The Girl with the Hematite Eyesbytemptanddestroy©
(Informative note. My name is Connor Murphy. I'm sitting here in this huge library and I don't know where to start. I can't believe that I'm here. Me, sitting at the dusty heart of Vatican City!
They're treating me well but with a very watchful eye, let me tell you!
It's been two years since I was in Sixville last and I've only just begun to rebuild my life. I have a great job back home and a partner that I love and more importantly, loves me back. I should tell you that I was reluctant to come here. I wanted to leave it behind but when Justine called... I just couldn't say no.
She called me here to finish the story that she has begun...the events of that night are just too painful for her to put into words. I think they may even be too much for me....
Justine has just popped in (she's looking good!) to check on my progress, so I guess that I'd better start.
I'm following her advice to not write it in the first person. It makes sense, as I was not personally witness to all that transpired when the shit hit the fan.
She also informed me that this document will never see the light of day and that reassures me no end...)
The Girl With The Hematite Eyes.
Father Noah Brooks ran his hands through salt-but mostly-pepper hair and entered the bar by the Interstate. A temporary haven before he headed to Sixville. Inside he was praying for the strength to succeed in his task. Why had they sent him? He was not a special man.
He was nursing his third beer when he realised that a young man was staring at him very intently from the other side of the bar.
"Can I help you, my son?" Brooks asked as softly as he could. He'd not had much experience with the public. The Holy Church had seen to deploy his skills in other ways than in front of any congregation.
The young man shrugged.
"Just ain't that fond of priests, I guess." He explained pointedly and Brooks detected a trace of Irish accent. Wounds from the Troubles or something else? Brooks was wary.
"Don't blame you. Right bunch of bastards." Brooks said, nodding.
"Ha!" The man snorted as Brooks slid onto a stool near him.
"I'm Father Noah Brooks."
"Connor Murphy. Officer Murphy." The man introduced himself, having decided that maybe he could be civil for at least a little while. "So you heading into town or out?" He asked.
"Into Sixville actually. A bit church business." Brooks answered, concealing the frown that was keen to appear on his face. Trust in God, he thought to himself. "You?" He inquired as he signalled to the barman to supply them with two more drinks.
"Not sure yet. I was going to see an old friend but I doubt I'd be welcome anymore."
Brooks said nothing and waited.
"My old partner, Sean. He used to be a great guy...he's not any more."
"People can make mistakes. No one's perfect..." Brooks offered nonchalantly as he supped his beer.
Connor shook his head sorrowfully.
"Last time I came up from the city I caught him in an alley with a whore. Cheating on Shannon...that's his wife...he just looked at me as if it was no big deal...."
"Sometimes we don't know people as well as we think we do..."
"I...I...I knew Sean." Connor growled as he placed his glass down heavy-handedly. "It's that place. Sixville. I had these terrible dreams when I stayed there, Father...." He looked at the priest to see if he was judging him as a nutter. Well, what the fuck? "I've looked into Sixville. It doesn't make sense. Divorce rate is high, pregnancy rate is high, sexual crimes are below average for a town that size." He began to tick off his points on his hand. "Ah, church attendance is practically zero." Connor exclaimed, thinking that last point was the clincher with this man of the cloth.
Brooks just looked at the boy. He knew all that and more. A devil on his shoulder whispered into his receptive ear.
"You want to know why?"
The two men were proceeding down the rural road that led up to Sixville when they spotted motion on the slope up ahead of them.
The priest slammed on the brakes and pulled the car into the opposite lane to avoid the woman who had skidded into the road.
The men were stunned for a few seconds before they jumped from their vehicle to offer assistance.
Father Brooks crouched over her and decided that that nothing was broken. He took her hand and guided her to her feet. She was middle-aged and in a state but she must have been very pretty once; pale skin, cheekbones and wide eyes, shame that they were so totally vacant.
"Let's get you into the car." Brooks said as he wrapped a consoling arm around the shivering woman.
"Father..." Connor warned quietly. "Look at what she's wearing. She's escaped from somewhere." Torn and mud stained as it was it was clear that she was wearing an institutional tunic of some sort.
"We appear to be in no immediate danger." Brooks chided as he got the woman settled in the backseat.
