Mark of the Incubus Ch. 09

**Author's Note: Since I'm only doing 13 chapters these last few are going to be a bit longer though I don't want to make it feel rushed like I did with "The Midsummer Bride". But I wanted to get that story done so I could return focus to "Mark of the Incubus" and finish this properly before summer is over (hopefully). Some of this may get darker as I go forward... Just a warning...

*****

Agnes pushed James out of her then gathered her damp panties as she ran after her distraught mother who she was sure would tell every one in the congregation. Fear stretched like a shadow in the alley of her mind as Agnes ran after Mary.

Who would Mary tell first? Would she shout it out to the whole town or just a few people given the embarrassment of the whole thing?

For a fat woman Mary was pretty fast then again she had a head start. As soon as Agnes was in the church with the mourners she caught sight of her mother pushing past a few people. They were dumbfounded by her sudden rudeness.

"What's wrong, Agnes?" Charlie asked finding his sister in such distress made his deep blue eyes fill with worry.

"Mom saw us," Agnes whispered breathless with anxiety.

"Go after her then," Charlie practically pushed Agnes down the aisle. But Agnes was too late. Mary had driven out of the lot, the wheels kicking up dust in her wake.

Agnes's heart hammered in her chest. Her lungs tightened and shrunk. Her mind was dark. What would happen next? Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Everything okay?"

Agnes turned to see Nolan's handsome face creased with concern. She suddenly found that she could breathe again though the apprehension was still present.

"It's my mother," Agnes struggled to find the right words but was drowning. Then James seemed to materialize out of no where.

"Mrs. Milton was so overwhelmed with grief that she became sick," James said with a smile. His dark eyes flashed contempt for Nolan, his sensuous mouth compressed into a thin line of discontent.

Nolan's hand was still on Agnes's shoulder. She took comfort in his touch, her heart slowing it's frantic pace. Agnes remembered how to breathe again as she looked into Nolan's kind charcoal gray eyes that were so full of concern for her.

"She seemed kind of more distressed than that," Nolan eyed Pastor Abel with skepticism. His cop instincts laying out all the facts. What the Pastor was saying didn't explain why Agnes was so upset.

"Grief can make people do strange things," James shrugged. James's jaw clenched watching Nolan's hand rest and squeeze Agnes's shoulder.

Knowing what James was capable of, Agnes released herself from Nolan's reassuring grip.

"I'm fine, Nolan," she smiled, her indigo eyes still chaotic. "Go back inside I'll catch up."

Nolan stood for a few moments longer then finally nodded and went back inside. Agnes heaved a heavy sigh once again addressing the issue at hand, "What the hell are we going to do about Mary?"

"That deputy seems rather fond of you," James spoke bitterly.

"She saw us!" Agnes stamped her foot in the dirt. She didn't have time for James's weird jealousy over Nolan.

James's dark stormy eyes calmed as he reached out cradling her head. He drew her in closer, Agnes could feel some of her wetness afresh on her thighs making them sticky with her arousal. Her whole body relented, relaxing at James's demonic touch.

"Don't worry about your mother," James whispered. He pressed his lips to Agnes's furrowed brow, his dark sexy stubble tickling her fair skin.

She wanted to tear off her clothes and take comfort in James's body but they were in the open and someone could come outside and catch them. Agnes didn't want another episode like the one with her mother minutes ago.

"Go back inside and we'll discuss it later," James soothed. But there was an edge in his voice that made Agnes nervous. Some evil intent that she couldn't shake.

***

Michelle was in her room reading some old occult book on demon summoning when she heard a knock down stairs.

Her grandmother had gone to the funeral for Frank but Michelle didn't feel like going to pay fake homage to a maggot like him. So she played sick.

She lied to her grandmother saying it was her period. Michelle's grandmother was so old fashioned as to think a woman's period could be an excuse for everything from cramps to insomnia.

Michelle went downstairs and checked through the peep hole. There was Agnes in her black mourning dress, the one Michelle picked out for her last summer when they went to New Orleans for a week.

Michelle stood still for a moment, unsure what to do.

"Please let me in, Michelle," Agnes called sounding like a wounded animal. "I need someone smart to talk to..."

Michelle hesitated but she could never turn her best friend away. When she opened the door the two girls stared at each other. Agnes stood like a contrite child ready for punishment. Michelle was the stern parent leaning against the door frame.

