Dance For The Devil

by S. Kodejs

  Amy was gone. She knew that without hearing it from Jake. Felt it deep in her bones. To be sure she tried going into a trance to seek the girl and when that failed Cari looked deep into her glass fishing ball. Nothing. She tried a dozen other things, including prayer. “Please, Great Mother, please don’t let her be dead.” Cari cradled her bruised knuckle. She had a feeling the Goddess was ignoring her.

  How could she face Jake? He had wanted to search the Vandercamp household last night and Cari, like the others, had convinced him to wait until morning. Last night she’d felt certain that immediate action would lead to bloodshed, but now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Daisy whined and Cari looked up. “You’re right, old gal. No use in second-guessing myself, is there? But I’ve got to do something... anything. If I don’t, I’ll go stark-raving mad.” Daisy woofed softly. “Oh, I get it. You think I should rub your belly, is that it? Clever dog.” Cari bent and knelt beside the dog. A moment later a crash and a whir, occurring simultaneously. Glass rained down on Cari’s head and she covered herself with her hands.

  Daisy was barking agitatedly. Cari had to physically restrain the dog from jumping up. “Down girl, shhh. It’s not safe.”

  A full minute ticked by before Cari carefully sat up, shaking the glass from her hair. Taking care to remain invisible to the street, she crawled across her kitchen floor to investigate. Daisy stayed in her corner, as her mistress ordered, clearly unhappy. “Shhh, Daisy,” Cari whispered. She had reached the front window. The large glass pane had imploded, spraying glass in a wide radius. “Lovely,” she mumbled. She retraced her path to the opposite side of the kitchen. A shattered vase lay on the floor. Behind where it previously stood, lodged in the plaster wall, was a bullet.

  Looking back at the window and then again at the vase, Cari came to an awful conclusion. Directly between the two, in the line of fire, had been her head. This was no accidental drive by. Those lousy bastards had taken a shot at her. They’d tried to kill her. If she hadn’t lowered her head to pet Daisy then she wouldn’t be alive.

  Her knuckle had stopped hurting as the adrenaline pumped through her body. “Well, Daisy,” Cari said finally, shaking her head. “Once again, you’ve saved my bacon.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sometimes Jake felt like giving up. He wondered if the hours of pouring over clues, looking for leads and basically finding out everything he could about cults was a complete waste of his time. It is said that all knowledge is useful but sometimes Jake felt that this type of knowledge was too hideous for human consumption.

  Two weeks had passed since the unfruitful search of the Vandercamp house. Two weeks of agonized waiting, wondering about Amy, looking for anything that might lead to Gil Vandercamp. Gil and his family had seemingly vanished without a trace.

  Cari came and stood beside him. “Coffee?” she asked softly. Jake shook his head. She sighed and sat down, an angelic vision in an oversized pink sweater. “You can take time for a cup of coffee, Jake. Stop punishing yourself.”

  “I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing. I thought I was trying to find my daughter.” Silence. Then, “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re under a lot of strain.”

  Jake shook his head wryly. “And you’re not? You should rue the day you met me, Cari Valentine. I’ve brought you nothing but turmoil and disaster. First you close your business and then you’re forced to move –”

  “This place isn’t so bad.”

  “Yeah, nothing like hiding out in style. You never told me you came from such a wealthy family.”

  Cari laughed. “We’re just lucky they’re in Palm Desert for the winter. Mother would have an absolute fit to find us staying here.”

  “Why? Am I that disreputable?”

  “No, not you, silly. Daisy. Mother’s idea of a house pet is a well trained servant. She’d have a coronary if she saw Daisy shedding fur on her white carpet.”

  “So why are you letting Daisy lie on the furniture?”

  Cari sipped her tea. “Call it retribution for a childhood filled with uncomfortable frilly dresses and cloying social events. What’s a few dog hairs compared to seventeen years of oppression? I was thinking I might let Daisy sleep in Mother’s bed, between her twelve-hundred thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.”

