The Sorceress

by Allison Hobbs

  The three demented beings eyed her warily. Jen worked her mouth into a reassuring smile and nodded her head for extra emphasis.

  All three ghouls accompanied her to her bedroom where she retrieved a first aid kit from a closet inside her personal bathroom. Wincing in pain, she administered to the bloody gash right above her wrist. Boozer kept watch. Hulking over her, the beast breathed down her neck, while Eris and Ethan conspired in whispery voices outside the open bathroom door.

  With no clue what was in store for her next, she lingered inside the bathroom, trying to maintain self-control as a fur-covered dick pulsed against her spine. Hot beastly breath raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck, and a fountain of saliva spilled onto her shoulder.

  Biting down on her lip, it was all she could do not to break down and wail. Her eyes swept the bathroom and landed on the skylight. Frantically, she calculated a getaway. How can I get up there without a ladder?

  “What’s taking so long?” Ethan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “I’m almost done,” she said gaily…too gaily for someone being held captive by a phallus that was as deadly as a dagger.

  Boozer was unaware of the incongruity of her tone and her dire circumstances. His mental capacities were limited at best, but the little brain power he possessed was momentarily disabled due to his primal hunger for sex.

  But Ethan’s mind was sharp. His suspensions were triggered by Jen’s unreasonably cheery tone. The boy took hasty steps to the doorway of the bathroom. Checking on her, his face darkened with mistrust. He eyed her arm, which was properly decorated with white gauze and adhesive tape.

  But needing a reason to linger a while, she leaned close to the mirror above the sink. Scowling, she ran her fingers over her cheek and grimaced at the fiery lacerations Boozer had slashed across her cheek.

  The boy studied her face. “You’ll survive. Your cheek doesn’t require emergency attention. Let’s go.”

  “Where? Can’t I stay here—in my room?” she asked in a withering tone.

  “Eris is having problems again. She needs you.”

  “NO!” With her arms outstretched behind her, she clung to the sides of the sink.

  “Get her, Boozer,” Ethan said calmly, and then left the bathroom.

  Hoisted over Boozer’s hairy shoulder, Jen was carried, kicking and screaming, to one of the guest rooms that Eris had claimed as her own.

  Gawking at her hands, which were now fingerless, Eris did not present a pretty picture.

  “Bite her.” She sighed and wearily cupped her face with her fingerless palms.

  “Not again. I can’t take anymore,” Jen shrieked, terror-stricken by the prospect of enriching Eris’s life with her blood.

  Boozer flung her onto the bed and flopped down beside her. “Same spot as before?” His roughened voice was jarring. Boozer sounded as if sandpaper was trapped in his throat, making each word come out croaked and scratchy.

  “Ethan, help me. Please,” she beseeched the child. Boozer locked a hand around he neck to silence her. Jen kicked and twisted, her eyes bulging.

  “What are you trying to do, kill her?” he sternly addressed Boozer. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Boozer released Jen’s neck.

  Eris inhaled noisily; her features tight with indignation. “You don’t call the shots, little man! Boozer belongs to me. He is such an obedient servant, he burst through the portal of hell, carrying me protectively in his arms—”

  “How very touching,” Ethan interrupted, rolling his eyes.

  “Boozer will not listen to you or anyone else.”

  Taking a wide stance, Ethan folded his arms. “He needs to listen to someone who has sound judgment.”

  “And that would be you?”

  “Absolutely. As usual, Wicked One, you’re not using your head. Your last visit to earth lasted how long?” He looked toward the ceiling. “It took only a few weeks for your recklessness to send you back to the Dark Realm. Eris, I know you need your limbs but your thoughtless behavior could result in terrible consequences.”

  “Such as…”

  “Such as bringing the authorities to our door.” Ethan’s brow creased with concern. “You let that brute murder the cook… perhaps we can cover that up, but if he starts a killing spree right here in this house…well, my plan to destroy my parents goes right down the tubes because law enforcement will most definitely get involved.”

  “I am a goddess! I don’t answer to your law enforcement. And I don’t care about your plan. I’m only concerned about myself…I’m losing my hands!” Her eyes aflame with fury, she shouted at Boozer. “Rip off that bandage. Reopen her wound.”

