Torment

by Jeremy Seals

  “Stitches!” Mikey almost wailed.

  “Yup,” Jones walked back to the open casket. “Fifty-five of them, at least.”

  Elise tried to hide her smile. The kid was so darn gullible. Mikey sat down heavily, one hand clamped to his wound. His blue eyes were so big she was afraid they might topple out of his head.

  Quickly and carefully, the duo removed the requested components. Elise was carefully placing the finger bones in a small padded box. Jones was nearby, examining some odd writing he’d found on the underside of the coffin lid. He gasped. Began to hiccup. Stopped.

  “What’s up Jones?” Elise asked quietly. “You okay?”

  “Did you see this?” Jones’ voice was odd. He was subdued, all his usual confidence gone. “It’s a warning.”

  She looked. It was several lines of text written in some language she didn’t recognize. “So what? We’ve seen stuff like this before. Anyway, how do you know it’s a warning? You can’t read that any better than I can.”

  “No, no. This is different. This is serious. We should put it all back.”

  “Come on Jones! Snap out of it. We have what we need. Let’s put the rest back and go.”

  Mikey stood uneasily. “What’s wrong?”

  Jones was transfixed by the script. His arms were folded over his chest. He was rocking slightly, mouth working silently. Elise was slightly disgusted as drool began to run slowly from the corner of his mouth.

  She exchanged a worried look with Mikey. He shrugged slightly, moving away from Jones slowly. Dealing with one crazy animal was enough.

  “I’m sorry,” Jones said softly. “We’re all sorry.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Mikey whispered.

  “Her. She’s mad. We need to say sorry and put the stuff back. Say you’re sorry, okay guys?”

  “Who’s mad? Dammit, Jones, we paid off the people we needed to,” Elisa was looking about, gun out and ready. “Is someone else messing around here?”

  “The lady’s very mad,” Jones voice was that of a child. “We shouldn’t have defiled her. We have to put it back. Gotta put it back and hope she won’t be mad anymore.”

  “No,” Elise said firmly. “I don’t know what’s come over you, but we’ve got what we need. Let’s go and get our fee. Just like always, right Mikey?”

  “Right,” Mikey said confidently. “Just like always.”

  Violently shaking now, their boss was moaning. He pointed into the forest beyond the weathered headstone. His normally olive skinned complexion was draining away. The neat goatee he affected was whitening before them. Dark blood began to run down one nostril.

  “Witch! It’s the witch!” Jones screamed. “It’s too late now! The witch is here!”

  Following the pointing digit into the dark woods, Elise and Mikey yelled in fear and surprise. Before them, trailing a long gown behind her, a twistedly beautiful apparition floated towards the trio. She was not pale, like a movie ghost, but glowed a light green. Her face was long, flawlessly smooth. The eyes were hard, glittering diamonds. Two monstrous dogs trailed behind her. Easily as tall as Elise herself, twice as broad. They each wore wide collars of thick ebony leather. Bright tanzanite pendants hung from the middle.

  “My name is Liv Marius,” the apparition growled. “You have violated my slumber. Why have you done this? Why have you defiled my body?”

  “We’re sorry!” Jones cried, falling to his knees on the muddy ground. “Oh please, don’t hurt us! We’ll put it back! We promise!”

  One hand raised. The man’s frantic apologies ceased. He made a guttural whining sound. More blood began to flow, from both nostrils now. Slow at first, the thick crimson picked up the pace. It positively dumped out, punctuated here and there with some grey matter.

  Elise’s throat convulsed, gulping in air. She loosed an ear piercing wail. Her arm raised the small handgun. It seemed to weigh a ton now, but she managed. She squeezed the trigger rapidly.

  Liv’s shade barely noticed. She was completely focused on watching the gory mess pour from Jones’ face. A beautiful smile was spread across her plum colored lips. Perfectly straight, yet yellow stained teeth appeared. Even the hounds began to grin in a doggy way, long violet tongues lolling from their mouths.

  Mikey stood agape, rooted in place by the gruesome sight. Silent tears poured down his cheeks. A rapid, disjointed prayer ran through his mind. What was this? Why had no one bothered to tell him that these things could happen?

