They dressed in silence, yet from that moment, when both hearts had stilled, all had changed between the two.
Malone awoke suddenly.
He had been dreaming about something... terrifying.
He had dreamt that he had come home in a drunken state to find the flat unlocked and instead of checking his apartment for unwanted visitors he had instead fallen asleep in his comfortable chair.
In the dream two creatures, that he could only describe as horrendous, had taken him through to his bedroom and stripped him, before tying him to the bed.
He had made to protest.
However they had calmed his complaints with reassurance that it would all be over soon.
When he had asked what the 'it' was, they had simply smiled and he had seemed to drift of in the actual dream itself.
This time he had gone into another dream.
A dream about a dark cave with candles that never burned down, and a passage way. He had walked down the passage way and been faced with a thousand jeering faces.
Then his dream had changed again, and one of the creatures was slumped beside him.
It was hard to tell where some parts of it ended and others began. Its eyes and mouth were stitched. Somehow he knew that the stitching was not thread.
The creature had been stitched with empty veins.
“Why are you all stitched up?” Malone had asked.
The creature had smiled.
Behind it another creature stood.
Malone could at least identify this one.
It was a werewolf.
It was massive, yet it was kept on a chain, which was held in the hand of the other creature. The one with stitched eyes.
“I asked you a question. But of course you can't answer.”
The creature smiled again.
The vein, which was woven tightly in angular knots through the lips and across the creatures mouth, began to expand as a red substance welled up inside in it.
Paralysed with fear, Malone could not turn his head and watched as one by one the knots started to loosen and the stitches became unfixed. Thick blood flowed freely from each end, and for a moment it took on a sickening glow, as if it was once again fulfilling its purpose of bring sustenance to another.
With a terrifying understanding Malone realised that he was the nourishment the beast before him wanted; and he watched in awe and terror as the creature stretched its mouth into a foot wide gap. The vein fell to the ground, blood still pumping from an invisible source.
Malone looked into the creatures mouth, yet it held no teeth, no tongue.
And then he heard the cries.
Voices, echoing from deep within it.
All of them pleading.
Begging to be set free.
It was all too much for him to bear.
The voices, the sight before him.
He made his escape in the only way he knew how.
Covering his ears with his hands he closed both eyes.
Yet that instant he knew this was no better, those things, they were still there, and he opened his eyes, screaming. His hands were once again by his side and he was lying down in bed.
He sat up.
Looked around the room, yet it was as it always was.
Empty.
Brought his hands up to his face.
His forehead felt damp.
It was all just a nightmare. A bad dream.
Letting out a relieved sigh he felt about the night stand for the yellow handkerchief he kept by his bedside.
The room was in near darkness, the glow from the street lamp outside his only source of light.
Felt smooth material, yet it was only the table cloth.
The lamp! Of course! Switch on the fucking lamp, you idiot!
He reached out with his hand and grasped for the switch.
His hand fell away.
The lamp was slippery.
Come to think of it, it was his hand.
He still hadn't wiped the sweat from it.
Damn, this is all a bit too...
He saw something move to his right.
Ever so slightly.
Suddenly he didn't want to turn the lights on.
"When I escape, what happens to you?"
"You bust me out. You and your friends. Don't forget old Brekin. But don't come visit!" and with that he let out a heartfelt belly laugh that made Candy giggle.
Now the sweat was pouring down him.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“Wfus er... at a.... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-”
“Has my friend got your tongue? Is that how it goes The Skin Walker?” said Sownd Ka
“It is a joke about a cat. Do not compare me to a domesticated pet you abomination of greed,” replied The Skin Walker.
“This was the deal. I get the soul, you get the flesh. Starting with the tongue so he couldn't scream. You know how much better a soul tastes when the giver is alive.”
“I shall assume that question rhetorical, as you always get the soul when we feast together.”
“I forget sometimes you aren't like the others who share your nature The Skin Walker. Please forgive me. Sometimes I think you are but a stupid Mexican dog. If you like we can take you for walkies after dinner.”
Malone could not believe what he was hearing.
Someone, no correction; something had bitten out his tongue, and now it stood there arguing with... the image of the creature from his dream arose in his mind and he attempted to scream for help again, although the sound came out like a squealing pig.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Aeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!”
He fumbled for the lampshade, his fear of what had clearly happened being overridden by his need for confirmation. He understood now it was not sweat that was making this simple task so difficult, and when the light finally shone around him he gazed in horror at the blood which covered his hand.
Then at the mirror which had been placed in front of him.
All the skin had been removed from his face.
His hair remained.
He opened his mouth and noted the severed tongue.
He tried to ignore the thought how, yet what else could he concentrate on.
This had to still be a dream, yet he knew it was not.
“Will you hurry up? Eat the fucking thing. I want to get the fuck out of here.”
