Beyond The Veil Ch. 02

The lights of the wide-bodied sport truck blinked off a few seconds before it rolled to a stop at the edge of a snow-covered field. Trees all around provided shade from the moon high overhead, and the "Trespassers Will Be Shot" sign upon the heavy old fence helped hide them from any wandering eyes.

"We better not get caught, Billy," the comely, freckle-faced brunette bemoaned.

The young man chuckled, flashing the dazzling, dimpled smile all the girls in town talked about. That smile and his gift with words made it relatively easy for most girls to agree to "a ride" with him. It had taken more than his charm, however, to convince Chrissy Baines. It had taken persistence. "There ain't nothing to worry about," he assured the girl, even as he handed her an unlabeled pint bottle.

Chrissy sipped the dark brew, licking her lips appreciatively. "What'd you put in this?"

Billy sidled closer in the cab of the truck, taking the bottle from the girl's hand. "Little bit of Coke, little bit of molasses," he said, then sipped. "Little bit of whiskey," he added with a wink.

The girl giggled, placing her hand on Billy's strong upper thigh. Four years of high school football had left him with an impressive physique. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked coyly.

Billy let his eyes wander up and down the brunette's voluptuous body. "I'm hoping I won't need to," he said suggestively.

The girl's eyes smoldered, and she bit her lip. "I don't think you will," she whispered.

That was all the encouragement the young man needed. With a confident smile, he leaned in for a kiss, simultaneously bringing up his hand to cup a generously-proportioned breast. Both the young lovers groaned at the same time, mashing their lips together. Chrissy was obviously inexperienced; her kisses were desperate and somewhat sloppy, the movement of her hand upon his thigh clumsy. But far from being deterred, Billy found the girl's awkward fumbling arousing.

Is she a virgin? He wondered excitedly, gently massaging the heavy bulb of flesh in his hand. He could feel Chrissy's nipple stiffening through the layers of clothing. Joey said he already tapped her a few times. What a freaking liar . . . .

"Billy, wait a sec," the breathless girl said when his fingers tugged on the buttons of her blouse. She gave him a pleading look. "If I say stop, you're gonna stop, right?"

He nodded vehemently. "Of course," he assured her, and softened his eyes. His fingers touched just beneath her chin. "Hey, I promise, I ain't gonna do anything you don't want me to."

Chrissy breathed in nervously, but nevertheless smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Billy kissed her again, and freed the first few buttons of Chrissy's blouse, revealing a fair amount of pale, creamy cleavage. "Now, just relax. I ain't gonna hurt you, I promise. In fact--" his cool hands groped her nearly-naked breasts through the flimsy and inadequate pink lace bra, making the girl gasp. "--it's gonna feel really good."

Chrissy's wide, innocent eyes glimmered beneath the filtered glow of the moon. She said nothing, only gasped when Billy tugged down her bra, exposing her breasts completely. Glowing with a pure, pale radiance and capped with nipples which were both the size and color of ripe cranberries, they were a marvel of young beauty. Billy certainly appreciated their natural buoyancy and firmness, and the way the pink aureoles puckered and swelled.

"Damn if these ain't the finest tits I ever seen," he muttered as if speaking internally. He scooted back in the seat, then lowered his head and cupped his warm, moist mouth around one of Chrissy's straining nipples.

The girl sighed loudly, threading her fingers through Billy's hair. He passed his mouth back and forth, kneading whichever breast he was not servicing, making Chrissy shiver with simmering arousal. He murmured all the while, voicing his praise of the girl's impressive endowments. Although the cold outside the cab had threatened to intrude the moment the heating was turned off, the growing passion of the imminent lovers was making the windows steam already.

"Mmm, Billy, that's so nice," she cooed, smiling down upon him. "Ain't nobody ever paid attention to them like that before."

He glanced up, mouth wet and shining, a somewhat perturbed expression on his face. "So, I ain't your first?"

Chrissy blushed deeply. "Well, I fooled around some," she revealed cagily. Her eyes met his and bore meaningfully into them. "But I never, um, you know, went too far. I'm sort of saving myself."

The young man looked dejected. Well, shit. "What do you mean, 'sort of?'"

The buxom brunette giggled. "Well, unless you got a ring in your pocket, my cooch is off-limits," she said.