Connor pulled the car in to the next lay-by and turned to inspect their new passenger properly.
"Christ. You know who that is?" Connor asked incredulously. Brooks shook his head almost imperceptibly. "That's Justine Dobbs, the sheriff's wife. She was locked in the madhouse years ago 'cause she tried to murder him."
Brooks raised an eyebrow and hesitated before speaking. " One feels that justice may not have been served in this case..." Though he'd only just met Justine and heard her story he felt protective of her, but then he knew there many more victims of Sixville out there....
Brooks finished checking the three of them into the motel and joined his unexpected companions.
"The Lord surely works in mysterious ways." He sighed as he watched Connor eye the escapee suspiciously. "Come on."
"We should turn her in." The policeman stated boldly.
"To the Sixville authorities, Connor?" Brooks queried as he hefted his luggage from the trunk. He mentally begged forgiveness at the low blow; Connor's ex-partner was now part of the dubious Sixville power structure.
Connor fell silent and took the keys that Brooks held out for him.
Justine's eyes roved around the room, wide and fast in incomprehension, as the father tucked her into one of the twin beds.
"You were going to tell me what's going on..." Connor growled, crossing his arms over his chest.
"An insidious evil has taken possession of Sixville, corrupting all that it touches. The Church only knew for sure a few months ago....but 'they've' been here for decades, putting down roots, manipulating and twisting everyone as they will."
"Who?! Goddamn it, who!?"
"Demons, Connor. The succubae, a few incubi maybe, but they're fewer in number. We don't know why they've chosen to congregate in such numbers or in this place."
Connor slowly scratched his forehead.
"Fucking hell, standard Catholic bullshit." He paced the room, trying to restrain his anger. He should have known better. He should have fucking known better.
"Wait, Connor! I swear I'm not preaching old superstition and nonsense. There are species out there that evolved beside mankind and feed upon us. They are very, very good at going unnoticed."
"They feed on souls, little by little, little by little, little by little but they can't if you're in your head....deep inside."
Both men jumped up at Justine's words. She hadn't said a word the whole ride here despite Brooks questioning her. There was a definite degree of focus in her pretty eyes now.
"Justine? How are you feeling?" Father Brooks asked, going over to her.
She ignored him.
"even if you stay away from them their voices carry in the breeze...builds up like silt in the stream..." She was rocking from side to side unconsciously.
"Humph!" Connor cried. Sure, something was going on in Sixville but demons? Hell, he weren't falling that!
"Connor. Let me talk. One hour, then if you want to walk out, you're free to go."
Connor slumped down on to the floor by the electric heater. What did he have to lose? It was not as if he had a plan of his own. How do you combat a high divorce rate? He weren't no marriage counsellor.
"Milton, in Paradise Lost, tells of Sin and Death, two beings that Lucifer encounters on his way from Pandaemonium to Eden. They follow him and take residence on Earth.
That's the poetry but it has an actual foundation in truth. Death raped his mother; Sin or Samohteht, which is the 'Mother of Unnature' in ancient tongue. Their offspring, Rakeb, was an unholy mix of death and sin. He was the mythological Imperial. As a newborn thing, despite being malformed and imperfect, he slaughtered his father and fled before his mother's wrath...."
Connor watched Brooks fascinated. The priest certainly spoke with languid conviction. The older man was clearly very familiar with his topic.
"Mankind was still in its infancy then. The first man had not even left Africa when Rakeb set upon their tribes.
Those that he bit rose from their holes as the undead, or, as you might call them, vampires. Those that were raped and defiled became succubae, or incubi, because he did not discriminate for gender. Of his two breeds of children, one fed on death, the other on sin.
Samohteht eventually caught up with her foul son and butchered him. As their progenitor the succubae were bound to Samohteht and derived all their power from her as the source. The undead were discarded and left to fend for themselves.
Now, millennia later, for whatever reason, Samohteht is here in Sixville with hundreds of her children and I plan to end her time on Earth."
"So Sean met a succubus and it began to feed on his soul?" Connor groaned. How could he be buying into this? Wasn't there another explanation for the radical transformation in his friend?
