by John Everson
“Certainly looks like a prison,” Sam noted.
Mistral stepped into one of the rooms and pointed at the chain that hung from a piton in the wall to coil on the floor, and then at the wet spot in the corner. The place smelled of stale urine. “Somebody certainly spent some time here, he said.
He shot a couple pictures of the lower rooms on his phone and then they ascended and returned to the chapel, where he took many more.
“I think this is what your victims are looking for,” Sam said, pointing at two piles of clothes heaped on one of the pews in the middle of the room.
“Grab ’em,” Mistral said, circling the altar. He shot a couple pictures of what appeared to be bloodstains that had dripped over the side; they didn’t look fresh, however.
“Looks like somebody’s been having a satanic old time up here lately,” he said.
“Call for backup?” Sam asked.
Mistral nodded. “Need to get some prints taken and smear some samples.” He pointed at the floor. “Somehow we need to find out who that belonged to.”
Something cold brushed his neck. Mistral touched his neck and turned around, but there was nothing there. “Damn,” he murmured. “It’s an 85-degree day and I just got a chill.”
A few steps away, Sam’s body stiffened. His partner had no sarcastic comeback for that.
Mistral shrugged off the feeling and bent down to pick up one of the candles that were set equidistant around the circle. As he did, a blast of heat swept down his spine. He stiffened. Shit, he couldn’t afford his back to go out right now. He was on-site for God’s sake. Carefully, Mistral tried to stand up, but his knees seemed to be locked in place.
He tried to push his hand down on one knee, to force them to unlock, but his arm didn’t budge either. “What the…”
“Um, Sam?” he called.
But no sound came out.
“No Sam here,” a voice whispered in his ear. It sounded as if it was right behind him, but Mistral couldn’t turn around to see.
“Not right behind,” the voice answered his unspoken thought. “I’m right here.”
At that, his hand suddenly leapt to life independently and slapped him across the face. The room echoed with the sound. His cheek stung.
“Who are you?” Mistral asked, though no sound left his mouth.
“Call me Rhilan,” the voice said.
Mistral’s legs suddenly unlocked and he stood up. He watched his body walk across the room and tap Sam on the shoulder. His partner turned and smiled, yet, it didn’t really look like Sam’s smile. It was as if Mistral was watching himself on TV. He couldn’t lift even one of his fingers.
“We’re going to be close friends for a while,” the voice said. “I need a ride.”
Mistral watched as his body, and his partner, walked out of the chapel and got into the patrol car.
He wanted to scream.
But all he could do was watch.
CHAPTER 39
ARIANA OPENED HER EYES and for a spit second, all she saw was red. Her world was a blaze of pain and blood. It took a moment before her vision cleared, and she knew where she was. Elotan’s bed. She lay under the covers of a demon. She had survived his cruel torture of the night before.
Images of the bloodwine bar flashed across her memory like a slideshow of pain. Pain so excruciating, she had screamed at the end until her throat only let out ragged whispers of sound. The demons hadn’t simply fucked her or sodomized her with their barbed wire cocks, they had ripped holes in her sides and thighs and belly to thrust their spears inside her as well. They had used her like a pin cushion.
But here she was, still alive, and staring at the ceiling.
Ariana remembered the ragged bloody mess that her mouth had been at the end of the night and reached one finger up to trace the edge of her lips.
They were whole.
She pushed the covers down, and stared down at her body, expecting to see gashes and hamburger, but her white skin was whole. She followed the curve of her hip up and over the slight lump of bone that marked her waist and then around at the manicured trail of hair that arrowed to the entry of her passion. The trimmed mound of pubic hair was glossy and clean. Her skin was tight, sexy and ready to be touched again.
Ariana stretched, and felt a few aches throughout her body, but nothing to stop her from getting up. She was whole again. The demons seemingly could do whatever they wanted to her, and she could rise again the next day to do it all again.
God, she loved this place!
Ariana looked up and saw Elotan watching her from the doorway. His forehead was tar-black and silky smooth, no wrinkles anywhere. But still somehow she could tell there was concern behind his gaze. When he saw that she’d noticed him, he stood straighter.
“So,” he said nonchalantly. “You survived the night.”
Ariana frowned. “No thanks to you.”
“You’re ungrateful? The demon scowled. “I made sure they went easy on you since it was your first time. Maybe I won’t make them hold back tonight,” he said.
“Tonight?” Ariana said. “I don’t think I can do that again.”
“You’re promised,” he said. “After last night, there is great interest in seeing you perform again. You seemed to enjoy yourself.”
Ariana opened her mouth to retort, but couldn’t refute him. She had enjoyed parts of the night. The bloodwine, seeing her body’s impact on the men. Tasting the lips of the demoness. And an orgasm amid excruciating pain that literally knocked her out.
She had enjoyed it.
But if they had gone easy on her last night… would she survive a real assault?
“If they kill me, I won’t be here for you to play with,” she said, kicking the covers aside and exposing herself fully for him to see. His reaction was instant and obvious.