Billy frowned in alarm. "Whoa! Hey, girl, I like you and all, but--"

Chrissy's laughter rose to a crescendo and she grabbed his head. "I was teasing about that," she said, pulling him back to her breasts. "But I wasn't kidding about the store downstairs being closed for business."

He mouthed her breasts a little more, lolling his tongue around a rubbery nipple. "Well, how do you feel about blowjobs?"

The girl considered his words. "Depends where you put that bottle," she returned with a coquettish smile.

Billy grinned and reached back, finding the bottle. "Got it right here," he said.

Chrissy giggled and took a healthy swig, then another. She eyed the bulge in Billy's jeans speculatively as the young man sat back, momentarily content to admire the blushing girl and her bared breasts. Handing the bottle back, Chrissy licked her lips. "Come on, Billy. I wanna see it."

He smiled, setting the bottle back on the seat behind him. Heart palpitating anxiously, he unsnapped his jeans and lifted his hips, shoving the thick denim down his thighs. His cock was fully engorged at the idea of enjoying the attentions of Chrissy's delectable mouth. Chrissy breathed in nervously, even as she felt a tingling, anxious sensation in the pit of her stomach. She sat up slowly, gaze switching back and forth from Billy's face and his waiting cock.

"Um, I don't have to suck on the whole thing, right?" she asked tentatively. "I mean, that ain't exactly small."

Billy chuckled. "Nah, you don't have to suck it all. Just the top part."

"Okay," Chrissy said, gingerly reaching for the stiff tube of flesh. She was surprised at the heat emanating from the thing. The moment her fingers wrapped around the shaft, a jolt coursed through her. She grinned as she rubbed up and down lightly, watching the clear fluid that trickled faintly from the slit in the dark pink head. She started to lower her head, but paused. "You're gonna tell me before you shoot off, right? I don't want you to, you know, jizz in my mouth or anything."

Billy nodded enthusiastically. "Sure. Yeah. I'll let you know." Yeah, right, he thought as Chrissy lowered her head to his lap. He sighed at the feel of her warm, firm tongue passing over the head of his dick, lapping up the seepage from the tip, then again when he felt the warm cave of her mouth closing around the head.

Oh shit that feels good! He watched the top of Chrissy head as it bobbed slowly up and down, her mouth sucking and pulling, her hands lightly squeezing his shaft and balls. Billy spread his legs , pushing up with his hips. The girl gagged slightly and lifted up, wiping her mouth.

"Careful," she warned gently. "I don't wanna choke on it."

"Sorry," gasped Billy, his cock throbbing in the girl's soft hands. "You're just really good at that."

She smiled with self-congratulation, nibbling her lip. "Really?"

"Yeah," Billy affirmed, reaching for her head.

Chrissy giggled and willingly went back down, sliding the hot wetness of her mouth around Billy's length. She had to admit she liked the way the broad head rubbed against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. The oily fluid oozing from his cock did not have much of a flavor, she realized. Briefly, she wondered what semen tasted like, if it was as nasty as her more experienced friends always claimed. Maybe they just never let a guy get off in their mouths, she wondered, sucking and pumping. Maybe it really isn't that bad . . . .

Billy could feel himself getting close to orgasm after only a handful of minutes. A flicker of his angelic side told him he should warn Chrissy about the impending outflow of fluid, but the corresponding devil was more convincing, reminding him how intensely pleasurable it was to feel a hot, sucking mouth on his cock when he came.

Outside, something made the frosty underbrush rustle, loudly enough to suggest it was not some small rodent or young deer.

Billy perked nervously, trying to look out through the steamy windows. "What was that?"

"Hrm?" Chrissy queried through her full mouth.

Billy wiped the driver's window with the sleeve of his flannel shirt, looking outside. On the border of crazy old Mr. Hammerman's farm where they were parked, Billy was suddenly skittish. Hammerman took his hand-painted sign to heart; he had supposedly shot at cars that parked too close to his property for too long. Sure, it's just past midnight, the old bastard's probably asleep, half a mile away in his house, but . . . what if he ain't?

Chrissy lifted her head, wiping her mouth. She looked concernedly upon Billy as he peered out the window. "Somebody out there?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably just a deer or something."

The brunette regarded the suddenly flaccid penis that hung over the back of her hand, glistening with her saliva. "But you don't think so."

He looked back at the girl and forced a smile. "Hey, sorry. Just got spooked, that's all. All those rumors about Hammerman, you know?"

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," she suggested.

