“I know that,” the know-it-all Mathias said softly and begrudgingly, annoyed and insulted that Joy had the audacity to try teaching him something or assume that he was ignorant on the matter. “Aleister Crowley was the first to use the inverted pentagram, and was also the one to coin the term, sex magick,” he added pretentiously, while smiling insincerely at his Golden sister and staring at the coveted area between her legs.
As they moved in closer to ambush the resting Cheri, Joy’s mouth began to bleed. A single drop of poisonous blood fell off her lower lip and as it impacted the floor of the Van, it sizzled and burned a hole through it, as if it were hydrochloric acid. Wolf saw this toxic drool and watched what it did to the Van. He growled and snarled at Joy, giving her the look of death, as Cheri started to slowly open her eyes. The semi-succubus quickly grabbed Joy by the throat, with her left hand, and attempted to squeeze the very life out of her. Mathias promptly came to Joy’s aid, by trying to whack Cheri with a broom handle that had horses’ tails tied at the end.
“Revelation 9, bitch. This is your last chance to blow my trumpet,” the vulgar Mathias quoted Scripture, but sacrilegiously using it to coerce Cheri into giving him head. “Your delicious friend, Dawn, made the mistake of not jumping on this. Don’t let this pass from your lips as well. Come on, pink-haired floozy, give me a try.”
Cheri seized hold of Mathias too, also by the throat, using her other hand. Looking straight into his evil eyes, she showed Mathias the harm that he had done to others and to himself. She filled him with a petrifying fear that he had never before felt, as he realized where he was going and the reality of what that meant. For the first time, the religious guru regretted his wasted life of blasphemy.
Cheri looked at Mathias’s distasteful tattoo on his forehead. “666, huh? 6 times 3 is 18. Is that why you went after my young girlfriend, asshole? You should really grow some eyebrows…but grow a brain first.”
Dawn was obviously not 18 anymore, but the raspberry queen liked to pretend she was. Cheri’s eyes became fire, as Mathias burst into flame and was reduced to ash. Cheri quickly brought her free hand to Joy’s throat, as the Arae wasn’t going to go quite as easily.
Cheri couldn’t understand why Joy was so strong and so resilient to her demonic powers, until she looked into her eyes and saw that she wasn’t alone in her infernal roots. She opened wide her mouth and blew fire, much like a dragon would, in Joy’s face. Yet, the flames had no effect, and didn’t do so much as singe a single hair on Joy’s impervious head.
“That’s right, bitch,” Joy said, “you’ve messed with the wrong…”
“What do you want?!” Cheri interrupted her.
“Your precious arm candy,” Joy said back, smiling.
Cheri was horrified, not having seen this coming. “Dawn? You’re after Dawn?”
“Where is she?” Joy demanded. “Tell me, and I will spare your pathetic life.”
“Dawn’s taken,” Cheri said boldly and confidently, realizing that she might have met her match, but willing to die before helping this monster snatch her lover away.
“Hahahaha!” Joy cackled in a scary voice, as they continued trying to strangle each other. “Do you honestly believe that Dawn could love you? You’re a fucking demon!”
“So are you,” Cheri responded calmly but firmly.
“Yes, but I’m not in love with her. I want to ravish her, and then ravage her when I’m done. I will poison her with the deadly, purple plant known as, Wolf’s Bane, and laugh as I watch her wither away in indescribable agony. I will consume her very soul after I have my way with her tasty flesh.”
“I don’t think so,” Cheri refuted. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Oh yeah?” Joy asked. “What are you going to do to stop me? Huh? What are you going to do?”
Cheri stuck her hand down the front of Joy’s pants and grabbed her firmly by the crotch, sticking her middle finger up the Crowleyan’s dried cunt.
“Fight fire with fire!” Cheri yelled, as she set her own hand on fire, which in turn caused Joy’s vagina to combust. "By the power of three times three, let her reap what she has sown! So mote it be! This evil bitch is overthrown!" Cheri yells, using Joy's own witchcraft against her.
The fire rapidly spread throughout Joy’s body and eventually overpowered her will. Joy screamed in unspeakable agony, as she burned alive right there, while Cheri continued to choke her neck and squeeze her diseased throat.