“You don’t want to lose this, do you?”
He took a step forward, clearly tempted. Then he stopped.
“Get up,” he demanded roughly. “I want to find your friend today.”
“She is not my friend,” Ariana corrected. “And why do you want her if you have me?” She batted her eyes sweetly, and the demon made a sound at the back of his throat. She thought it was laughter.
“If I have her to send to the stage, I can keep you home just for me,” he said.
Ariana nearly leapt from the bed.
“Where do we start looking?” she asked.
CHAPTER 40
ALEX HUGGED THE side of a building as she peered around the corner at the street beyond. The stone felt strange beneath her hands. It almost seemed to repel her skin. Which made a sort of sense, really. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t really understand how she was here anyway. Was this really a physical body, or had she left that behind in the cave in Terrel? The demons here all appeared to have solid forms, as did she, but demons when they came to earth were not solid at all. So did that mean the solidity here was all illusion?
She didn’t want to think too hard about that – because if only her spirit was here, what did that mean for her body? Was she really dead? In limbo? If she found the door and went home, would there be anything to go home to?
“Malachai?” She called in her mind.
She felt a chill along the back of her neck. “Malachai,” she called again.
“Quiet,” the demon answered in the faintest whisper. She felt the chill shift and move. It was as if Malachai were sneaking around inside her.
“I am,” he whispered. “It’s dangerous for me here.”
“If I find a door home, will I have a body when I get there?” she asked.
He was silent.
“Malachai?” she called silently.
“I don’t know.”
Alex’s heart sank. She leaned harder against the brick, or whatever it was that the Curburid
e buildings were made of. She could feel her skin crawl where she touched the surface.
“You don’t belong here,” Malachai said.
“No shit,” Alex said. She peered around the corner of the building and could see dozens of dark shapes moving back and forth not far away. Some were walking with clear purpose down the sidewalks, while others lounged on benches or stood outside of doorways talking. It was demon central just ahead. Probably not the route she could take. Alex pushed back from the wall, intending to turn around and look for another street that was less crowded. But as she pulled away, something nearly out of sight on the cross street she’d been looking at caught her eye.
A star. Wrapped in the embrace of a circle.
The symbol that Meldut had told her about. It was painted below the arch of a narrow roof peak that framed a doorway. It was the symbol that said there was a door inside.
Alex’s heart stopped. There was a doorway that would hopefully take her home just a few hundred feet away. But she couldn’t approach it now.
She took a breath and leaned back against the building to think. Maybe she could go down another block. If she could cross over to the other side of the street without any demons seeing her, and then come at the doorway from the other direction, there might not be as many eyes to see her.
Alex retraced her steps and walked down until she was a couple blocks farther away from where she’d seen all of the action. And then she turned left and walked down the cross street two blocks. Assuming the Curburide neighborhood behaved on a grid, she now should be able to walk back up towards the busy area, but be on the other side of it. As Alex began walking back towards where she knew the door was, her heart beat faster. Would she be able to get into the building without being seen? Would the door be open? Could she be back home in just a few minutes?
Her chest felt tight with hope. She wondered where Joe Kieran was right now. What had he been doing since she came here? And what had he seen? Had her body simply disappeared from the cave where Ariana had been conducting her bloody ritual? Did he think she was dead? Or had Joe already helped bury her body, and this form that seemed so solid to her right now, was just ephemeral?
Stop! She commanded herself. One step at a time. You can’t go home and find out what is truly left of you, until you get to the door.
As she reminded herself of that, she looked ahead and realized that as she’d been lost in thought, she hadn’t moved an inch. The grey stone building on her left remained in place.
Damnit! She complained. How can you not move forward if your feet are walking? She remembered Meldut’s advice.
Focus.
Everything in the realm of the Curburide took focus to happen. It was a realm of the mind and spirit, not physical.
That made her fear again for the true state of her body, but she shook it off.
Move forward, she commanded, and focused on the intersecting street she could see far in the distance.
After a few minutes, it was no longer distant at all. Alex grinned as she hugged the corner of another building, and peered around the corner. She could see the building with the star symbol just to her left on the other side of the street. A demon walked past it, but otherwise, nobody was on this segment of street. She knew that just around the next corner there was a bustle of activity. All she needed to do was wait here for a minute or two, until that one obstacle passed, and then she could make a dash across the street to the door.
Two hands suddenly gripped her by the shoulders from behind. A flash of heat burned down her back, as a voice pronounced three words that made her heart sink:
“Here she is.”
CHAPTER 41
“TRUTH OR DARE?” Cheyenne asked. She shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chair and kicked her feet up onto the “interrogation” table, as Joe had labeled it in his head.
“Truth,” Joe said. “I don’t trust your dares.”
“Why, just because I made you go into the hallway and moon the front desk?”
“Pretty much,” he said. They had played three rounds of Truth or Dare so far, at Cheyenne’s insistence, and he’d learned his lesson after taking her first dare. Cheyenne was definitely not a shy girl.
