The Woman on the Beast: A Season for Horror (The End Times Series Book 2)

by Macie Holloway

  I guess there’s a first time for everything.

  Maybe the other witches had taught her how to get her arms in the sleeves and put her big head through the center hole. Maybe they’d demonstrated the art of pulling a zipper up. So far she’d only been proved to be an expert at taking clothes off in less than five seconds.

  He was aware of the risk he was taking by daring to look into her room, but he had to know why there were seven ragged out cars parked in the yard.

  He cracked the door with caution. He knew lifelong PTSD would result if he saw a gangbang, but he was relatively certain that there was an official gangbanging crack house three doors down.

  From his window he saw hookers and truckers roaming in and out at all hours of the day and night. The owner must have been charging by the hour. Finally, someone realized 75% of people using cheap hotels really only needed them for one hour.

  He spied through the crack and stifled laughter.

  Destiny sat cross-legged in a circle with six other dingbats passing around a red Dixie cup full of blood.

  He had never seen anything so stupid.

  The crusty AC window unit from 1976 was blowing thick clumps of dust across their dumb heads.

  A Dale Earnhardt commemorative plate was hanging on the brown paneled walls over Destiny’s empty antelope head.

  A gift from a trucker, maybe? Or, did she steal it from Stein Mart for no reason because she thought it was worth money?

  Either way, Dale Earnhardt’s presence really lent to the validity of their witchcraft.

  Destiny’s brown mattress on the floor looked like it’d just been through a car compactor.

  Old spider webs clung to the dusty broken ceiling fan with one bulb and no globe, and two Daddy-Long Legged spiders dangled from the fan to watch the ceremony.

  At least spiders are witchier than Dale Earnhardt, who is clearly not a witch.

  Daphne’s broken window was covered in crusty disintegrated duct taped that had been there since Atticus was born. She always said she thought Atticus’s dad threw the brick in the window, which made no sense, because she then said she had no idea who he was.

  So why not just say, I don’t know who threw the brick in the window. He probably had red hair like you.

  Atticus narrowed the door crack when they started chanting.

  He couldn’t miss that.

  What will they chant, lines from Joe Dirt? The alphabet? A Shania Twain song?

  The ring leader started. She was wearing a tube top designed like an American Flag.

  How patriotic of her.

  Her hair was an extremely unnatural shade of orange, like a rotten tangerine. It was a clear sign of over-the-counter blonde gone wrong. Four inches of black roots did nothing to class it up. Atticus made a note to himself to never let that witch mix him a potion. She couldn’t even follow the instructions on a Clairol box.

  “Today, I drink this innocent blood of a child with my clean hands.”

  O.K., dumbass. That made NO sense. How can someone boast of clean hands while drinking innocent blood? She must have meant she sanitized them and probably for the first time EVER.

  “I swear my allegiance to the sisterhood that my new powers will be used to strengthen all of us so that we may like doves up to the gates of Hell where we may reign in victory with our Father who is the Prince of the World,” said Agent Orange Head, who was apparently kicking off the ceremony with a bang.

  O.K., first of all, he didn’t believe in Hell, but he always heard you hit the down button on the elevator to go there.

  Heaven up. Hell down, you dumb whore. That was the general consensus. Even HE knew that and he’d never been to church. And just who the Hell WAS of the Prince of the World, you trailer-trash whores? What was their theme song? When doves Cry? Clearly they were innocent doves flying up to Hell in the presence of Dale Earnhardt and two Daddy Long-Legs Spiders. White-trash witches may not have known a thing about real witchcraft, but as long as they had innocent blood to drink, clearly they could just wing it – like doves.

  Atticus almost lost it when Tangerine Head passed the red plastic Dixie cup full of blood around the circle.

  Why not get a keg of blood, or a funnel? White-trash witches gone wild?

  Atticus had to turn his face away when they drank the blood. He didn’t want to accidentally vomit on their elitist white-trash witchcraft ceremony. Although, it wouldn’t have surprised them if the creepy white-trash witches would have gobble it like hungry dogs. They were just that crazy.