  Murmuring incoherently, Jen wept bitterly as Boozer stabbed a sharp claw beneath the gauze that covered the nasty gash in her lower arm.

  “No…never mind, don’t bother with the old wound,” Eris groused. “That stream of blood is deficient… I need blood from a stream with a longer-lasting time span. Bite her somewhere else. Do it now!”

  Boozer grabbed Jen’s good arm and began sniffing up and down, his signature ritual before brutally ripping into her flesh.

  Ethan clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Such idiocy! I’m shocked by your ignorance. It doesn’t matter where he bites her; it’s all the same blood.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Eris protested. “I’m frantic and I can’t think straight. You’ve always claimed to be such a wise old soul, so what do you think I should do?”

  Boozer paused. Instead of biting, he ran his roughened lips over Jen’s arm, warming her flesh with his hot breath while he impatiently waited for Eris and the boy to reach an agreement.

  “Obviously, a few ounces of her blood are not beneficial for very long.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Arms folded, he took a few moments to mull over her words. “I could do some research on the computer if you’d like. There’s a wealth of information on the internet. I spend endless hours doing online exploring.”

  Eris fixed a fiery gaze on the boy. “I don’t have time for you to spend endless hours looking for a solution on that stupid machine.”

  “Stupid! I’ll have you know that it was through computer technology that I was able to bring you and that barbarian here.”

  She held up her wrists, which hung limp from the complete loss of her hands. “My fingers…my palms. Gone! Are you satisfied, Xavier?” Her voice was shrill with accusation and rage.

  “Calm down. Your lifeline is right here.” He pointed to Jen and gave her a wink, which under the circumstances was a cruel thing to do.

  Petrified, Jen shook her head repeatedly. “I’m not her lifeline! I gave blood already. Leave me alone. Please!” She appealed to Eris. “Goddess…ma’am, I’d help you if I could. But I don’t think my blood’s gonna work for you. Could be because I’m B-positive. Maybe you need another blood type,” Jen rationalized. Her mind raced to find a drawn-out explanation to support her claim. She was willing to go to great lengths to prevent another dreadful encounter with Boozer’s choppers and Eris’s blood-sucking lips.

  “She has a point,” Ethan agreed.

  Jen exhaled. There was hope. It was a pity that she was such a gutless girl, willing to allow an innocent victim to be lured inside the lion’s den to save her own hide. She felt so sorry for the unsuspecting stranger that she made a fervent vow to escape and get help while the three demons were distracted with violating the unfortunate captive.

  “The only other mortal in this house is you, little man,” Eris threatened. “Are you offering a taste of your blood?”

  Her safety was on the line. Holding her breath in anticipation, Jen waited for Ethan to respond—to do the right thing and contribute his own blood. When the boy issued a wicked chuckle, any hope she’d held was instantly dashed.

  “Wicked One, Wicked One…” He paused and regarded Eris with devilish amusement. “I’d gladly offer my blood, but I’m not a healthy mortal. As you can see, I’m quite frail. Th
e loss of blood could be my ruination. You need me healthy and alive to execute your diabolical plan.”

  “You served your purpose. I don’t need you.”

  “You’ll need my family’s resources to venture out into a world that requires hard cash to make it from one day to the next.”

  “I have valuables in Roanoke.”

  “You’ll never get to Roanoke without money. You’ve lost your ability to flit about, traveling as a stream of mist.”

  “I realize that,” she said, frowning down at her feet that had started losing toes. “Shut up, Xavier!”

  Eris was losing extremities at an astonishing rate and her predicament did not bode well for Jen.

  “All this jabbering is a waste of time. No more talk; I need blood!”

  Three pairs of eyes settled on Jen.

  Arching a brow, the boy looked at Jen. “Until we can figure out why Eris keeps losing her limbs, you’re going to have to tough it out.”

  “What do you mean?” Jen squeaked, but she knew exactly what he meant.