  Jones’ life ended in a final hiccupping belch. He flopped down on his belly, head rebounding gently before coming to a final stop. The ghost lady giggled. She clapped enthusiastically at the vile display. Once her glee had passed, she turned to the pair standing nearby.

  “Now,” Liv purred. “What shall I do with the two of you?”

  Unwilling to wait and find out, Elise took off. She didn’t look back to see if Mikey would follow. The kid was old enough to take care of himself. Though she would never admit to it, the thought occurred that she might get away while the ghost was killing the boy.

  The specter’s ethereal dress flowed out around the still frozen form of Mikey. He did not protest as the white, flower specked material wrapped itself around his arms and legs. Urine ran down his limbs. He opened his mouth to plead with the evil spirit. Nothing came out except for a flat croak.

  “Shhh!” Liv whispered, drawing close to the terrified young man. She placed one hand on top of his head. An unsettling warmth began to flow through Mikey. Intense pain followed it, mercifully stopping at the base of his spine.

  “A mânca cu poftă!” She called to the hound on her right.

  Ground shaking at its approach, the giant canine stepped before Mikey. He tried not to cry anymore, tried to be brave in the face of his certain doom, but the flashing jaws that closed around his entire head were too terrifying for courage. A racking sob was the last sound he made.

  The dog pulled Mikey’s head and spine off his shoulders. It sucked the vertebrae down intact like a spaghetti noodle. Moments later the hound began to heave. With a final deep huff, the ghostly animal regurgitated the boney snack, sans meat and skin.

  At Liv’s gesture, the cleaned skull rose to float in the air. Mikey’s blue eyes peered lovingly up at his new mistress. She smiled benevolently at him, placing one long fingered hand under his chin, stroking lightly.

  “Find the thieving bitch,” the ghost woman said. “Bring her to me alive.”

  Howling, the gristly seeker took off the way Elise had fled. The dogs looked to their owner, who nodded approval. They returned the cry and stormed off, flanking what remained of Mikey.

  Their quarry was hiding in a mausoleum close to the grave. A huge cramp had gripped the back of Elise’s right leg soon after she sprinted for the exit. Knowing that the witch woman would be on the hunt, she stifled a scream of frustration and denied the urge to give up. The lock on the gated tomb door was easily picked, even with hands that quaked in terror.

  Inside, breathing the dank, mildew-ridden air, Elise clutched her reloaded firearm. She was trying to listen over the wild pounding in her chest. The hamstring spasm was slowly going away. Stretching it as best she could, Elise knew that running was going to be the only option for escape. If she hid here for too long, they’d eventually find her.

  Something outside screeched through the air. She edged to the entrance, risking a glance. A skull, whipping its tail around madly, bobbed around the general vicinity, a sickening marionette looking for Elise. The dogs were close as well. Their noses were to the ground seeking her scent. One’s head lifted, causing her to retreat back into the deeper shadows.

  A bat, attracted by the activity, swooped down. The hound with the lifted head snapped it out of the air mid-flight. It crunched the flying rodent up, swallowing it down in a single gulp.

  Shivering, Elise felt her heart drop. They were going to find her if she stayed here and running was absolutely crazy. The monsters would easily catch up. Her pistol might be useful aga
inst the floating skull, but the dogs were another story.

  The hound closest to her abruptly stopped sniffing. Its sharply pointed ears perked up. A sharp, echoing bark alerted the others. Elise whimpered, closing her eyes and covering her ears with sweating, quivering palms. She hoped it would at least be quick.

  Long moments passed. Nothing happened. Perspiration beaded up on her forehead. She was now shaking uncontrollably.

  Bright light penetrated Elise’s eyelids. Unable to help herself, she let loose a high scream, kicking out with both feet wildly. Fists followed suit. The firearm was all but forgotten in her fear.

  “Whoa!” An older male voice hollered in protest. “Stop it!”

  Breathing hard, the terrified grave robber opened her eyes. A lanky man in a worn pea coat stood there, powerful flashlight in hand. The caretaker, who’d cheerfully taken their bribe without any problem at all.

  “I thought you guys were working outside,” he asked, rubbing a kicked shin. “What are you doing in there? Is everything okay?”

