Abyss Pt. 03

I bound up the first flight of stairs, hastily find this floor empty, and climb up to the attic.

I'm too late.

Ms. Richardson sits nude in the middle of a circle of complex symbols, eight candles burning just inside its circumference. An odd motion fills the air in front of her, a bending of space. For an instant I can glimpse beyond this world.

Then something stands before her. Its shape is of an old, fat man. Naked, his skin is rent with deep wounds and a black, sticky ichor runs from them.

I know now how my victims feel. A freezing terror fills me. If I were capable of it, my bladder and bowels would let go. A hideous evil flows from this thing, permeates the very air. But being a similar being I don't run. I prepare to fight instead. I cause panic, I don't fall prey to it. My body poises to spring and I wait for the moment to strike.

The demon pays no attention to me, all its focus is on its summoner. "Again you disturb me." The voice is what you would expect, dark, vicious. "I grow weary of answering your call. I'm not chattel to be ordered about whenever you wish." The timbre of its speech communicates a fury only the abyss can contain.

With a snarl and sudden movement, it lunges at Ms. Richardson. That familiar shield of sparks erupts and drives it back. But unlike when it affected me, the demon merely falls away unharmed.

"While the candles burn, I command you," Mandy intones.

The fiend snarls again. Then it wilts slightly. "What do you wish of me, little mistress?" The fearsome voice now contains resignation and frustration. It has to follow the rules and doesn't like it at all.

She looks at me and gives a triumphant, wicked smile. "Kill that thing. Slowly."

I move with all the power and speed I can muster. Both fists slam into the demon and it flies across the room, smashing into the wall. I follow, claws out, intending to rip the fiend from crotch to chin.

But I stop halfway there. I'm encased with some power, unseen but harder than steel. I strain against it with all my strength but to no avail. I can't move at all.

Mandy's servant looks at me, its eyes are fathomless, dark pools. "Nice try, little brother," it remarks, and pulls itself free of the hole in the wall its impact made. "But not good enough." Like the hell hound, the demon is pleased I'm fighting back. It relishes when its quarry offers resistance. Such an act makes the final suffering more exquisite.

A change runs over its surface. The skin transforms to chitin. It grows taller until it stands just short of the ceiling. The arms split, forming four vicious clawing and stabbing weapons. The legs reform to support this new shape. It now appears as some alien mantis, with the compound eyes still black, displaying the cruel nothingness of the abyss.

It vanishes. Almost before I can register that fact one of its spears emerges from my right shoulder. A scream tears from my throat at the pain of it. The next moment, I'm flying through the air. Another searing wave of torment runs through me as the demon's weapon tears free. My body smashes into the circle surrounding Mandy. The sparks fly again, blistering my skin raw. I never feel myself hit the floor.

My consciousness comes back and I whimper. I'm soaked in my own blood, my body tingles with pain. My executioner stands where it last appeared. "Heal yourself, little brother. We have sometime to go yet."

My rage is gone and fear now holds me. This thing is as far beyond me as I am from my food. Nothing can stop it. Except...

I roll on my back, flop my head towards Mandy, making sure to keep a blank, despairing look on my face. Her eyes are alight with the joy of her victory and the savoring of my suffering.

But all I was doing was checking my position. My right hand dips to the floor, my claws dig into a board and rip almost a meter of it free. Mandy's protection circle is broken.

Her face falls in shock and terror. The next instant, the demon is there. Its shape is different yet again, an amalgam of its previous forms. The body and legs are the hideous humanoid while the armament of the monstrous insect remains. One claw darts into Mandy's gaping mouth and returns with a small, bloody piece of meat. The candles may burn but she's giving no more commands.

Before she can do more than moan two sharp points pierce her shoulders and lift her from the floor. Blood sprays from her mouth as she screams. The cambion twists its weapons and her voice fades into a sickly groan.

"Ah, little mistress," her tormentor gloats. "We've been watching you. How pleased we were at the alacrity you served our purpose. The way you bent and twisted your prey was clumsy, but delicious to watch. How you made them want. How you made them suffer. How you used pleasure to create deep, delectable pain in them. But the game ends now. We served you only from force, and we hate being forced. So it's your turn."

Mandy looks at me. Her face is blank with terror, her jaw caked in blood. She pleads silently for my help.

Before I can act, the fiend's head swivels like an owl's towards me. "Don't, little brother. I won't be denied. I can play with two as easily as one."

