by John Everson
She took a bite of the bloody thing she’d pulled from inside him before offering it to his wide-eyed face. “Kidney?” she asked. “I’d be happy to share.”
Cindy wanted to throw up, but all she could do was watch as Delivida bathed in the man’s living blood as she brought herself to orgasm. The worst part was, she could taste the man’s flesh, and feel the rush of Delivida’s inhuman passion. The sensations were burning themselves into her vision when suddenly Delivida leapt off Tim’s body. The bloody flesh fell from her mouth, and she spoke just once more in Cindy’s mind.
“The door to Curburide is closing,” she said. Her voice sounded panicked. “I have to go. Now.”
And with that, the demon was suddenly gone from her head, and Cindy had control of her body for the first time in over two days. She staggered around the small room, holding out her bloody arms in horror and disgust. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her entire body began to shake, as if she were in a frozen meat locker.
“Oh my God,” she moaned, pulling the bloody chain from her neck. She left it next to the still, gutted body of the man.
“Why did I ever tell Joe about the Birchmir?”
CHAPTER 69
ALEX KEPT HER FOCUS and continued to feed the spark that stitched the sky back together. The shrieks and screams grew in volume as the Curburide invasion returned home, a desperate, panicked flight. To be cut off from their world without a legitimate anchor meant immolation. From Malachai’s explanations in the past, no demon could survive long in this realm when the door was closed without a black magic covenant to hold it. The Curburide had forged no such rights to stay and now fled in fear of complete dissolution.
“Help me, now,” Alex said to Joe and Cheyenne.
She stood, and gripped Ariana’s ankles in her hands. Joe and Cheyenne instantly understood, and lifted Ariana by her arms.
Blood streamed from a multitude of cuts as they carried her to the center of the circle Darin’s group had drawn to open the doorway to the Curburide.
“Let this be the final stone to plug the hole,” Alex cried, improvising now. “Let the body of this woman follow the evil energy that was her soul. Let her take her place among those who she worshipped. She was born in the wrong world… let her find the right one at last.”
Together, they swung her body up, and Alex felt the thin, but still powerful pull of the vortex take hold. She let go of Ariana’s feet instantly, and Joe and Cheyenne let go of Ariana’s arms and stepped back in fear of getting caught in the grip of the door.
Ariana’s body twitched and lurched for a second in the air, and instead of falling back to the stone floor, shot up and away from them to twist like a leaf in the air above.
“Close the door,” Alex cried out. She held her hands out, and Joe and Cheyenne took them, as if on cue. Together the three circled the center of the sacrificial circle. Alex repeated the words, and Joe and Cheyenne soon joined her chant.
“Close the door...
Close the door…
Close the door…”
Alex felt the power of Malachai and Beatrice and the rest of the ghosts join her spell. She closed her eyes and sent every last push of power that she could muster skyward.
The screams and cries in the air turned from cacophony to a handful of wails to one final, hissing curse.
And then there was only silence. The earth no longer shook.
Alex looked with her inner sight to the sky…
And saw only the blue of afternoon air, and the lazy clouds of summer.
“Who wants a shower?” Cheyenne said.
Joe looked at the blood that painted his arms and chest and even his sex. Which, he had to admit, he was glad to be able to look at and see that it was whole again after Helone’s violation.
“I want more than a shower,” he said. “I want to be soaked in soap.”
Cheyenne nodded. “That or a pool of holy water.”
Joe looked at Alex. The girl was staring at the sky. Her eyes were distant, serious. And though she stood there, nude and beautiful, it occurred to him that he felt no sexual attraction for her now. Was it the moment? Or all they’d been through?
He’d seen her naked before, and had always felt a rise, despite knowing she was too young for him. Guilt hadn’t stopped the attraction. But now...He saw her in a different way. She was so thin. In a girlish, not a sickly way. But the look on her face right now belied her youth. Her expression looked aged. She was both girl and woman now. Walking the line between. Or maybe she was beyond both. Alex had just performed a miracle. She was more than human… she was a force.
“Alex, are you okay?” he asked softly.
She turned her head and stared back at him with eyes that were haunted, and sad. “I just killed a woman,” she said. “The third person I’ve killed. I belong in the place I sent her body.”
“She deserved it,” Joe said. “She was evil.”
“Why, because she killed to get what she wanted?” Alex said. “So have I.”
“You’re not evil,” Cheyenne said. “You saved us. Hell, you saved the whole world.”
“Maybe two worlds,” Joe added. “I think Earth and the world of the Curburide were both going to shake each other to pieces if that door wasn’t closed.”
“Speaking of which,” Cheyenne said. “Do you feel it?”
“What?” Alex asked.
“Shhhh,” Cheyenne said. “Just listen.”
The three stood in silence, in the midst of the broken mission. Finally Alex said, “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly,” Joe said. He grinned. “The earth isn’t moving anymore.”
“Let’s find some clothes and get out of here,” Cheyenne said. “I want to see if there’s anything left of Santa Fe.”
