by Mark Tufo
In the basement, Laura dug another hole. As she smiled and hummed to herself, she placed the bag containing what was left of the infant in the dirt and began shoveling the earth on top of it. She finished burying the baby's bones and headed back upstairs.
The woman sat in the parlor holding the hand of her little daughter, waiting to deliver another. The little girl had blond ringlets surrounding a pink, pudgy face. She was dressed in a pretty little pink dress and buckled shoes. When Laura entered the room, the little girl gave her a strange look.
"I don't like you." She said matter-of-factly to Laura.
"Lizzie, that is very rude!" Her mother chastised. "We don't speak to people that way!"
"It's alright, Miss." Laura smiled at the toddler.
"No, it is most certainly not alright! Lizzie is four now and should know her manners." The expectant mother blushed.
"I think it's time we got you settled in." Laura said to her. "Lizzie can play here while you get ready."
"Lizzie," the young mother took Lizzie's face in her hands to drive her instructions home, "you will be polite to Ms. Hoffstetter. She is going to deliver your new baby sister."
Lizzie folded her arms in protest, but knew she had no choice.
"Yes, Momma." Her mother kissed her on the forehead and headed upstairs. As Laura closed the parlor door, Lizzie eyed her suspiciously.
"She's a bad, mean lady." Lizzie said to herself.
After Laura closed the dead woman's eyes, she picked up the whimpering baby girl. She headed downstairs to the parlor where Lizzie was waiting. Without a word, she grabbed Lizzie by the hand and started to drag her to the basement. Lizzie started screaming and trying to pull away. Her struggles were of no use. Laura was a strong woman. She managed to get the screaming girl and the newborn all the way down the stairs. She flung Lizzie across the room by her arm. When Lizzie's little body hit the wall, she looked as though she was going to pass out. She sat there on the floor, swaying in half-consciousness.
Laura held the infant up and away from her body in offering to a yet unseen presence. Suddenly, something shimmered into view. An enormous form became visible in front of Laura. This monstrosity was at least even feet tall. It was naked, but its entire body was covered in hair. The thing's head resembled that of a lion, but its teeth were square and dull, like a donkey. Its feet were actually talons that dug into the dirt floor of the basement, and the hands were misshapen with elongated fingers and long sharp claws. The beast smiled and reached out for the pink bundle.
"I brought you a special offering." Laura said in supplication.
"Good." It smiled a smile only found in the worst nightmares. "You have done well. I am gaining strength now. I will be able to feast on my own soon. I will be able to lay my hands on their bellies seven times and devour the unborn straight from their womb, where the magic is strongest. My power will increase tenfold, and I will rule again!" The monster was celebrating its plan for the future by beginning its meal, when Lizzie got up from the floor. She reached up and touched the fur covered leg of the beast.
A wail like nothing ever imagined emanated from the mouth of the monster. It dropped the offering and spun around to face the child.
"You!" It shouted in anger. "I am Lamashtu, Daughter of the sun God, Anu! I am eternal!"
Lizzie's little face went blank. She reached out her small hand and held her palm up to the beast. A voice came from her lips that did not belong to any child.
"I am Pazuzu, the bringer of the wind and I have dominion over you. I command you to be gone from this realm. I banish you to the underworld, where you shall suffer the pains of hunger and isolation. You have no power here."
Lamashtu screamed a howl of agony and fell to her knees. She began to shimmer out of view.
"NO!" Laura shouted and lunged at Lizzie. Her little body hit the dirt floor with a thud. When her head bounced off of the hard pack, there was an audible crack. She went limp as the last breath escaped her lungs.
Lamashtu was gone. Laura felt a despair that she was unable to bear.
She fastened the rope around a beam and slipped the noose over her head. When she stepped off of the chair, she declared "I will resurrect you!" Then she was dead.
27.
The four people seated at the dining room table snapped back to reality in unison. They had all been viewing the same story in their minds.
"That's three. Four more." Cara whispered. "She wants to eat my baby."
"So smart, it is." Becky laughed. She raised her arm with so much force that the ropes holding her snapped. She snatched the crucifix from the table and plunged it into Rick's neck with one fluid motion. He grasped the cross with a look of shock on his face. As he pulled it from his throat, jets of blood shot across the room, landing on the far wall and all over Hank's face. He was dead within a few seconds.
Hank reached down and grabbed the bowl of water that he had blessed. He threw it in Becky's face. She screamed in agony as smoke drifted up from her face. He took the rosary in his hand and held it up to her.
"Get out, Demon! The Lord commands you!"
"Your Lord commands nothing of me!" She hissed and lunged over the table at him. Her hands encircled his throat and squeezed with a power no human could possess. Cara watched in horror as Hank struggled against her strength. She was paralyzed with fear, but tried to get up and help him anyway.
"No Cara!" He tried to speak, but it came out as a hissing gurgle. "Stay away!"
Cara struggled in her head, trying to figure out what to do. She could only think of one thing.
"Pazuzu!" She called out. "Pazuzu! Pazuzu, help me!"