  Damn, Destiny is so fucking demented! He had a feeling she’d drained off the blood from her OWN ear into a Dixie cup and told everybody she’d slaughtered an infant. She didn’t care if she gave everyone in her new sisterhood Hepatitis C.

  They were a team – a team of snow-white doves.

  Atticus looked back just to see a meth whore with a black mullet throw back the final sip.

  Goddamn, y’all are so fuckin’ nasty.

  Atticus felt diseased just watching it.

  The gigantic red rose tattoo growing up her boob only added to the overall disease probability factor, and that mullet was just flat out criminal. It was the only hairstyle he’d ever seen that should have been against the law. At least Tangerine Head made him think about orange juice. That jet black mullet made him think about herpes.

  “Now,” said Tangerine Head, “I shall tell you all of the future.”

  The future? They’d all just said they were about to fly up to a Prince concert at the gates of Hell after sanitizing their hands and drinking Destiny’s ear blood. What more could they want out of life?

  Tangerine Head read the corny futures of every witch without as much as a tarot card.

  Who needs legitimate witchcraft materials when you have a monument to Dale Earnhardt watching over you?

  Uh oh, Tangerine Head is finally aiming her Royal Orangeness at Destiny.

  “Destiny, you were named Destiny because all of our destinies depend on you. In the spirit world your name is Mystery.”

  “Mystery? You’re shittin’ me? That was my stripper name when I was just a little kid!”

  How touching.

  Destiny Gail Fletcher was a mystery alright. You hit that nail on the head AGAIN, your Royal Orangeness.

  “Queen Mystery, I see you riding on a beast …”

  No shit, Sherlock. He’s a Sasquatch trucker with more hair that Chewbacca. She rides a different beast EVERY DAY! It’s part of her job description, Madame Cleo.

  “Together, you and the beast will rule the entire world!”

  Atticus could hardly contain his laughter. He had a feeling what was coming next. Now, you owe me twenty-five dollars. No … fifty dollars.

  “When you travel to the Valley of Silicon, our father the Prince of the World shall give you the keys to his kingdom, making you the most powerful woman on earth!”

  Oh shit. Your bill just went up to $100, Destiny. Wait a minute … The Valley of Silicon? Did she mean Silicon Valley or was she referring to a landfill of breast implants? Hmmm…. He had to hand it to Madame Orange Head; she was as suspiciously cryptic as Yoda himself.

  “Queen Mystery, you shall fuck the whole world!”

  Can you tell us something we don’t already know, Agent Orange Head? Your Oompa Loompa ass must have just escaped from Charlie’s Chocolate Factory, because everybody in town knows she’s ALREADY fucked the whole world! That’s why I don’t know who my daddy is. Did you not NOTICE her mattress is now ONE with the sheet?

  It was all he could do to hold back the laughter welling up inside.

  Why was this radioactive whore even born with a tongue? Anyone not born with a brain should not be born with a tongue. Period.

  “But you shall save your sisters, Destiny. You hold ALL of our destinies in your hands.”

  Oh that HAD to be as scary feeling.

  “Now, we all bow down to you, our new queen. I pass to you my crown this day.”

  Uh …. What crown? Cro
wn of black roots? And why weren’t they bowing? Maybe she meant “we bow to you in our minds.” Either way, you better go grab your gigantic vagina purse and get out your dick-suckin’ money. Madame Tangerine only made you queen because she’s late on her trailer payment.

  “Stand up new queen and assume your royal power.”

  Destiny had never looked so thrilled about anything. Maybe since he cut off her ear she only heard the word queen but she was wagging her tail like Labrador Retriever.

  “Sisters, bow to the new Queen Mystery!”

  When those dumb bitches bowed he thought Destiny was going to have an orgasm. Finally, drinking all that ear blood paid off. The Dale Earnhardt commemorative plate hanging over her big dumb head further validated her taking of the throne.