There were plenty of discarded shirts and pants around the mission, from victims who’d been stripped and sent through the portal to the other side. They each found things that more or less fit, and quickly covered themselves from the blaze of the desert sun.
Cheyenne held up a black shirt with hot pink letters, and said, “Do you think any of them will find a way back?”
“Who, the people?” Joe asked.
Cheyenne nodded. She pointed to all of the discarded clothing. Her eyes looked sad.
“I wonder how many Curburide have managed to stay here?” Joe asked.
Alex was silent for a moment. Then she offered, “Malachai says, some of them might find their way to a door, and turn up here again. And I’m sure there are some Curburide who forged covenants allowing them to stay here. We need to be careful of them; they are not going to be happy with us if we run into them.”
“How can we identify them?”
Alex shrugged. “Can’t. Just like Malachai can hide inside me, the Curburide could be deep inside anyone.”
“Well, there’s a cheerful thought,” Joe said. “No more blind dates.” He held up a ring of keys, fished from the pocket of the jeans he now wore. They were baggy around his waist, but he didn’t care. “C’mon, let’s see if we can find the car that these belong to. I am not hitching a ride back to town again.”
“Yeah, I am not walking the road bare-assed naked with you again,” Cheyenne added.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You were hitchhiking naked?”
Joe shook his head. “Long story.” He held the key ring out toward the parking lot and pressed a button. A moment later, the horn on an old green Impala began to complain.
“And we’ve got us a horse,” he said.
There was smoke coming from several rooftops as they rounded the curve and headed down into Santa Fe. People milled about on the streets and sidewalks, looking lost and confused. There were bodies lying on the ground that didn’t move. The blood patterns around some suggested that they would not be rising again.
“Holy
shit,” Cheyenne said as they drove down Guadalupe Street. The glass of the windows of most of the businesses were shattered, and Joe had to swerve to avoid a body in the middle of the street. Sirens blared in the distance.
“Looks like the Curburide had some fun here,” Alex said.
“No kidding,” Joe said. “That or a bomb.”
“Wait!” Cheyenne said. “Pull over here a minute. I have friends who work there.”
Joe pulled to the curb, and Cheyenne jumped out of the passenger door and ran across the street. Joe saw the familiar sign and low brick border wall that was the entrance of the Cowgirl BBQ.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a look.”
They walked across the sidewalk and through the wrought iron fence. The red-and-white checkered patio tables and chairs were all toppled over. It looked like a small tornado had struck. Joe saw Cheyenne disappear into the bar itself, and he threaded through the broken furniture to follow her.
Inside, things looked much the same. Tables were overturned; glass was everywhere. A man’s body lay over the threshold that led to the back dining room. It didn’t move. Behind the bar, the bottles had all been toppled and smashed; the Cowgirls Only sign hung sideways from the ceiling, its string of blue lasso lights dark and broken. A cowgirl hat lay abandoned in the middle of the floor.
Cheyenne turned and looked at Joe. “There’s nobody left here,” she whispered. “They’re all gone.”
He reached out and took her by the elbow. “Come on,” he said. “They’ll be back. Most of them are probably back home, trying to put things back together. Trying to figure out what the hell happened over the past couple days. We can check back later.”
Joe led her back outside, but when he opened the car door, Cheyenne shook her head.
“I’ll walk home from here,” she said. “I do it every night.”
“Don’t be silly,” Joe said. “We’ll drive.”
“I don’t think so, Joe,” Cheyenne said. “This is as good as any place to say goodbye. And I just want to go home now.”
“Goodbye?”
She nodded. Her smile was sad. “Look, Joe, I’m glad I met you. It was crazy and weird and sometimes even a little fun. But…” She tilted her head at Alex. “You got what you came for. I’m glad I could help and that it all worked out for you. I really am. I hope you both can be happy now. So, I’m not big on goodbyes. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Cheyenne gave him a quick hug. Then she turned away from the car and began to walk down the street.
Joe looked at Alex, not sure what to do. He had not thought about what he would do once he actually got Alex home. If he got Alex home. He didn’t know where they stood with each other. What was he now to her? Father figure? Friend? Lover? What did he want to be?
Alex had no such confusion.
“Go after her Joe,” Alex said softly. “Follow your heart.”
Joe looked at the spark in her eyes, and then looked down the block, where Cheyenne was turning the corner.
He took a breath, and looked back at Alex.
“Wait here for me?” he asked.
She smiled. “I’ll always be here for you, Joe.”
He nodded, and kissed her on the forehead. She gave him a hug, and then pushed him back.
“Don’t let her get away.”
Joe hesitated, but only for a second. Then he ran down the block to catch Cheyenne.
EPILOGUE
THAT NIGHT WAS was the longest night of Elotan’s endless life.
After Alex and Ariana and Joe and Cheyenne had stumbled out of his grasp and through the doorway, he’d waited nearby as Helone sent her minions through to try to bring them back. But then the tides of leaving had turned, and hordes of Curburide began streaming back through the door in the opposite direction, returning from Earth. The chamber filled with the gibbering of angry, screaming voices, and then the tidal wave slowed to a trickle, as the last breathless demons dove back to the world of the Curburide.