  “You are diabolical. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  “Damn right – I’ll think up even worse punishments for you.”

  Jake grinned despite himself. “Is that a promise?”

  “Could be – is that the phone? Hold on, I’ll get it.” She returned a moment later. “It’s Skeeter calling from school. His friend Darren is back from Hawaii and has invited Skeeter to sleep over tonight. Okay with you?”

  “Don’t see why not, being Friday and all. The poor kid’ll have more fun with Darren than he’ll have with us. ‘Course that wouldn’t be hard – he’d have more fun in a mortuary.”

  Cari laughed. “I’ll relay the message but I’ll leave out the morgue part. We’ll pick him up tomorrow morning about ten-ish?” Jake nodded, turning his attention back to the sheath of papers in front of him. Cari returned a moment later. “Done, and we don’t need to worry about picking him up in the morning. Darren’s folks will bring him home.”

  “That’s nice of them. They’re good people.”

  “Yeah. Jake? I was wondering... have you noticed anything different about Skeeter?”

  Jake turned his full attention to her. “Different? Like what?”

  Cari took another sip of tea. “I don’t have much experience with kids but Skeeter seems quiet lately. A bit withdrawn.”

  Jake was thoughtful. “I hadn’t noticed but now that you mention it he does seem out of sorts. Probably due to all the upheaval. The shooting incident shook him up pretty badly.”

  “Me too. I’m glad we decided to relocate here. When I think what could have happened –”

  “It was a warning, Cari. They were telling us to back off, in their own language.”

  Cari thought about the first time when the bullet narrowly missed her head. That wasn’t a warning. It was a premeditated attempt at murder. The second incident, occurring later that night, merely sprayed the front face of the house. It hadn’t taken them long to seek new lodgings. Fortunately, her mother’s house was in a gated-community and installed with a security system.

  “In any case, I’ll definitely talk to Skeeter. Have a one-to-one with him. Man-to-man. Father-to-son. Head-honcho-to-little-honcho.”

  “I get the picture. I’ll make myself scarce.”

  “Not necessary. Skeeter adores you. Seems to be a contagious condition with the Montclaire males.”

  “You’re just buttering me up so I’ll make your favorite dinner tonight.”

  “Barbecue ribs and rice? Will you?”

  “Not a chance. I was thinking the Colonel could cook.”

  “The Colonel?”

  “Colonel Sanders. I hear he has a wicked way with chicken, secret recipe and all.”

  “Well, that would be good too. But actually, I have a better idea. Care to dine out? Somewhere nice?”

  “Somewhere where they have tablecloths and real napkins?”

  “And candlelight. I know you have a thing about candles. Then perhaps a little dancing afterwards?”

  “Good music?”

  “Live band.”

  “Ooh! I’ll need to get dressed up. Something slinky?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “Are we celebrating something?”

  “We are.”

  “Care to share or do I have to wait to find out?”

  “No, waiting is torture.” His meaning wasn’t lost on either of them. The sexual tension rose synchronously with Jake’s desperation to find Amy. “I have some good news, great news and a half-baked plan. Which do you want to hear first?”

  “Hmmm. The good news.”

  “I sold my cottage in Ontario. It was snapped up immediat
ely after putting it on the market and I got my full asking price. The realtor was thrilled I was selling, cottages on Lake Simcoe are in high demand. Easiest commission she ever made.”

  “Oh Jake. Skeeter told me you loved that cottage. Why did you sell?”

  “For the money – Gil managed to tie up all my assets, not that there were many since my house burnt down.”

  “Wasn’t the cottage tied up too?”

  “It’s complicated, but technically it was still in my old company’s name. I did a lot of business there so it made sense for tax purposes. When I sold my shares, the company ceased to exist because a larger conglomerate bought it and incorporated it into their own division. I never bothered changing over the ownership title. Always meant to but never got around to it. Procrastination has its benefits.”

  She frowned as she tried to work it all out. “Couldn’t it be traced back to you?”

