Sacrifice b-6

by Andrew Vachss

  "Yes," he said, sitting in a child-size armchair, looking straight at her.

  Teresa didn't use a girasol, didn't use anything at all. The library articles told me about this— how the multiples get used to reaching a trance state in therapy— the splits are born from autohypnosis anyway. "Relax," is all Teresa said, and the boy's eyes started rapid-fire blinking. Then closed.

  "Can I talk to Toby?" Teresa asked.

  "What is it now?" Toby's voice, pitched like Luke's but with a sharp, sarcastic undertone.

  "How are the others doing?" Teresa.

  "How should we be doing? I mean, nobody's hurting the baby, but Luke, you know him, he's still scared. But he's better. We don't get out so much anymore."

  "What did they do to the baby?"

  "They don't do nothing to the baby. What's wrong with you? It's Luke they do it to."

  "The baby, she doesn't feel things?"

  "The baby runs away. I told you all this. The baby runs away. Susie."

  "Do you like babies?"

  "I don't care about them."

  "Does Luke like babies?"

  "Yeah. Luke's a sucker. He likes everyone. He even liked them. When they'd scare him, the baby would come out. To take the pain."

  "Did you ever come out when they scared him?"

  "Do I look crazy to you, lady? I did…once…to talk to them…and…they hurt me."

  "How did they hurt you, Toby?"

  "It wasn't me…when they started, Luke came back. When they hurt him, the baby came. The runaway."

  "What did they do to Luke?"

  "They scared him. They tied him up. All with hoods. Black hoods. They put things in him. Burned. He screamed. They told him to be good, be a good baby. He screamed and screamed until the baby came out. Then he was good."

  "What did Luke do when he was good?"

  "Suck."

  "Suck what?"

  "Suck… them."

  "Men?"

  "Not just men. Women too. And another boy, once. Then they put things in him. He was bleeding."

  "Did he fight them?"

  "No. He was scared. Luke had a puppy, Prince. They killed the puppy. Cut his heart out. One of them ate the heart. It was just a little thing, so small."

  "The puppy?"

  "The heart. You listening to me or what?"

  "I'm listening to you, Toby. How many people were there?"

  "Lots of them. All in hoods— they never took off the hoods. They had candles. Candles and smoke. And stuff on the wall too. They always said Satan. Like in church. And a table. A big table. That's what they put Luke on, the table. It had stuff on it, carved. I saw the knife."

  "Did they cut Luke with the knife?"

  "No. They put something in him. With wires. When Luke screamed, they'd make it burn so bad inside him. They did it. Every time. They said he had to be a good baby. Good baby. When the baby came to run away, then the baby saw the cameras. Then we could all go."

  "Go?"

  "Like…pass out, you know? Go away. It hurt when we came back…tried to go away, far away. We didn't want to come back."

  "When did the other one come?"

  "What other one, sister? There's only Luke and the baby Susie. And me."

  "Toby, you're smart, yes? You see things Luke doesn't?"

  "Yeah, Luke ain't that smart. He thinks he is…but he don't know some things."

  "Do you know who killed the puppy, Toby?"

  "Yeah. Those hoods, they didn't fool me. Voices. I know their voices."

  "Whose voices?"

  "Dad. And Mom too, she was there. Dad killed the puppy. Mommy, she was the one who said to be a good baby. Good baby. They had a baby, you know. A little baby. A boy baby. Like us. They wanted a girl baby— I heard them say. It would be good if they had a girl too. Better product. A little girl. Baby Susie. Luke thought, if he was a girl, they'd be nice to him. But I know them. Luke's stupid."

  "Why is he stupid?"

  "'Cause he don't remember the way I do. He thinks it all started when he was older…if he was a baby, they wouldn't hurt him. Luke was jealous."

  "What did he want?"

  "He wanted them to love him," the voice sneered.

  "Tell me about the baby?"

  "We made the baby. Me and Luke. What they did to Luke…it's what they do to make babies, so we made a baby. Luke wanted her so they'd love him. Not hurt him. But I knew…I wanted the baby to run away. Take the pain. So we made the baby. But the baby…the other baby, they knew that was the real baby."

  "Toby…"

  "Baby." The voice had no age. I held my hands rigid, had to let the monster come out, let Wolfe see it.

  "Who…?" Teresa asked.

  "Baby!" The voice was a snarl. Luke's eyes were slitted, muscles jumping in his little face. "I want the heart," he said. "Baby baby baby," a crooning child's voice. "I am Satan's child. Me! I am the one…" He launched himself at Teresa, the right fist frenzy-stabbing, low grunts from somewhere in him. I took him down, wrapping my arms around his spasming body, saying his name over and over.

  It felt like forever. Then he went rigid against me. I rolled over on my back, the boy against my chest. Let go my hold.

  Luke sat on my chest, giggled. "What are you doing, Burke?" he asked. "You're always playing."

  133

  The air reeked with Luke's scent. Bloody fear. He didn't seem to know, his back to the women in the room.

  "We've got company,' I told him.

