by Night, H. T.
As the acolytes broke away from mashing with the masses and headed for the platform, the three-syllable chant grew louder. And I made out the words, “Raise her up. Raise her up. Raise her up....”
My God, they’re trying to summon the demon.
If that stone monster so much as moved a muscle, I was grabbing Parker and we were out of there, immortal hero or not. Rational minds tell you that demons didn’t exist, but in the rational world, vampires didn’t exist, either. Yet here I was. We don’t live in a rational world.
Then the acolytes were gathering around Erasmus, and the moon was sliding closer to the peak of Mount Shasta. There came a mild commotion from behind the stone wall and a couple of big goons in robes half-carried a slumping, lithe figure through the pillars.
She lifted her drowsy head and I saw immediately that it was Parker’s sister.
I began moving to the front of the crowd, working slowly so as not to draw attention, mumbling and moaning in unison with the others. The cult’s acolytes had their eyes on the young girl, and their depraved lust pushed my generally sluggish heart rate to nine or ten beats per minute. I figured it was just another initiation, and that Erasmus just wanted to present her to the cult as a new member.
Every cult needed fresh blood, even ones where the members didn’t seem to live long enough to age out.
Most disturbing was the face of Erasmus Cole. He beamed with pride as her limp form was brought to the platform before him. When the goons released her, she swayed and almost collapsed, but Erasmus caught her in a gesture that might have passed for paternal tenderness elsewhere.
Instead, he laid her on her back, her pert breasts straining against the thin robe as she panted and gasped. By now, I was about two or three rows of brainwashed, drugged-out zombies away from the main event. The statue still hadn’t moved, so I figured if there was a demon on the premises, it probably didn’t reside in the stone monolith.
And as the crowd chanted “Raise her up,” Erasmus pulled a gleaming object from the folds of his robe. The moon was nearly touching the tip of Mount Shasta now, white melding with white.
Erasmus flipped open the object in his hand.
The wicked, silver blade gleamed in the night.
And then I realized the chant was actually “Razor up.” as he lifted it high into the air.
And I had a bad feeling the chant was about to shift to “Razor down.”
Chapter Sixteen
Just as the moon settled into the notch of Mount Shasta like an egg settling in a nest, Erasmus reached gently down and stroked his daughter’s hair. I tensed and pushed through the last of the crowd, reaching the front row, drawing attention to myself because the whole place had fallen still and silent.
Erasmus played out one long blonde strand of the girl’s hair and snipped it neatly with an easy stroke of the blade.
The crowd drew in a collective breath, and the circle of big wigs gathered a little closer around the altar. The moon was now fat and settling on top of the mountain, and Erasmus folded the razor and put it away.
My muscles relaxed, but my fangs were long and full against the inside of my lips. When I get aroused—be it from anger, intense curiosity, or that occasional and troublesome other kind of bloodthirsty arousal—my teeth just go crazy and have a mind of their own.
Luckily, I’ve learned to control my urges over the years, though I can’t control my physiological response. It’s like training a dog not to bark when the mailman drives up, or a worm not to wiggle when you stick it on a fishhook. Some things just are.
Still, I couldn’t hide my relief after getting all worked up. Apparently this was just part of the show, and the inner circle stood around Erasmus with placid expressions on their faces, hardly the look of maniacs.
Now, I could see a senator being a sociopathic madman, but I was glad the actor wasn’t a lunatic. And I thought I saw a major-league baseball player behind Erasmus, obviously skipping out on the second game of a late-night doubleheader.
But now they just looked like harmless, gullible idiots, standing around in robes while Erasmus held the single strand of hair aloft.
“Goddess of the moon, the mountain, and the stone, accept this symbol of change, that part of the body which grows but also falls away, that which shines yet is dull, that which is made from me but is also a gift to me. Accept my daughter as your own.”
The person next to me coughed a little, and the person directly behind her gave her a kick to the leg. This was apparently an important moment.
“I promised you all would be welcome here, and all can be cleansed,” Erasmus said.
He gave the hair a symbolic wiping along the sleeve of his robe. “My daughter has made mistakes, like so many of you young people have.” Here he slowly waved his hand to indicate the inner circle. “Even the people we admire have had their share of missteps. But we can all change for the better.”
Then he indicated the moon, which gave the illusion of being fully embedded in the mountaintop. “Just as the moon is always in motion, so must we continue on our individual paths. Tonight, my daughter has pledged to join us, and to follow us as we walk the road of the divine.”
He took his daughter’s hands and raised her from her kneeling position. It was almost like they were about to embark on the bride-daddy dance at a wedding. Erasmus’s reputation as a vicious, demon-worshipping murderer was taking a serious hit, and I wondered yet again if Parker was pulling a con job on me.
“Welcome, Lilith,” Erasmus said.
The crowd clapped, which was an odd reaction considering everyone’s previous behavior, and Lilith herself even smiled. Erasmus, who’d been so solemn and grim-faced before, now grinned like somebody’s kindly uncle. The inner circle shook hands and high-fived and knuckle-bumped, and a few of the people around me began muttering a general “So, what are you doing after the cult meeting?” kind of lines.