The wolf was no longer there and in its place stood an ordinary looking man.
Only the eyes revealed a glimpse of his true nature.
There were no pupils to them. Only two red ovals.
And the teeth.
The teeth were sharp, fang like in appearance.
The being saw him staring and Malone looked away.
Afraid.
He thought he had wet the bed and looked before he could stop himself.
Yet something felt different there too.
Moaned.
Had been castrated.
He glanced again at the wolf creature, and saw a smile there as it licked it's lips with relish.
“Ill ee! Eeeeeeeeess! Ush Ill eeh.”
“Sorry. My acquaintance is being quite rude and is insisting on leaving, yet you and I have a dinner date together. The Skin Walker, be a dear would you?”
The wolf creature stepped towards Malone and before he knew what was happening, he felt his hair being pulled and a lightness above that hadn't been there before.
Watched as his scalp was thrown in the corner of the room.
He tried to get out of bed, yet fell on the floor.
Noticed his feet were missing.
Wondered why he felt no pain.
Maybe it was just a dream after all....
Maybe he was just about to wake up.
The wolf-man started doing something to his brain.
Agony flooded his every nerve ending.
“Is it all reconnected again? You know the brain meat never tastes good without the mixture of adr
enaline and endorphins,” said Sownd Ka.
“Again I'm assuming that's rhetorical, because you always eat the brain meat when we go to dinner together. Xcetral shares. Mephinie always insists I get the soul. But you. You, always get the brain AND the fucking soul!” The Skin Walker replied in an angry tone which sounded far too normal to Malone for the situation it was addressing.
“And for that fabulous chemical mix, our friend here needs to be in as much fear and pain as possible,” Sownd Ka continued as if his train of thought had not been interrupted.
“Whatever, you obese pig. I'm going for a fucking drink. I don't know why I bother spending time with you. You're the most selfish of us all,” The Skin Walker snorted with derision and walked through the window, disappearing from view.
Sownd Ka loomed over Malone who lay sprawled on the floor. “Ignore him. He is so very very rude. Now, where were we?”
Sownd Ka opened his mouth.
Now there were teeth.
Lots and lots of sharp teeth.
The stains on them looked fresh, could only be one thing.
Blood.
Ka licked his lips.
“Welcome to your new home.”
Candy kissed Brekin on the cheek and they went inside.
As she passed the round plastic clock which sat above the nurses’ station she saw it was two minutes to six and she quickened her pace to the ward's television area.
A soap opera was playing, with only old Gladys glued to the screen. Ignoring the T.V remote which sat on Gladys' lap, Candy marched up to the television and tuned it into the correct channel.
“I was watching that. Thing was just about to finish,” said Gladys, a resentful tone to her voice.
She had been in Rosenhan for nearly fifty years and all she had left were her soaps.
Candy flicked the channel. “I'm sorry about that Gladys, but this is really impor-” the remainder of her sentence slipped away as. The scene that lay before her, encapsulated within a cube of glass, was one of chaos and alarm.
Excited voices and authoritative shouts, erratically punctuated with bursts of static, set the atmosphere for the scene that was taking place this very minute outside one of the cities many Brownstones.
Police cars lay strewn about as if simply abandoned upon arrival; however it was apparent that the officers themselves had been arranged in such a way that their bodies would show little of whatever was happening near and around the lone ambulance, which had been parked with the doors backing onto the Brownstone's entrance.
An argument was ensuing between a woman in a blue skirt and blazer and someone Candy took to be a high ranking officer of some kind, given that he wore a suit. She took a closer look at his face and recognised him as the other officer who had interrogated her around the time of her questioning.
He looked like he had been punched in the guts.
She remembered how heated he had gotten at some of her remarks, how Malone had calmed him to an extent. Come to think of it, she couldn't see his partner in law anywhere.
A horrible notion stole over her.
She felt her body react, as it would had it devoured something that it bore allergy to.
No, that wasn't even close.
She felt completely sickened, like she had just discovered she had been fed parts of her own brain matter.
The woman in the blue blazer marched defiantly towards the camera, where the crew seemed to have gotten the static problem under control.
In her current state of waning disbelief and growing panic she did not recognise the reporter as the one who she had watched interview Malone that very first time in the university or again in the hotel room, in the hours leading up to her capture.
For the moment all trace of irony, acausal or otherwise was lost to her as she listened to the reporters words.
“...Detective Malone has been identified as the victim of this brutal murder...” – and nearly collapsed.
The rest of what the reporter was saying was tuned out by the one recurring thought that sprang immediately to mind.
SHIT!
He had been her safety net, had been the only person standing between Nowes and the other one, McKenna, from cutting her up.
He had also begun to believe in what she had been saying and had been snooping around. And now he was dead.
She had to talk to Brekin.
