A Haunting of Horrors, Volume 2: A Twenty-Book eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult

by Brian Hodge

  Josie saw where Billy T was looking and her expression went hard. "She doesn't go out with the customers."

  "Really," he said with feigned casualness. "Who does she go out with?"

  "I don't know," Josie snapped. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

  "Maybe I will." Billy T pulled out another twenty. "Bring me a beer, will you, Josie?"

  "How about your friend there?" She indicated the passed-out banker. "He need anything?"

  "Yeah, a change of underwear."

  It was a comment that Josie had heard too many times to find amusing. She snorted and went to get Billy T his beer.

  Billy T turned his attention to the blond dancer on the stage. She turned her head, just the barest hint, and smiled. At him. Maybe it was his imagination. No, he was sure of it—she had smiled at him. Her expression went vacant again, and Billy T felt the heat in the pit of his stomach climb another notch.

  The beer that Josie brought him only fueled the heat, like gasoline on smoldering coals. He hadn't wanted a woman this bad since Abilene. Images of blood and sweating, heaving bodies filled his mind, taking him away from where he was.

  Taking him back to Abilene.

  The girl had been so young, so innocent. At least she had been before that night.

  If only the girl hadn't screamed.

  He had been hitchhiking outside of Abilene when the old Mexican couple had stopped and picked him up in a van that smelled like chickens in the summer heat.

  They had a granddaughter, sixteen, pretty, on the verge of womanhood, and there was no way for them to know that Billy Two Hats had already killed nine other women, stabbing them with the knife he carried in his boot.

  They were simple, trusting people who went to church every Sunday and put their faith in God. A smile and a joke or two got Billy T invited to their house for dinner, a room for the night. It was easy. It always was. After all, he was charming and funny, and he looked like a matinee cowboy. Hell, even the family dog liked him.

  Later in the night after everyone had gone to bed, Billy T went to the young girl's room. Her name was Maria. He stood there in the warm dark, savoring the moment, memorizing every detail, for he would play this night back in his mind for countless nights to come. Remembering was important. It was the only link to immortality. Even after Maria was dead, after he killed her, she wouldn't really be dead because she would live in his mind. Forever.

  The room was a mix of innocence and worldliness—teddy bears and posters of bare chested movie stars, perfume and candy. He let it wash over him.

  She had been fine after he cut her with the knife, really fine, doing everything he had asked. Anything to save her life. At the end she had known he was going to kill her anyway. That was when she had tried to scream, and he had cut her throat while he held her close and kissed her, tasting her blood as it poured from her mouth.

  Then he killed the grandparents. That hadn't been as much fun as the girl. They had barely struggled at all, departing this world with small bubbling sighs as though they were secretly glad to be going.

  He made sure the dog was fed before he left.

  Last call sounded, shaking Billy T out of his reverie. His eyes focused and he saw the dancer on the stage was staring directly at him. Their gazes entwined, locked, and for a moment Billy T was disoriented, almost paralyzed, by the cold blue eyes. They looked like winter ice. It was crazy, he knew, but he had the feeling she knew what he had been thinking about, that she had somehow seen into his soul.

  The scary part was the feeling she approved.

  Billy T shook his head, trying to rid himself of the fear that had unexpectedly taken root. This wasn't the way it went down in Billy Two Hats' world. Women were scared of him, not the other way around. Wiping the sweat from his lip, he took another drink of beer and looked again at the dancer.

  But this time his eyes went no higher than her high, creamy white breasts. He told himself it was because he liked her body. That he was committing it to memory. After a couple more drinks of his beer, he came to believe it himself. Almost.

  The lights in the bar came up and the dancers began exiting the stage amid a smattering of applause. The one Billy T wanted was the last to leave. She paused, her eyes scanning the crowd one final time, coming to rest on Billy T. Her slack face held no expression that he could interpret, yet the mocking heat of her eyes taunted him. A drunken businessman in the crowd yelled something obscene at her, but she ignored him.

  Billy T tried to meet her gaze, and yet he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. She was even better looking in the light. Flawless, unmarked skin. White, very white. Compared to her, the rest of the dancers were coarse, beneath contempt.