People in the crowd peeled back their hoods, and I saw that although many different nationalities were represented, Erasmus Cole clearly had a preference for young blondes.
In a way, I was glad I didn’t have to spring into action, but on the other hand, it meant I’d have to spend a little more time digging.
There was also the very real possibility that Parker had set me up somehow, hoping I’d cause trouble. I’ve known a lot of women with daddy issues, and some weren’t above manipulating a guy into getting back at their dad for them. Some did it through promiscuity, others through drugs, still others by wrecking expensive cars or making bad grades or maxing out the credit card.
Some of the inner circle members were removing their robes, and it looked like the formal part of the ceremony was over. I cautiously went up on the platform, hoping to blend in with a couple of robed acolytes who attended to clean-up duties. Up close, the stone statue seemed even more ominous, with chiseled features and deep, hollowed-out eyes.
I kept my hood pulled low just to be safe, although my fangs had retracted quite a bit. I even got close enough to Erasmus to smell an odd blend of patchouli, wax, and sulfur, as if someone had committed arson at a shop for eclectic hippies.
Parker’s sister, Lilith, was all smiles, and I wondered if her drugging had been faked. I even considered the possibility that Parker and her sister were in on the whole Cloudland enterprise, raking in the dough and laughing all the way to the Cayman Islands.
But Parker wanted me here for a reason, and now that mystery seemed way more pressing than rescuing her sister, who seemed as safe as a kitten and about as cute.
Parker, on the other hand....
Cute wouldn’t do her any good if she was trying to double-cross me.
Chapter Seventeen
Back in the suite, I discovered that Parker was gone.
I frowned at that. So how the hell was I supposed to keep her and her sister alive, if she wasn’t going to listen to me?
Good question.
I stretched out on the bed and mulled over what I had seen that night
. It wasn’t pretty. My best guess was that this “cult” had a few layers to it. One being the recruiting of young girls and even some young men. Who these girls were was no mystery. I’ve seen my share of degenerates, drug addicts, and drop-outs. The deadly D’s. Add runaways to that group, and I would say that that about summed up the night’s attendees.
Outside the bungalow, I heard laughing. A door slammed. Muffled giggling from behind closed doors. Yeah, my hearing is particularly good. It’s a curse and a blessing.
Of course, the event hadn’t only been attended by vulnerable girls and a handful of young men, had it? Nope. There had been some very powerful people there, and many of them had gazed from the shadows upon the nubile masses, with the leering eyes of predators.
So there was that, too. Catering to the rich and powerful and famous. This was more than a cult, perhaps. A filthy retreat for those with enough money to satisfy their hungers, whatever they might be. And young flesh was looking more and more like the top billing.
My skin crawled. I had seen my share of filth and horror. Hell, I’d even contributed to it, to some extent. But nothing like this. I did not prey on the vulnerable. I did not abuse. If anything, I had simply fed, fueling my immortal body with the blood of my victims. An unfortunate necessity.
Until I had seen the error of my ways.
Now, I feed on donors mostly. Not a perfect system, for rarely is the blood fresh, but at least it saves lives, and at least I can look at myself in the mirror.
That is, if I could ever see myself in the mirror.
So we had a cult that provided young flesh to horny old bastards. And what did Erasmus get out of it? What the hell was the deal with the stone demon in the background? And what about the simulation of slaying his own daughter? And where the hell was Parker?
I didn’t know, but I knew I needed answers. And I knew where I wanted to get them.
Lilith.
* * *
It was coming on midnight when I slipped out of the bungalow, back in my regular clothes.
The air was chilled, but I hardly noticed. After all, I lived with an eternal chill. It’s one of the reasons why I avoid contact with people. Most folk tend to recoil when shaking the hands of a living corpse.
The compound was massive, but ultimately it seemed to be roughly square-shaped, with three or four floors in each building. I passed milling groups of women who watched me with interest. I ignored them. I also passed guards who watched me with interest, too. I kept my eye on them, however. Where the big players were, I hadn’t a clue. They probably had their own wing somewhere. Plush as hell, and filled with many—and perhaps even unwilling—participants.
My stomach turned.
I may not be a saint, but I know when something was wrong. Giving outcasts false hope and tempting them with faith, only to take advantage of them, was wrong on a whole other level.
Don’t forget the girl in the trunk, I thought.
And just as the thought occurred to me, another thought followed just behind it: what if the “body” was made up? What if there had been no body? What if Parker just said that to get me out here?
And why would she do that?
I didn’t know, but the chill that swept over me was real, and I had learned long ago not to ignore such chills. They were premonitions that something was about to go very, very bad.
I soon found myself in a common room. There was a fire going in the rock fireplace, which was surrounded with couches and oversized chairs, all filled with excited young people.
Go home, I thought at them. Or to Hollywood. Hell, go anywhere but here.