Finally Michelle motioned for Agnes to come in.

***

Michelle set a Coca Cola can in front of her with a bottle of whiskey her grandmother thought she kept hidden.

"How does your grandmother not notice someone in her stash?" Agnes said as she mixed the two drinks, sugar and alcohol.

"I have a few extra bottles hidden in the floor boards of my room next to the porn and occult books," Michelle smiled mischievously as she poured herself some straight whiskey on some rocky ice cubes.

They both chuckled feeling some normalcy again in their friendship.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Agnes apologized. "You didn't deserve that. A lot of people in this town deserve to be told off like that but not you."

"Well...," Michelle shrugged. "I never had sex with a demon before. Must be quite a rush."

"You have no idea," Agnes took one gulp of her concoction. She grimaced as the chaos of flavors hit her tongue then burned her throat, leaving a trail of fire into her stomach.

"So how was the funeral?"

"Mary caught us," Agnes fidgeted in her seat as the burning subsided.

"No fucking way," Michelle gaped. "She caught you guys making out?"

Agnes gave Michelle her famous "I wish" look which she used when ever they talked about Mary.

"Mid-act??? In a church?" Michelle marveled. "I'm guessing she didn't take it well."

"She ran out of the church but didn't tell anyone... yet," Agnes took another swig of her whiskey coke. Michelle poured more whiskey into Agnes's glass.

"The look on her face, Michelle...," Agnes held her glass firmly as she replayed the event in her mind in more gruesome detail. It seemed far worse after the fact.

"She was probably more jealous that it wasn't her bent over Pastor Incubus's desk," Michelle shrugged.

"Remember when we were 13, Mary saw that hickey on our necks?" Agnes smiled wryly.

"She beat your ass so hard you couldn't sit in homeroom the next day," Michelle chuckled in good humor. "Then she told my grandma who beat me with a hanger."

"Was it the wooden one or the wire?"

"Wooden," Michelle remembered. "The wire wasn't thick enough to leave a mark."

"They called us whores thinking it was a guy who did that to us," Agnes laughed drinking more of her whiskey coke that was now more whiskey.

"You asked me to practice with you," Michelle cried out incredulous. "You weren't bad but Vesta was a much better kisser."

Agnes choked on her whiskey while Michelle almost fell over laughing.

"No fucking way," Agnes gaped. "You and Vesta Gerard? The girl who used to call us dykes?"

"I'm not a dyke," Michelle was slightly offended. "She came on to me at that party when we were 16. We were in the woods at the bonfire after that football game. You wanted time to... congratulate Beau so I distracted Vesta for an hour... or two."

"You slut," Agnes laughed.

"I'm bisexual," Michelle corrected. "I can't help that God made me this way."

Mentioning God sobered Agnes a little. It took her back to what James told her about her soul. She would burn in hell for making a contract with a devil.

"I know...," Agnes nodded. "I always knew you swung both ways."

They sat in silence for a while. Drinking until the bottle was half full.

"How come you never told me about Vesta?" Agnes asked. Michelle shrugged, looking into her half empty glass.

"Wouldn't have made a difference," Michelle said.

"You liked her didn't you?" Agnes sighed. Michelle didn't need to confirm verbally. The two people Agnes loved most were held prisoner by their environments just as Agnes was.

"She was such a bitch to you that I couldn't stand her anymore," Michelle said. "It wouldn't have been fair to you..." We don't choose who we love was what she meant.

Agnes touched Michelle's wrist. She had such soft mocha skin. Agnes always envied that about Michelle.

She wondered briefly why they never had sex. They gave each other orgasms but never really had sex. Then Agnes remembered she never felt attracted to Michelle in that way. They haven't touched each other in that way since high school graduation.

Their friendship was far too strong and far more valuable for something so base as physical gratification. They never needed that from each other. They were more like sisters and Agnes wouldn't trade that for anything.

"Fuck her," Agnes spoke fervently. Michelle smiled.

"I already did but yes," Michelle and Agnes raised a glass. "Fuck that white trash cunt." They clinked glasses. They laughed so hard they thought the alcohol would stream out their noses.

"So what are you gonna do about the Pastor and Mary?"

Agnes poured more of the whiskey into her glass with the ice melting and her buzz taking hold of her brain. She remembered what James had told her that day. 'Don't worry about your mother...'

Michelle already had reservations about James. Agnes didn't want to ruin this moment of them mending their friendship.

