by steve higgs
It was a small knife, barely an inch long and with a tiny double-edged blade.
The six naked women walked in front of me, taking up position three on each side. Patience was to my left. Did I see her move? Did she just twitch? I watched and just when I thought I had imagined it, her right hand moved again. Behind her back, she gave me a thumbs up.
Patience was with me! I was not alone. I almost sobbed as hope filled my chest. Then I thought about the knife and wondered where Patience had been hiding it. It felt moist. I told myself it was sweat and decided I would be happier not finding out if I was right or wrong.
In front of the altar, Mr. King began a chant. The words were gibberish to me. He pulled the large black snake from around his neck, holding it just below its head, he held it aloft by one hand. The crowd of people that edged the room were swaying to the rhythm of his words. It might have been in Haitian or any other language that I did not understand.
Mrs. King joined him at the altar, her boobs swinging as she walked and there were two bare-chested men following her carrying a large basket. It was almost person size and looked to be three feet deep. I didn't want to think about what might be in it. I didn't have to guess for long though as Mrs. King reached in to pluck out two snakes. They were small and had bands of red, yellow and black running the length of their body. I knew almost nothing about snakes but still knew enough to be certain these ones were deadly.
‘Let us anoint our sacrifices.' Mr. King's voice boomed. Then he held the large black snake aloft and cut off its head. The snake's writhing ceased instantly but Mr. King was moving it himself as he flicked the severed end at Big Ben to splash fresh blood on his back. Then he crossed the floor to me and did the same. Warm liquid hit the skin of my face and chest and ran down over my belly. I was so disgusted I wanted to vomit. Had there been any food in me I probably would have.
Slowly, I had turned the knife around in my hand to rest it on the twine holding me in place. I moved it against the tension of my restraint convinced I would drop the blade at any moment. Instead, I felt the binding loosen as something gave.
From an unseen portal behind the altar, Bartholomew emerged with the girl I had seen him with earlier just behind him. Behind them came Mason, I recognised him from earlier but then in contrast to all the dark skinned, black haired people, the next person was a tall, thin blond woman in a dress.
It was Jane.
‘Now brethren.' Mr. King addressed the room, his deep voice booming. ‘It is time for the culmination of our wedding celebrations. Our annual sacrifice will this year not be one but three individuals. Their blood will stoke our power. We will rule over our rivals, subjugating them with our drugs as we exploit their weakness. Voodoo will guide our actions and terrify all who would challenge us. You, loyal servants of the Magdalene King, you will flourish with me and share in my riches.'
My ears had not deceived me. I had worked it all out. It was not Bartholomew that was the Magdalene King, it was his Dad. The timeline worked, but I had figured it out too late to tell anyone. The chance of exposing them felt slim given my current predicament. However, my right hand was now loose enough for me to slide it out of the remaining loops of string. I dare not move to cut my other bindings though for fear I would be spotted. I needed a distraction.
Two large, bare-chested, muscular men were holding Jane in place. They had forced her to her knees and each had one meaty hand on her shoulders. In the hand that wasn’t holding her, each had a large knife which might more accurately be described as a short sword. Jane looked terrified but did not appear to be hurt.
The young woman I had seen with Bartholomew stepped in front of Mr. King leading Bartholomew by his hand. ‘Now my prince, take this young woman. Celebrate the end of your life as a single man, give her your seed then kill her and join with me forever as my husband.' She took his shoulders and turned him to face Jane.
I suddenly realised that Jane was the one he was planning to publicly rape as part of his twisted ritual.
They didn’t know it was a man beneath the makeup and dress. This should be good.
Bartholomew took a pace towards Jane. There was a maniacal look on his face. His excitement was clear, not only in his smile but also in the bulge jutting out from the front of his pants. His bride to be grasped his robe and pulled it from his shoulders.
The two men holding Jane in place lifted her to her feet then one used his enormous blade to slice the back of her dress. It fell away, taking her fake boobs with it and revealing the meat and two veg hanging between his legs just as Bartholomew pulled the cord that held up his trousers and let them fall the floor.