  He looked over his shoulder, not getting off me. "Hi, Teresa!" he said. He looked at Wolfe. "Hello."

  "Where've you been, Luke?" Teresa asked him. "Playing with Bur…my friend," the boy answered. "I was showing him some card tricks." Eyes on my face now, begging me to be his co-conspirator, not to rat him out.

  "Yeah," I said. "The kid's a real gambler."

  "It's not gambling, playing with you." Luke laughed, getting to his feet, extending his little hand to me to pull me off the floor.

  "I got to talk to these ladies, Luke, okay? How about if you go next door, play with Simsa?"

  "Can I show her to Teresa first?"

  "Okay, go get her. But just for a minute, all right?"

  "Yes!" He took off like a shot

  134

  He came running back in, the puppy in his arms. "Look!" he said, thrusting the dog almost in Teresa's face. She patted the dog dutifully.

  "Can I hold her?" Wolfe asked him.

  Luke turned slowly, cradling his pup, watchful. "You be careful," he said, walking to her.

  Wolfe took the pup on her lap, patting the dog's large head, stroking its ears. She lifted the pup right into her face. The puppy licked her. She licked it back. "Oh, ugh!" Luke laughed. "You licked her!"

  "Well, she licked me first. Probably smells my dog on me. Do you smell Bruiser, Simsa? You smell my big boy?"

  The puppy yapped like she was answering.

  "You're a real beauty, aren't you? A lovely dog. Look at those paws…you're gonna be a big girl, yes? A big, tough girl," nuzzling the pup.

  "You have a dog?" Luke asked, stepping close.

  "Yes, I have a Rottweiler. You know what that is?"

  "No."

  "Want to see a picture?" she asked, playing the kid like a fighting fish— setting the hook before she jerked the line.

  "Sure!"

  She handed Simsa back to Luke, took a bunch of photos out of her purse. Handed them to the boy. He put Simsa on the floor, stood next to Wolfe, leafed through the pictures.

  "Is that him?"

  "Yes. That's Bruiser. When he was a pup."

  I looked over her shoulder. Wolfe holding a fat black puppy, one hand under its rump, the other around its chest. The little beast's paws draped over her arm, tiny tip of his tongue showing. Wolfe was wearing an old flannel shirt, her hair loose and free. Looked like a college girl.

  Another photo: Wolfe all dressed up, wearing a black leather coat and heels. Bruiser at her side, his head at the top of her thigh.

>   Another: Bruiser bursting through the open gate at her house in full cry, ears flapping, mouth a snarl.

  "He got real big, didn't he?"

  "Yes, he did, Luke. He's my true friend. Bruiser will always protect me…like Simsa will you."

  "He was a puppy?" Luke setting a hook of his own.

  "All dogs are puppies, once. He was a wonderful pup. Just like Simsa."

  "I love Simsa. Do you love your Bruiser?"

  "Yes. I love my true friends. And I would do anything for them."

  "Anything?" The kid tugged at the line.

  "Yes. Anything."

  "Is he your friend?" Pointing at me.

  "We are…professional friends, do you understand?"

  "No."

  "Well, it means we are on the same side. So we're friends. We don't do things together, the way some friends do. But we're close…in a way."

  "If he's your friend, what's his name?"

  "Burke." Wolfe smiled. "He's the one who brought me here. To see you."

  "You don't like me," the boy accused, remembering.

  "That's not true, Luke. I didn't like you so much when I first met you. But that was my mistake. I see that now. Now I really like you."

  "Is that true?"

  "Look in my eyes, Luke. Come here. Look in my eyes. See for yourself."

  The boy studied her. "You like my puppy. Burke is your friend. And…you do like me."

  "Yes."

  "Am I going to be your friend?"

  "Yes, we're going to be friends."

  "Then you could love me…like you love your friends?"

  "Yes, sort of like that."

  "Okay," Luke said, wandering over to me, done with his testing.

  Wolfe reached for a cigarette. "Burke has matches," Luke volunteered, watching me under his long lashes. I handed the little box to Luke. He went back over to Wolfe, lit one for her.

  She leaned forward, cupping her hands around his.

  "Thank you, Luke."

  "You're welcome. I have lots of friends. They love me. Like you said. Burke is my friend." A sly grin flashed across his poker face. "Do you love Burke?"

  Wolfe dragged on her smoke. "Uh…sure!"

  "Are you going to get married?"

  "I don't think so, Luke. People who love each other don't always get married. You understand?"

  "Sure." Moving close to her, looking at the photos in her hand. "What's this one?" he asked.

  I looked to see what he was holding. Picture of a racehorse, a winner's circle photo of a trotter, still hooked to its sulky, a groom holding the bridle, the driver in blue-and-white silks holding the reins, smiling. Small print at the bottom: Jasper County Fair, Illinois. July 4, 1990, Second Race, 3 y.o. ECS Trot, First Filly Elimination winner: The Flame. Owner: The Syndicate, Inc. Time: 2:07:01, single heat.

  "Is that your horse?" the boy asked.

