Abyss Pt. 03

Soon I'm whole again, and hungry. I've had to use nearly all my blood to heal myself.

There is a light touch on my shoulder, a young woman says, "Mister..."

Then my teeth are sunk in her neck. I shiver with pleasure as the delicious liquid fills my mouth and runs down my throat. Her fists pound on my back and her legs kick. I like it. Her fear gives the blood a sweeter savor.

I feed, and feed, and feed. Suddenly the monster lets go, sated and satisfied. I pull my head away from her throat. Our eyes meet, she gives a puzzled look and she's gone. Her final breath sighs forth and she slumps in my grip.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her, and close her blank eyes. A wave of anguish passes through me. I've lost control again, and again an innocent has died. Sometimes I truly hate myself.

But there's little time for sorrow. I lift her body under one arm. With care and speed I carry it from Poet's Walk. As I pass the bush the demon was in, I notice it's not singed at all. Sometimes, being supernatural has disadvantages.

My destination is a small copse of trees in a nearby park. I bend my strength, and my claws, to digging a shallow grave. "I'm sorry," I tell my victim again as I lower her into it. Then I cover her up, and scrape the dirt so that the spot is indistinguishable from the rest of the grove. With even the slightest good luck it will be weeks before she is found. By that time there will be not the slightest trace of what killed her. My ass, as North Americans put it, and my kind are still safe.

So, I have received Ms. Richardson's reply to my demands. It was the wrong one.

There's little time before dawn. I head for a place of repose. I know my haven is compromised, but I have a bolt hole for such an eventuality. I haven't survived this long by being careless.

Tomorrow, it ends, I think as I slip into the night.

* * * *

A low growl rumbles through me as I start awake. I smash free of the trunk I've secreted myself and the door of the closet it was in with a single movement. My eyes scan the bedroom of the seedy apartment I've rented looking for something to kill. I'm disappointed that there isn't.

With no destruction to wreak the monster withdraws slightly, allowing my intellect to the fore. I manage to slip my human face into place and restrain my rage a bit more. My evening's routine allows me even more equanimity.

Once finished that, I phone Major Price's contact. "Report, please."

Mandy had made another trip the previous night to the place my surveillance team won't go near. She was there for several hours and returned home shortly there after. Ms. Richardson has stayed indoors since. She has appeared at least once in every window on the first and second floors of her house. Christy left their residence two hours ago and has not yet returned. Another woman arrived an hour later. Her description matches Helen's. A second person has just entered; a petite, fair skinned woman with rich auburn hair. It takes all my will not to scream in rage at that information.

"I need one more thing," I ask the man on the other end of the phone, "directions to the farmhouse that the subject has been using." His voice shakes as he gives me the information required. It seems that my fury is leaking out.

"Very well," I tell him then. "The job is done. Pull your team out and thank..." The phone goes dead without another word from my contact. I can't help but smile in pleasure, knowing I can frighten brave men.

My face is grim as I prepare. A black sweater goes over my torso and similarly colored jeans on my legs. I pull new combat boots on my feet and my final touch is the black leather jacket with Kevlar implants. The garment would be heavy for a human but the extra weight means nothing to me.

I leave my hiding place, using a side entrance and drawing the shadows around me. I head for my enemy's abode, taking roofs, back streets and alleys. I'm a lot less likely to be spotted that way.

Soon I vault the back fence of her yard. Carefully, examining the ground closely, I approach her house. There's nothing that appears a danger and I can see no one in the windows. The only light shines from the second floor, one room is in use.

On reaching the deck, I check under it. All clear.

I step on the deck and approach the back door. Now I spot a problem. There are squiggles of some obscure pigment drawn on the floor just behind the glass. I can't recognize if they are a written language, but I can guess their purpose. So instead of trying the door, I examine the kitchen window. The unfathomable runes form a barrier here as well.

With great caution, I investigate each side of the house. Every window is similarly warded. I don't go to the front. It would be too obvious what I was up to if observed and my veil won't shield me from intense scrutiny.

It's then I recall what my surveillance had told me earlier. Mandy had warded the floors used for living. She never went near the attic, so far as I know. So I withdraw to a corner, far from the light. It's only seven meters to the roof. So I crouch and jump.