"I'll figure something out...," Agnes shrugged.

"Nothing death related I hope...," Michelle cocked an eyebrow. "I know she's not perfect but at least you had a mother. Mine ditched soon after my dad did."

It was true. Mary wasn't perfect. Michelle had no idea how imperfect Mary was but Michelle didn't need to know the details. Yes, there were some things even Michelle didn't know about Mary that Agnes felt she couldn't share with anyone.

"It doesn't matter," Agnes said. "You and Charlie are my family. My real family." Agnes embraced her best friend taking in the calming scent of her lavender and chamomile shampoo.

"What about Louis?" she asked.

Agnes pulled away, her indigo eyes dark with anger. Michelle felt a cold stab in her gut as her friend's eyes grew hot with hate.

"Louis is a selfish bastard who thinks he can get away with anything," Agnes fumed. But seeing Michelle's confusion made the anger ebb.

"Sorry," Agnes said. "It's been a long day. I think I should get back home to Charlie and see what damage needs to be contained."

"Sure but you should know that I've been looking through my occult books," Michelle added. "I know you don't want me to help but you're my family and if that demon hurts you I'm going to kill him."

Agnes would have done the same. She was conflicted but she couldn't hate Michelle for trying to save her even though Agnes didn't think she needed saving.

"Okay but," Agnes remembered that night with James in the quarry when he made some inside joke about Michelle's loyalty as a friend. "Anything else you want to get off your chest since you're on a roll?"

Michelle blinked and stared at her best friend for a few moments then said, "No."

They embraced warmly then Agnes left to go deal with Mary.

***

Agnes reached her house but as she got closer the demonic hand print on her chest began to burn and itch. James was here. The house suddenly took on a more sinister persona. Something dark was inside.

For a moment Agnes stood outside debating whether or not she should go in but then she heard her mother whimper.

Cautiously Agnes opened the door. A long whining creak sounded as the door slowly opened wide. It was dark except for an orange/ blue ghostly glow coming from the dining room.

Mary's groans grew louder as Agnes approached. Then she found them. Her mother tied and gagged to a chair at the head of the long dark table with James sitting casually in a chair beside her while cleaning a carving knife that Agnes's father used to cut into many Thanksgiving Day turkeys.

Candles were everywhere with demonic blue orange flames flickering. A black table cloth with the pentagram and Algol symbol stitched white into the dark velvet. It all looked like something out of a Evanescence music video.

Mary's violet blue eyes were wide with fear when she caught sight of her daughter standing in the door frame. She rocked in her chair trying to free herself from her bonds, her pleads muffled by the cloth gag made from a kitchen rag.

James looked over to Agnes and his face lit up.

"Agnes, I was wondering when you would get home," he said.

"What's this? Where's Charlie?"

"Your brother is safe, upstairs," James whispered. "Asleep."

At least Agnes could breathe a sigh of relief on that part which left her to ponder what to do next here.

"So this is what you meant by 'Don't worry'? You may be the worst pastor we've ever had and I'm counting that one who stole from the collection bin," Agnes tried to mask her distress with humor but James saw right through her.

James smiled and said, "I would think you would want to see what we're going to do to her."

"We?"

Mary's eyes glistened with tears. Agnes had never seen Mary so full of terror before. She was always the one terrorizing her children. Now Mary was at her daughter's mercy.

"I've been inside Mary's mind too... What she did to your father... Murdering him for the life insurance policy," James appeared behind Agnes, twisting the knife in his hands contemplating it's sharp edge.

Agnes's body went numb. She couldn't have heard him right. James presented Agnes with the carving knife. She held it in her hands, mesmerized by the gleam of it's blade in the supernatural candle light.

Agnes crossed the room and sat before Mary, the cauldron of her dark violet eyes burned with a scalding fury.

"Is it true?"

The fear was raw on Mary's face at the sight of her daughter's rage. Hate came off the girl in waves and Mary flinched as if she could physically feel them slicing through her.

"Do you have anything to say about that?" Agnes asked as she pulled down the gag. Mary gasped for the first time in what must have been hours.

"You don't understand," Mary made the excuse. "I did it for our sakes."

"Our sakes?" Agnes's voice became ice, cold and sharp like a scalpel. "Since when have you done anything for anyone's sake other than your sadistic pleasure?"

