Ren gasped, feeling his own lust rise. Despite the horror and disgust at the sight before him, it was too late.
He cried out and came in his pants as the demon vanished between the legs of the girl.
NOW
“Join my church. My flock needs to watch...”
Ren knew that this wasn’t the girl speaking but the thing that had crawled inside her. It had spoken of others like her, of demons in charge of the new evils of the world. Is this how they’ve gone undetected? By hiding inside people? Its current choice was the perfect disguise, having such perversion masked by the innocence of a child. Yet in some parts of the world, this image was the ultimate in sexual desire. Had the demon chosen this vessel for anonymity or worship?
“I could make you,” said Lempo, “but that’s no fun. I like desperation.” She pinched Lydia’s nipple, drawing out a pleasured moan. “They come to me, down on their luck, needing money, revenge…some would rather spend their time fucking and licking than sitting in a call centre or behind a checkout. They do it willingly, get a taste, become a little like me. It’s a compliment, I guess. They are the light that bring the fireflies.” She laughed. “Not that I need much light these days. All the world is fire! Burning in desire, fuelled by repression! All those books, sites, shows…all that lust…all for me. My revolution.”
“L-Look,” said Ren, concentrating on the thugs, Hiisi and Paha. They’d received none of their master’s guile and allure. Their endless circling proved a welcome distraction from the siren who now stroked Lydia frantically between the legs. Ren had to shout over the cries of orgasm. “I didn’t want this! I can…go back. Things can be as they were. Just don’t…” He chanced a glance at Lydia. The way she drooled, how her eyes had rolled back and her body trembled. She mouthed incoherent prayers to a god that was closer than she knew. “I can’t be like this!”
“But you’ve seen me now, dear,” said the demon. “Do you know what would happen if we were found out? Religion, is what happens. Some of my brothers have back up plans for that disaster, those concerned with money, power, genocide, but I’ll be screwed. They don’t allow porn in church. Unless they start televising priests fiddling with choirboys, genius, I’ll be out of a job. No, I can’t let you go. But…if you’re unwilling to take this gift…”
The little girl pulled her fingers from Lydia and licked the tips.
Ren squeezed his eyes shut tight and turned his head away.
“Paha, get me a phone,” said Lempo after slurping her fingers clean. “Time to transfer some funds.”
THEN
Ren gasped, trying to catch his breath. Every moment brought a warm and sticky reminder of the load he now carried in his boxer shorts.
What is wrong with me?
He’d never been into the child stuff, not even tempted out of macabre curiosity. He looked back through the slat.
The creature had vanished, leaving behind the flickering monitor and smear of juices across the desk. The girl opened her eyes and, after taking a second to compose herself, stood from the chair and strode out of the room, awake and alert.
Ren watched her move. It was just a little girl. She brought no stirring, inspired no carnal thoughts.
It was that thing, he thought, not the girl.
Hands grabbed Ren around the ankles and jerked him from his precarious pile of rubbish. He tumbled to the hard cobbles, and a square kick caught him in the ribs. The air, and the fight, whooshed out of him.
Ren flopped onto his back and met the grin of a lean man with a shaven head.
“So you want to see?” He snorted and spat on the ground. “That’s all you fuckers ever want.”
Ren screamed as he was seized by the hair and pulled to his feet.
NOW
“You were late,” Lempo continued, walking ahead of them down a corridor. “Late to sign in. And you turn up in person! We get a few customers that get…attached to the girls, but we’ve never had one show up before.”
“How did you know it was me?”
Hiisi planted a fist into Ren’s stomach, instantly silencing him.
For the first time, the girl looked back over her shoulder. “I am the god of porn, dear. Every time you’re watching me, I’m watching you.” She winked. “Think about that next time you fancy some…alone time.” She turned back. “Come on. He’ll be waiting.”
Her two thugs had dragged him away from Lydia, who continued to perform on the scarlet sheets. They passed rows of other beds that each had a computer and camera set up beside, and through a door at the far end. He barely had time to consider escape as Paha and Hiisi pushed and pulled, clamped on each arm. They’d thrown him down a short set of stairs and were back on him before he could get to his feet and run. Lempo had walked at the head of the group.