As I land I freeze, waiting for a response from within. None comes. After a five minute wait, I silently slip across the roof to one of the dormers. My surveillance missed something. This spot is warded as well. But I can see that only the windows are so guarded.

I climb to the apex of the roof and move to the center of it, keeping low. Then I lift shingles from it with care. Once the wood underneath is revealed, I dig with my claws. Soon I have an opening big enough to squirm through

The attic is dusty and long unused. Fiberglass insulation lies between the wooden beams that support the ceiling beneath me. I can see the only entrance to the main house from here, a small trap door. The grime on it shows that it has sat undisturbed for quite a while. There is a tiny mound of dust on the pink wool next to the opening, showing where Mandy moved it when she entered earlier. With great care I step from rafter to rafter. Fortunately, they are all solid and no creak sounds to betray my presence.

The small door comes free with only a tiny scraping noise. I freeze again once finished. Sounds come faintly to me now. They are familiar. Mandy's at play with her victims. I grin at that. Her activities should keep her distracted. Then I choke back a snarl as I remember who she's playing with.

There is a closet under the trap door. A shelf blocks easy access, so I bend, slither past it and twist the knob to open the door to the hallway. I don't push it far and wait for a reaction from within as I do.

Nothing comes. The sounds of Mandy's entertainment grow louder. Gasps, moans and inarticulate voices of passion become clearer. My fury spikes for a moment but I push it down. Mandy's death has to look somewhat natural and small pieces of her spread around wouldn't appear that way.

I push the door open all the way, fall to the ground and roll to my feet. Instantly I return to the closet, closing the door behind me and wait for trouble. There's no interruption in the erotic cries coming to me.

I open the closet again and check the hall. One door is open and light floods from it. When I check the other direction, I see the stairs to the main floor. All's clear. With soft steps I walk down the hall towards the illuminated opening and peek in.

There's another menage et trois on the large bed in the room.

Mandy is on her knees, wearing her harness and with a very large implement in black, larger even than her last one, is protruding from it. She's driving it with great force into the woman kneeling in front of her. That woman is Diane, my Diane.

My lovely woman works her hips back, obviously overjoyed at the ecstasy created by being so filled. Whimpers and moans sound from her mouth, vibrating the swollen flesh of the vulva it's attached to.

Helen is the person that Diane is eating. Her thighs are locked on my woman's head. Her fulsome breasts heave with the motions of her body. Eyes roll in a sweat bedewed face and she pants with heated breath.

"Oh yeah!" Mandy exclaims. "Work that lovely ass. Show me how much you like it. I can fuck you a lot better than that monster, can't I?"

Diane lifts her head and hisses with pleasure. "Yes!" jerks from her lungs. "So, much, better. Harder. Please, harder!"

I barely suppress a sound both whimper and growl as I pull away to head for the stairs. If it weren't Diane in there, all the women would be dead. But that very small part of me that cares for her keeps me back.

Once I reach the main floor, the torturous sounds fade to the point I can ignore them. Moving silently, I check the rooms there. Of greatest interest is the kitchen, I note the gas stove. A quick check of the drawers finds sticks of incense and matches. Good. I can arrange an accident when I leave.

The basement is the last place I check.. It's quite plain and unfurnished. There are no partitions so I can see the entire area from where I stand. I find that the furnace is gas fuelled as well. Better still.

Then I turn to check something very odd. There is a separate room built in the centre of the cellar. Of heavy cinder block it's about four meters square and reaches to the ceiling. A heavy steel door, two inches thick lies open to the interior. I walk around it, checking for security. There is nothing but a large key on a hook next to the door. Satisfied it's safe, I enter the room.

There is a small desk inside, as well as an empty book stand next to it. One wall is lined with shelves. Many bottles and containers sit there, all clearly labeled. A quick perusing of the labels tells these are the alchemical and sorcerous components Mandy uses for her spells. The only potential sources of illumination are candles on the table and set in several scones on the walls. It seems Ms. Richardson is somewhat of a traditionalist.

I decide this is the perfect spot. This is the center of Mandy's world and it's fitting she should die here. I sit myself in the chair at the desk knowing I won't have to wait long. After two hundred and fifty years, a night doesn't count for much.

