Nate and the Crossroads Pt. 03

Nate lay curled up in his bed, groaning and coughing weakly. He'd come up with a plan, one that required him to stay home from school. He was fully aware that it wasn't a very good plan; it was more like an act of desperation. But he didn't have much of a choice.

When his groans didn't achieve the desired result, he began to hack and cough loudly, doing his best impression of his great aunt who had apparently lived on nothing but cigarettes and coffee her entire life.

It didn't take long for his mother to appear. She was dressed in her house robe and slippers, looking alarmed as she rushed in to stand beside his bed.

"What is it, Nate?" She asked, placing her hand against his forehead. "Tell me what's wrong."

"My stomach," he lamented while doing his best to look pathetic. Fortunately for him, he'd had a lifetime of practice.

"You didn't eat broccoli, did you?" His mother asked, concerned. "You know it gives you the gas..."

"No, mom. I just don't feel good."

"I'll get you the fizzy stuff, then maybe you can have some saltines," she said anxiously. "I'll be right back."

He was glad that she'd slipped back into full mom mode and was acting somewhat normal. He felt a little bad about tricking her after everything else that had happened, but he needed to stay home to carry out his plan.

His 'sick' act almost backfired, however. His mother was so worried about him that she hovered at his bedside all morning. But after he repeatedly assured her that it was nothing worse than an upset stomach, she finally left him alone and went to run her errands. He jumped out of bed the moment she was gone and went to the garage to work on his bike.

It was easy enough to replace the spokes, but the front fork had also been bent when he'd slammed into the minivan. He banged it back into shape with a hammer and tested it out, finding the wheel a little crooked but serviceable. When he was satisfied that his bike was roadworthy, he tied a crowbar and a shovel to the frame, shouldered his backpack, and rode once more toward the edge of town. At least no one seemed to be following him this time.

He pedaled down the highway until he reached the turnoff to the old graveyard, a narrow and winding dirt road that appeared to be rarely used. Beyond a broken iron gate, the cemetery loomed bleak and deserted as ever. It was populated only by tall weeds, a handful of gothic-looking angel statues, and row after row of weathered gravestones. He knew that his fellow high schoolers sometimes went there to party, as evidenced by all the broken bottles and scattered beer cans which lay strewn among the graves.

So much for respecting the dead. Not that he had much room to talk. He wasn't exactly there to place flowers, either.

It took him almost an hour to locate the grave he was looking for. The headstone was jammed in the back corner of the cemetery like an afterthought--a small, crooked, and almost pathetic-looking slab with letters so worn that Nate could barely read them. But it was the one.

Clouds were beginning to gather in the sky overhead as he readied his shovel. Around him, the stone angels seemed to glare disapprovingly. A cold shiver crept up his spine as he considered what he was about to do. He was planning to dig up a grave, steal from a hundred-year-old corpse, and use whatever he stole to open a direct portal to Hell.

"Fuck it," Nate said as he drove the shovel into the dirt. He was already damned. A little grave robbing was just icing on the cake.

It turned out to be more difficult than he thought. The ground was packed hard and before long he was forced to take a break. He sat beside the grave, eating the sandwich he'd brought while wondering what kind of a person Myrtle/Maxine had been. Whoever she was, it seemed like she'd been given one of the cheapest burials in the entire cemetery.

Nate went back to work. His arms ached and his hands were beginning to feel raw, but at long last he heard the dull thump of wood beneath the blade of his shovel. He uncovered the coffin as gently as he could, but its worm-tracked lid was so flimsy and rotten that it fell apart, crumbling inward with a shower of dirt and dust.

Inside was a jumble of frayed cloth and bones, the mortal remains of one Myrtle West... some poor sinner who'd gone on to become a crossroads demon in service to the Devil himself. Or at least, so Nate hoped. He surveyed the remains somberly for a moment before selecting a well-preserved finger bone. As Nate was picking it free, he discovered something even better underneath--a thin, lightly tarnished silver ring set with a small black stone.

It was just what he'd been looking for. Nate secured the bone in a plastic baggie then checked his list of essential items. It read as follows:

Candles for magic circle

Two bags Salt

Bones and belongings (important!)

Dirt from the grave

Tin box

Blood

???

Profit.

He was just about ready. Nate gathered up some dirt and put it in the box along with the corpse's finger bone. The ring he slipped into his pocket, unable to keep himself from muttering 'my Precious' as he did. Then he took his pocketknife and hesitantly pricked his finger, feeling nauseous as he added the essential drop of blood to the contents of the box. Naturally, the picture of his porn star idol Brooklyn still lay folded neatly in the bottom.

Nate made a halfhearted attempt to fill in the grave but abandoned it when he noticed the dark-bellied clouds that were gathering above. Shit. Rain would be a problem. He left the shovel leaning on the headstone and jumped back on his bike, hoping that the weather wouldn't turn against him too.

It was late afternoon when he reached the crossroads. As before, there was no one in sight. The dead and crooked branches of the hanging tree appeared even more ominous under the thick layer of clouds. He began his preparations, and by the time he was done it was almost dark. The sky was dimming into a dull, cloudy twilight as he stood back and surveyed his handiwork. In the dirt beside the road he'd drawn a large pentagram with salt, and at each point sat a flickering candle. The tin box was buried at the center--bait for the trap.