"There are two types of succubae. The Common Succubus, who feeds on sex, the act itself. They're rather pathetic creatures. Sluts but not intrinsically evil."
Connor caught himself nodding and stopped.
"It's their cousins, the Royal Succubae, who we are dealing with here. Their mere presence in any place causes a psionic disruption in the atmosphere. Buried desires are drawn to the surface and prove almost irresistible." Brooks paused to take a sip of water. "With the numbers we are talking in Sixville, resistance would have been nigh on impossible."
"Fred?" Justine whimpered from beneath the quilt.
The priest rubbed his chin. So far he'd always thought of this stuff as academic, theoretical...and now he was acutely aware that he was dealing with people who had friends or lovers who were succubae victims.
"If it is any comfort at all, they love to target the best souls, those pure and good. A man or woman committed to another wholeheartedly is exactly the sustenance they crave. Justine, if you have it in you, forgive your husband... for his love for you singled him out as prey...."
Justine crumpled in on herself, retreating mentally again. Brooks sighed. Way to lay the blame, Noah. Maybe, in time...
"Is there any hope that...I don't know ..." Connor asked softly.
"Maybe, if we were facing one demon...I think all those in Sixville are lost to us, son." He tried to break it as gently as possible but it was never going to be received well.
The policeman jumped up and stormed out of the motel room.
"How do you know all this?" Connor asked from the doorway. He sounded resigned.
Brooks was relieved to see that the young man had returned. Some how he felt very attached to the other two. God had sent them to him, he was sure...their fates were linked.
"There is so, so much we don't know. A dedicated branch of the Catholic Church has built everything we do know up over centuries. I've worked for them my whole adult life."
Connor stepped into the room and sagged against the door as it closed behind him. His scepticism was gone.
"How do we stop them?"
"Think of Sixville as a nest, a hive. Somewhere out there is Samohteht....no, no..." He was getting flustered. It had just occurred to him that getting entangled with these two would just get them killed. Did he want companions for the road ahead for selfish reasons? He offered up a silent prayer for guidance.
"Think of the demons as a Venus fly-trap. As a plant it can have many flowers feeding and devouring its prey, right?" Connor nodded though Brooks didn't really need an answer. "If you poison the root then the whole plant dies.... we've just never been able to locate the 'root' to a single spot before..."
"But now we know its here! How do we kill this bitch?"
"Its very simple, in theory."
After a day holed up in the motel the plan had swung into action at arrival of a particularly tranquil twilight.
Currently the trio were idling round calm moonlit surface of Sixville reservoir. Connor had stopped rowing minutes ago and was struggling to contain the urge to giggle hysterically. The priest was standing a little awkwardly and blessing the depths below them.
"The evil queen takes a shower of holy water and fries to death? That's the plan? Are you serious?!"
Brooks was about to reply when Justine interrupted.
"Do I look like the Lady of Shalot? That painting? I love that one..."
Connor wanted to cry.
Just then sounds could be heard from the bank of the reservoir and the beams of flashlights could be made out. There was no mistaking it; teams of deputies from Sixville were spreading out around the body of water.
"Hush, Connor. We best row ashore before they use us for target practice." Brooks commanded and Connor cursed again. "Calm yourself. I have every confidence that some opportunity for our salvation will become apparent very shortly." He assumed an enigmatic and beatific pose.
Connor began to row, fatalistic and cold.
Justine began to sing 'Banana Splits'.
Our intrepid heroes were pulled from patrol vehicles and pushed up the drive of an overblown mansion. It looked as if some huge party were taking place.
Marquees adorned the huge grounds and fairy lighting picked out pretty paths between them. Masked violinists strolled the lawn in harmonious choreography.
Some early guests stood around making small talk or groping their neighbours. The lawmen and their captives ignored them as they marched up to a canopied terrace where it became clear that a young man was waiting for them.
Connor recognised him as Isaiah Dobbs, the Sheriff's son. He shivered, his intestines coiling inside. That first meeting with him seemed so long ago.
The boy was impeccably dressed in a frilly shirt and frock coat. He was the picture of devilish charm.
"Stepmother." He magnanimously greeted Justine. "We've all been greatly concerned about you. We must never let you escape again." Evil glinted in his eyes. "You made some friends, how nice." He said, barely glancing their way.