  As chunks of dust blew into her face from an AC window unit that hadn’t had a filter cleaning since 1976, Mystery assumed her imaginary throne. Of course, she still had to stand because there wasn’t as much as a fold-out fishing chair in the room. But none of that mattered to Mystery now that she was about to fulfill her true destiny of fucking the whole world.

  But didn’t you already fuck the whole world, Destiny? Madame Tangerine’s prophecy would have actually been super believable if she would have just added, “Fuck the world, again.” Now THAT he could believe. “Queen Mystery, ye shall fuck the whole world AGAIN.”

  Now that would make perfect sense.

  Finally, Atticus could no longer contain himself. He threw the door open and said, “You forgot to add ‘again.’ She’s already fucked the whole world once.”

  Tangerine Head didn’t even get his joke.

  “Ah, the son of the Queen is no doubt a mighty Wizard! His flaming red hair speaks of knowledge, power and wisdom!”

  “Well, I wish my flaming red hair would finally speak up and tell me who my Daddy is.”

  Still, the white-trash witches didn’t get the joke.

  “Oh, but you are the child of the Queen. Your father is the Prince of the World.”

  Good to know. I’m sure he probably has red hair.

  “When you see him, can you tell him to stop throwing bricks in the window?”

  “Surely the brick was a sign!”

  Everything was a sign to Madame Cleo.

  “We must honor your wisdom, and your request, oh Great Wizard of Fire.”

  Uh ….you’re kidding, right?

  “Mystery, the great Queen that rides the beast shall fuck the whole world, and she shall fuck the whole world AGAIN!”

  Mocking them all, Atticus threw his hands in the air and did a stupid little happy jump.

  “Yay!!!! I don’t know about you girls, but I for one am SO EXCITED!”

  Tears of joy streamed down Destiny’s stupid face.

  “Oh, thank you my sweet son! I am so happy I am a real Queen now! I mean, in a million years I never would have expected that the head witch would hand ME the crown. I get to save my sisters by fucking the whole world AGAIN! AND, I will finally get breast implants!”

  Since Destiny had sex for money her whole life, the statement “fuck the whole world” meant she’d have billions of paying clients. She didn’t see it as a degrading thing, but more like really climbing the ladder in her profession.

  Destiny was so happy; she finally forgave Atticus for her missing ear.

  “I love you son, and I’m not even mad about my ear anymore.”

  “Why would you be, Destiny? Who needs ears when they have two new breasts on the way? People listen to a woman with nice breasts when she talks. So, you technically don’t need any ears now that you don’t have to bother with listening anymore, only talking, AND you LOVE to talk WAY more than to listen.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And now I think we can all be certain, that big-tittied check is in the mail. Uh …uh … Mystery! Yes, Queen Mystery! Wow! You know, I’ll be damned. Everybody said you couldn’t do it, but just look at you now.”

  Clumps up webbed dust flying out from the window unit were dangling from her hair like grey dreadlocks and even from the tip of her nose. Although Destiny was born a blonde, she’d always kept her hair dyed black. She said it went along with her nickname, Black Widow Spider, which she truly believed was a compliment.

  As the other witches said their goodbyes, Destiny triumphantly plopped down on the mattress that had no doubt already fucked the whole world at least once. It was just a sheet of paper now – a sheet of paper torn from the diary of her Royal Slutiness.

  Atticus shook his head in disbelief. She was so excited.

  I bet this is A LOT for your little antelope brain to take in, Destiny.

  “My father, the Prince of the World, chose dumb little me to take over the world. Out of all those other witches, he chose me.”

  “And those other witches were some serious competition.” Atticus played along.

  “I know! That’s exactly what I was thinking the entire time. I never dreamt she’d really pick me. I swear Atticus, I couldn’t be happier if I won the lottery!”

  “And that makes sense. People love to give women with awesome breasts money all the time. You’ll practically be wearing the lottery on your chest for the rest of your life.”

  “Wow. I never thought about it like that. I don’t know how I could have such a smart child.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “Whoever your father was, he must have been really smart.”

  “Somehow I doubt that. People who throw bricks in windows have been scientifically proven to have lower IQs.”

  “See? How do you know so much?”