Billy smiled, the anxiety fading in the absence of further noises outside and the anticipation of finishing what had been begun. "Or, maybe you could put that back in your mouth."

Chrissy rolled her eyes, but her hands remained where they were, stroking Billy's slowly-reviving cock. As it swelled, she giggled, then doubled over to return to her task. She hummed upon engulfing his semi-erect cock almost entirely, and sucked hard to bring it back to full staff. Billy groaned in pleasure, placing his hands on the brunette's head, urging her.

Yeah, that's it, Chrissy. Make me fucking bust a nut . . . .

Just as he once more felt the rising tide of orgasmic release, however, the truck suddenly shook, dipping down deeply as something landed upon the hood. Billy cried out, and Chrissy screamed as she sat bolt upright. Through the foggy windshield, all they could see was the vague shadow of something that was definitely not human. As their exclamations faded away, the young lovers could hear a muffled sound not unlike heavy, feral breathing.

"What the hell is that, Billy?" shrieked Chrissy, hastily closing her coat around her naked bosom.

"I-I don't know," he admitted fearfully, hesitant to reach out and wipe away the obscuring layer of mist from the windshield. Whatever animal that was now perched upon his truck, it was obviously large. Something sprouting from its back writhed in the air back and forth like snakes, casting shadows which panned back and forth against the backdrop of the moon.

"G-get us out of here, Billy," Chrissy whispered urgently. "Please!"

"Y-yeah," he stammered in response, forgetting about his partial nudity as he centered himself behind the wheel. He reached for the key.

A bellowing roar split the air, eliciting more terrified screams from Chrissy. She clapped her hands over her ears as Billy winced, turning the key. The truck's engine rumbled, then roared as it turned over under the plunge of the accelerator.

Suddenly, the roof of the truck's cab buckled in deeply as something heavy landed atop the vehicle. Glass exploded outward and Billy and Chrissy reflexively sank down in their seats. The truck shook violently, listing back and forth under the sudden violent weight heaped upon it.

Having closed his eyes against the spray of glass, Billy opened them to behold a horrifying vision. The windshield, shattered yet intact due to its construction, was abruptly tossed away, revealing a creature that could not have been born under God's laws. Lean to the point of looking like an emaciated puma, the beast's coat of short fur was darker than pitch, yet glossy enough to capture the luminescence of the moon. Massive claws at the end of each of its four legs looked large and deadly enough to rend through bone with a single swipe. The creature's head was definitely catlike, replete with whiskers, but the infernal, glowing red eyes marked it as anything but natural.

And, most astonishingly and otherworldy of all was the pair of serpentine tentacles sprouting from the narrow back of the beast, ending in wide, spade-shaped tips sporting squid-like suckers. As Billy stared in terrified fascination, the tentacles released the ruined windshield, dropping it to the ground, then swung back around in preparation for assault.

"Jesus fucking holy hell!"

"Billy! Billy! Get us the fuck outta here!" shrieked Chrissy, recoiling from the monster in abject terror.

"Yeah! Yeah!" Desperately, he gripped the wheel, shoved the gearshift into reverse--

And screamed as an inky tentacle to match that of the monster on the hood of the truck suddenly lashed through the shattered driver-side window from above. The broad spade tip latched instantly onto his shoulder, fang-framed suckers slicing easily through layers of denim, cotton, and flesh and holding fast.

"Billy!"

He grimaced in pain, clamping one hand around the muscular tentacle to which the spade was attached, gripping the wheel fiercely with the other. He found himself pulled toward the window, the monster's strength easily surpassing his own. His death-grip upon the wheel was already weakening.

"Chrissy!" he shrieked, casting a desperate, fearful look toward the brunette. "Help me!"

But the girl was terrified into immobility, watching with horrified eyes as her lover was inexorably dragged out through the window. Billy kicked helplessly as he was lifted into the air, howling in pain and fear. The last Chrissy saw of him was the young man's sneaker-clad feet dancing in the air just past the contorted metal and plastic of the window frame, before they shot upward and vanished.

A last, horrific cry was abruptly silenced by a rude and sickening sound which reminded Chrissy of a cat biting into a bird. Then the truck rocked once more as whatever had been on the roof leapt away, ostensibly taking Billy with it.

A sudden silence filled the cold air as Chrissy sat motionless in the truck, shaking uncontrollably. Terror-stricken eyes panned about slowly, finding no trace of the beast. No sound filled the air other than the whistle of the frigid wind. The sudden silence was eerie and surreal.