The moment she stood she felt the vomit rise in her chest. She staggered towards the nearest of the small blue baskets the ward provided for the disposal of litter and let fly a steady jet of garish orange and brown fluid, over day old cigarette packets and empty juice boxes.
A nurse rushed to her aid but she waved her off, and wiped her mouth.
“S'fine. Just need cig... arrete,” the nurse nodded, unsure of what the protocol was for vomiting psychopaths.
Candy did not pay her a second glance as she headed towards the smoking room, and Brekin nodded remorsefully as she entered. “He dead, huh,” a statement, undeniable.
"What am I gonna do?" she asked the giant Rasta.
"Do what you normally do. Kill them."
CHAPTER TWENTY
RANDOLPH LOSES A FORTUNE
Fortune McKenna reclined in his leather chair and reflected on his name.
It was said that fortune favoured the bold. Well, Fortune was certain that were a trait he possessed; however, at this moment he was silently giving thanks to whoever had done him the favour of killing that damned arrogant ass-hole cop. He had been listening to the news on his office radio as he did whenever he worked in the evenings and at first could not believe his luck.
Yet, there had been no mistake.
A simple phone call to the Detective's precinct regarding Malone's involvement in the Jennifer Bird incident had been pretext enough to get the confirmation that Detective inspector Malone was as dead as a fucking dodo. And so far as the moment went, nothing could have made him happier.
He had been drawing up plans for some months on how to operate on the one the media, and even some of the staff, had dubbed Psycho Candy.
Malone's sudden interest in the bitch had made those plans all but impossible.
Now the prick was dead however, he was free again to pursue his passion for the dissection of the various parts of the human brain. And he only had one particular brain in mind.
That very afternoon, over a lunch of beef burgeons and a few stiff whiskeys he had decided that he would take Candy in for a chat. So it was with much trepidation from Candy and none whatsoever from Fortune that Candy entered his office. Fortune didn’t bother with security. He was not fat like Randolph and fancied he could take one little woman.
He sat behind a massive desk. Directly behind his desk hung an oblong silver rimmed mirror which spanned from the floor to the ceiling. It had once belonged to his predecessor, who had died before retiring from his position at Rosenhan, and had wound up a permanent fixture.
Fortune had no intention of dying before his retirement from Rosenhan, and every intention of taking the mirror with him when he left. Sitting opposite him, Candy gazed at the reflected image of Fortune adjusting his cuffs, then turned her attentions to the man himself.
"So, Candy. I’d like to ask about perhaps getting some permission for a few minor experiments?"
"Cut me up you mean?"
"Candy. You’re a killer. I don’t think John Q public is really gonna give a shit."
"At least you’re honest..."
"Honest, yes..."
Meanwhile in the Covenant of the Damned, Mephinie, Xcetral
and Shub Niggurath sat gazing into the ether with fascination.
This man, McKenna, planned on lobotomising Candy, and all three had admitted to each other, away from the rest of their brethren, that perhaps Candy's game had become a little to interesting to let her now become a vegetable. In fact it was with whispered agreement that perhaps they should severely stack the odds in Candy's favour of no such thing happening whatsoever.
Bac
k in Fortune's office the conversation continued.
"So basically now Malone's dead, you think you've got free reign. You think that-" Candy froze mid sentence.
McKenna paid no heed as he interjected.
"I think you fail to see the fringe benefits. If we make the public sure you have been suitably operated on, and all the violent urges taken for you, I really think we could have you up for release by the end of the year."
Candy had smoked the last of her stash of crack, which amounted to a great deal, immediately prior to coming to Fortune's office. She had found that she killed mercilessly and without any thought of consequence while on the drug, and had also snorted a few lines of K for good measure and the shit was going to hit the fan soon.
He planned on turning her brain to mush, so in return she now planned to kill him as quickly and painfully as a speedy death would allow.
She had been about to lunge at him after finishing her sentence. However, something behind him, on the mirror, had caught her eye, and he had interjected, unaware that he had been moments away from an attempt on his life.
Candy gazed on; transfixed with awe as ripples spread outwards in a circular fashion, like the surface of a lake after a heavy rock has been dropped into it.
"And that's really the best you can hope for, really, Candy. There will be no more of these hideous delusions to trouble you and you'll be pretty much as you were before you even came here. Maybe you could even think about taking up some kind of work again, huh?"
The ripples began to vibrate now, faster and faster, disappearing into the glass and leaping out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
At first Candy thought she was hallucinating.
Still, it continued.
In.
Out.
In.
And from amongst the spirals flew out the form of Shub Niggurath.
It was at this point that Candy realised that this was no hallucination and Fortune realised that she wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.
With a snort of derision he turned to see what was so damned important behind him, and came face to face with the Goat faced Goddess, Shub Niggurath.
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