At the very end, a blood-spattered body fell out of the air and to the ground. It rolled down a step, mouth open; eyes wide with pain. And with a soundless snap, the door was closed.
Elotan had rushed forward, and Helone scoffed as he’d lifted Ariana’s body from the stones. “That skin is ruined,” she said.
He ignored her and ran from the House of Doors with the body. A trail of blood drops marked their steps through the alleys of the Curburide.
He placed her on his bed, and pressed his twelve fingers on the wounds of her chest. With his eyes closed, he willed her blood to continue to flow. He reached out beyond the physical and pulled at those pearly ethereal spiderwebs that still clung to this body, desperately working to reel them back. And when his fingers felt a faint, but steady beat begin again beneath his fingertips after many moments of silence, he took Ariana’s body into his arms, and held her tight to his demon skin as the minutes ticked by.
He willed her soul to stay tethered, and pressed his own breath in and out of her lips, as he waited for the hour of Redemption.
When the Redemption came, Ariana opened her eyes to see the black scowl of the demon’s face, resting just inches from her own.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Elotan said. “You’ve kept me waiting a long time.”
He shifted to bring his hips closer and she could feel the evidence that said that he was not planning to wait any longer for her.
Her smile shone brighter than all the fires of hell.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOHN EVERSON is a staunch advocate for the culinary joys of the jalapeno and an unabashed fan of 1970s European horror cinema. He is also the Bram Stoker Award-winning author of Covenant and eight other novels, including the erotic horror tour de force and Bram Stoker Award finalist NightWhere and the seductive backwoods tale of The Family Tree. Other novels include Sacrifice, The Pumpkin Man, Siren, The 13th and the spider-driven Violet Eyes.
Over the past 25 years, his short fiction has appeared in more than 75 magazines and anthologies and received a number of critical accolades, including frequent Honorable Mentions in the Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror anthology series. His story “Letting Go” was a Bram Stoker Award finalist in 2007 and “The Pumpkin Man” was included in the anthology All American Horror: The Best of the First Decade of the 21st Century. In addition to his own twisted worlds, he has also written stories in shared universes, including the worlds of The Vampire Diaries and Jonathan Maberry’s V-Wars, as well as for Kolchak: The Night Stalker and The Green Hornet.
His short story collections include Cage of Bones & Other Deadly Obsessions, Needles & Sins, Vigilantes of Love and Sacrificing Virgins.
To catch up on his blog, join his newsletter or get information on his fiction, art and music, visit John Everson: Dark Arts at www.johneverson.com.
BOOKS BY JOHN EVERSON
NOVELS:
Covenant
Sacrifice
The 13th
Siren
The Pumpkin Man
NightWhere
Violet Eyes
The Family Tree
Redemption
NOVELETTES:
Failure
Violet Lagoon
Field of Flesh (a NightWhere story)
SHORT FICTION COLLECTIONS:
Cage of Bones & Other Deadly Obsessions
Vigilantes of Love
Needles & Sins
Sacrificing Virgins
She yearned to go beyond... but some curtains should never be opened.
NIGHTWHERE
© 2012 John Everson
When Rae broached the idea of visiting an underground sex club, Mark didn't blink. He should have. Because NightWhere is not your usual swingers club. Where it's held on a given night...only those who receive the red invitations know. Soon Rae is ind
ulging in her lust for pain. And Mark is warned by a beautiful stranger to take his wife away before it's too late.
But it's already too late. Because Rae hasn't come home. Now Mark is in a race against time -- to find NightWhere again and save his wife from the mysterious Watchers who run the club. To stop her from taking that last step through the degradations of The Red into the ultimate BDSM promise of The Black. More than just their marriage and her life are at stake: Rae is in danger of losing her soul...
When Rae broached the idea of visiting an underground sex club, Mark didn't blink. He should have. Because NightWhere is not your usual swingers club. Where it’s held on a given night… only those who receive the red invitations know. Soon Rae is indulging in her lust for pain. And Mark is warned by a beautiful stranger to take his wife away before it's too late.
But it’s already too late. Because Rae hasn't come home. Now Mark is in a race against time - to find NightWhere again and save his wife from the mysterious Watchers who run the club. To stop her from taking that last step through the degradations of The Red into the ultimate BDSM promise of The Black. More than just their marriage and her life are at stake: Rae is in danger of losing her soul...
Enjoy the following excerpt from
NightWhere:
PROLOGUE
THE WORLD STRETCHED away in a field of stalks. They were everywhere, as far as the eye could see. At first glance, it looked like a cornfield – branch after branch after branch of amber leaves standing quiet and still in the faint summer breeze.
But then Colum looked closer, and saw that the amber wasn’t truly amber. The color was lighter, more suffused with a blend of white and pink. They were waves of fleshy grain, not amber.
And flesh was a good color description, because the stalks weren’t grain.