Cheyenne smirked, and leaned her head over the back of the chair. Her hair dangled in the air as she stared at the ceiling and contemplated. When she leaned forward, there was an evil grin on her lips. “You told me all about this Alex girl you picked up on the side of the road. Did you ever beat off while thinking about fucking her?”
Joe’s jaw dropped. “She was only seventeen,” he said.
Cheyenne shrugged. “She had tits, right? You were both on the road together for a while. You even admitted you slept in the same bed once.”
“She was scared,” Joe said.
Cheyenne laughed. “Whatever. C’mon. Truth or dare. Did you ever think of her while you were jacking off?”
Joe answered under his breath.
Cheyenne kicked her feet off the desk and leaned forward to stare at him, resting her elbow on her knee. “I didn’t catch that.”
“I said yes,” Joe said.
She grinned. “Ha! See, I knew it. No guy goes chasing around the country for a girl just because he’s a good Samaritan. You wanted that pussy and some demon yanked it away from you. Now you’re like Don Quixote. Who goes looking for chicks on the other side.”
“She was attractive and funny and I cared for her, okay?” Joe said. “Enough about it.”
“And you were in a crazy situation with her,” Cheyenne said, nodding. “I think whenever two people are dropped into the pressure cooker together, they always end up wanting to take each other’s clothes off. It’s human nature. And guys can really get fixated on that.”
“But not girls?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Our job is to beat you off with a stick.”
“I’d prefer just the ‘beat you off’ part.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Of course, cuz you’re a guy. And after the last twenty-four hours, you’ll probably be thinking of me now whenever you’re beating off.” She raised an eyebrow and added, “By yourself.”
“Cruel,” he said. Then he challenged her back. “Truth or dare.”
Cheyenne perked up. She was clearly enjoying this. With a flash in her eye and a jutting chin, she pronounced, “Dare.”
She had taken dare on every round, and Joe was running out of ideas. How much could you do in the interrogation room of the police station? He’d had her do a handstand on the table and yell “Die motherfucker” at the top of her lungs. That particular stunt had resulted in the door opening a moment later. They’d drawn a visit from a matronly police officer with short grey hair. She’d scowled, asked what the problem was, and after a glare at their laughter, left.
Cheyenne didn’t want to take Truth for some reason, but Joe was running out of Dares.
And then from nowhere, six crazy words fell out of his lips.
“I dare you to kiss me.”
Joe’s stomach constricted as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Where the hell had that come from?
Cheyenne’s smile turned voracious. “See what I mean?” she asked. “I’m going to be in your head now whenever you get a hard-on. All cuz you got caged up with me for a night. It’s not like I was the girl you were looking for, but now you’re stuck with me.”
She looked pleased at that idea, and then suddenly stood up and took three steps to stand in front of him. Cheyenne tilted her head, studying him for a moment, as if sizing him up. Measuring him. Then she lifted one leg over his and lowered herself to straddle his lap. Joe found himself staring into her eyes and holding his breath. Her face was inches from his own; her eyes sparkled with mirth – and something more. She said nothing, but gently touched her lips to his. They were warm and dry and slipped easily across his for a second. And then they grew mois
t as she pressed harder to him and her tongue slipped in beside his own, flicking and teasing. Her eyes closed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her. Her breath in his nose was sweet and warm. He inhaled it and thought about how insane this particular moment was. His tongue didn’t care, nor did the bulge in his jeans. They responded with instant fervor.
And then the door opened.
“Mr. Kieran, Ms. Monarch?”
Joe jerked upright and broke the kiss. Cheyenne drew her head back slower, with less anxiety. She winked at him, and then slipped off his lap to stand. Officer Mistral was back. He stepped into the room, and another cop, shorter, squatter, followed. The silver badge on his uniform read Barela.
“What did you find?” Joe asked, rising to his feet behind Cheyenne. “Was anybody still there?”
Mistral set two rolled up bundles of clothes on the table. “Are these yours?”
Joe grabbed at the familiar jeans, and unraveled them. His T-shirt and underwear fell out and onto the floor. He felt himself blush as he picked up the blue Hanes. Everyone wore briefs, but it felt wrong for anyone to see his. Let alone to have picked them up and delivered them back to him.
He nodded, as his hand slipped to the back pocket of the jeans. “These are mine,” he said.
“You’ll be looking for this,” Mistral said, and held out a wallet. “I didn’t want it to fall out.”
“Plus you had to run an ID on my driver’s license,” Joe said.
Mistral shrugged.
Joe took the wallet. Cheyenne held up her shirt and nodded. “Yep, this is my shit.”
“Thanks for bringing it all back,” Joe said. “Did you see anyone?”
Mistral shook his head. “Some blood on the floor, but otherwise, everything was quiet.”
“So you believe us, right?” Cheyenne asked.
The shorter cop answered. His voice was gruff. “We believe that something happened up there.”
Mistral nodded. “We’d like to take you back up to the Birchmir and have you walk us through what happened to you, now that we know it’s safe for you to go back.”