On the Far Side of Darkness

by R. C. Graham

  “…I initially thought you had some skill at uncovering weak spots in people’s sexual make up and exploiting them. I had to rethink that hypothesis after I visited my friend tonight.”

  Mandy can’t help but put a self satisfied smirk on her face at the mention of Diane. She comes very close to dying at that point, however I manage to rein myself in. A mangled corpse would draw far too much attention.

  “That was most amazing. Such a complete change of perspective so quickly. No natural means of persuasion can cause such effects in so short a time. So that leaves unnatural ones.

  “You’re a mage, Mademoiselle Richardson. You use spells to capture people’s minds and then use them for your purposes.”

  Mandy slumps into her usual insouciant posture. “Good one, prof,” she states. “You’ve found me out.” A chuckle emerges from her throat. “I’ve really underestimated you, haven’t I?”

  “You have indeed,” I reply with a dip of my head.

  “Yeah, I use spells. But not on their minds.”

  My eyebrows quirk up in curiosity.

  “My little girl was the first. But I asked for control of her body,” Mandy tells me.

  I nod my understanding to her.

  “So her body does what I tell it to do. Her mind’s free. She was a frumpy, cold fundamentalist when I took her. A real Puritan. She turned out to be gay and after I started giving her regular orgasms, she ended up hooked. Now I don’t need to use the power of the spell at all. She’s so addicted to coming she does anything I ask. My little girl’s a complete orgasm junkie now.”

  My distaste for Ms. Richardson goes higher. It’s not only what she does, but the contempt she holds her victims in that I find abhorrent. There’s not the slightest concern for them.

  “My bitch was next. Used a different spell on her, I took her will. She didn’t lose it, it works for me now. I tell her something and her will gets busy to make it true. Damn, she was an uppity cunt. But look at her now, all soft, weak and horny. She loves being humiliated. Sometimes I even have her bang some guy. I made her believe she both hates and loves it now.

  “It’s also handy for me to get men to do things.”

  “Ah, the thugs," I note. “You told Ms. Coburn to promise to, what’s the term, put out if they injured me severely enough to require a hospital.”

  She nods her head with a feral grin on her face. “I’ve used a few other people. I had a whole list I wanted to get back at and I did. By the time I got to school here, I found I liked fucking people around. I needed to look like I was doing schoolwork, so that’s when I took the Dean’s will. She’s really sweet. I don’t push her as hard as my little girl or my bitch, but she’s addicted to me as well. Plus she’s really handy for making sure I pass. All I have to do is say I’ll cut her off and she gets right to work.

  “Everything was fine until you came along. I couldn’t manipulate you. I didn’t want to use a spell. I sure as hell don’t need a male sex slave, and I didn’t think I needed to.

  “But you wouldn’t back down. You stood up to the Dean, and those football players didn’t even make you break a sweat. I’d love to know haw you did that. So I needed some other way to hurt you.

  “It took some thought and then I had my bitch convince some hacker in the computer science lab to do some digging. A single blow job goes a long way over there. He pulled up cab and phone records that brought your friend to my attention. I remembered her from that faculty party. I realized she was a lot more than a date.”

  My hands tighten into fists as I realize my lovely woman’s fate is my fault. If I had fed and gone, she would be whole. But I had to pretend to be human. I’m such a fool.

  “So I took her will as well. Cast the spell last night, went there this morning and fucked her mind over. I bet that was a pleasant surprise.” She doesn’t try to hide her gloating pride.

  I go blank inside. Rage and darkness bubble deep within me. I allow them no access to my actions. They hammer at my will though. I spend a very long minute holding them back. If I rip Mandy to shreds I will not accomplish my purpose here.

  “So,” I say to her once I’m able. “That explains the ‘How’. Now the important question is ‘Why?’”

  “Because I can!” my opponent snarls back at me.

  In spite of everything, I can’t help but chuckle at that. “That’s what men use as an excuse to urinate out of car windows. You can do better than that.”