“What are you going to do?” Ren gasped.
“Nothing,” said Lempo. “I make love, not War. But you refused the love.”
“It wasn’t love. Just sex.”
“Even better.”
They stopped at an unmarked door. Lempo pushed it open and stepped into the darkness. Her muscled minions forced Ren in after her.
The room stank of rot and mould, the opposite of the demon’s very human and sexual stench. While far from sweet, the demon brought memories of wet sheets after nights of passion and the time he’d been fourteen and stole his neighbour’s underwear, smelling a woman’s intimacy for the first time.
This stink was the opposite. He gagged on the reek of spoiling.
“I could never kill anyone,” came Lempo’s disembodied voice through the total blackness. “Not all evil involves murder, you know. Our arrangement is quite specific. A little kink is well within my kingdom. Whips and leather, spanking and paddles? Delicious! But more than that? Sorry, dear. That just isn’t my department…”
Bright overhead lights snapped on, blinding Ren. He squinted against the sudden glare.
The men ushered him forward, deeper into the foul room. His shocked retinas started to make out the grisly details about him.
“No,” he screamed, trying in vain to fight his captors. “No!”
The men turned Ren back towards the open doorway. A tall, thin figure lurched towards them.
“But perhaps my brother can make some use of you,” said Lempo, sounding bored. “What do you think…Snuff? Time for your revolution?”
The ghoul grinned, revealing two saw blades embedded in torn, bleeding gums.
Ren sagged in the grasp of his tormentors. Every alleged torture clip, public execution and rape flick shone through the smile. Evil needs authority to guide it.
“Yes…,” rasped the creature, “and the…revolution…will definitely…be televised…”
M Is For Moloch
A Small Sacrifice
Christine Dougherty
“Molly Och?” Rebecca looked from the paper in her hand to her friend across the table. “What kind of name is Och?”
Caroline tapped nervously, then curled her fingers under. “I don’t know; Danish or something? Swedish or…I don’t know. But it’s, you know, Northern.”
Her eyebrows arched above the black lenses of her oversized sunglasses.
“She’s not, like, ethnic or anything.” A gathering of small indignant lines appeared like corduroy across her forehead.
She better get her ass to the salon and get that shit toxed, Rebecca thought. She looks thirty! You could bury children in those fissures. After a pointed stare at Caroline’s forehead, Rebecca turned her attention back to the resume.
“You’ve only had her on for three months?”
“Yes, that’s right, but it was enough time to know,” Caroline said. She dipped her head and Rebecca leaned closer, frowning. There had been something in Caroline’s lenses, some kind of flash or…
“She loved the kids. Loves, I mean. She loves the kids.” Caroline’s hand came up and she grabbed for her latte. Her fingers connected roughly with the cup, toppling it across the table. “Oh!”
/>
Rebecca slammed her chair back as the hot frothy mess first blurred the lines of the resume and then splashed onto the floor. “Jesus, Caroline! Are you stoned or something? Shit!” She cast an angry glance to the counter. “Hey! Coffee lady!” A middle-aged woman in a green and white apron looked up in surprise. “There’s a mess you need to see to over here. Chop chop!”
Rebecca reached down for Caroline’s wrist and pulled her up. Caroline dropped the wad of napkins she’d been pushing through the mess on the table.
“What are you doing?” Rebecca asked. Her voice was shocked and indignant, as though she’d found her friend shitting on the floor. “You don’t work here do you? Jesus.”
Caroline bared her teeth in apology and let Rebecca lead her to a clean table. “Another latte over here, too,” Rebecca said. The barista opened her mouth to protest but Rebecca overrode her. “You didn’t have that lid on tight enough. I’ll sue your ass.” She snapped over her shoulder. “And don’t spit in it, either. I’ll save the cup and have it tested.”
Rebecca threw herself down opposite her friend and huffed out a long, slow breath. The yoga might be great for her disgusting baby gut, but it wasn’t helping her anger. The yoga teacher, who’d said she just needed her chi centered, was a jackass. She brushed at her blonde bangs and patted around her ponytail to make sure it was still tight. Then she turned her attention back to Caroline.