  The dancer turned to go.

  Then she paused and looked over her shoulder. She silently mouthed a single word.

  It was aimed at Billy T. It was clear and distinct.

  The word was Abilene.

  Billy T went cold inside.

  The dancer made a slashing motion beneath her throat before turning and vanishing from the stage, leaving Billy T staring openmouthed after her. This couldn't be happening. No one knew about Abilene.

  About the rape.

  About the murder.

  Billy T gritted his teeth, causing his jaw muscles to bunch and unbunch in silent panic. They looked like snakes crawling beneath his skin. Rape and murder in Texas still carried the death penalty. He'd had to cut that Mexican girl's throat, it had been the only way he could stop her from screaming. If they connected him to her murder, her grandparents' murder, they would put him to death, and Billy Two Hats couldn't, imagine the world without himself in it.

  Things were very simple in Billy T's world; he had to kill the dancer. And yet her saying Abilene to him didn't make any sense. If she knew about Abilene, then she knew what kind of man he was. She knew he would kill her. That not only didn't make sense, it was downright crazy. His head began to hurt as he tried to think. Suddenly he brightened. He had simply misread what she had said to him, that was it. That was the only answer. Anything else was impossible.

  Billy T watched the bouncers drag the unconscious banker to the door. A smear of blood trailed after him. Nobody noticed. "Hey, cowboy," someone called out.

  Billy T turned, saw Josie standing there with a note in her hand. She walked over and tucked it in his shirt pocket. "It's from your friend on the stage," Josie said. Her voice held a touch of petulance that she was unable to hide.

  Billy T fished the note out and opened it. Meet me outside by your car. It was in bright red lipstick. It was signed Abilene.

  The room tilted, and soured beer crowded the back of Billy T's throat.

  "What's the matter, cowboy?" Josie asked. "You look a little pale all of a sudden. This could be your lucky night. You should be flattered. Juliana's danced here almost a month and I never even seen her say more than three words to a guy, let alone ask him out."

  This was going from bad to worse, Billy T decided. Now Josie knew he was meeting the dancer and she had read the note, which meant she could connect him with Abilene. He wanted to slash Josie's throat so bad that for a moment he could actually see it bleeding.

  With a quick motion of his hand, he reached over and gently brushed a finger across her throat. "Anybody ever tell you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong can get it cut off?" he asked in a quiet voice.

  Josie tried to push his hand away. "You'd better save the sweet talk for Juliana. I'm not interested."

  But Billy T's hand was not so easily dislodged; he gripped her throat and pulled her close. "I don't know what's going on here, but one thing's for sure, I'm not going anywhere with that bitch dancer. And I never been to Abilene in my life. Is this some kind of little joke you two cooked up? Is it?"

  "Abilene?" Josie asked, confused.

  Josie saw sweat beading up on the cowboy's lip. The guy seemed on the edge of some hidden rage that might explode at any moment. A tiny push could put him over.

  Josie, frig
htened now, shook her head no. The guy's hand was a steel clamp on her throat and she couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. His fingers tightened. Digging into her flesh; She felt darkness crowding around the edges of her vision. Then as suddenly as he grabbed her, he turned loose. Josie stumbled back. Her leg struck a chair, knocked it over. The sound was a slap in the now quiet bar. There was no one to help her. They were alone except for the bartender cleaning up at the other end of the room.

  Josie knew this cowboy could kill her if he wanted to. The crazy bastard was quick as a snake. She stood very still, her hand on her bruised throat, trying to breathe. "Mister, I don't know what you're talking about. I never said anything about Abilene. I—"

  "Shut up," Billy T said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "Shut up. For God's sake, shut up. I don't want to hurt you."

  His white chambray shirt was soaked with sweat now, and he gave off the scent of a hunted animal—acrid, bitter—and Josie wondered how she could have ever found him attractive. She saw that he was looking at her like he didn't even see her now, or maybe she thought, with a flash of intuition, like he saw someone else. Whoever it was, Josie was glad she wasn't that person.