In the sudden silence of the room, all eyes were on Jane. Mr. King's eyes were popping out his head in disbelief that the blond girl had a penis. Then Patience laughed.
It was a cackling snort of suppressed laughter like she was trying not to but couldn't contain it. I knew what she was laughing at, Bartholomew had a tiny penis and she was pointing at it. All eyes swung to her, Mr. and Mrs. King's faces were incredulous. Their plan for the ceremony was unravelling fast. Bartholomew looked down at his tiny winky and across at Jane's much larger version, his expression horrified. His erection was already beginning to wilt.
If I had been viewing this scene from a safe distance, I might have enjoyed it. As it was, I was still about to be murdered and needed to rescue myself. I took the brief opportunity I was given and with a single slash of the blade, I cut the bonds of my left hand and then my feet. The knife was sharp, and my fast movements nicked my skin. I was free though and I had a weapon.
Simultaneous with me gaining freedom, Big Ben came back to life. I missed it because I was cutting myself free and I didn't see him hit Mr. King, but I heard the outrush of air from Mr. King's lungs and Mrs. King's screech of outrage.
By the time I looked up, Mr. King was tumbling to the floor and Big Ben was rushing the two men holding Jane. Caught by indecision, one didn't move at all, choosing instead to keep hold of Jane and use her as a shield, the other twitched, realised the danger approaching and moved to intercept Big Ben with his weapon. Too late though, Big Ben closed the distance before the man could raise his knife and struck him with a haymaker right fist that felled him like a tree.
Mrs. King and Bartholomew's bride were going for Patience. The other five naked women – shall we call them bridesmaids? They had not moved. They were still trapped in the trancelike state Patience had been faking. Patience saw the danger coming. She was more than capable of smacking down two skinny bitches, but the growing hope for escape I was beginning to feel, ended when I saw the audience begin to move in. There were four of us and over fifty of them. Big Ben might take out a dozen of them, maybe more but the numbers were insurmountable in my head. In seconds they would be upon us. I needed a way out.
Maybe the hidden entrance that Bartholomew had come through. I didn’t know if it led out of the building, but I had to try. There was no one near me. No one I needed to fight my way through.
‘Patience.' I yelled as she grabbed Mrs. King and upended her. The smaller lady flipped in the air before Patience smashed her skull into the floor. Patience slammed into the bride in a body check that knocked her flying. Then she was running after me. Big Ben and Jane were ahead of us. I glanced at Patience and wished I hadn’t. She was naked and had boobs that, without the benefit of support, and with the addition of frantic motion, had turned into an additional pair of limbs. They were going different directions so that her nipples were now about three feet apart. Of all the images my eyes had captured tonight, this was perhaps the one that would stay with me the longest.
The man holding Jane had seen his colleague easily beaten by the giant, muscular, naked, white man and switched his tactic as he put his blade to Jane's throat. Jane was too light to fight him off and was clearly panicked, hanging loose in the man's grip.
All three of us skidded to a halt. We couldn’t leave, and we couldn’t overpower him without him cutting Jane’s thro
at first.
‘Enough.' Roared Mr. King. He had regained his feet and was helping his wife up. Just in front of him, Bartholomew was putting his trousers back on. ‘You will all die for your insolence.' The audience had moved from their positions at the edge of the room but had not fully closed the distance, they were surrounding the central dias that we, the Kings' and the altar were on. Their numbers formed a tight circle around the four of us. There was nowhere to go and many of them were armed while we were not.
Mr. King stepped forward, nodding to someone behind us as he did. The man holding Jane let her go but rushed forward to put his knife to Big Ben's neck instead. He was joined by others. Big Ben was the threat, and everyone knew it. The sweet, little blonde girl wasn't.
The danger of Big Ben now effectively neutralised, Mr. King took control of proceedings once more. He stepped around the large wicker basket full of snakes, brushed by his son and came to me. He held out his right hand to his side. A lacky placed a wicked looking blade into it. Then he held out his left hand to me.