  Mandy shrinks in her chair, pulling her arms in close and slouching forward. Her eyes scowl in anger and remembered pain. “You want to know why? When I discovered what sort of person I am, that I liked women, I was confused and scared. I had to talk to someone. Someone I trusted, someone I thought had a good heart, who could help me understand.

  “That was my little girl, and she betrayed me! Practically spit on me! Called me a monster, an abomination. She told everybody about me and pretty much gave them permission to abuse me. My bitch was the worst. She never did anything directly but she manipulated everyone else. Got someone to burn my car, got a couple of guys to try and rape me. That sort of thing went on for almost a year.”

  In spite of everything I can’t help but feel pity for Mandy Richardson. I am well aware of how cruel humans can be to one another. It never fails to sicken me.

  “My dad is a professor of Medieval History. He had a book that he believed was an ancient forgery. But I found out otherwise, so I stole it. I used the spells in it, used them to break the people who tried to break me. You’ve seen what I did to my betrayer and Miss Congeniality. The guy who burned my car died in a fire himself. One of my would be rapists was found balls deep in the asshole of the other. Nobody, not even their families, would speak to them after that.” There’s a satisfied, wicked smile on her face now.

  “Hmm,” I remark. “Revenge. I can understand that. But why the Dean, myself and my friend?”

  “Because no one is ever, ever going to stand in my way again! I use Dr. Metaxas because she controls the university. So the university won’t be a barrier to me. I’ll pass no matter what I do.” Mandy giggles with a sweetness darkly poisoned. “Plus she was a real horny slut once I broke her in.

  “You stood against me as well. So I used your friend to hurt you after nothing else worked.” The self satisfied smirk is back.

  “Now you know why,” she finishes.

  “Actually, that’s only partly true,” I tell her. “You’ve merely changed the focus of the question. Why are you still acting as if you’re inferior and helpless? You defeated your tormentors. There’s no need to do more, but you do.”

  Ms. Richardson slams back in her chair as if I slapped her. She had never really, really, considered her motivations until now. For a second, her face blanks as she weighs my words. During that very short interval, I feel hope. Perhaps she’ll see what she has become.

  Her expression hardens and I know my belief is forlorn.

  “I’m not inferior and helpless!” she spits. “I prove it every time I use my power!”

  The last word gives me the hook for my next gambit. “Yes, your power. Have you ever considered where that comes from, Ms Richardson?”

  “What do you mean?” she asks with a worried cast to her face.

  “I have an idea. You have to summon things, don’t you? From somewhere else?”

  Mandy’s face goes a little pale and a shiver runs through her body. She has been dealing with beings from elsewhere.

  I press on. “That place is the abyss. It’s a territory dark, vast and fearful. So are the things summoned from it. Do you recall what Nietzsche had to say about the abyss, Ms. Richardson?”

  “No.”

  “He said, ‘As you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.’ You’ve been staring at each other for a long time now. What he didn’t mention is that the abyss takes you for its own, eventually. People who deal too much with it are eaten by it. Is this the fate you want, Mandy? To be eaten by the abyss?”

  I’ve
made a mistake by using her first name.

  “Don’t get friendly with me, asshole!” is her snarling rebuke. “I’m the one in control. The abyss does what I tell it, not the other way around. Nothing and no one tells me what to do!”

  I look at her then, my eyes cold and my face reflective. She stares back defiantly. Our gazes lock for a long interval of time.

  “Very well,” I finally announce. “I’ve tried psychology and philosophy. I guess I’m going to have to use something simple that you can understand. Threats.” I drop my human mask. My skin grows bloodless and I flash my fangs at her.

  Mandy gapes and recoils. Her feet jump, pushing her away from me and her chair hits the wall with a loud thump. She hadn’t known exactly what I was, until now.

  “So you think you understand about power and manipulation? Stupid human, I have centuries more experience at them than you. I can hurt you when ever I wish, Ms. Richardson.

  “Do you have any feelings for Christy? I hope so. It will increase the effect when you wake up one morning and she is cold in your arms, her face filled with exquisite terror.”