“Why are you trying to dump this girl on me? Tell me the truth…” Rebecca reached across to push Caroline’s glasses down. “Is she…” Her voice dropped in pitch. “Is she fat?”
“No, God! Rebecca, she’s not fat at all! I’d never ask you to take on a fatso!” The lines were back on Caroline’s forehead. “In fact, she’s gorgeous!”
Rebecca sat back. Now she understood. Caroline was not unattractive, certainly–anyone who spends enough is never completely unattractive–but she wasn’t pretty. She just didn’t have good genes. Rebecca was a firm believer in genetics; at least her own theory of them. In Rebecca’s theory, old money was the lifeblood of attractiveness. It bought good nutrition, good dental care, good corrective surgeries…everything that was important. It was this generational attractiveness that was passed down.
She felt sorry for her friend. Caroline’s husband was not rich, rich but he had enough and his money made him choosy. Flirty. A wanderer. Rebecca didn’t have to worry about that with her own husband, Brian, because their money came from her family. Brian even worked for her dad. He’d never dare stray. Straying would be the end of his gravy train.
As far as Rebecca was concerned, it was the perfect situation all around.
But, poor Caroline! Now the pretty new nanny had caught her husband’s roving eye and she wanted the girl gone! Rebecca almost laughed. So trite. So stereotypical. She brushed a smudge of whipped cream from the strap of her Gucci purse and sighed. Caroline had always been a bit of a nudge. A sad sack.
Tagging desperately along behind the big girls, getting a run in her tights or losing the heel from her shoe. Rebecca had roomed with Caroline in college and though Caroline had been there on scholarship, Rebecca had still allowed the girl to be her friend. It was the least she could have done for the poor, homely little thing.
“Well,” Rebecca said and sighed to indicate the burden she was taking on. “I’ll meet with her. I could use someone to help out with Tucker and Jayden. I’ve been getting really busy lately with my classes.”
“Oh! What classes are you taking?” Caroline asked. “I was thinking about taking something, too. Maybe French? You know how I’m obsessed with France! I’d kill to be able to live there.”
Rebecca closed her eyes as if pained. “No, not that kind of class. I meant Pilates and hot yoga.” Of course, her ‘pilates’ class was actually her ‘fucking Sal Palmieto’ class. But she’d never tell Caroline or any of her friends about it. It was slightly embarrassing to be fucking a Wop. Yes, he was technically a business owner, but it was a pizza shop. And he was a Catholic. Practicing. Rebecca shuddered inwardly.
“I should probably take fitness classes, too,” Caroline said. “But it’s hard when you have to work.”
Rebecca noted the peevish tone of her friend’s voice but forgave it. It did suck that Caroline had to work. It was a disgrace, actually. That husband of hers needed to step up, especially if he was going to be unfaithful. In that case, the least he could do was make Caroline’s life more comfortable.
“Yes, that does suck,” Rebecca said, but she’d lost interest now that her mind had drifted to Sal. She checked the time on her phone. “Listen, lady, I have to…”
“Well, but I probably won’t have to work for too much longer, though,” Caroline cut Rebecca off and Rebecca frowned with annoyance. Then the words penetrated. She glanced at Caroline.
“Really? Why’s that?”
Caroline tilted her head down and a flash of sun caught in her lenses and flared across the coffee shop. Rebecca sat forward, squinting. There was that thing again, the same thing she’d seen earlier. Deep down in the black depths of her friend’s sunglasses. Something like a face or no, an eye. A pit of uneasiness opened low in Rebecca’s stomach. Then Caroline pulled the glasses down her nose and–whatever it had been–it was gone.
“I think things are going to change for Dave pretty soon. They’re going to get better,” Caroline said. “With a little hard work and sacrifice.” Her eyes held a mix of pride and fear.