“Go to Hell!” Joy screamed, just before she exploded into a blazing ball of flames.
“You first,” Cheri said, as her eyes and hand both returned to normal. “You first.” She turned and looked at Wolf, who had jumped out of the Van and been watching from a safe distance. “Now that’s what I call a burning bush,” Cheri said, cackling in victory and satisfaction.
Like Cheri, the Van had also somehow gone completely unharmed, as if it were supernaturally flame retardant. Wolf timidly but eagerly walked up to Cheri, upon witnessing the flammable fatality that had occurred between the two boogey-women. Wolf had been able to see Joy’s nefarious nature when he initially laid eyes on her, and was relieved to see her defeated. The pitch blackness had emanated off of Joy like a darkened cloak of charcoal mist. Yet, there was something endearing about Cheri that he couldn’t fully identify, in spite her Cambion legacy. Though Cheri had something in common with Joy, Wolf could see that she was different. Without Cheri touching it or turning the key, the radio magically came on in her Van. The song, Spooky, by Atlanta Rhythm Section, played through her Van’s speakers.
The inconsolable Dawn had just suffered another nightmare, which felt a bit too real. While brooding over her lingering resentment towards Cheri, she had drifted towards the borders of sleep. She imagined herself casting off all restraints and going berserk, indiscriminately slaying everything and everyone in her path. The ancient, Nordic myth rose before her, and introduced itself as, Fenrir. She immediately felt a curious drawing-out sensation from her solar plexus, and there beside her was an oversized wolf. It was a well-materialized, ecto-plasmic form. It was gray and colorless, and had weight, but was clearly not a physical being. She could distinctively feel its back pressing up against her as it lay beside her on the floor, as a large dog might.
"The condition between sleeping and waking is where the etheric double readily extrudes,” a voice said, which was unseen, but appeared to be coming from the wolf-like apparition.
Dawn wakes once again in her dungeon, which is appropriately shaped like a wigwam. It was dim and damp, and was equipped with a toilet but no sink. Her bone choker had been ripped away and destroyed in front of her. Since she was taken out of isolation and placed with these other girls, who had all been broken through blunt violence, deprivation, intimidation, and savage sexual assault, they had become family. These girls were all consumed with terror and were all of tender age. The other girls had attached themselves to Dawn, turning to her for comfort and looking up to her as the alpha. Dawn’s heart wrenched for her cellmates, as she could literally feel their pain and actually feel their thoughts and fears. Dawn tried to be maternal for them, but the truth was she was secretly just as scared. Julie approached Dawn and offered her a necklace, which was similar to the one Bruce Lee had worn. It had a wolf tooth hanging from the black cord.
“Please,” she said, “take my necklace, to replace the one that they took from you.” Though Julie’s heart was in the right place, her necklace…much like her yellow kitten…was imaginary.
Dawn wept softly, as Julie’s sweet gesture moved her, emotionally. She stretched her arms toward the young girl and brought her in for a warm hug. As she held the empathetic girl up against her naked bosom, she thought about where they were and what the intentions were of the abductors. This was an underground human market, and these girls were being trained to be sold as sex slaves…or worse. Every bone in Dawn’s body wanted to rain down genocide on the traffickers, but because of Joy’s curse, her strength was gone. She felt
the way she did after being intimate with Cheri, but ten times weaker and what appeared to be permanent.
“The night is always darkest before the dawn,” the young blonde said, trying to be optimistic and lift Dawn’s spirits by attempting to make her laugh. Dawn smiled kindly at Julie and kissed her gently on the forehead, showing her grateful appreciation.
Later that night, the girls had gathered around Dawn and once again fallen asleep with her, as if she was their mother and they her cubs. Julie snuggled up in the alpha’s welcoming arms, not even minding the armpit stench that came from Dawn not being able to wash up. Dawn had another lucid dream, after meditating again on those she had lost to tragedy. She was standing, buck naked, in a glamorous garden that stretched the walls of imagination. Reuben stood in front of her, whom Dawn was initially over the moon with bliss to see again, but this euphoria wouldn’t last. He peeled her skin from her navel to her head, as if lifting up a shirt. As he did this, he unveiled an elderly woman underneath. Dawn, for the first time, was terrified of her lupine alter ego. Reuben then told her something that disturbed her even more.