I looked at it dumbly. He motioned with his fingers for me to step forward. I saw no choice.
‘Amanda?' Patience wailed as I moved toward him. She was as terrified as I. What could I do though? I was just a woman. A poor, defenceless woman. Concealed in my hand, no one had seen the knife I still held.
Mr King continued to address the crowd, ‘My people. Let us celebrate this night anyway. Fresh sacrifices will be found, and we will hold the wedding ceremony soon.' He lifted his knife above his head. He was watching the crowd, raising them to a clamouring fervour as they begged for blood. Then, he turned his eyes in my direction and reached out to grab me. I lunged and stabbed him in the throat with my tiny blade.
Until that moment I wasn’t sure I could do it. I was terrified almost beyond the capacity for rational thought. I was ready to pee myself, but somehow, I was also angry. Angry that Big Ben was considered to be a threat and I was not. Angry that they had dismissed me as defenceless. Angry that I was wishing someone, even a man, would come to my rescue. I doubted that injuring Mr King would aid my cause, but he deserved it and I was damned if I was going to meekly let him kill me.
Stunned by the blow to his throat, he froze, his left-hand letting go its grip on my arm. He coughed once, blood visible on his lips, then before anyone could react, I kicked him in his spuds and shoved him backward into the basket of snakes.
That’ll teach him!
Mrs. King screamed, her mouth a horrified circle of disbelief. Mr. King thrashed for a few seconds as the snakes attacked the sudden weight pressing down on them, then lay still, my blade still sticking out of his throat.
‘Aaaargggh!’ screamed Bartholomew as he grabbed the knife his father had dropped and ran at me.
He never made it though. As he took his first step in my direction his right shoulder exploded. One moment it was there and the next it was not. The deafening sound of a gunshot followed a nanosecond later to tell us what was going on and my heart skipped as I saw black uniforms spilling into the room.
Shouted orders were being barked as armed Police swarmed into the crowd before they could work out what was going on. The voodoo disciples were being thrown to the floor with weapons trained on them, daring them to resist.
Big Ben seized his chance, elbowed the man behind him hard in the face, took his weapon and then moved to make sure no one escaped down the passage behind the altar. Wherever it went, no one was going to get by the angry giant guarding it now.
I grabbed Jane by the arm, pulled her toward me and put a protective arm around Patience. Big Ben, Jane and I stood out as the only white people in the room, but Patience looked like all the other crazed voodoo buttholes. I didn't want the armed officers to seize her in their desire to make the room safe.
‘Amanda.' The call brought my face up. It was Tempest. He had come in behind the uniforms. He was unarmed and wearing civilian clothes. He looked tired and a little beaten like he had endured a hard week. I was willing to bet I could top whatever fun he had had in Cornwall. ‘Amanda.' He called again as he made his way across the room. The Police were dealing with the voodoo crazies and were leaving us alone. They would get to us soon enough.
As Tempest neared, I saw CI Quinn enter the room behind him. No doubt this would be recorded as his bust now. To hell with it, I was just glad to be alive.
Tempest reached the central Dias, ‘Amanda… oh, ah, you don't seem to be wearing very much.' Tempest was looking at the ceiling in a bid to not stare at me. I had been naked for so long and surrounded by so many naked people that I had forgotten my lack of clothing. ‘Um, none of you do, actually.' He said taking in Big Ben, Jane, and Patience.
He turned around. ‘Can we get some clothing over here please?’
Press Conference. Friday, 4th November 0245hrs
About half an hour later, I was sat on a blanket with another blanket around me. Hot tea and bacon sandwiches had been rustled up from somewhere and I had on bits and pieces of clothing that different people had given up. Tempest’s jacket, some spare police boots from the back of a squad car. A pair of slightly smelly jogging bottoms from a gym bag. I was covered though and that was good enough. They had found Patience’s clothes and Big Ben’s and Jane had used some duct tape to stick her dress back together. The clothes I had arrived in were still missing.