"B-Billy?" Chrissy whispered, slowly inching across the seat. Her lips trembled, spittle dripping to the fake leather beneath her. She barely noticed the numerous small cuts her hands endured as they scraped along tiny shards of glass.

Settling slowly behind the wheel, Chrissy numbly chanced a look outside. Shadows stirred in the trees many paces away; she wondered if the disgusting sounds of a feasting animal were real or her imagination. Swallowing down the bile in the back of her throat, she settled a shaking hand upon the steering wheel.

I just gotta get home, she thought over and over. Just gotta get home, gotta get home, gotta--

Movement registered in her peripheral vision as she sat facing forward. Something panted hotly in through the windowless opening beside her, carrying a foul, sulphuric stench. Whimpering fearfully, Chrissy slowly turned to look.

The monster's head was level with hers, its broad, catlike face split by what could almost be considered a cruel smile. The baleful eyes glowed demoniacally; a thick, crimson tongue slipped out and passed along elongated fangs with a wet sound of anticipation. A low, ominous rumble issued forth from the creature's throat.

"Oh, God . . . ."

*****

Kyle Perrin was thoughtful in the passenger seat of the vintage Monte Carlo, ruminating over what Malcolm had told them prior to leaving. It had been a couple of weeks since he had agreed to join the Veil Society. Between the secrecy of an organization that apparently does not exist – although Kyle had seen a few crackpot and conspiracy theory blogs mentioning the Society – and the lack of "activity," Kyle had begun to feel that he had signed a fool's contract. Until the call had come.

"Kyle."

"Dr. Benedict."

A low chuckle rolled from the other end. "Please. Call me Malcolm, will you?"

"Sorry. I guess I'm still a little conservative in some aspects."

"I understand. Do you have any plans for the next few days?"

"Well, let's see . . . thought about smoking some cigarettes."

"You really should quit, you know."

"You're not my medical doctor."

"Touche. With the assumption that your plate is not exactly full, I have a request. There was an incident in a small town, not far from here. Two teenagers killed. I'd like you, Victor, and Faster to check it out."

Kyle frowned. "Any details?"

"Everything I've learned should already be in your inbox. The wounds inflicted upon the unfortunate victims do not conform with any typical animal attack for that area, although local officials are willing to explain it away as such."

Kyle was intrigued. "Any theories?"

"It's too early to indulge in conjecture."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Of course."

He could almost hear the Director's smile. "Faster and Victor are already on their way. Pack lightly."

Checking his new email account set up by Malcolm, Kyle had found crime scene photographs that showed the remains of a late-model truck in a sylvan setting. Kyle's first reaction was that the vehicle looked to have been savaged by a very stubborn and desperate bear. The remains of the two bodies, according to the email, were awaiting his inspection.

Kyle wondered just what it was about Dr. Benedict and the Veil Society which elevated their status to surmount even that of local law enforcement. Without the need, even, to show any kind of identification, Kyle and the others were freely and openly accepted in places from which, previously, he would have been barred.

How the hell does that work?

"Awfully quiet there, Bandit," chirped Faster, leaning between the seats from the back of the spacious car. Kyle gave the athletic, sharp-featured brunette a mildly annoyed look; her nickname for him had come from the the term 'one-armed bandit,' referring to the slot machines that were all too common in her Reno, Nevada hometown.

"I'm thinking," he said.

She grinned and smacked his shoulder playfully. "That's what Malcolm hired you for," she said.

Kyle shifted in his seat, casting a wondering gaze over the lithe woman. "So what, exactly, did Malcolm hire you for?" he asked. "I mean, if I'm the brains and Vic's the muscle, what's that make you?"

She didn't flinch at the unintentional insult. "I'm the legs, of course," she said with a wink, then leaned back. She was clad in a short denim skirt which revealed her strong, shapely – and sexy, Kyle had to admit – legs, which she kicked in the air briefly. She did not seem to care that her minuscule thong barely covered her privates. She rolled back forward, making her eyebrows dance.

Victor chuckled from behind the wheel. "Go ahead, Faster," he urged the woman. "Tell him."

Kyle frowned, feeling out of the loop. But that was not a new sensation when it came to his knew friends and cohorts. "Tell me what?"

Faster chuckled. "My real name is Dawn Kaster. Don't suppose that rings any bells."