by Bryan Smith
She giggled like a teenager. “What’s the matter, William? Afraid of your sweet, loving mother?” Her voice became more stern. “I told you to get up, and you best obey me.” Her eyes gleamed with feral intent. “Get up so I can kill you.”
Will’s back met the side of his bed.
His mother took a step toward him.
Will whimpered.
His mother’s sneer became an ugly smile. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy murdering you, William. You have no idea how much it will mean for me. Lamia richly rewards willing sacrifices.”
The door to the room flew open. Will felt a surge of joy at the sight of his father regarding them with horror. Blake Mackeson was still in his work clothes—khaki slacks, a starched white shirt, and a maroon necktie loosened around his collar. He looked weary, the way he always did after a day at the office.
“What the hell is going on here, Alexis?”
Alexis smiled sweetly at her husband. “The most wonderful thing, darling. I’m going to kill our pathetic son.”
Blake’s expression changed, became strangely neutral. “Huh. Why?”
“Because he’s been messing where he shouldn’t be messing. Now be a dear and bring me your gun. I’d like to put a bullet through his head right now.”
Blake’s entire demeanor changed. He sighed. Will sensed surrender in that sound. And sadness. Maybe even regret. But Will knew he would do as ordered. He could see it in the man’s posture and in his eyes—he was his wife’s slave.
“Now, Blake!” Alexis snapped. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Okay.”
His dad left the room. Will slumped against the bed and stared at his mother’s ankles. He should be doing something, maybe attempting a desperate dash to freedom, but he felt too numb to act. Too much had happened. The world he’d known had changed forever.
His mother continued to taunt him. “What’s it like, William? How does it feel to know that all that remains of your life is a precious handful of seconds?” She laughed. “What do you think it’s going to feel like when I shoot you?”
Will imagined high-velocity lead punching through his forehead. Tears welled in his eyes again.
His mom giggled. “If it makes you feel any better, you were going to die tomorrow anyway. I’ll just be putting you out of your misery early. Why, you could almost call this a mercy killing.”
“You were already planning to kill me? Why?”
“Not me, sweet child o’ mine. Lamia. You would have suffered much more horribly at the Harvest.”
“The what?”
“The Harvest of Souls. Tomorrow afternoon a special assembly will be held at your school. And Lamia will feast. All your friends will die.”
Will didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
His mother had an almost rapturous look on her face. She looked like one of those true believers at a Holy Roller tent revival meeting. Any moment now she’d start clapping her hands and singing a rollicking song of praise. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. She swayed a little on her feet, licked her lips, and caressed her hips. There was something more than just a little sexual underneath the faux-religious fervor. It was disturbing, but no more so than anything else that had happened in the last several minutes.
Will heard footsteps entering the room. That would be his dad, returning as ordered with the gun. He closed his eyes and tried to make his mind blank. He knew there would be no last-minute rescue. No chance of escape.
Just make it fast, he prayed.
He heard a loud, metallic sound, the clack of a gun being cocked.
Then he heard a gasp from his mother.
Astounded, Will opened his eyes and saw a miracle. Kelsey Hargrove stood just inside the doorway to the room. His arms were extended in front of him, aiming a .38 revolver at Alexis Mackeson’s head.
Kelsey glanced at his friend. “Dude, I’m beginning to detect a weird fucking trend.”
Will’s mom snarled like a rabid beast.
She turned toward Kelsey, her body tensing for a leap.
Kelsey gulped. His hands trembled. The barrel of the gun wavered a bit. “Don’t do it, Mrs. Mackeson.”
Alexis grinned. “How nice. This is more than I could have hoped for. Before I kill William, I get to make him watch his friend die.”
She moved with astonishing speed, propelling herself at Kelsey like a shell fired from a cannon.
The sound the gun made was very loud in the small room.
Will screamed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The world seemed different now to Jake. It had taken on a peculiar, surreal tint. Paranoia colored every thought. He perceived dark schemes and conspiracies behind every word, and a threat in every glance. It was similar in some respects to the way he’d often felt during his brief cocaine period.
He steered his Camry into Stu Walker’s driveway and parked it by rote, like a preprogrammed robot. Even that thought fueled his paranoia. How much control, really, did he have over his own body and its actions? Sometimes very little, it seemed. Yet he had no choice but to keep moving forward.
He entered Stu’s house through the front door and darkness enveloped him. It was as if the world had blinked out, as if he’d suddenly ceased to exist. There was something so comforting—so tempting—about that notion. Then his eyes adjusted to the twilight gloom penetrating the living room windows that overlooked the front yard. His gaze went immediately to the sofa Kristen had been sleeping on when he first glimpsed her.
She wasn’t there.
He groped to the left and found a light switch. Light flooded the foyer and the living room. He locked the front door and went into the kitchen. At a loss as to what to do next, he simply settled into a chair at the kitchen table and closed his eyes. He emptied his mind and focused on the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the low thrum becoming something else as he eased into a state akin to meditation. It was the gentle obliteration of self and feeling, an ascent away from the hurt and confusion his life had become. Maybe if he stayed this focused, he really could float away. His consciousness, his essence, might disperse in the ether, just cease to be.