  By inhuman effort of will, Billy T pulled himself together and tucked his rage out of sight. His face relaxed slowly. It was like watching ripples in a lake disappear, leaving no trace behind of the violence that had caused them. "Sorry, Josie." He smiled. "I didn't mean to scare you. I guess I had a little too much to drink."

  The sound of clinking glassware carried across the room. A gust of cool air pushed at the cigarette smoke that hung in the room, causing it to swirl.

  Josie nodded numbly, trying on a smile for size. It didn't fit. Reaching into his jacket, Billy T pulled out another twenty and handed it to Josie.

  She looked at the bill as if it might bite her, but she finally reached out and took it. "Thanks," she said, her voice a rough whisper. "What's this for, a bribe?"

  "It's for doing me a little favor. I want you to tell Juliana that I can't meet her tonight."

  At Billy T's words, Josie felt herself smiling despite what he had done to her throat. She couldn't wait to see the look on the dancer's face when she got the news that the cowboy wasn't interested.

  The bartender dropped a glass, and when Josie looked back, the cowboy was gone. Without a sound. The door to the street clicked shut softly. A shiver went through her and gooseflesh dotted her arms. This was a mean place, full of cokeheads and pimps, and yet none of them scared her half as bad as this guy in the cowboy clothes.

  The dressing room of The Watering Hole wasn't much bigger than a closet and it smelled of stale perfume, sweat, and sex. It had a sort of false cheeriness imparted by the bright lights that lined the U-shaped mirror. Two of the lights were burned out, giving the impression of a gap-toothed grin. Hairbrushes and cheap silver compacts lined the tables, along with a set of false eyelashes that looked like dead spiders in the dim light. A radio played country music in the background.

  "Pretty glamorous, huh?" Juliana said, and laughed. The blond dancer had a husky voice that came from too much scotch and too many cigarettes.

  In spite of herself, Josie laughed back.

  The other two dancers had already gone for the night. Only Juliana remained, waiting, brushing her blond mane with studied indifference. She was dressed in a sleek black dress that cost more than Josie made in a month of waiting tables. Josie tried to stop the resentment that seemed to color her life lately. It wasn't Juliana's fault that she was beautiful.

  "What did the cowboy say when you gave him the note?" Juliana asked, studying Josie in the mirror. Most men found Juliana's voice sexy as hell, even when she told them to drop dead.

  Josie felt a pang of satisfaction when she said, "He said he wasn't interested. He said he had to go."

  Juliana considered Josie's words. "Did he say anything else?" She seemed slightly amused, slightly bored.

  Josie hesitated. "He said something about Abilene, something about he had never been there before." Josie touched her still-bruised throat. "It was kind of scary the way he got all worked up. I thought he was going to hurt me."

  "I'm sorry," Juliana said. "I didn't mean to get you involved in this. I should have given him the note myself."

  "No, he might have hurt you. I saw a knife in his boot."

  Juliana lit up a Mexican cigarette, took a drag, held it; let tendrils of smoke curl lazily from her nostrils while she continued studying Josie. There was something reptilian and incredibly ancient in the hooded eyes. She exhaled and somehow managed to make it look elegant. "You're not making this up, are you?"

  "No, I'm not. Look Juliana, I don't know you or anything, but if that guy comes back in here, don't mess around with him. There was something wrong with his eyes. They were crazy."

  "Do you think he's a killer?"

  Josie started to nod then changed her mind, feeling faintly foolish. "You should have seen the way he looked at me."

  "How many people do you think he's killed?"

  Josie had the feeling Juliana was toying with her, that Juliana knew a lot more about the guy than she was saying. She certainly knew enough to throw him into a rage.

  "All I know is, he was fine until I gave him your note," Josie said. "What did you put in it?"

  "Nothing. I simply told him to meet me later."

  "Knock it off, Juliana, you put something in your note that scared him half to death. I don't know what kind of games you're into, but keep me out of them from now on. Okay?"

  "You don't like games?" Juliana asked.

  Josie shook her head no. "They make me tired. I had an ex-husband who liked to play games."