  “Eventually, which is why I unloaded it. The deal closed today and the new owners are taking immediate possession. I should have slightly over four-hundred thousand dollars in my hot little hands by Monday.”

  “That must have been some cottage.”

  “Not really. Just overpriced. Ontario real estate is crazier than British Columbia’s. It’ll feel nice not to be dead broke. First I plan to pay you back. We’ve been a couple of freeloaders.”

  Cari smiled. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Oh, but it is. Don’t you want to hear my great news?”

  “Tell me.”

  “While I was talking on the phone to the realtor I started thinking about my old contacts and friends. People who know the real me. I contacted an old buddy who I worked with ages ago. He’d heard about my ‘fall from grace’ as he put it. Seems old Gil has waged an aggressive smear campaign against me – the name of Jake Montclaire is truly mud.”

  “You sound oddly happy about that.”

  “Well, a funny thing happened while I was being dragged through the mud. I gained a certain notoriety. A bad boy image. And in a creative field like game designing, that’s not necessarily a negative thing. At least, according to my old buddy Rodney McDermott. My new image proves I’m cutting edge and creative, willing to take risks. Good old Rod offered me freelance work. You know what that means?”

  “That you’re happy to be an outcast?”

  Jake laughed. “No, that I can work again! I once again can be productive.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking boyish. “I told Rod that I could only work part-time because I need to concentrate on searching for Amy, and Rod was very accommodating. No skin off his back, he said, since he’ll pay only for what I produce. I’ve got some good ideas on disc that were sloshing around my brain at Marvelworks – why are you smiling?”

  “Because I thought computer geeks were funny-looking guys with bad complexions and plastic ink protectors stuffed in their nerdy shirt pockets.”

  “An overworked cliché. Kind of like when I thought witches were ugly, warty creatures who spent their days concocting huge vats of nasty potions.”

  “Touché. Now for the half-baked idea?”

  Jake grabbed Cari and pulled her onto his lap. “How would you like to join a cult?”

  “What kind of cult?”

  “The Satanic kind. ‘The Temple of Seth’ to be exact.”

  “Gee, you know how to really tempt a girl. Pardon me for saying, but are you out of your freaking mind?”

  Jake grinned. “Probably. It came to me last night, in the wee hours, when I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning and beating the hell out of my pillow when it hit me.”

  “Your pillow?”

  “No, the brainstorm. If you can’t lead a horse to water then bring water to the horse.”

  “Lousy analogy.” She squirmed off his lap and faced him. “Are you saying if we can’t get the Satanists to bring Amy to us then we’ll bring ourselves to them?”

  “Exactly.” He was beaming. “If we can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. At least until we can grab Amy. What do you think?”

  “It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Those people are nuts, Jake. They won’t hesitate to kill us... and they won’t make it pleasant. I don’t need to be graphic, Jake. You’ve seen the pictures.”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy. I was thinking we could use a disguise and false names.”

  “Pretend to be someone else?”

  “Right. Maybe when we’re on the inside we’ll find something out.”

  “Have you shared this idea with Sergeant Carmichael?”

  “No. Only you.”

  “He’d tell you that you’re insane.”

  “Probably.”

  “He’d tell you that it’s extremely dangerous.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’d tell you that you don’t have a hope in hell of succeeding.”

  “I’d probably believe him.”

  “But you’ll do it anyway?”

  “Yes. Look, I’m aware of the statistics.” Jake raised his arm to indicate the cluttered table, piled high with books and notes and newspaper clippings, anything he could find that might help. His throat caught as he resumed. “I know there’s a chance that Amy isn’t alive. And if by some miracle she still is alive, then she probably doesn’t want to be. But still... if there’s one chance in a hundred... no, one chance in a million, then I’ve got to try. Do you understand?”

  Cari bent and took his head, pressing it to her, stroking him. “I know. And you’re absolutely right.”

  “I have no right to ask you. It’s only that...we’d seem more legitimate as a couple. Less suspicious.”

  “You’ll do it whether I help or not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m in.”