  “No,” she answered between gasps. “We need to leave; now.”

  Rising to her feet, Elise ignored his confusion and slowly exited the tomb. No sign of the creatures. She walked quickly towards the cemetery gates, resisting the urge to break into a full bore run.

  “Hold on!” The caretaker protested, following closely.

  “Shut up!” Elise hissed. “We can talk all you want once we get out of here. Until then, keep quiet and move!”

  “I said-“the man stopped short. A high pitched keening split the air. He swung the light around. “What the hell is that?”

  Mikey’s disembodied skull was barreling straight at him, mouth wide as it shrieked. His bright eyes burned out of the fleshless face. Somewhere behind this gruesome remnant, the dogs bayed encouragement.

  The bony attacker slammed into the caretaker’s chest. He hit the ground hard, flashlight rolling away. Elise began to approach when a sound infinitely more awful than Mikey’s battle cry started. A wet, ripping, snapping noise, punctuated by the victim’s uneven, warbling shrieks.

  Tail of vertebrae lashing furiously about, the skull was attempting to burrow its way into the struggling man. He tried to push it away. Unfortunately, his hand got too close to its gnashing teeth. Fingers came away, dropping through the hole in Mikey’s jaw.

  Elise could watch no more. She sprinted away, unwilling to subject herself to seeing what was left of her friend drill into the caretaker’s solar plexus. Two perfectly synchronized howls preceded the heavy thump of eight massive paws. The dogs were on to her.

  Willing her legs to move faster, she choked down the scream that threated to steal valuable oxygen. Elise could see the gates. No matter that the careful caretaker had locked them behind him. The tall bars could be climbed.

  Concrete splashed against her back. Small pebbles, thankfully. She risked a look back. The hounds were close, plowing through tombstones like they were Styrofoam yard decorations. Their eyes burned red with hateful madness. An alien voice whispered in her mind, commanding her to stop. To Elise’s horror, her legs were obeying.

  “No!” She bellowed, breaking the trance. Pushing the tired appendages harder, fueled by adrenaline, Elise crossed the last twenty yards in record time. She sprang at the fence like a wild ape.

  The bars were rounded dowels of wrought iron, too slick to climb. She cried out with what little breath remained, scrambling and jumping to find some purchase on the unforgiving surface.

  Powerful jaws clamped on her belt. Elise was lifted bodily. The dog flung her up quickly, getting a new hold on her slim waist. She expected the hell beast to bite right through and squinted against what was sure to be an agonizing few moments before her brain disconnected.

  Instead, the hound turned and rushed back towards the violated grave. There it dumped her, scraped and slightly soggy, but otherwise unharmed, before Liv. Mikey’s skull, bloody and chipped from its efforts, circled slowly around.

  What remained of Elise’s partners lay in the bottom of the hole, smashed under the replaced casket. The lid was closed. Hope, albeit weak and unreasonable, blossomed in her chest. Maybe the ghost wouldn’t outright kill her. There could be a slim chance to walk away from all this.

  “No,” the specter said, voice full of false pity. “You’re not escaping punishment. I was dead, free from the misery of the world. Yes, I practiced sorcery while alive, knowing that anyone who disturbed me would damn me to a second life. I chose a quiet corner to be buried in, where the chance of being disturbed was small. Thanks to you, I now have to haunt these grounds forever.”

  She curtly gestured with her head. The flowing cloth restraints from Liv cruelly snapped around Elise’s wrists and yanked her arms to point straight out, palms down. The dogs came around to face the thief. They positioned themselves so that their mouths were nearly touching Elise’s outstretched fingers.

  “Hand for hand.” Liv whispered, snapping her fingers.

  Though Elise screamed, it did nothing to mask the sharp, carroty snap of the demon hounds severing both hands neatly at the wrist.

  Massage

  No matter where he looked, Carter saw nudity. It shouldn’t have shocked him. After all, he was sitting in the comfortable waiting room of a massage parlor. Still, there were robes, though further consideration of this thought revealed how silly it was. This was a business centered on flesh.