  Ms. Richardson’s eyes grow wide and the color leaves her face.

  “One night, Mrs. Moran will go to the washroom and not come back. You’ll find her sitting on the toilet with her head nearly twisted off.”

  Mandy’s mouth goes slack with shock.

  “You have a pet? You’ll find it hanging from the hall ceiling, cut open and with its intestines trailing out.

  “Replace that with a tank of fish? One morning you’ll discover them dissolving slowly as their water was replaced with battery acid overnight.”

  She whimpers and tears start to flow.

  “That nice house you’re in will burn one day. Any vehicle you own will be destroyed beyond repair.

  “Your parents…”

  “Leave my parents out of this!” she squeals.

  “Why should I?” I ask her with ice riming my words. “You’re the one who decided to involve innocents.

  “Your parents,” I go on, “will be found crucified naked in their living room, burns and shallow cuts caked with salt on every inch of their bodies.”

  She pants with terror now.

  “Anything and everything of the slightest value will be taken from you in a horrible manner. You’ll have to live with the pain of that and the guilt of knowing it was your fault.

  “That will continue until the end of your days.”

  Mandy’s huddling for warmth, her chest heaving and eyes flowing. She thought she knew about pain and terror. The fact that she understood so little is more than she can take.

  I lean back in my chair, resume my mortal appearance. “So here are my demands.”

  She looks up, not comprehending.

  “Restore Diane, undo your work on her. Free the rest of your victims, they’ve suffered enough. Live your life as a normal human woman. Never cast another spell again.

  “Do that and I’ll keep my threat in abeyance. If you don’t meet my demands, I’ll carry out the campaign against you that I’ve just outlined. You have until tomorrow night, Mademoiselle Richardson. Au revoir.”

  I stand and without looking back, leave her and the library.

  * * * *

  Hours later, huddled against the chill both inside and out, I am on my bench at Poet’s Walk, desperately trying to subdue my emotions. The battle between man and monster is more intense than it has been for a long time.

  My human feelings; sorrow, longing and anger surge through me. Diane and what has happened to her make my mind boil. The fate of Mandy’s other victims adds a little heat.

  They slop over to the monster, make its presence intense. It takes all my strength to keep from searching out my student to make her pay in terror and agony.

  You don’t have to be a monster, even now, I tell myself. Ms. Richardson can meet my demands. If she does, our war is over. Like most wars, nothing will be gained, save the freedom of the people damaged by her. To me, that is more important than victory.

  I tense as a fluttering sound comes from my right. It sounds as if a large bird is moving nearby, almost. But not quite.

  The noise comes again, in front of me and I look to see if I can spot whatever is there. Nothing.

  Again the rustling reaches me, left side this time. I recognize the pattern now. Whatever is out there is running a circle around me to check my awareness and for defenses. Which means…

  I roll off the bench and something flashes by. It would have landed on my back if I had stayed still. A rank, fetid smell fills the air.

  I come to my feet, facing the thing as it lands. For thing it is. It’s shaped vaguely like a whippet, spare and lean. But it’s three times the size of animal it is patterned after. Large wings resembling a bat’s are furled against its back. The body appears to be made out of rotting meat, the surface is scabrous, decomposing in places with maggots dripping from its interior. The eyes are milky but also glow with a dark intent. The jaws contain large, undamaged and very sharp teeth.

  I can’t help myself and use a line from a movie I quite enjoyed. “You are one ugly motherfucker.”

  A feeling scratches at the edge of my mind. I sense that the hell hound finds me amusing. I’m the first victim in a while who has shown defiance. It likes that, bravado will make my destruction more savory.

  During that very short interval of distraction I prepare myself. My fingernails lengthen, thicken and become razor sharp. I pull a fair amount of blood from my stomach and convert it to energy. The sounds around me change in timbre as my speed climbs to far past human limits.