  “Oh Cari. Are you sure?”

  “Mallory.”

  He frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Call me Mallory. That’s my undercover name.”

  “Okay... Mallory. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Only that I’m a bored, oversexed housewife looking for excitement, and the sicker the better.”

  “Oh, Mallory!” he said, drawing her back into his lap. “You sound like my kind of woman.”

  **

  Gil Vandercamp tapped a pencil impatiently as he contemplated the scenery. Not as spectacular as the view from his previous study, but impressive nonetheless. This new home was smaller, and in a less prestigious neighborhood, but it would suffice. The grounds were extensive and well-hidden from the road, and the rocky shoreline was virtually impassable by foot, even at low tide. The pencil snapped as he turned away abruptly. The view was really the last thing on his mind.

  He had known this time would come, had prepared for it, but nevertheless, he was dismayed at being forced to uproot. He’d grown attached to the old house, perhaps because he’d lived there for four years, the longest they’d ever stayed in one place. Gil sighed. Perhaps someday he’d return, but even as he thought it, he knew it unlikely. When a location became too hot, it was wise to leave it forever. Likewise Marvelworks. Although successful, his company was only a smokescreen for his other, more profitable activities.

  He allowed himself to ruminate. The arcade had been an excellent method of recruiting young blood into the church. The type of youth attracted to the arcade was often perfect cult material – intelligent loners, spoon-fed a steady diet of violent, sexually explicit images. And, if he’d made a mistake with an inductee and the subject balked at his new, adventurous lifestyle, then there was always the need for fresh sacrifices. All in all, a very satisfying setup.

  On the surface, Marvelworks would tick merrily along, but its assets would slowly trickle back to its parent companies. The tangled web of ownership was deliberately confusing to thwart enquiries. It might be possible to eventually figure it out, but by that time, Gil Vandercamp and his entourage would be long gone. By the time anyone managed to scratch the surface, Marvelworks, like its creator, would cease to exist.

  More pressin
g problems. The Montclaire boy was not sufficiently entrapped yet. Jason, in hiding with the rest of the entourage, could be no more use in baiting Skeeter. Gil would have to rely on the other boys to reel Skeeter in, and he didn’t like relying on anyone. Too risky. He sighed and picked up a fresh pencil, reflecting that he had no choice. The possession of Skeeter Montclaire was essential to the total destruction of Jake.

  That was problem-number-one. Gil’s eyes narrowed as he thought about problem-number-two. He had a sneaking suspicion that Jason was becoming enamored of the other Montclaire spawn. Against strict orders, Jason had not yet engaged the girl in sexual activity. The hidden camera revealed only talking and a minimum amount of physical contact. Jason was clearly interested though, Gil observed, from watching his son’s demeanor change whenever he was with Amy. Jason would unconsciously stand taller, puff out his chest and deepen his voice. Amy wasn’t oblivious, either, indicated by the lowering of her gaze, heightened color, and the occasional physical gesture. It was like watching two skittish animals partake of a mating ritual and if he hadn’t been pressed for time, Gil would have found it fascinating. But, as it was, he had a schedule, and he needed the girl impregnated by the next full moon if his plan was to work at all.

  A light tap sounded at the door and Gil’s gaze hardened as problem-number-three entered the room. Suzanne. His loving wife.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Suzanne was saying, “but I’ve got the decorator here and I need to know what color scheme you’d like for your study.”

  “I’m in crisis here, Suzanne, and you’re worried about color schemes?”

  She looked annoyed. “You know how important it is to me to arrange everything when we make these sudden moves. I need a sense of continuity, Gil, a sense of home, and so does Jason. Surrounding ourselves with decent decor takes the sting out of uprooting so suddenly. You should be grateful I’m doing this thankless task. Many women wouldn’t be so accommodating, you know.”

  “Many women wouldn’t have sold their husbands out by giving a guided tour to the police.”

  Suzanne pursed her lips. “Are you still on about that? I told you, they found your cellar all by themselves.”