“Let’s try something to warm you up,” she went to the trolley, searched through the pills, chose a small red coloured one.
She climbed onto the bed, moved his legs to one side as she crawled up beside him. He stared at her with wide eyes.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with you,” she said. “But please, there is no reason to look so frightened. Open your mouth.”
“I’m not scared of you,” he whispered.
Agathe smiled. “That’s good, that’s good. Open wide.” She popped the pill in his mouth. “Go on, swallow it…that tastes good doesn’t it?”
The nurse didn’t wait for an answer, already she was undoing the buttons of his pyjama top, she ran a gloved hand over his chest, then down to his belly. There still wasn’t much life in his penis though it did look marginally bigger than a minute ago. She rested a hand on his pubic hair. “Don’t you guys shave anymore?” She tutted. He was quite hairy down there.
“My head hurts,” Louvois complained.
“Yes, I’m not surprised. You were butting those bars quite hard. What got into you?”