  “Probably because my flaming locks of red hair mean that I’m a great and mighty Wizard. Remember? Orange haired lady said so.”

  “You’re right! Wizards are naturally smart. They have to smart to do magic.”

  Atticus felt like as if he’d been playing Dungeons and Dragons with Autistic Kindergarteners all day, expect at least the Kindergarteners had an excuse.

  These white-trash witches were dumber than dirt.

  “That’s right, Queen Mystery. Magic is the key to everything,” Atticus played along with a wicked grin. He had to admit he was having fun playing along.

  “AND two good breasts,” Destiny added.

  “Same thing. Two good breasts can take down the world. Now, not to change the subject, but how did you know I killed those three boys?”

  “There was a bloody razor blade in my purse and teeth in the fire pit. I thought I raised you better, son. You gotta always cover your tracks.”

  What a mom.

  “Speaking of covering tracks, if the police come by asking questions, tell them I disappeared the day the other boys did. If they ask why you didn’t report it, say you overheard us all planning to skip school and take a bus to the beach. When you saw all your cash was missing, you assumed we’d be back. They need to think I disappeared with the other boys. I haven’t been back to school since, and I’m really not counting dogs out the window. I’m watching out for the police.”

  “Got it, Great and Mighty Wizard of Fire!”

  It took all Atticus could do to not roll his eyes.

  “Now, Ms. Body disposal expert, at least I didn’t drain the blood out of my own ear and tell everyone I killed a new born baby.”

  She gasped.

  “How did you know?”

  “Mmmm…. maybe it was the bloody hoop earring next to the bloody eye dropper you left in the kitchen sink? Or, it could have been the deflated earlobe carcass lying on the very top of the trash. Might want to throw it all in the trash next time and cover it with your landfill of used condoms. Even the police wouldn’t DARE go digging in all that.”

  “There you go again. I’ve never even thought of that!”

  Evidence disposal. It was the first and only discussion he’d ever had with his mother.

  What a dumb bitch. She probably thinks we’re bonding.

  THE SISTER ZONE

  It was so dark.

  Stepping ston
es were everywhere, and Daphne stubbed her toe on every single one.

  “Shit. Fuck. Dammit. Ouch!”

  She could not understand why rich people didn’t want you to walk on their grass, but put stepping stones everywhere. Concrete stepping stones killed grass much faster than occasional footsteps and were much easier to stub a toe on than grass.

  She would never understand rich people. They bought expensive complicated machines that only made one cup of coffee at a time. The machines were as different as credit card swipers at gas stations. It was more than ten dollars for only eight cups.

  Ridiculous!

  Why not make a whole pot for .35 cents and drink it all day long? Rich people bought bottles of water for two dollars even when their faucets were not broken. They had cars that could talk to them, and if a talking car wasn’t creepy enough, now car doors shut on their own like space shuttle entrances.

  Who the Hell is too lazy to shut a car door? Rich people. What next, a robot to wipe their rich asses?

  She couldn’t count how many times she’d seen twenty SUVs in a fast food line when there was not a single soul inside the restaurant. If they wanted the fast food to REALLY be fast, why would they wait an hour in a car line instead of waiting five minutes inside? Was ten steps really a big deal? Apparently, it was to rich people.

  “Ouch! Dammit!”

  Large concrete stones formed an impossible obstacle course in the yard of darkness.

  “Ouch! Geez! I get the feeling a burglar has never made it to the door.”

  Haiku and Sam turned around at the same time and back tracked over the Olympic obstacle course to rescue her toes.

  As she curled an elbow around the two brother’s necks, she noticed they were the exact same height. They hoisted her up and sailed her over the threshold like the luckiest bride on earth.

  The church folks at Sterling Heights always said man was made in God’s image, so if God was a trinity, shouldn’t a marriage be a trinity also? That just made more since to her.

  “Was I almost there?” she whimpered.

  “Not even halfway,” Sam chided with a smirk.

  He was as cute and charming as Haiku was strong and fearless. Being sandwiched between both of them made her think thoughts she knew the church people wouldn’t approve of.