It's perhaps an hour later when I hear voices on the floor above me. I can't make out the words but Mandy speaks to her thralls and they give short answers back. The front door opens and closes. Ms. Richardson moves to the stairs to the basement, descends them and enters the room where I wait for her.

As she lights a candle, I greet her. "Bon soir, Mademoiselle Richardson, comment allez-vous?"

She drops her match and whirls to face me. Her features are blank with shock.

"It would appear that we are alone now." My words shiver with a dark glee. "Madamoiselle Coburn?" I inquire.

Mandy does love to gloat. Her satisfaction overcomes her fear. "I sent her to entertain my little girl in a motel room, with orders to stay there until morning.

"And I just told the Dean and that tasty cunt you've been fucking to phone my little girl's husband when they get home and let him know what the two of them are up to and where. Everyone will enjoy that entertaining domestic scene." She lets out a wicked laugh.

"I don't blame you for screwing Diane," Mandy goes on. "Damn, she's tasty, and she comes like an express train. I want to thank you for pointing her out to me." Mandy's eyes light with sadistic glee.

I make my face answer hers with the same expression, and I come to my feet. "I want to thank you for hurting me like that."

Her face shows surprise and puzzlement.

Dropping my human face I go on. "It will make your destruction so much tastier." That's a true statement and my voice transmits my anticipation to her. She pales once more.

Her right hand comes up with a crucifix in it. "I don't think so," Ms. Richardson declares.

I hiss at her and flinch. With a smile, she steps forward and I fall to my knees, continuing the hiss and gnashing my fangs in anguish. She takes two more steps.

She's close enough. I snatch the icon from her grip and stand in a single motion. Placing the cross on the palm of my left hand, I close my fist. The crucifix is pewter and crushes like tissue paper in my grip. I casually toss the crumpled mass at her and it bounces lightly from her chest. I smile, showing my dentition and tell her, "That won't work for you."

Her left hand appears from behind her back. I have a glimpse of a small spray bottle and something wet splashes across my face.

Then I'm blind and in agony. I howl as I feel my skin bubble and eyes dissolve. A sulphurous stench thickens the air. Tiny splashes sound as the slush that used to be my face falls to the floor.

Once again I let my power free. I can feel the missing flesh reform, my destroyed orbs regrow.

And they dissolve once more. Whatever covers my face is very potent.

I fall to my knees, teeth and fists clenched to wage war against my destruction. And I begin to win.

The liquid on my face begins to lose its effect. Blurry images become visible. Dimly, I can see one of them move. I snap my head towards it. The vague outline moves faster. Snarling, I rise to my feet. The fog of my vision clears, and I see Mandy closing the door to the room.

I leap to stop her but too late. I hit the steel sheet with a jarring impact. It holds. A concentrated assault is required to make this door fall. I howl at my prey, "That won't save you. Nothing on this Earth can save you." There's a tiny click as the lock of the door is thrown.

Setting my feet, I draw my arm back. A little concentration sends some blood through my body to augment my strength. I throw a fist forward, focusing my blow on the lock. It never reaches the door.

Half an inch short of its target my hand hits a barrier. Bright arcs of power lance out, dance over me. I can't even scream, the pain is so intense. Knocked to my knees once more, I curl into a ball, whimpering.

"Thanks, prof," comes from the other side of the door. "I wasn't sure this would work. I had this room built just in case. As far as I knew, nothing supernatural could get in. I figured I might need a hidey hole someday.

"But it makes a good prison as well, doesn't it? There you'll stay, vampire. I have the key that can free you. Only it can take the wards down.

"But don't worry. You'll have company by morning. I'll leave the key where my pet can find it. And you'll be out of my hair."

"Goodbye, prof. It's been a slice."

My fury peaks and I hurl myself at the door once more. No thoughts are in my mind, just the blind urge to destroy.

I slam up against the barrier again and my darkness is filled with the light of anguish. The power throws me to the centre of the room, smoking in spots where the arcs have burned. I flush blood through my body, wash the pain away and heal the wounds flayed by the wards.