The sound of heels on linoleum snapped him out of it. He opened his eyes and saw Kristen entering the kitchen through the garage entrance. The sight of her had a curative effect. He came back to himself in an instant, consciousness and awareness slamming home with jarring force.
She showed him a smile, but it became a frown. She wore crisp black slacks and a stylish blazer over a bright white shirt. A business outfit. Her hair was styled and her makeup was impeccable. She hardly resembled the girl he’d met this morning. If anything, she looked far sexier now. He found he couldn’t say anything to her, at least not right away. He didn’t know how to talk to this new Kristen. Though he was happy to see her, he also felt a stirring of sadness. A woman of this caliber was not meant for the likes of Jake McAllister.
She dropped her purse on the table and took the chair next to him, turning it so they were facing each other. “Sorry, I don’t always dress up like this. I was out on a job interview.” Her frown deepened as she studied his face. “Jake, what’s wrong? Where’s Trey? Why aren’t you guys out doing male-bonding stuff?”
Jake laughed. It sounded strange coming out of his mouth. He wasn’t the least amused, nor was there anything funny in what he had to say. “My mother is in jail. She’ll probably be in jail for a long, long time. My brother’s at the police station being interrogated. I had to get out of there. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do. They said they’d call when they’re through with him.”
Kristen was stunned. “Whoa, whoa, whoa…back up a little, Jake. What the hell’s going on? Why is your mother in jail? Why are the police questioning Trey?”
So he told her about the events of that afternoon, taking his time, including every detail he could remember. “So that’s why I’m out of sorts. To understate. I don’t know what’s gonna happen n
ext—Christ, there’s so much to consider—but I suppose I’ll be at least temporarily responsible for Trey.”
Kristen let out a long, low whistle. “My God. How awful. No wonder you’re so out of it.”
Jake smiled. “Oh, I’m always a little out of it. That’s status quo for me. But the reality of what’s happened is just starting to sink in. It’s too strange. I never anticipated anything like this, of course, but I’ve always known my mother is capable of great cruelty.” His face darkened as images of Hal’s mutilated body came back to him. “Someday I’ll tell you my personal experiences with Jolene McAllister’s idea of the proper way to discipline a child.”
Kristen squeezed his hands. “I wish I could make it all better for you.”
Jake looked into her eyes and felt those things one feels in the presence of someone special—a tightness in his chest and a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He wanted to kiss her. Not just on the mouth, but on her eyelids, her chin, all along that delicate, lovely jawline. She must have sensed what he was thinking, because she leaned into him for a kiss. Jake shuddered at the contact. He shifted toward her, sliding to the edge of his chair as he encircled her with his arms and drew her close. The kiss deepened, and she came out of her chair, planting a knee on the edge of Jake’s chair between his legs. She pushed him against the back of the chair, fell against him, and continued kissing him with a breathtaking hunger.
She broke the contact long enough to say, “I know what you need.”
Her eyes blazed with desire matched by Jake’s own. But that familiar voice of common decency spoke within him again. He could not fuck Stu’s sister. Not yet. And not in this house.
Kristen sighed. “Jesus. I can see those wheels spinning behind your eyes again. Listen up, Jake.” She clamped a hand around his jaw and leaned even closer, so close that her mouth brushed his when she spoke. “Fuck waiting till we know each other better. Fuck every motherfucking thing holding you back.” The hand clamped around his jaw moved to the back of his head, where she seized a handful of his hair and pulled his head back. She grinned. “Most of all, fuck me.”
Her free hand went to his zipper and started to pull it down.
Jake moaned.
He gripped her by the shoulders and, as gently as possible, pushed her back. “We can’t.”
Kristen groaned in disgust. “Christ, Jake, you’re as uptight as my Bible-thumping old granny.”
Jake winced. She was right. And he knew what his real problem was—he was afraid of this next step. It wasn’t so much that it was happening so soon, but that it was happening at all. Intimacy, in his mind, equated with vulnerability. And being vulnerable terrified him. “I’m sorry, Kristen.”
“You’re not getting off the hook so easy. There’s something you don’t know.” There was a wicked glint in her eyes, a hint of secret knowledge. “Stu’s gone. He won’t be back for weeks.”
The revelation dampened Jake’s libido. “What? He just took off? That doesn’t make sense.”
Kristen raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
A furrow in Jake’s brow deepened. Stu had struck Jake as the sturdy, dependable type. His sudden absence stirred the paranoia in Jake’s mind. Something just wasn’t right about this. On the other hand, what reason did he have to suspect something was wrong? “Where did he go?”
“You don’t know my baby brother too well. He’s very impulsive. One of his exes, Lorelei something or other, came into the bar today. One thing led to another. You know how that is.” She grinned. “Anyway, they went away together.”
“Just like that? Won’t he lose his job?”
Kristen shook her head. “No. Stu’s boss, this guy named Russ, is cool about things like that. He and Stu go off camping and hunting all the time. So Stu and Lorelei are gone. They’ll be in a mountain cabin Russ owns in the Rockies for a while. Weeks maybe, as I said.”