The impossibly handsome boy stepped towards Justine and signalled her guard to uncuff her. He bowed towards her and offered her a hand.
"Care to dance?"
Justine giggled and blushed but accepted the offer.
"I haven't danced in a long time..." She breathed...her whole life had been a long time ago...
Jerkily they began to move to the music. If Justine noticed that her bastard stepson had reached down her pants to fondle her ass she did not seem to mind.
Connor stiffened and was about to voice his protest but a rifle butt to his ribs silenced him.
Isaiah tore at Justine's shirt so her chest was exposed to the world. She giggled girlishly as he twirled her over the paving.
Brooks couldn't help admiring Justine's body. Decades of imprisonment had not affect her light, willowy frame and her breasts would have made many younger women jealous. His cock twitched.
Isaiah was visibly turned on, dancing with his father's much-wronged wife. He paused a mere second to extract his monstrous cock. It prodded against Justine's alabaster skin.
She sighed loudly as the handsome boy began to kiss her graceful neck. Her long hand slipped to her crotch and proceeded to stroke herself.
"Ha ha ha" Isaiah chuckled as he spun the serene Justine further onwards. "The crazy lady likes to dance."
All the whirling and exertions had really gotten to the very out-of-practice woman. Once she must have been very graceful. She clung to Isaiah, breathless and panting.
He dropped her to the paving as if she were trash and tucked himself away imperiously. She looked at him, hurt and confused, like a kicked puppy.
The incubus waved a hand and Justine's guard hauled her to her sore feet. She made no move to cover her nakedness and the deputy felt no need to shield her dignity.
Connor's heart broke for her as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"You've been granted an audience rather than a summary execution....oh well..." Isaiah announced with theatrical shrug before he led them through the North door to see what fate had in store for them.
The drapes were swept aside and an expansive ballroom opened out before them. Giant but light curtains hung from the ceiling and pillars, breaking up the space.
Throngs of people turned to watch their undignified entrance. Connor glanced at Father Brooks. The older man was composed and stoic, seemingly impervious to the hungry stares of the crowd.
Connor had never seen so many beautiful people. Their skin appeared to be in competition with hundreds of candles in terms of radiance. These visions of perfection were surrounded by groups of ordinary folk...the food, Connor thought wryly. He recognised some of the local deputies. His stomach turned as he realised that they were now slaves to their darkest desires. No aide would be forthcoming from that quarter.
The air was scented lightly, it was unmissable but not cloying. It made Connor dizzy....out of nowhere he had a flash (phophetic?) of all these people enthusiastically engaged in an orgy of lust, a writhing and heavy mass of skin and sweat, indiscriminately fucking one another on the plush cushions that were piled on the floor.
He felt his balls twitch against the fabric of his boxers...was it that easy to succumb to their vile wants? He swallowed hard and resolved to fight with all that he had.
Whilst he had been 'distracted' he and his compatriots had been brought before a curtained dais. Isaiah was engaged in a hushed conversation with the most sensual woman Connor had ever seen.
"Mother," Isaiah said, bowing again, "The unexpected entertainment for tonight...." He indicated Father Brooks and the others. "We caught them at the reservoir."
Claudine did not even glance in the right direction. She seemed enamoured with her son. She stroked his hair and made a display of admiring how well his body fitted his outfit.
Her wandering hand ran over his pecs and then downwards. Unashamedly, she began to grope his crotch. Isaiah feigned cool indifference but his breathing got shallower.
Almost imperceptibly the atmosphere changed. All around the great space fingertips began to explore the bodies of their neighbours, lips found wrists or necks or earlobes and soft moans were emitted to mingle with the music.
Connor could not pull his gaze away. The sight of two incredibly hot people playing together...it was enough to override the disgust he'd have normally felt...incest seemed absolutely natural when it came to these two. They belonged together. They couldn't keep their hands off each other.
The boy had pulled down the straps of his mother's evening gown and was suckling on the abundant flesh of her tits.
At the back of his mind Connor knew that he'd grown hard at the blatant display. Now that it had come to his attention he wished his hands were free to take hold of his swelling cock.