With a roar, I pick up the desk and hurl it at the door with all my might. It splinters without seeming effect. I launch myself on the same trajectory, hoping the desk broke the protections. And again I land on the floor, my nerves burning.

I gather myself into a ball. Despair washes over me. I was overconfident, and soft. There should have been no hesitation on my part. The monster was correct. Mandy should have died first chance I had and be damned to the consequences. I whine like the whipped animal I now am.

For some time I lie there, feeling nothing. Listening for my executioner, knowing my destruction will not be swift. I won't even be able to fight back. I'm almost drained.

There's a noise then, from upstairs. I strain my ears to make out soft footsteps on the floor above. A voice sounds although I can make out no words. It appears to be a human voice. My despondency lifts a little. There's a chance I can be free, and that I can feed.

The footsteps and voice fade. I wait, trying to hold back disappointment. The person returns. Then I smile as I can hear them coming down the basement stairs.

"Au secours!" I shout, making sure only the man shows in my voice.

"Mistress?" comes from the other side of the door. It's Helen. The tiny part of me still human screams in terror, wants to warn her of the danger.

What I am smiles. wider. "Help," I gasp, "the key, find the key. Get me out. Help." I flavor my words with despair and pain. Which isn't difficult to do.

"All right," I hear. With gleeful anticipation I wait, knowing I'll soon be free to act. In any manner I chose. My eyes slit with expectancy.

At the sound of the key sliding into the lock, I cover my face with my arms, start a quiet sobbing. I want to draw her close. I'm too weak to move very quickly and I can't risk her closing the door again.

The portal grinds open and she sees me. "Georges? What are you doing here? I came to end it, like you told me." Her voice becomes frantic as she notices my seeming distress. "What has she done to you? Oh God. Is there anything she won't do?"

Helen's close enough and I spring from the ground. There is a glimpse of her face, terror stamped on her features as the discovery of what I am fills her.

Then all I know is ecstasy. I'm utterly lost in the deep, rich taste of her blood. Nothing else matters.

With a snarl of disgust, I drop her body. There's no more life to take and I want more, much more. My victim's face still contains the blank dread that was her last thought. Her ripped open throat glistens in the candlelight. I smile with pride, pleased that I bring fear and death to the world.

I lift the Dean's body and carry it upstairs. Once I seat her at the kitchen table I return to the basement. I open the furnace and disable the pilot light. A quick twist, the main valve is broken open and gas starts to flood into the room.

Back in the kitchen, I wet a mop and wash away the wards to the back door. Luckily the ink is water-soluble. I light some incense and place it in a holder on the table. Extinguishing the pilot lights on the stove, I turn all valves wide open. Exiting through the sliding door to the deck, I wrap the shadows around me, hurdle the fence and head to the place where I'll face Ms. Richardson for the last time.

I'm two blocks away when the thunder of an explosion rumbles behind me. There won't be any sign of me, or what I am, left behind.

A ferocious grin pastes itself on my face. I'm still in existence, free to kill. Bending all my power to running, there is only one thought in my mind.

I had better hurry. I wouldn't want to keep Death waiting.

* * * *

I pull up, ceasing the pumping of my legs. By cutting across country I have taken only forty five minutes to get here. I can't be far behind my next victim.

A thunderstorm has come up while I approached. It seemed to coalesce out of the air. Now rain falls heavily and frequent bolts jump through the sky.

The farmhouse crouches in the wet dark, maybe one hundred meters away. I stand at the edge of its influence. The border between the domain of the twisted, corrupt building and the rest of the world is clear if you know how to look. The grass on its side is unreal somehow, as if life had been drawn from it and something darker has flowed in to take its place.

There is a tree to my left, inside the line. The branches are gnarled and coiled, nude of leaves. The bark is a tainted black and very unwholesome looking. There is a hint of movement in the dark limbs unrelated to the wind.

I understand why Mandy comes here. The abyss is close. Calling it forth will be easy at this spot.

There's no time to waste. With quick careful steps I head to the farmhouse.

When I enter the sound of the storm fades somewhat as I close the door. I can hear someone chanting above me. Only the occasional word is clear but I can identify the language as Latin. "Open", "come", "obey", tell me what is happening. I must act now or my fate will be sealed.