“Sweetheart, had our son lived, he would have inherited your curse and lived as a werewolf for the first seven years,” he told her. “This would have taken a toll on Donnie, which would have been far greater than your suffering, since his lycanthropy would have afflicted him at such a young age. Because he died at birth, his soul is in a better place. All children are welcomed into Paradise.” (Matthew 19:14)
Reuben, of course, was talking about her original curse, not the hex that Joy and Mathias had slayed her with. Dawn was pulled back into her body from having projected to the astral plane, and as her spirit reentered her being, she convulsed briefly and subtly before collecting herself and processing what had happened. It traumatized her even further to not be able to extend her out-of-body-experience, but she also knew that she was needed in her dystopian reality. The other girls were either laying on or around her, which left Dawn feeling flattered but fretful. She desperately wanted to deliver these other captives, but she couldn’t even save herself. They had quickly come to see her as a maternal substitute, but Dawn didn’t know how to deal with that. Joy’s curse had made her feeble and frail. Dawn had come to fear her own shadow, and had regretfully abandoned her support system and lost her only means of defense.
JUNE 11, 1979
MEAD MOON
Witches believe that their bodies aren’t sinful, but sacred. This is precisely why it’s so easy for sociopathic and psychopathic women to screw over those they pretended to love without an ounce of remorse or regret. This is why it’s too easy for narcissistic women to leave relationships and marriages without shedding a tear or suffering a second thought. Though Cheri was part demon, and though she had originally used Dawn for selfish reasons, she wasn’t void of humanity. She knew that profiting from the misery of others was wrong, which is why she wasn’t interested in marriage (which wasn’t an option for her anyway, since it was still illegal for gays and lesbians to have this right). Witches feel that they are born perfect, and therefore have no real need for inferior men, other than for carnal entertainment, financial gain, and mass reproduction. Cheri was half demon, but she was no witch, and not nearly as wicked as so many women out there who play men for profit, babies, or just the demented pleasure of hurting them. Cheri wasn’t proud of her origin, and was deeply ashamed of her roots, which only further inspired and motivated her to ensure that her ending was different.
Cheri had spent her childhood in various foster homes, never connecting with any family she was paired with. This was merely one element of her history that made her feel alone and isolated. No matter how many times the nuns blessed over her, or how much effort social workers invested into making her seem normal and well-adjusted, they just couldn’t change her. Cheri was Cheri, and even though being herself only got her shunned, she knew who she was and that was enough. Dawn had made her want to be a better person, and gave her reason to love someone more than herself. For this, if nothing else, she owed the Cherokee beauty a debt of gratitude that she fully intended to pay. Her eyes were droopy and heavy, as she struggled and squinted to see the road before her. She was languid and lethargic, and her eyes were sore and red. Cheri looked back at Wolf, who was curled up behind her, on the floor.
“If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if I could do this,” she told him, knowing he was fast asleep.
Cheri adored Dawn, but their unwanted separation had left her drained, both health-wise and otherwise. She tried to stay strong, so she could save her trophy-princess, but couldn’t help but be thankful for Wolf. Just by being there with her, he kept her from giving into the temptation to just lie down and collect bed sores.
“The Bible says, this too shall pass,” an invisible voice said from on top of her right shoulder.
“The Bible says no such thing,” Cheri said aloud to the voice who wasn’t there. “If it did, it would be a blatant falsehood. Anyone who has lived long enough knows that pain never ends, but is only replaced or compounded with other pain.”