Probably afraid of what that husband of hers will do with more money, Rebecca thought. Probably right to be afraid, too. “That’s great, Caroline, really, but I have to…” She stood and the chair grated across the floor. The coffee shop seemed to tilt around her and she put a hand on the table to steady herself.
Disorientation moved through her like a rip tide, low and powerful. Dragging.
“Rebecca!” Caroline’s voice was a distant alarm and Rebecca blinked slowly, focusing on her friend. Caroline had removed her sunglasses; her blue eyes were filled with honest concern. It steadied Rebecca.
“I’m okay. I just got a little light headed.” A cup appeared before her and Rebecca glanced at the woman in the green and white apron who proffered the water. The woman’s face was a careful neutral.
Rebecca took the water and drank.
She didn’t talk to her friend again until after the tragedy.
***
“Molly?” Rebecca called down the back hall in a carrying whisper. The nanny’s room was just off the laundry room. “I’m leaving.”
“Fine.” Although the voice was soft, it came from behind her and Rebecca jumped, surprised. Her hand went to her chest.
“Jesus, Mol!” She raised her eyebrows at the girl standing in the dining room doorway. “I thought you were in your room.”
Molly shook her head. “No.”
Although it was only five in the morning, Rebecca noted that Molly was fully dressed. The girl was pretty, but not as pretty as Caroline had made out. Just over five feet tall, she was trim in a sporty way, with tame brown hair that fell in a soft wave to her shoulders, and pleasingly symmetrical features. She dressed classically if a little plainly in a-line skirts and twin sets. Certainly no threat to Rebecca’s marriage.
“I’m going to yoga; I’ll be back in an hour.” Rebecca hitched her rolled matt higher on her shoulder. No response from Molly. The girl was so…self-contained. Like a damn cat. She made Rebecca uneasy. “So please make sure you can hear it if the babies wake up.”
Molly nodded.
“Because you might not hear them from the dining room. What were you doing in there, anyway?”
“Reading.”
“Well, listen,” Rebecca shifted her mat again, annoyed by the girl’s neutralness. It bordered on insolence. She should be more intimidated, especially as Rebecca had just caught her not doing her job. “You won’t be able to hear them if…”
Molly stepped to the side, giving Rebecca a clear view of the baby monitor standing next to a book on the dining
room table.
“Oh! Well…good. Okay. Very good.” Rebecca nodded once, curtly. Molly had been with her for just over a week and Rebecca wasn’t sure yet if it was going to work out. Jayden and Tucker loved her already, but there was something unsettling about the girl. That self-containedness, that…
“I brought you the paper.”
A plastic-sheathed bundle appeared in Molly’s hand, seemingly out of nowhere. Rebecca took a sharp step back and frowned. She knew it must have come from behind the girl’s back, but it hadn’t looked like…it seemed as though it had just…
“Where did you get that?” Rebecca knew it was a ridiculous question as soon as it snapped out of her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. The girl had startled her.
Molly’s mouth lifted in a slight, brief smile. “The driveway.”
Rebecca snatched the paper and stalked past her.
Once in the car, she muttered as the
garage door rolled overhead. “The driveway, the driveway,” she said, her voice falsetto and squeaky, harshly mimicking. “Well, no shit, bitch, I didn’t think it fell out of your twat!” She slammed her hand across the Benz’s steering wheel and threw the car into reverse. She realized her anger was more a product of her uneasiness than from anything the girl had done. But she didn’t care. She’d been made to feel foolish and nobody made Rebecca feel foolish! “Little bitch!” Rebecca yelled and hit the steering wheel again. She glanced back into the garage as the car rolled out.
Molly stood silhouetted in the doorway to the laundry room, the baby monitor held to her ear like a phone.
***
Rebecca left the yoga class just as the sun was coming up. Her limbs felt like twanging, overstretched rubber bands. She swigged from her water bottle and threw herself into the car.
She breathed deeply, leaving the door open so the fresh, slightly damp spring air could cool her. She needed a minute to recover. She pushed the power button on her phone but it wouldn’t turn on and she sighed in annoyance. Her eyes went to the paper in the passenger seat, still in its protective plastic.
The Demonologia Biblica Page 17