“Give me a quarter,” the monster said.
Billy looked up into the huge lizard face. The monster’s grin was nearly two feet wide. “Give me a quarter!” it repeated.
Billy dug into his pocket, came out with a handful of change, and timidly held it up to the monster.
Still holding the door shut with one hand, the monster reached down with the other and plucked a quarter from Billy’s hand with two claws, using them like chopsticks.
“Thanks,” it said. “I love Magic Fingers.”
The demon let go of the door. “You can go now,” it said.
Before he could think about it, Billy threw the door open and dove through. He was climbing to his feet when something caught him by the leg from behind and dragged him back into the room.
“I was just kidding. You can’t go.”
The monster held Billy upside down by his leg while it dropped the quarter into the little metal box on the nightstand.
Billy flailed in the air, screaming and clawing at the demon, ripping his fingernails against its scales. The monster took Billy into its arms like a teddy bear and lay back on the bed. Its feet hung off the end and nearly touched the dresser on the opposite wall.
Billy could not scream; there was no breath for a scream. The monster let go with one arm and placed one long claw at Billy’s ear.
“Don’t you just love Magic Fingers?” it said. Then it drove the claw though Billy’s brain.
18
RACHEL
After Merle died and Rachel observed a respectable period of mourning, which was precisely the same amount of time it took the courts to transfer Merle’s property to her, she sold the Cessna and the trailer, bought herself a Volkswagen van, and on the advice of the women at the shelter, headed for Berkeley. In Berkeley, they insisted, she would find a community of women who could help her stay off the wheel of abuse. They were right.
The women in Berkeley welcomed Rachel with open arms. They helped her find a place to live, enrolled her in exercise and self-actualization courses, taught her to defend herself, nurture herself, and most important, to respect herself. She lost weight and grew strong. She thrived.
Within a year she took the remainder of her inheritance and bought a lease on a small studio adjacent to the University of California campus and began teaching high-intensity aerobics. She soon gained a reputation as a tough, domineering bitch of an instructor. There was a waiting list to get into her classes. The fat little girl had come into her own as a beautiful and powerful woman.
Rachel taught six classes a day, putting herself through the rigors of each workout along with her students. After a few months of that regimen, she fell ill, waking one morning to find that she had just enough strength to call the women in her classes to cancel, and no more. One of her students, a statuesque, gray-haired woman in her forties named Bella, appeared at Rachel’s door a few hours later.
Once through the door Bella began giving orders. “Take off your clothes and get back in bed. I’ll bring you some tea in a moment.” Her voice was deep and strong, yet somehow soothing. Rachel did as she was told. “I don’t know what you think you’ve done to deserve the punishment you are giving yourself, Rachel,” Bella said, “but it has to stop.”
Bella sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed and watched while Rachel drank the tea. “Now lie on your stomach and relax.”
Bella applied fragrant oil to Rachel’s back and began rubbing, first with long, slow strokes that spread the oil, then gradually digging her fingers into the muscles until Rachel thought she would cry out in pain. When the message was finished, Rachel felt even more exhausted than before. She fell into a deep sleep.
When Rachel awoke, Bella repeated the process, forcing Rachel to drink the bitter tea, then kneading her muscles until they ached. Again, Rachel slept.
When Rachel awoke the fourth time, Bella again served her the tea, but this time she had Rachel lie on her back to receive her massage. Bella’s hands played gently over her body, lingering between her legs and on her breasts. Through the drugged haze of the tea, Rachel noticed that the older woman was almost naked and had rubbed her own body with the same fragrant oils that she used on Rachel.
It didn’t occur to Rachel to resist. Since Bella had come through the door, she had been giving orders and Rachel had obeyed. In the dim light of Rachel’s little apartment they became lovers. It had been two years since Rachel had been with a man. Trading soft caresses with Bella, she didn’t care if she was ever again.
When Rachel was back on her feet, Bella introduced her to a group of women who met at Bella’s house once a week to perform ceremonies and rituals. Among these women Rachel learned about a new power she carried within herself, the power of the Goddess. Bella tutored her in the machinations of white magic and soon Rachel was leading the coven in rituals, while Bella looked on like a proud mother.
“Modulate your voice,” Bella told her. “No matter what you are saying it should sound like a chant to the Goddess. The coven should be taken with the chant. That is the meaning of enchantment, my dear.”
Rachel gave up her apartment and moved into Bella’s restored Victorian house near the U.C. campus. For the first time in her life, she felt truly happy. Of course, it didn’t last.
One afternoon she came home to find Bella in bed with a bald and bewhiskered professor of music. Rachel was livid. She threatened the professor with a fireplace poker and chased him, half-naked, into the street. He exited clutching his tweed jacket and corduroy slacks in front of him.
“You said you loved me!” Rachel screamed at Bella.
“I do love you, dear.” Bella did not seem the least bit upset. Her voice was deep and modulated like a chant. “This was about power, not love.”