The family in the back huddled closer together, fearful for their lives and nervous after watching Cheri talk to herself. She had abducted them in a hotel parking lot, as they were coming out to their car. Cheri needed funding for their rescue mission, and since she didn’t have any money left, she decided to do whatever it took to make it work. She picked the family that were dressed the snazziest and looked the part. Once she had acquired the father’s wallet, she knew she had chosen wisely. The man begged her to let his wife and two children go, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She knew that they would cancel their credit cards and go straight to the police. No, as much as Cheri wanted to do right by them, she couldn’t do so without risking too much and sacrificing her reunion with Dawn. She needed the money, and the family would have to pay in more ways than one. They weren’t walking away from this and they all knew it. They didn’t know who to be scared of more, the pink-haired basket case or the white wolf sleeping in the back with them.
Signs, the song by Five Man Electrical Band, played through as Cheri read the many signs on the freeway, some of which were there and others that were simply imagined. Obnoxiously long traffic lights provoked Cheri’s shameless and unfiltered use of profanity, while she became more unhinged without her beloved Dawn to keep her grounded. Thoughts swim through Cheri’s head, as she imagines the worst and swears to erase whomever she needs to in order to retrieve Dawn.
Hours later, Cheri’s van unexpectedly breaks down on the side of the road. The check engine light is on, which understandably never seizes to stir up feelings of wrath and rage. Feeling vexed, she and Wolf get out and start walking to the next Exit. They eventually reach a small automotive garage, where they quickly get hassled and harassed.
“Somebody call Animal Control!” one of the brain-dead mechanics shouts out.
“We need one of you to come take a look at our Van,” Cheri said, ignoring the grease monkey’s intentional insult.
“Sure thing, mama,” one of the other not-so-wise men blurted out. “What are you going to give me in return?”
Cheri looked at him and grinned, before gently shutting her eyes and meditating on his face. She then used her pyro-kinetic powers to start a fire inside his skull. As she calmly kept her eyes closed, she could hear the man scream in agony for several minutes until his head finally combusted into flames. Cheri opened her eyes just in time to see him drop to the floor. His two co-workers held their heads in petrifying fear that she would do the same to them.
“Now,” Cheri started again, “who wants to help us get back on the road?”
Not only do they comply with her wishes, but they do so in haste, making her Van their urgency and priority. The third mechanic, who had been silent this whole time, convinces Cheri to come to a key party at his house. She agrees to go and follows him home, once he clocks out. Her stalker’s ’65 El Camino is there. When they walked into the house, there was a c
luster of a dozen swingers sitting avidly in the living room. The percentage of each gender was equal to the other.
“Just put your Van keys in the big glass bowl,” he instructed her. The other party-goers were engaged in a heavy group discussion about the Manson murders.
“The Manson Family murders were inspired by a plagiaristic crime committed by Dennis Wilson. The Beach Boys stole one of Charlie’s songs and took credit for it.”
“To make matters worse, Terry Melcher had promised to make things right by signing Charlie, only to break his word, claiming that Charlie had real potential but that his original material was unmarketable,” another contributed to the dialogue.
“I know, right? This was clearly bullshit, considering who Terry Melcher was and what he had done for others,” the former beatnik ranted, sporting a bleached jean jacket, which had an all-black, artistic portrait of Manson’s spooky mug on the back.
“You do know that Charlie is a bigot, don’t you? That whole Helter Skelter thing was a race war that Charlie convinced his disciples was coming,” said one of the other men in the group.
“Actually, that’s a corruption of the truth. Charlie only began talking about that whole idea after Tex Watson had the girls help him kill Sharon Tate. The race war was merely Charlie’s way of trying to keep the pigs from sniffing them out. They were already hounding him for grand theft auto, but that didn’t worry him the way that the murders did. The whole Helter Skelter concept was just a front…a distraction…to hide what Charlie didn’t want to be known.”
Soon, the small talk was over, and the polite chit chat had been replaced by lustful stares and crossed fingers. Everyone in attendance was there to knock boots and sweat bullets, not engage in heavy, social conversation. Each person got up, one at a time, and walked over to the bowl, hoping for their first choice. As the bedroom eyes grew hungrier and wilder, Cheri soon found it to be her turn. Cheri ironically takes the keys that belong to the El Camino, and ends up accompanying the driver upstairs, having no idea that he had been stalking her since laying eyes on her at that one gas station. Not only would she soon learn what a creep he was, but this chance hookup would rid the world of a cunning snake.
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