Jake’s paranoia eased some. Kristen was right. He didn’t know Stu very well. Still, it gnawed at him that the guy had vanished so suddenly, and without waiting around long enough to let him know in person what was going on.
But now something else was bothering him. “So…it’s okay if I stay here all that time while he’s gone?”
“Oh, yeah.” She seized the front of his shirt. “That’s not the only thing that’s okay.”
She got to her feet and pulled him out of his chair. She began pulling him toward the living room. Jake stumbled along after her. Some part of him still wanted to stop this. But Kristen was so beautiful. And she so clearly wanted him. There was nothing at all wrong with this. Not really. Kristen tugged him along until they reached the sofa, where he’d seen her sleeping this morning. She shrugged off her blazer, gripped the front of his shirt again, and fell back onto the sofa, pulling him down on top of her. They kissed and writhed on the sofa for a while, dry-humping like teenagers, then she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back, all the way to the far end of the sofa. She smiled. She lifted her ass off the sofa and began to wriggle out of her slacks. Once they were down around her ankles, she kicked them away. Then she kicked off her shoes, braced the soles of her bare feet on the sofa, and spread her legs like a flower.
She parted the lips of her labia with a thumb and forefinger. She licked her lips. “Taste me, Jake.”
Jake shivered.
He couldn’t believe how brazen she was. It excited him. And it frightened him. His heart hammered in his chest. He knelt between Kristen’s legs, and she propped an ankle over his shoulder. He leaned toward her and began. She groaned, almost growled like an animal, and writhed against the sofa. Listening to her fueled Jake’s excitement, and he began to lose himself in the act, all of his previous inhibitions falling away, sloughing off like a shed skin.
Kristen sat up and gripped his neck. “I want you in me. Hurry.”
All Jake could think of now was Kristen and how good being with her felt. He wanted to get deep inside her and stay there forever, just disappear, fuck the world and his problems away. Of all the ways to escape, what could be better? He pulled his shirt off and cast it aside, then got to his feet and began to push down his jeans.
The phone rang.
The noise broke the spell. Jake’s head turned toward the kitchen. And he remembered what was going on in the world. His mother was in jail and his brother was being interrogated by the police. And what was he doing? He wasn’t looking into his legal obligations. Nor was he doing any of the things a person in his position should be doing. Nope, he was doing what he always did—losing himself in yet another form of intoxication.
Three rings.
Four.
He sighed.
Kristen groaned. “Ignore it.”
Stu’s recorded voice emanated from the answering machine in the kitchen: “You’ve reached the Walker residence. Leave a message at the beep.”
Then the beep, followed by: “Ah…if I have the right number, this message is for Jake McAllister. This is Detective Myers with the Rockville Police Department. I think you should get down here as soon as possible.”
Myers recited his direct line and hung up.
Jake’s shoulders sagged. “Jesus.” He put a hand to his forehead. “What the hell could be wrong now?”
Kristen got to her feet and pressed her body against Jake. She laid her head in the crook of his neck, hooked her hands over his shoulders, and wrapped a leg around him. “Whatever it is, you can handle it.” She stroked his bare chest. “You’re stronger than you think, I bet.”
Jake didn’t reply to that.
The soft tips of her fingers slid down his chest, moved over his deflating cock, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked into his eyes. “I’m not through with this.”
Jake made an exasperated sound. “Kristen—”
She shushed him. “Quiet.” She relinquished her hold on him. “You have duty to attend to, I know that.” She smiled. “But I expect you to finish what you started later to night.”
Again, Jake didn’t repl
y.
The sensation he experienced then was akin to a mental free fall. The world felt shaky beneath his feet. He loved the way this woman’s body felt against his, and he loved being in her arms. She just made him feel good. So why did he have this nagging feeling that plunging headfirst into a sexual relationship with her was a dangerous thing?
He grimaced when she tightened her grip on him and dug her nails into his shoulders.
She drew the nails down his back.
His breath grew shallow as Kristen drew blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Trey wanted to die. Through everything, he’d managed to hold on to some shred of sanity by believing he could rescue Myra from whatever horrible force was using her body. But he didn’t believe that anymore. The girl he’d known as a pretty outcast and fellow high school senior had never really existed. Myra was an illusion. A facade. A disguise. Brilliantly conceived and rendered, but a disguise nonetheless. Coming to grips with this should have brought him a mea sure of peace, but it had not. With the well-being of his illusory girlfriend no longer a consideration, his thoughts had initially turned to saving himself. But he knew this wasn’t possible.
So he wanted to die.
He heard it again.
That mad, sadistic laughter inside his head. Her laughter. Wherever she was now—and he’d lost track of her earlier in the day—part of her remained with him. Inside him. She was able to reach into his mind regardless of physical proximity. She was privy to his every thought, his every emotion. It was maddening. And terrifying. It made him want to claw out of his own skin.
The cops thought there was something wrong with him. He could see it in their eyes. And it was evident in the way they flinched every time he reacted to Myra’s mental taunts. That one guy, the detective who dressed like a businessman, had put a halt to the interrogation when Trey had slipped and yelled at Myra to get out of his head. And his court-appointed attorney had said something about an “evaluation.”