“If I wasn’t filling your needs, you should have said something.”
“You are the most wonderful lover I have known, dear Rachel. But Dr. Mendenhall holds the mortgage on our house. That loan is interest free, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“You whore!”
“Aren’t we all, dear?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. I am. The Goddess is. We all have our price. Be it love, or money, or power, Rachel. Why do you think the women in your exercise classes put themselves through so much pain?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Answer me,” Bella demanded. “Why?”
“They want a sound body. They want a strong vessel to carry a strong spirit.”
“They don’t give a rat’s ass about a strong spirit. They want a tight ass so men will want them. They will deny it to the death, but it’s true. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will realize your own power.”
“You’re sick. This goes against everything you’ve ever taught me.”
“This is the most important thing I ever will teach you, so listen! Know your price, Rachel.”
“No.”
“You think I’m some cheap slut, do you? You think you’re above selling yourself? How much rent have you ever paid here?”
“I offered. You said it didn’t matter. I loved you.”
“That’s your price, then.”
“It’s not. It’s love.”
“Sold!” Bella climbed out of bed and strode across the room, her long gray hair flying behind her. She took her robe from the closet, threw it around herself, and tied the sash. “Love me for what I am, Rachel. Just as I love you for what you are. Nothing has changed. Dr. Mendenhall will be back, whimpering like a puppy. If it will make you feel better, you can be the one that takes him. Maybe we can do it together.”
“You’re sick. How could you even suggest such a thing?”
“Rachel, as long as you see men as human beings, we are going to have a problem. They are inferior beings, incapable of love. How could a few moments of animal friction with a subhuman affect us? What we have between us?”
“You sound like a man caught with his pants down.”
Bella sighed. �
��I don’t want you around the others until you calm down. There’s some money in my jewelry box. Why don’t you take it and go down to Esalen for a week or so. Think this over. You’ll feel better when you get back.”
“What about the others?” Rachel asked. “How do you think they’ll feel when they find out that all the magic, all the spiritualism you preach, is just so much bullshit?”
“Everything is true. They follow me because they admire my power. This is part of that power. I haven’t betrayed anyone.”
“You’ve betrayed me.”
“If you feel that way, then perhaps you’d better leave.” Bella went into the bathroom and began drawing a bath. Rachel followed her.
“Why should I leave? I could just tell them. I know as much as you do now. I could lead them.”
“Dear Rachel.” Bella was adding oils to her bath and not looking up. “Didn’t you learn anything from killing your husband? Destruction is a man’s way.”
Rachel was stunned. She had told Bella about the accident but not that she had caused it. She had told no one.
Bella looked up at her at last. “You can stay if you wish. I still love you.”
“I’ll go.”
“I’m sorry, Rachel. I thought you were more highly evolved.” Bella slipped out of her robe and into her bath. Rachel stood in the doorway staring down at her.
“I love you,” she said.
“I know you do, dear. Now, go pack your things.”
Rachel couldn’t bear the idea of staying in Berkeley. Everywhere she went she encountered reminders of Bella. She loaded up her van and spent a month driving around California, looking for a place where she might fit in. Then, one morning while reading the paper over breakfast, she spotted a column called “California Facts.” It was a simple list of figures that informed readers of obscure facts such as which California county produces the most pistachios (Sacramento), where one had the best chance of having one’s car stolen (North Hollywood), and tucked amid a mélange of seemingly insignificant demographics, which California town had the highest per capita percentage of divorced women (Pine Cove). Rachel had found her destination.
Now, five years later, she was firmly set in the community, respected by the women and feared and lusted after by the men. She had moved slowly, recruiting into her coven only women who sought her out — mostly women who were on the verge of leaving their husbands and who needed something to shore them up during the divorce process. Rachel provided them with the support they required, and in return they gave her their loyalty. Just six months ago she initiated the thirteenth and final member of the coven.
At last she was able to perform the rituals that she had worked so hard to learn from Bella. For years they seemed ineffective, and Rachel attributed their failure to not having a full coven. Now she was starting to suspect that the Earth magic they were trying to perform just did not work — that there was no real power to be had.
She could lead the coven to attempt anything, and on her command they would do it. That was a power of sorts. She could extract favors from men with no more than a seductive glance and in that, there was a power. But none of it was enough. She wanted the magic to work. She wanted real power.
-=*=-
Catch had sensed Rachel’s lust for power in the Head of the Slug that afternoon, recognizing in her what he had seen in his ruthless masters before Travis. That night, while Rachel lay in the dark of her cabin, contemplating her own impotence, the demon came to her.
She had locked the door that night, more out of habit than need, as there was very little crime in Pine Cove. Around nine she heard someone try the doorknob and she sat upright in bed.
“Who is it?”