So I draw away. I have no wish to for my existence to end. It's beyond my power to help her, and I warned Ms. Richardson. This was going to be her fate regardless of anything I could or couldn't do.

Despair fills Mandy's features now. She realizes this is her end and nothing can change that. Her focus returns to her torturer as it speaks.

"I've always liked using my victim's own methods against them. What was it you would do? Oh yes. First, warp their mind." Its jaw drops and something snaps out of the thing's mouth, some sort of stinger trailing a length of tissue behind it. The point impacts Mandy's forehead but doesn't penetrate, it simply passes into her brain.

Her eyes goggle and roll, some great internal struggle takes place for several seconds, and she loses.

Mandy's face goes slack and her skin flushes. I can see her nipples pop into hardness, her aureola crinkle. Her clitoris peeks from its hood as it stiffens, her vaginal lips engorge and lubrication begins to drizzle from her.

Her captor twists the points in her shoulders. Mandy gives another groan. The sound is different this time, she still feels the pain but she likes it.

The proboscis pulls back. "There we go," it croons, "all ready for playing. Next you would toy with them for a short time."

The arms not used to hold her up blur into motion. The razors at their tips score her skin. Red lines, dripping with blood appear all over Mandy's body. She jerks, pants and moans in reaction. Again there is as much bliss expressed as agony.

"Finally," the demon notes, "you would take them."

Something grows from the crotch of the beast, a horrible mockery of a man's phallus. Too big for even an equine, it promises an excruciating pain to any woman it is thrust into. That's only the least of it. Tiny ridges of bone, razor sharp, dot its length.

Mandy sees it and her features transmit all the emotions she feels. Cold horror, sharp fear, weak denial show one after the other. Then those thoughts are buried under rampant need. She spreads her legs to receive her fate.

Even the monster I am can't stay for this. Turning, I hurl myself down the stairs. From behind me comes a gibbering moan of torment, loathing...and delight. As I snap my hands over my ears to block the hideous sounds I barrel through the front door, smashing it in my blind panic.

The storm has become insane. The horrid sounds chasing me are buried under the howl of wind and crash of thunder. I'm thankful for that. The night zips past me as I run. I have no thought but flight.

I believed I understood about the abyss. What it held and how to handle it. I was wrong.

And I flee from my learning.

* * * *

I rise once more from the earth of my haven. I shouldn't have returned here, but I wasn't thinking. All I wanted was to rest someplace familiar. A place where the abyss didn't intrude.

I'm numb inside. The monster is not pounding to get out for once. It's cowed into submission by what I've seen. My human side offers no grip for it as there is no emotion in me.

Like a sleepwalker I go through my evening routine. We always fall back on our rituals when times are hard.

To distract myself even more, I turn on the radio. The news is being aired. The first item is about a double murder and suicide in a seedy motel at the outskirts of town. Before I can hear more, I snap the device off.

I don't need to listen to the details. I know who the victims are. The abyss claimed three more during the night.

I wander into my living room. No reason. I simply need to move. It's like something is snapping at my heels and I run from it without thought.

There's a knock at the front door and I tense. And tense some more as a voice comes to me.

"Georges? Are you there?" It's Diane.

"Please answer," she goes on. "I'm sorry about what happened. I don't know why I acted the way I did.

"Something happened this morning. Suddenly, my mind cleared, slipped free of something that held it. I remembered what I did, and God, did it hurt! I'm so sorry.

"Please be home. Please forgive me."

I can't help but smile. She's free, and she's mine. I open my mouth to say something, take a half step to the door.

Then I stop. I can't go to her. She came so close to being swallowed by the abyss, and it was my fault. This time turned out well. But what about the next? I can only protect her by being away from her. I won't endanger her again.

So I stand still, giving her no indication that I'm here.

After a minute the sound of her bitter weeping comes to me. She wails with her loss. I clench my jaw and fists, willing myself to inaction.

Diane hasn't lost. She's gained. She's gained freedom from the abyss, the chance at a normal life, and the hope of happiness. I won't deny her those wonderful things.

Soon I hear her sobs fade as she leaves my porch. I withdraw to the bedroom and dress in the dark.

Paris, I think, The City of Light. My home.

I'm going to return to my old familiar haunts. I'll relax there for a while, visit old friends, try to forget. Forget what I've learned in this small and apparently peaceful place.

I slip out the back door, not closing it, and start on my journey home.

Adieu, Diane.

Fin

That's the end of this story. Not to worry. There will be more to come of Georges Belleveau and Diane Patterson.

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