  Without a noise it leaps for me. A mortal would die before this aberration’s assault. I take what seems to me a second to consider my response, step straight in and shove the spear point of my hand between its eyes. That’s followed by pivoting to my left like a matador and I hurl the demon into some bushes beyond the bench where I sat. Something black and slimy is wrapped in my fingers, the hell hound’s brain I’m hoping.

  It would appear so. The creature in the shrubbery twitches, scrabbles at the air and bursts into blue flame.

  So does what I grip in my hand and coats my lower arm.

  The pain is enormous, beyond description. My head rolls back and I howl with my suffering. The ululation is utterly bestial. What I try to be is swept away and the monster screams free.

  The light and my torture end. As my awareness returns I find I’m on my knees. It takes effort but I manage to focus on my hand. Little remains but a large chunk of charcoal, desiccated digits sticking from it. Without thought, I use my power. I can almost feel the liquid in my stomach gurgle as it’s changed into flesh and bone. My hand goes through a transformation like a movie playing backwards.

  Soon I’m whole again, and hungry, ravenous. I’ve had to use nearly all my blood to heal myself.

  There is a light touch on my shoulder, a young woman says, “Mister…”

  Then my teeth are sunk in her neck. I shiver with pleasure as the delicious liquid fills my mouth and runs down my throat. Her fists pound on my back and her legs kick. I like it. Her fear gives the blood a sweeter savor.

  I feed, and feed, and feed. Suddenly the monster lets go, sated and satisfied. I pull my head away from her throat. Our eyes meet, she gives me a puzzled look and she’s gone. Her final breath sighs forth and she slumps in my grip.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her, and close her blank eyes. A wave of anguish passes through me. I’ve lost control again, and again an innocent has died. A choke of self-hatred grabs my throat for a second.

  But there’s little time for sorrow. I lift her body under one arm. With care and speed I carry it from Poet’s Walk. As I pass the bush the demon landed in, I notice the foliage not the slightest bit singed. Sometimes, being supernatural has disadvantages.

  My destination is a small copse of trees in a nearby park. I bend my strength, and my claws, to digging a shallow grave. “I’m sorry,” I tell my blameless victim
once more as I lower her into it. Then I cover her up, and scrape the dirt so that the spot is indistinguishable from the rest of the grove. With even the slightest good luck it will be weeks before she is found. By that time there will be not the slightest trace of what killed her. My ass, as North Americans put it, and my kind are still safe.

  So, I have received Ms. Richardson’s reply to my demands. It was the wrong one.

  There’s little time before dawn. I head for a place of repose. I know my haven is compromised, but I have a bolt hole for such an eventuality. I haven’t survived this long by being careless.

  Tomorrow, it ends, I think as I slip into the night.

  * * * *

  A low growl rumbles through me as I start awake. I smash free of the trunk I’ve secreted myself and the door of the closet it was in with a single movement. My eyes scan the bedroom of the seedy apartment I’ve rented looking for something to kill. Disappointment twists my face when I find that there isn’t.

  With no destruction to wreak the monster withdraws slightly, allowing my intellect to the fore. I manage to slip my human face into place and restrain my rage a bit more. My evening’s routine allows me even more equanimity.

  Once finished that, I phone Major Price’s contact. “Report, please.”

  Mandy had made another trip the previous night to the place my surveillance team won’t go near. She was there for several hours and returned home shortly there after. Ms. Richardson has stayed indoors since. She has appeared at least once in every window on the first and second floors of her house. Christy left their residence two hours ago and has not yet returned. Another woman arrived an hour later. Her description matches Helen’s. A second person has just entered; a petite, fair skinned woman with rich auburn hair. It takes all my strength not to scream in rage at that information.

  “I need one more thing,” I ask the man on the other end of the phone, “directions to the farmhouse that the subject has been using.” His voice shakes as he gives me the information required. It seems that my fury is leaking out.

  “Very well,” I tell him then. “The job is done. Pull your team out and thank…” The phone goes dead without another word from my contact. I can’t help but smile in pleasure, knowing I can frighten brave men.