  It seemed like she was in the midst of an out-of-body experience. Numb and still as a statue, she felt nothing. Instead of flailing or going into spasms when Boozer sank his incisors into her limb, Jen hadn’t flinched. Through an amazing but unintentional act of disassociation, she sat with Zen-like calmness as the ogre ripped a chunk of flesh from her arm, creating a bloody crater. Jen didn’t blink an eye.

  Inside the deep crimson hole, Eris inserted a straw. Ironically, it came from the cheerful pack of kiddy straws Lizzy had given Ethan. The joke was on Jen. Ethan wasn’t and never had been a kid. As bizarre a sight as it was to see a plastic straw jutting out of her arm, even stranger was the fact that Eris’s lips were puckered around the end of the brightly colored straw, drawing out Jen’s blood as casually as if she were sipping a refreshing beverage.

  Jen showed no emotion and felt no pain. Ghost lady had been using her and feeding on her so frequently, Jen had detached from her own body. Her will to survive was diminishing. She was peaceful. Probably close to death from blood loss, she surmised. Evil had won the battle. She could no longer keep up the good fight. Not physically or emotionally. Somewhere in her hazy mind, she surrendered, admitting to herself that death had to be far better than living like this.

  “Take her away,” Eris commanded. Boozer did as he was told, yanking Jen by the collar. He dragged her out of the room and down the stairs. She didn’t feel the bump of each step that the beast descended. She felt nothing except the peaceful release of life slowly leaving her body.

  In the lightless cellar, the air was heavy with a revolting smell… a stench so thick that it brought Jen back to awareness, making her retch and dry heave. The beast grabbed her by the collar and dug a claw into her elbow, ensuring that she was awake.

  She witnessed him lifting a floorboard and a blast of foul odor assaulted her nostrils. Jen resisted the beast’s pull on her arm. He was trying to drag her into a hidden underbelly of the cellar; a place where mice and rats and God knew what else were swarming.

  Boozer yanked her down two or three stairs and then let her fall the rest of the way down. Her body hitting concrete wasn’t as bad as the feeling of suffocation from the toxic-smelling stink.

  Boozer replaced the floorboard, leaving Jen in utter darkness. No rodents approached and it didn’t matter. She could feel the curtain of this life coming down and felt herself sinking. Soon, sweet eternal sleep would claim her. Jen welcomed death.

  But it was a cruel joke. Jen had only slept. She awoke to total darkness and a sickening stench, that was unlike anything she’d ever smelled. Momentarily disoriented, she wondered why she was lying in darkness, why did she hurt all over, and what was that putrid smell?

  Oh, God! Horrific memories flooded her mind. Ethan, apparently in cahoots with the devil himself, had somehow unleashed two demons and invited them into the Provost home.

  No longer willing to just lie down and die, Jen flattened her hand against the cold concrete floor and tried to push herself up. Agh! Excruciating pain shot through her arm; she collapsed, her head banging against concrete. She’d landed sort of sideways and the horrific odor seemed closer. With every breath, she inhaled the awful smell.

  Oh, Jesus! I have to get out of this house. Desperate to escape, she lifted her head slightly, but the pressure on her neck was too painful. Lying prone, Jen turned her head from one side to the other, trying to make out her surroundings…maybe locate a window or a secret escape hatch. But there was nothing except total darkness. And that atrociously foul odor.

  Jen wrinkled her nose. What the hell is that fetid smell? Spoiled wine? Rotted food? A dead mouse? Or a dead rat? Ew! Jen shuddered. Repelled, she drew up her legs.

  Even after suffering the appalling assaults at the hands of Satan’s evil deed-doers, she still didn’t think she could handle feeling her feet brushing up against a nasty, dead rat.

  She uttered a helpless cry. Not too loud. She whimpered low and pitifully, careful not to draw the monsters down to the basement. Honestly, if she heard that thing named Boozer clomping down the stairs, she’d kill herself by running full speed, headfirst, into a wall. If that didn’t do the trick, she’d have no choice but to bash her brains out against the concrete floor.

  God, she wished she had her cell phone on hand. She’d speed dial everyone in her contact list…Rome, her parents, her geek friends back in Centerville, the senator, Ms. Provost. She’d call information and ask to be put through to the FBI…the CIA… The National Enquirer…TMZ… Hell, she’d even send a text message to Mediatakeout.com and that blogging queen, Perez Hilton.