We were still in the chamber under the house. CI Quinn was coordinating all movement in and out, or at least he had several officers that were doing that for him. I expected that soon we would be given the all-clear to leave by the paramedics that were currently checking over Big Ben and they would want us out of the way.
The voodoo community was already gone. Every last one of them had been led in handcuffs out through the entrance the police had burst in through, even the five drugged up naked girls. The only exception to that had been the Kings. Mr. King was pronounced very dead at the scene by an efficient-looking doctor that came with the paramedics. Bartholomew had needed treatment for pain and to stop the blood loss as the bullet that went through his shoulder had made a real mess and broken some bones on its way. Mrs. King, having seen her husband die, her son get shot and her entire criminal world come tumbling down, had retreated into a state of shock. She had left on a stretcher. Handcuffed, but on a stretcher nevertheless.
I finished my tea and set the cup down on the floor next to me.
‘The press are here.’ Someone said, their voice echoing in the underground room. My eyes found Quinn. He was instantly straightening his tie and checking to make sure his uniform looked good. I wondered if the Chief Constable was on his way.
‘How are you doing?’ the voice was Tempest’s. I turned to where it had come from. He was checking on Big Ben and talking with the paramedics. They clearly wanted Big Ben to go to the hospital with them. He was laughing at them and shaking his head. Next to him, and holding his hand, was Patience. They had both been through a lot, maybe they would find comfort in each other.
Or maybe they both just fancied a shag and it was too late in the day to find anyone else.
Tempest nodded, chucked Big Ben on the shoulder with a fist and crossed the floor to me.
I had a question for him, ‘How did you find me?' We hadn't yet had any chance to talk since the police had swooped in. I had been struggling with several emotions ever since. Relief at seeing him. Even more relief that I was not going to be bitten to death by snakes, but then anger that I had been rescued when I specifically wanted to rescue myself and not have a man save me like I was a damned damsel in distress. I was also curious about what his week in Cornwall had been like. He had on outdoor clothing, the type one might wear for hill walking or rock climbing, but it was dirty as if he had been fighting. His knuckles were bruised and cut in places and there were several faint marks on his face.
The dominant thought though was how he came to find me. Even I didn't know where I was. Or at least I hadn't. Big Ben had told me that we were still on the Kings' property,
somewhere deep beneath their house.
In answer to my question, he said, ‘Your car.'
I wondered what he meant for a moment, then remembered that I had left it outside someone’s house. Like most villages, parking was at a premium so parking without a permit was limited to two hours. I had not expected to be that long when I parked it.
‘I went to the station and made a lot of noise until they checked to see where your cars were. They had squad cars do a drive by everyone's properties. Patience's car was at her house, Jane's was at hers, but I called her house phone and got a tearful Simon explaining that she was missing. Both your car and Big Ben's had been towed from close to here. It took a little doing and I had to have a word with our friend Quinn where I made it clear I would expose his deliberate lack of effort if he didn't get off his butt and act. One of the other Officers whispered that you had reported Patience missing already and it was being largely ignored.'
He had saved me. He had driven back from the other side of the country, coerced a senior police officer that hated him into action, found me and had genuinely saved the day. I felt like kissing him. I also felt like berating him for saving me, but I knew that my anger really should be focused inwards. I should have told Jane where I was going, I should have been better prepared. I should have done something to save myself.
Instead, I stood up and gave him a hug. He stiffened, unsure how to react or where to put his hands. I liked that about him, he was quite awkward around me in a way that he wasn't with anyone else.
As I broke the hug, he quickly found something to talk about, ‘Did you get a chance to speak to Patience? Find out how she got here?'
I nodded, then I told him about it. She had answered a knock on her door late on Tuesday evening and had been tasered the second she opened it. After that, she didn't remember much else and suspected they had given her Rohypnol or another, similar narcotic that could have induced the confused and compliant state she found herself in. Like me, she had woken up naked but had not really noticed until the drug had finally started wearing off earlier today. By then she was in a group of other women, all naked and being given instructions. She played along, hoping a chance to escape would arise but she did not know where she was, and it was only just before she saw me that she first saw Mrs. King and understood who had taken her.