  Going to a place like this was a new experience to him. Years past his divorce, lonely, overweight, and very plain, Carter needed release beyond what a website could provide. He wasn’t really looking for a relationship either. The tedium of dating was an unpleasant exercise for a man of forty. All he wanted was physical contact and a little friction at the end.

  At first, he tried local body rub ads on Craigslist. After a few encounters with women who looked like angels in their profile pictures and were drug ridden hags in person, Carter found out about the Relax Massage and Spa Company. Lots of positive reviews on several websites, plus reasonable rates made it worth a try.

  Now he waited impatiently, butterflies in his stomach, sour acid in his throat. Chili and nerves didn’t blend well together. Carter hoped a fart wouldn’t sneak out during the service. It would be just his luck to rip one while some hot chick was flogging his doggie.

  Heels clicked towards him on the faux marble floor. “Mr. Carter?”

  The speaker was a knockout. Brunette, curvy; blue eyes framed by fashionable black plastic frame glasses. She wore a sultry parody of a business woman’s outfit, short black skirt with a crimson blouse. The neckline plunged in a deep “v” to reveal her augmented cleavage.

  Carter’s mouth was a desert. He managed to croak out: “Yes?”

  “Miranda is ready for you,” she smiled, voice carrying the trace of a European accent. “Please follow me.”

  He did so, noting her impossible heel height and shapely calf muscles. She led him down a long hall, chatting pleasantly all the while. Carter spoke or grunted when it was necessary to do so, trying to hide just how excited he felt. If the hostess was any indication, he was in for a real treat.

  They stopped in front of a door with the number “237” on it in gilt gold numbers. Inside stood a young woman, brilliant red hair shining under the ceiling mounted track lighting. Per the specifications he’d provided, Miranda was dolled up like his teenage crush; Daisy Duke. Barefoot, short shorts, and a halter top exposing a tanned, taught midriff.

  “Hello Mr. Carter!” Miranda squeaked cheerfully. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes!” He replied with pathetic enthusiasm.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” The hostess shut the door behind her, smile dropping off her pretty face the second the latch clicked. She crossed to the room opposite “237.” Inside were five large men of mixed lineage playing poker at a round table. Three others; two women and one older man sat at computer terminals. All activity stopped when the hostess entered.

  “Green light,” she said, han
ding a file to one of the women. “Get ready.”

  ******

  Miranda laid down some ground rules and told Carter to undress. He did so quickly, not exactly out of lust, either. His rather sizable man boobs were an embarrassment to him, so he figured that getting onto the plush leather massage table as quickly as possible would not only spare him humiliation, it would save the young lady from having to be subjected to the unpleasant sight.

  She dimmed the lights. Soft music began to play. The quiet pad of her feet on the floor as she came closer made his heart beat harder. Miranda’s scent, some light, flowery perfume, hung in the warm air.

  Expertly, the masseuse worked the stress from Carter’s back, neck, and shoulders. She had strong hands for such a small girl. He was fully relaxed, nearly asleep, to be perfectly honest.

  So when Miranda stuck the needle into his left butt cheek, the sharp sting followed by an icy rush was a rude awakening. A thick fog quickly settled over his brain. Carter’s limbs felt like massive weights had been attached to them. He tried to at least turn his head. It almost obeyed, allowing an uncomfortable twist so that he laid on the left side of his face.

  His fantasy woman was washing her hands vigorously at a nearby sink, like a surgeon washing up for theatre. The glare she threw at him in the mirror clearly displayed Miranda’s disgust.

  “You make me sick!” She spat. “Dress up for me! Touch my disgusting, ill-treated body! Rub my tiny cock!”

  Blood rushed up to Carter’s face. In spite of the significant trouble he was surely in, shame hit full force. This was wrong. He should be safe at home and perusing his urges on some website.

  She was approaching him again, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. From a drawer under the table came a handful of blue topped specimen tubes and a syringe. Miranda drew blood until three of the vials were full, jabbing the needle mercilessly into a vein on his neck.

  Once done, she left him. Fear was seeping through Carter, cutting through the drug haze. Was this some kind of illegal blood bank? Maybe it was some oddball police sting. Inject a mark with illegal drugs, run a test, and get creepers off the street.