  Jen would reach out to anyone who could get the word out and draw some attention to this demon-infested house. Somebody had to save her before those maniacs started biting on her and siphoning out her blood again…with a straw.

  She rolled her eyes, infuriated as she recalled Lizzy proudly pulling those weapons out of the pocket of her big sweater. How had something that appeared so innocent ended up being used as an instrument of destruction?

  Rome! Oh, her heart hurt. There’d be no hot date tonight. Or ever. These monsters, fitting in perfectly with Halloween, were not going to let her go.

  There was no way she was going to lie down in this basement waiting for that hairy, wax-faced maniac to come and fetch her so Eris could have herself another drink of blood. This madness could on indefinitely, with Eris expecting a hemoglobin cocktail every time she broke a freakin’ fingernail.

  Jen would rather die right now than endure another brutal biting and more blood sucking. Determined to at least attempt to escape, she propped herself up with her other arm.

  It hurt badly but she pushed past the burning pain, panting desperately as she struggled to lift her torso from the floor. Finally, she made it to an upright position. Feeling winded like she’d just finished a 10K race, she gasped, and then had to rest for a moment as she tried to catch her breath.

  When her heart rate calmed down a little, she squinted in the dark. Time to move into the next phase of her great escape, but she needed something to grab onto so she could pull herself off the floor. With feeble motions, she waved her aching, mangled arm through the air, hoping to hit upon something solid, but all that hand waving was creating a really funky breeze.

  She waved high. Then low. Her hand smacked into something soft. And gooey. Gooey stuff was all over her hand. And it stank to high heavens. Smelled worse than a truck filled with five weeks worth of garbage. Eew! Eew! Eew!

  “Oh, Jesus,” she moaned, tears beginning to pool as she frantically wiped the mush from her hand, trying to get it off by smearing it across the floor. What had she touched? A person? Jen wanted to scream. She’d been dumped inside the wine cellar, confined with a dead body lying next to her. And she’d been victimized further by ending up with a really stinky hand.

  She needed some soap and water. No, that wouldn’t help. She’d need something a lot stronger for the residual mess that was clu
ng to the spaces between her fingers and under her nails.

  It felt as yucky as it smelled. Now, her problem had escalated. In addition to trying to stay alive, she needed to find a container of Lysol…a bottle of bleach…or some freakin’ Mr. Clean!

  “Get it together, Jen. Focus. Deal with the smell,” she murmured to herself, attempting to talk herself into a state of calmness. As her eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness, she realized that she was not in the main part of the wine cellar, but had been placed in some hidden space where it would be hard for someone to find her.

  She cut an eye at the dead body next to her. At first she blinked in disbelief. Then she had to cover her mouth to stifle a scream. Carmen’s favorite plaid skirt was hitched up over her abundant behind, where big hunks of flesh had been ripped out. Oh, my God. No! Carmen!

  “I’m sorry, Carmen. I’m so sorry,” she sobbed softly. Grimacing, she pulled back both feet and pushed them into the cook’s mutilated backside, shoving the decaying carcass as far away from her as possible.

  ROANOKE, VIRGINIA

  Even though Kali no longer seemed afraid and was back to sleeping in her own room, the family did not plan to celebrate Halloween. To Ajali, donating Kali’s Halloween costume to the Children’s Hospital was a good idea.

  An even better idea had been contacting volunteer services at the hospital and committing to spending several hours a week reading to the sick children. Tonight, she had asked if she could bring Kali along.

  The Children’s Hospital was bustling with Halloween activities. The staff as well as many of the children wore costumes. On a trick-or-treating excursion, some of the children walked, others propelled wheelchairs as they paraded through the hospital, making stops at various nurses’ stations, and yelling: “Trick or treat!”

  In spite of the colorful display of holiday decorations, the mood on the fifth floor was less than festive. A dozen or so children were assembled inside a large playroom. These pediatric patients, with conditions too fragile to participate in the costume parade, were quiet. A somber bunch. Some sat in wheelchairs, but most lay prone on recliners, their eyes closed—presumably asleep.