"We were broke!" she cried in indignation. "We were going to lose the house! I kept a roof over our heads. You should be thanking me you ungrateful slut! I was obviously too lenient with you..."

Memories came flooding back cutting open old wounds. The time Mary had Agnes's hands tied to her bed posts so she wouldn't touch herself at night.

That one time when she locked Agnes in the cellar without food for a day to make her more grateful because Agnes complained about how Mary burned the chicken that one time. (Mary was passed out drunk and almost burned the house down.)

Once she had Agnes whip herself until the marks on her back bled while the house ate dinner. Agnes would face the corner as she whipped herself listening to everyone eat. Her father fought her mother on these punishments. Sometimes he won but when he wasn't there...

Agnes learned to hold her tongue and keep secrets because of her mother's cruel punishments. A bible thumping hypocritical bitch who murdered her husband...

"You always hated him... Hated me," Agnes said, her tone touched by pain. "Why? Because I'm prettier? I stole your youth?" Agnes quoted what Mary would tell her in her many drunken rages. "Or is it because dad loved me more than you."

James stood by the window, the crescent moon's silver beams washing the floor in pale light. But it was the candles that gave the room it's demonic glow. Mary's eyes filled with tears but her face suddenly creased in outrage.

"Your father was a lazy drunk," Mary spat. "He always doted on you. You only loved him because he smiled every time you walked into the room. He didn't know that you were an evil, heartless child. You were always too close to him. Like you were his girlfriend. His wh—"

Agnes held the knife to Mary's bulging throat cutting her off before she could finish her disgusting sentence. Her blood boiled with the foulness of hate for this woman. This woman that had given birth to her. This viper that struck at her when she least deserved it.

If Charlie wasn't in her life Agnes would have truly given in to her rage. She would have nursed her hatred like a child. Watch it grow then destroy everything.

Charlie. He was right up stairs. Sleeping soundly as if nothing at all was happening this night. It was thoughts of him that stayed her hand. Thoughts of his innocent smile.

His smile was infectious. Even when Agnes wanted to cry the sight of Charlie's wide grin made her mouth follow suit.

Agnes let the knife fall. She couldn't kill her own mother in cold blood no matter how much she deserved it. Mary was about to cry out but James materialized behind her, stuffing the gag into her fat mouth muffling her cries once more.

"We can't let her tell people," James reminded Agnes.

"We won't," Agnes said. Then she suddenly remembered something she read in a book about voodoo and curses.

"Ever make a voodoo doll?" she asked tilting her head, her indigo eyes dark with a foul plot. James smiled evilly.

***

Voodoo dolls don't really have anything to do with voodoo. A stain made by Hollywood that the practice was never able to wash clean. Witches used "sympathetic" dolls or poppets.

James made one appear in his hand. It was a simple sexless doll made from burlap stuffed with Mary's hair and finger nails.

"When did you—"

"I like to make these just in case," James winked. He placed the dolls on a small plank board on the pentagram as Agnes placed five black candles at each point of the star. Mary could only helplessly watch as her captors set the stage for her demise.

Agnes got out the hammer and a few long nails.

"So what's next?" Agnes asked. "Like before?"

"Almost...," James had Agnes sit down at the other end of the table. He knelt before her, hiking up her dress then slowly pulling down her cum crusted panties.

Agnes's womanhood wept and tingled at the prospect of feeling James's experienced demonic tongue inside her. She bit her lip as she felt his warm yet rough tongue lick her folds now so wet with lust.

Mary rocked in her chair so hard that Agnes thought the woman would break it. But she wouldn't let her break her concentration. James kissed Agnes's clitoral hood as she closed her eyes imagining that labyrinth and that golden bowl of fire.

She opened her eyes, feeling James's tongue dive between her wet petals and squirm inside her satin walls, his nose occasionally rubbing up against her clit sending waves of fire through her muscles.

Agnes remembered what she was taught. She focused her arousal on the spell she wanted to use. Taking a nail she cut into her palm, bleeding on the doll. For what's a curse without a few drops of blood.

The doll was passive as the dark crimson droplets soaked into it's burlap body. Agnes placed the bloody nail reciting Latin. Did she know Latin? She did now.

James's lips wrapped around Agnes's budding clit, nibbling and suckling it. Short surges of electricity awoke Agnes's every nerve as she bucked her hips forward. She could feel the power inside her growing as her pleasure mounted.