Becky dropped Hank's now lifeless body back into its seat and lunged at Cara.
"NO!" Becky shouted in a voice not her own. As she lunged towards Cara, she was stopped in mid-air. Lizzie materialized between the two women and held up her hand as she had done in their shared vision.
No words were exchanged, but Becky writhed and moaned as though she were having some kind of seizure. Lizzie raised her hand up and touched Becky's forehead. Becky dropped back down onto the table with a crash. She lay there, unconscious as Lizzie turned to Cara.
"She is returned to the Underworld, where she belongs. She may return one day, but for now, she is banished."
"Thank you, so much!" Cara said, but Lizzie was already gone.
28.
Cara checked to see if Becky was still alive. She found a pulse and she was still breathing. Cara took a second to take a deep breath, and then she went to try the front door and call an ambulance.
As she stepped out of the dining room, she felt the temperature drop. Her breath formed clouds of steam in front of her face.
She quickened her pace towards the door, but stopped cold as Laura appeared before her out of nowhere.
Laura stared at her with a hate so intense, Cara could almost feel the heat emanating from her.
"I know it wasn't your fault, Laura, You were possessed. You had no control." Cara told the specter.
"Stupid woman! I was never possessed. I gave those children to Lamashtu as an offering. I gave her the baby that grew inside of me as a gift. Proof of my devotion. I gave her the child of my sister, so that she could reign once more." Laura's spirit spat the words at her with disdain.
"You killed them all." Another voice said from behind Cara. "You gave my husband and my baby to that monster."
Cara turned and saw a second spirit standing behind her. This spirit was a young woman, but she looked familiar. She had dull blue eyes that Cara knew she had seen before.
"Alice!"
"You killed them all." Alice repeated, paying no attention to Cara.
"They were my gifts to my Goddess!" Laura replied in her defense.
The two women had seemingly forgotten about Cara. She turned to make her way to the telephone in the kitchen, but Laura noticed her movement and lunged. Alice jumped to action. With flashes of white light, the two spirits collided.
As the
y struggled against each other, the light intensified. Cara shielded her eyes, but the light continued to get brighter and brighter. Her eyes burned, even closed. An even brighter pulse of light exploded in the foyer, and Cara felt like she was hit in the chest by a powerful force as something entered her body. She tried to get up, but she fell back, unconscious as the light began to fade.
29.
Cara placed the sign in the front yard of the house. It had been five months, and she was happy to be moving on with her life. The police had come and collected all of the bodies. They had asked a lot of questions. Cara recounted the events of the day to the best of her knowledge. She had cried and told them about the exorcism and the strange happenings.
The police had never found the bones in the basement. All the little children were where they belonged. With her.
Becky was taken to a hospital to treat her injuries. Since she spent all her time ranting about demons and ghost babies, she was deemed to be incapable of standing trial for the murders, and was committed to a psychiatric hospital, indefinitely. She sat in that hospital, clutching a doll named Sally.
Cara was seven months along now. A little boy. Ben, she would name him. The perfect sacrifice. Lamashtu was going to be so pleased when she returned.
She admired her new sign.
"Barlow Natural Birthing Center
Cara Barlow, Doula"
She smiled and headed back into the house to wait for her first appointment to arrive.
Epilogue
Becky sat on the bed in her room stroking Sally's hair. She had been here for more than six months now, and had finally discovered the secret. During her counseling sessions with Dr. Schmidt, she had always been considered 'unstable'. At first, she had been unable to bear the things she had done.
In her head, she still heard the sounds that crucifix had made as it penetrated Rick's throat. The crunching noises her father's neck had made while she squeezed the life out of him.
As a tear rolled down her cheek, she corrected herself. She had not done those things. That demon bitch had control over her. Her and her fucking crazy bitch minion, Laura. Alice had helped her to see the truth. Becky had been ready to end her life, because she had been unable to stand the noises any longer. That is when Alice had come to her and explained the truth.
Laura had control of Cara now. That much was made clear at the trial when Cara had testified how Becky killed all of them, including Mitchell and Ben. She played the grieving, trauma stricken widow very well, but every time she had a chance, she flashed a little grin to Becky.
Becky had stood up in court, pointed and screamed, "It's her! Laura! She took her over. That's not Cara! She's a lying, evil bitch!"
Four guards had taken her out of the courtroom in handcuffs, screaming and kicking. She was declared incompetent to stand trial, and sentenced to this fucking nuthouse, until she was better.
Alice had told her how to be better. She would get out of here and set things right. Alice would help her with that, too.
All she had to do was act normal. Act like she did not believe in demons and ghosts. She would tell Dr. Schmidt that she knew it was all in her head. He would make notes in his stupid little notebook and ask her stupid little questions about how she felt. She knew all the right answers now, thanks to Alice, and the babies that visited her.
They came to her, sometimes, too. She played with them and read them stories. They loved her, they loved Sally, and she had grown to love them all, too. They asked her to help them get their revenge, and she had agreed.
She would have her revenge, as would Alice, and all those sweet little children.