As if in answer, the door bent slowly inward and the doorjamb cracked, then splintered away. The door opened, but there was no one behind it. Rachel pulled the quilt up around her chin and scooted up into the corner of the bed.
“Who is it?”
A voice growled out of the darkness, “Don’t be afraid. I will not hurt you.”
The moon was bright. If someone was there, she should have been able to see his silhouette in the doorway, but strain as she might, she saw nothing.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“No — what do you want?” the voice said.
Rachel was truly frightened; the voice was coming from an empty spot not two feet away from her bed.
“I asked you first,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Ooooooooooo, I am the ghost of Christmas past.”
Rachel poked herself in the leg with her thumbnail to make sure she was not dreaming. She wasn’t. She found herself speaking to the disembodied voice in spite of herself.
“Christmas is months away.”
“I know. I lied. I’m not the ghost of Christmas past. I saw that in a movie once.”
“Who are you!” Rachel was near hysteria.
“I am all your dreams come true.”
Someone must have planted a speaker somewhere in the house. Rachel’s fear turned to anger. She leapt from bed to find the offending device. Two steps out of bed she ran into something and fell to the floor. Something that felt like claws wrapped around her waist. She felt herself being lifted and put back on the bed. Panic seized her. She began to scream as her bladder let go.
“Stop it!” The voice drowned her screams and rattled the windows of the cabin. “I don’t have time for this.”
Rachel cowered on the bed. She was panting and felt herself getting light-headed. She started to sink back into unconsciousness, but something caught her by the hair and yanked her back. Her mind searched for a touchstone in reality. A ghost — it was a ghost. Did she believe in ghosts? Perhaps it was time to start. Maybe it was him, returned for revenge.
“Merle, is that you?”
“Who?”
“I’m sorry, Merle, I had to…”
“Who is Merle?”
“You’re not Merle?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Then, who — what in the hell are you?”
“I am the defeat of your enemies. I am the power you crave. I am, live and direct from hell, the demon Catch! Ta-da!” There was a clicking on the floor like a tap-dancing step.
“You’re an Earth spirit?”
“Er, uh, yes, an Earth spirit. That’s me, Catch, the Earth spirit.”
“But I didn’t think the ritual worked.”
“Ritual?”
“We tried to call you up at the meeting last week, but I didn’t think it worked because I didn’t draw the circle of power with a virgin blade that had been quenched in blood.”
“What did you use?”
“A nail file.”
There was a pause. Had she offended the Earth spirit? Here was the first evidence that her magic could work and she had blown it by compromising the materials called for in the ritual.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but it’s not easy to find a blade that’s been quenched in blood.”
“It’s okay.”
“If I had known, I…”
“No really, it’s okay.”
“Are you offended, Great Spirit?”
“I am about to bestow the greatest power in the world upon a woman who draws circles in the dirt with nail files. I don’t know. Give me a minute.”
“Then you will grant harmony to the hearts of the women in the coven?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” the voice said.
“That is why we summoned you, O Spirit — to bring us harmony.”
“Oh, yeah, harmony. But there is a condition.”
“Tell me what you require of me, O Spirit.”
“I will return to you later, witch. If I find what I am looking for, I will need you to renounce the Creator and perform a ritual. In return you will be given the command of a power that can rule the Earth. Will you do this?”
Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. Accepting that her magic worked was a huge step, yet s
he was speaking to the evidence. But to be offered the power to rule the world? She wasn’t sure her career in exercise instruction had prepared her for this.
“Speak, woman! Or would you rather spend your life collecting gobs of hair from shower drains and fingernail parings from ashtrays?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I was destroying pagans when Charlemagne was alive. Now, answer; there is a hunger rising in me and I must go.”
“Destroying pagans? I thought the Earth spirits were benevolent.”
“We have our moments. Now, will you renounce the Creator?”
“Renounce the Goddess, I don’t know…”
“Not the Goddess! The Creator!”
“But the Goddess…”
“Wrong. The Creator, the All-Powerful. Help me out here, babe — I’m not allowed to say his name.”
“You mean the Christian God?”
“Bingo! Will you renounce him?”
“I did that a long time ago.”
“Good. Wait here. I will be back.”
Rachel searched for a last word, but nothing came. She heard a rustling in the leaves outside and ran to the door. In the moonlight she could see the shapes of cattle standing in the nearby pasture and something moving among them. Something that was growing larger as it moved away toward town.
19
JENNY’S HOUSE
Jenny parked the Toyota behind Travis’s Chevy and killed the lights.
“Well?” Travis said.
Jenny said, “Would you like to come in?”
“Well.” Travis acted as if he had to think about it. “Yes, I’d love to.”
“Give me a minute to go in and clear a path, okay?”
“No problem, I need to check on something in my car.”
“Thanks.” Jenny smiled with relief.
They got out of the car. Jenny went into the house. Travis leaned against the door of the Chevy and waited for her to get inside. Then he threw open the car door and peeked inside.
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