  Juliana looked away and her voice was slightly wistful. "That's a shame, Josie. Games are the only things that make this long life bearable."

  It was Josie's turn to laugh. "You talk like you're old. You can't be more than… what… thirty?"

  "Oh, I'm older than that. A lot older."

  The words hung in the air.

  Josie wanted to ask how old, yet something stopped her. She had the feeling that if she asked, Juliana just might tell her. And Josie thought that might be a mistake. A horrible mistake. The hooded eyes peered at her from the mirror. This conversation had started out friendly enough but it had somehow gone wrong. Josie felt a slight tingle of fear. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to be back at her apartment, taking a hot bath, trying to wash away all traces of The Watering Hole.

  "Look, Juliana, this girl talk's been fun and everything, but I'm feeling pretty ancient myself tonight." Josie pulled off a high heel and began massaging her foot. "Ten hour shift."

  "Why don't you ask Ralph if you can be one of the dancers?" Juliana asked. "You're pretty enough."

  Josie actually felt herself blush. "Thanks. I tried to once. I made it through the audition but I couldn't walk out on the stage. It all seemed so… so…."

  "Cheap," Juliana finished.

  "Yes, cheap." Josie's face was flushed and yet she didn't turn away.

  A definite trace of amusement crossed the blond dancer's face. "You're very unhappy, aren't you, Josie?"

  This time, Josie did look away. "Look, Juliana, it's getting late and I've really got to go."

  "You don't like men very much, do you?"

  Josie felt on uncertain ground. "What are you talking about? I was married for three years."

  "It wasn't your husband's fault that he left you."

  Josie turned to go, but the blond dancer's words stopped her, pulled her around. She waited.

  The dancer turned from the mirror and looked at her with icy blue eyes that saw too much. "Oh, you remember, don't you? You were in high school and your girlfriend spent the night, only your brother came home and he took the spare bedroom, so you and your girlfriend had to share your bed. Shall I go on?"

  "Stop it." Josie was no longer blushing, she had gone very pale. "Please, stop it." She stared in horror and her legs, which were so thick and strong, t
hreatened for the first time to buckle. "How could you know that?" A mascara-coated tear, like a dark beetle, scuttled down through her too-thick makeup, leaving behind a ghostly trail. "No one knows about that night."

  "It'll be our little secret." Juliana began peeling off the black dress. She wore nothing beneath it.

  Josie stared, unable to look away from the naked dancer. She saw that Juliana had a tiny mole on her left breast. No, it wasn't a mole. It was….

  "A feathered serpent," Juliana finished for her. "How do you like it?"

  The dancer moved closer.

  "What are you doing?" Josie asked. She began backing away, moving toward the door, which seemed a million miles away. "That was a mistake what I did that night. I was only a kid, a lonely, frightened kid. I don't go in for…."

  "You can't even say it, can you?" Juliana grabbed Josie by the hair and held her. "You think I want to make love to you?" Juliana seemed amused by the thought. "I'm afraid you wouldn't be very good at it."

  Josie tried to pull away, but the dancer was strong. Very strong.

  Juliana pulled Josie closer. Until their mouths were only inches apart.

  "Don't. Please don't," Josie said.

  "I'm sorry, Josie, I have to." Juliana leaned slowly forward and brushed her lips against Josie's cold, trembling mouth.

  Josie felt the caress of the warm lips, then a sting. She touched her throat. Looked at Juliana, wonderingly. She tried to speak. And couldn't.

  There was a knife in Juliana's hand.

  There was red on it.

  Josie wanted to speak. She wanted to ask about the knife, about the red on it that looked like blood. The words wouldn't form.

  "I've cut your throat," Juliana said in a matter of fact voice. "You'll be dead in about a minute or so. I'm sorry but I had to do it. You know what the cowboy looks like. My mistake. I can't have you going to the police and giving them his description."

  Josie again tried to speak, but all that came from her mouth were wet sounds that didn't sound like words at all. The pain was a distant burning, not connected to her at all. Josie wanted very much to touch her throat, but, if she touched it, she might discover that the hurt was real and she couldn't deal with that. Her hands hung at her sides, limp, undecided.