Christine Sutton is the author of more than fifteen short stories, novellas and novels. While she tends to cross genres within horror, she is always passionate about scaring the hell out of you.
Her passion would have to be serial killer fiction, but she also loves ghosts, ghouls, demons and monsters of all types. Christine's work ranges from modern day fairy tales to demonic soul eaters to ghostly children that just want to play. Her writing has been called passionate, realistic, gritty, fun, enthralling and tons of other cool adjectives.
Christine's most recent novel, 'Prodigal Son' has been met with critical acclaim. Stoker award winning author Joe McKinney has the following to say:
"In Prodigal Son, Christine Sutton has penned a tight, brutally honest portrait of a psychopath reminiscent of Theodore Sturgeon's 'Some of Your Blood'. This dark descent into the broken mind of Timothy Robert Shively will send chills down your back. Every word rings true, and every page is dark with menace. Do yourself a favor and pick this one up right now. You can thank me later."
-Joe McKinney, Bram Stoker Award-winning author of Inheritance and Dead City
Pretty cool, huh?
You, too can pick up some of Christine's work and come up with some cool adjectives of your own. It won't be hard. I promise.
Check out Christine's website:
http://christinesutton.webs.com/
You can also join her fans on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/ChristineSuttonAuthor
Fangs In Vain
A Sabrina Vickers Vampire Novella
By Scott Nicholson
Copyright ©2012 Scott Nicholson
Published by Haunted Computer Books
Sign up for Scott’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/tOE89
CHAPTER ONE
She’d searched every inch of his body—twice—and hadn’t found so much as a single dragon tattoo.
So much for the bad-boy thing.
Still, he was not without his…qualities.
Sabrina Vickers stretched and yawned, or at least as much as she could stretch, given the confines of the boat that doubled as Luke’s bed and coffin. The boat look odd in the middle of the bedroom, perched on old wooden crab cages, but it rocked just fine and she would have been severely disappointed if Luke hadn’t been eccentric, given his status.
The first light of dawn was making a pink stain on the windowsill, and if Luke was to be believed, he’d soon be going up like a torch in a gasoline tornado.
But he’d pushed it, he said, wanting to squeeze out every precious minute with her. Sure, they were both immortal beings, but while Sabrina was 24/7, Luke only had the night.
And when she had tried to argue that working the night shift meant he really only had half of forever, he’d done that thing with his tongue and she pretty much shut up after that.
Now his eyes were closed and he was entering that drowsy, cute stupor of his. He’d asked her to drag the cover on the boat when she got up, because he was too drained and limp to drag the heavy canvas into place. She looked at the graying canvas, watching the sunlight leak across the room, wondering how long forever really lasted.
I could leave the lid off and this relationship would be toast.
Talk about trust issues.
Sabrina was as tormented as Luke, only in a different way. And she was curious about what other acrobatic tricks they could perform with the geometry of the boat’s curves. So maybe one more night on Earth, and then she’d get serious.
She strained to loosen the canvas, which Luke had easily tied with two fingers just after sunset. He was good with two fingers, although she suspected he was just showing off a little.
While she had supernatural powers, extraordinary strength wasn’t one of them. God had explained that if a bunch of angels were set loose with Roid Rage, then that might play right into the devil’s hands. No, angels had to work with a more subtle strength, dispensing goodness and love and light and, of course, avoiding fire and temptation.
No wonder Armageddon was going to take a damned millennium.
Aside from the boat, Luke’s bedroom was like that of the typical beach bum’s, with a couple of surf boards leaning in the corner, a classic poster of Bo Derek in a sandy bikini, and a mirror emblazoned with the Budweiser logo. The mirror was an odd choice, given that Luke couldn’t see his own reflection.
Sabrina peeled the canvas into place, battened it down, and sat on it a moment. The sun lifted above the Atlantic and bathed the room. Luke had picked a pretty little cottage, which was painted sky blue and had a white picket fence around the crabgrass yard. Beaufort, North Carolina was the last place in the world you’d expect to find a vampire, although she’d teased him about the pickets and what the villagers would do with them once they caught on.
He’d laughed, flashing those sexy fangs, and said Sabrina could scatter fairy dust on them and turn them all into pacifists.
He was so dense sometimes.
She fluffed her wings and shook them, sending a few downy feathers to the floor. “Wings fly away,” she said, the magic words that made the wings vanish, though they left two long scars down the back of her shoulders.
She grabbed her blouse. It was too thin so she had to wear a bra, especially because of tourists. All those teens strutting around in bikinis, but you could count on Joe the Plumber from Ida-freaking-ho or Fred the Mathematician from Podunk to break his neck in half trying to see through a woman’s shirt because it was naughtier. Truly, she didn’t see why God even bothered.
Speaking of which.…
Sabrina got down on her knees, although God had told her a dozen and seven times that subservience wasn’t required from those who had already proven their faith. But she’d also been raised to respect her elders, back before she’d died hideously and in great pain. But, heck, she’d forgiven God, because God had sure forgiven her for a lot.