  "She sure is. Isn't she beautiful?"

  "Yes! Could I go see her someday?"

  "Yes. But now, go take Simsa in the other room. So I can talk with your friends, okay?"

  "Okay," he said, gathering up his puppy.

  He started out of the room. Hesitated, watching me. Gave Wolfe a quick kiss on the cheek and walked out. Hiding behind cute.

  135

  "Did you understand what you saw?" Teresa asked Wolfe.

  "I think so," she said, voice flat, not playing a role for the kid anymore.

  "He's much better now."

  "Better?"

  "Oh yes. Did you see the way he asked Burke to help him? When he lost time? He knows he does it now. Knows we know too. I can't talk to the baby, Susie. And Luke, when he's on the spot, he's just himself. He's not ready to talk about what he knows."

  "On the spot?"

  "When one of the personalities takes center stage, so to speak. The others stand off in the darkness. Watching. Luke uses Toby to tell us…tell us what happened to him. We get closer every day."

  "And what happened was…Luke was tortured? Sodomized? And they filmed it?"

  "Yes. He's got an incredible IQ. When the pain got too much, he split off. It's all a nest of twisted snakes in his mind. It was his parents who did this to him. His mother and his father. They kept telling him to be good. Good! To hold still for the torture so they could film it. Luke became the baby, Susie. He knew…that rational part of him knew…they wanted a baby girl. He didn't understand that they wanted a girl to make more torture films."

  "There's a market for both," I said. "Boys and girls, so long as it's kids."

  Wolfe nodded, her pale eyes on Teresa.

  "Toby's the street-wise one. All he knew was that the baby didn't feel the pain. He could go away. Be safe. But children have so much love, it's incredible. Their love doesn't die of natural causes— you have to kill it. No matter what parents do to them, they try to find an excuse for it. So Luke, he blamed the baby. His baby brother. In Luke's mind, the torture didn't start until his baby brother came. It all merged, overwhelmed him. The Satanic rituals, cutting out the puppy's heart. He needed strength. Power. And he had so much rage. The nightmares intruded. He wasn't safe even when he slept. And so the other personality came. The Satan-monster."

  "He killed those babies?"

  "The other one did. Satan's Child, he calls it sometimes. Sometimes, he just says Satan. All that blood, the chanting, the pain…it was a tidal wave in his mind."

  "His…parents. They're devil-worshipers? The puppy was a sacrifice?"

  My turn. "They're not devil worshipers," I said to Wolfe. "They're terrorists. All child molesters are, you know that. Fear's always stronger than force— it stays with you even when you're alone. Even when you try to sleep, night terrors come. It's happening all over now. They frighten the child into silence, make the kid believe they have magical powers. Life and death. That's why they killed the puppy. It wasn't some bullshit sacrifice to Satan, it was them proving to the kid that they held all the cards. Telling him they could do anything they want. Anytime they want. Those maggots're no more Satanists than you are. There's real ones— I mean, people who fucking worship the devil, okay? Some true believers, some charlatans. Just like Christians. Or Jews, or Muslims, or whatever. Sodomizing kids, making kiddie-porn films, it's got nothing to do with religion. Any religion. A priest molests an altar boy, you call it Catholic child abuse?"

  "Okay. I get it."

  "No, you don't get it. Not the whole thing. This Satanic child abuse thing, it's just a criminal conspiracy. Set up so they can't lose. The kid buys into the insanity, he grows up to become one of them. Recruits others. Puts on the hood himself, works the cameras, chops up the bodies if they make any. And if you guys find out, if the kid tells you the truth, he fucking sounds nuts, right? You want to take a victim before a jury, have him tell about some devil-worshiping cult? That's for Geraldo, not the real world." I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting acid. "It's all a hustle— like kids committing suicide because they heard subliminal messages on heavy-metal music. Some lawyer's idea, right? Next thing you know, some fuck's gonna shoot up a bank, say he read the Bible backward, got a new message."

  "It's true," Teresa put in. "Almost like they know what they're doing. You can deliberately introduce dissociation. Splitting. All it takes is inescapable pressure. Stylized sadism. One shock to the psyche after another. Even in a concentration camp, the prisoner knows he's not alone. There's a reason for him to be there…even if it's an evil reason. But a child like Luke— he was all by himself until he split off."

  Wolfe lit another smoke, using a lighter from her purse. "We've had cases like this before. Not the multiple-personality thing. Not even with cameras. But kids being sexually abused by a group. Devil-signs, black hoods. We don't even mention it to the jury…just try it like what it is. Rape. The defense wants to bring it up, that's their problem. They can't even cross-examine the victim on it without telling the jury they knew about it. And where would they know except from their slimy clients?"

  "Luke didn't kill t
hose babies," I told her. "Those people, his parents and the others, they did it. Sure as if they'd held the knife."

  "They'd never go down for homicide on the facts we have," she said. "But it doesn't matter. We've got no death penalty in this state. And they're looking at forever-to-life for what we can prove." She turned to Teresa. "Is he going to be able to testify?"