I paused briefly and closed my eyes, getting a feel for the place. I sensed Cloudland’s main facility was bigger than I realized. I sensed it went down many floors as well. Hidden rooms. Filthy rooms. Rooms full of unspeakable horror. Obviously, some of the powerful guests were into far more than just raunchy sex. They were into pain. I sensed that the cult—and Mr. Cole—provided them the means to satisfy their sick urges.
I knew that the indulgence was perhaps days away. For the moment, the energy was generally upbeat and positive. I suspected it wouldn’t stay that way. A lot of these young people were going to seriously regret ever taking their first drug, or skipping school or telling their parents to F-off.
As I projected my conscious out, over the grounds—something I’d mastered decades ago—I found who I was looking for. She was upstairs and locked away. And she wasn’t very far.
Aware that I had attracted the attention of two more goons, I smiled at them and slipped through the common room and out a side door and into the courtyard.
Quickly, I located the window behind which I knew they were keeping Lilith.
Chapter Eighteen
Her room was four floors up.
I had only seconds before the guards would be following me out into the courtyard. And for the time being, the big grassy commons was empty. When you’ve been alive for as long as I have been, you learn some things. One of the things I’ve learned is how far I can push this immortal body. Jumping up to the fourth floor was well within my limits. So I gathered myself and pushed off the concrete sidewalk. I shot up far higher than anyone had a right to jump. But I wasn’t just anyone, was I?
I landed lightly on a narrow ledge, just as the courtyard door into the common room opened and light spilled out. I pushed the glass window open and stepped into a spacious suite.
I don’t need much light. Or any light for that matter. I knew instantly I was alone with the girl in the room. She was sitting up in bed, hugging her legs, and staring at me.
Could she see me? I didn’t know, but if she screamed, I was going to be in trouble.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.
She said nothing, which was a good sign, and I headed over to the bedside lamp and turned it on. She blinked hard but never took her eyes off me.
“How did you get up here?” she asked.
“I’ve got friends in high places,” I said.
Her cute face scrunched in confusion. “You were on stage with me. I think. It’s hard to know for sure since my dad keeps me drugged.”
“Are you drugged now?”
“It’s wearing off, but I suspect he’ll be up here soon. He’ll kill you if he sees you up here. If not him, then one of his men. They kill people here, you know.”
I heard voices outside the room. Was someone coming or going? Or was it just more guards talking among themselves?
“You’re taking it pretty well for someone who just found out that people are getting killed.”
She giggled. “Oh, I’m totally freaked. Trust me. I’m just bombed out of my skull right now. Too high up to care.”
“Where’s your sister?” I asked.
Her head, which had begun to loll to one side, snapped erect. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, where’s your sister? Parker.”
She giggled again. “I don’t have a sister, silly.”
That stopped me. “Parker isn’t your sister?”
Her head was lolling to the side again. She closed her eyes. “Of course not, silly. Just me and my pops. My demented fucking pops who I think is going to kill me.”
I sat on the corner of the bed and took her face in my hands. She shivered violently. “You’re cold.”
“Never mind that,” I said. “Lilith, what’s going on here?”
“It’s no la-la, walk-into-the-light halleluiah chorus,” she said, and started to close her eyes again.
I shook her lightly. “I know that. But what are they doing to you? Why are they drugging you? Who’s Parker?”
She stared at me long and hard, her pupils as big as dimes. “Daddy wants me to be part of the cult. Tonight was just for show. I think he really wants to cut me.”
“Kill you?”
“Of course. I’ve sensed it all my life, but I didn’t understand it until I got older.”
“I don’t understand
now.”
She reached out and took my hand. Her own wasn’t much warmer, and it trembled a little. “The cult was his life. Controlling others was his life. But there was always something else.”
“What?”
“He always wanted more power. He wanted total control. And he believed The Answer was here at Mount Shasta, an ancient power that he could summon.”
Now I understood. “The statue of the demoness,” I said.
She looked at me, and now her head dropped back against the headboard. “Yes, the demoness. I believe you’ve met her. He calls her Parker.”
Chapter Nineteen
Great.
I wouldn’t say it was the first time I’d ever been played for a fool by a woman. Like I said, I’ve been around a while.
But Parker had preyed on my hero trip, almost like she knew more about me than she’d let on. All her little hints made me wonder if she knew I was a vampire, and if she somehow expected me to use those powers here at Cloudland. She didn’t want me merely as a cold-blooded killer who would take Erasmus Cole out of the picture; she had some sort of sinister connection with Cole.
And if Lilith was to be believed—not an automatic, given her drugged stupor—then that connection could very well be supernatural evil.
Of course, in the real world, vampires and demons are the kinds of things you don’t talk about in polite company. They are creatures in movies and comic books. But I know vampires exist, and I accept there are probably a lot of other types of mythical entities that exist that I don’t even know about.
So the whole vibe of the place, the set-up for a blood sacrifice, made the notion of a demoness believable.
But Lilith could also be lying. She didn’t seem to have enough wits about her to spin a major fabrication, and I no longer trusted my inner sense that had, not that long ago, told me that Parker was telling the truth.