He touched the outside of his pocket with anxious fingers, but the circular outline of the ring didn't do much to reassure him. He steadied himself, and with a deep breath, he took out the occultist's book. There was no point in stalling. He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

The book had repeatedly warned not to attempt what he was about to do, but then it had gone on and explained how to do it anyway. A full-blown demonic summoning was very different from just making a deal. There were a lot of things that could go wrong. Horribly wrong.

As Nate was about to find out.

He read the incantation straight from the book, hoping he was saying the words right. The candles dimmed. There was a sound like a quiet sigh, and then wisps of smoke began to flow up from the earth at the center of the pentagram. Nate watched spellbound as the vapors quickly solidified into the shape of a voluptuous young woman.

Maxine.

Her naked body writhed for a moment, shuddering as if in pain. Then she dropped into a crouch and regarded him with eyes that glittered like black marbles in the glow of the candlelight. She didn't look happy.

"What the fuck?" She spat. Her teeth looked much sharper than he remembered.

"I summoned you," he responded, doing his best to sound brave while ignoring the voice in his head which insisted that something was very, very wrong.

Maxine sighed. "You shouldn't have done that," she said softly. Dangerously.

"I, uh, need your help," he stammered. "I need you to help me fix my fucked-up life."

Her eyes narrowed. Still crouching, she leaned forward, looking like a wingless gargoyle with her hands resting on the ground between her outstretched knees. Her large breasts were thrust outward and her pussy was fully exposed, the small, delicate inner labia peeking out almost timidly from between her plump outer lips. Her skin seemed to darken right before his eyes, taking on a deep scarlet hue that didn't quite seem natural.

She looks sunburned, Nate mused. No, it was more than that. She was starting to look downright demonic.

"Help you?" She repeated thoughtfully, her lips curling into a predatory smile. "I don't think so."

Nate saw that her teeth were definitely pointed. And Jesus Back-flipping Christ, were there horns growing out of her forehead? Fuck. There were.

This wasn't good. He took a step backward as he fumbled around in his pocket.

"I summoned you," he insisted. "You gotta do what I say."

"Do I?" She cocked her head sideways in a somehow animalistic gesture. Her horns were fully grown now, standing about eight inches high and gleaming bone-yellow against her crimson skin and jet-black hair. "And why is that?"

"Because I have this!" Nate pulled the metal disc from his pocket and held it out, his courage evaporating as he saw that it wasn't the ring, but two coins stuck back-to-back with gum. He stared at them for a moment in dull surprise before frantically searching his pockets. Impossibly, the ring was gone. He must have lost it somehow.

He groaned. It just wasn't fair.

Maxine watched him with a mocking, hungry look in her eyes. At that same moment a heavy drizzle began, the fat droplets pattering down around them in a slowly increasing tempo.

Its official, Nate decided bleakly as he looked up at the sky. God hates me.

The candles began to sputter and hiss. Nate's heart dropped into his toes as he realized that the salt outline of the pentagram wouldn't last long in the rain--and right now that was the only thing standing between him and little Miss Satan over there.

"If I were you, Nathaniel," she mused as she slowly and sinuously flexed her fingers. The nails were long and sharp, like claws. "I'd run. Now."

Nate turned and ran. Her piercing laughter followed him as he jumped on his bike and pedaled like mad toward the graveyard. He needed something else that belonged to Maxine in order to control her. If he couldn't get another of her bones before she got loose, he was toast. He didn't know why she'd gone into full she-devil mode, but she was scary now and looked like she wanted to chew his face off, and maybe his balls too. Not cool.

Once again, he'd somehow managed to fuck everything up. As he rode quite literally for his life, Nate consoled himself with the thought that at least he was consistent.

* * *

Maxine watched as he rode away, her bloodlust quickening as the dark spirit within her stirred. It was something she called the Beast, and it was the very essence of Hell itself. The botched ritual had broken the chains holding it in check, and she could feel it coiling restlessly in the black void where her soul had been, impatient to break loose.

The rain was falling faster. Soon the salt would wash away, and she would be free. It was a pity about Nathaniel. He was a fool, but Maxine felt a strange sort of sympathy for him. She had been human once too, a long time ago. Deep inside she still remembered what it was to be mortal, vulnerable and afraid.

But that had been before she died. Before she had been cast into the Pit.

The Beast hungered, eager to rend and tear. She hungered also, but in a different way. Having sex with the young man had been unexpectedly pleasant, and her mouth and her loins both moistened at the thought of hunting him down. Maxine wasn't sure what she wanted to do more, fuck him, or devour him.

She smiled as the lines of salt began to fade. There was no reason why she couldn't do both.

* * *

Night had fallen. Still, Nate made it to the cemetery in record time, although he nearly crashed head-on into the gate as it suddenly loomed up in the dark. He swerved through it and made his way inside, pedaling recklessly between the graves while hoping beyond hope that he still had a shot at saving himself. The rain had let up a bit, becoming little more than a drizzling mist that descended slowly around him and made the graveyard feel spookier than ever.

An open pit yawned right in front of him and he braked just in time. It was a grave. Hers. Nate dropped his bike and grabbed the shovel, attacking the half-filled hole and cursing himself for his earlier attempts to cover it. The dirt was mushy and soft, but it was fully dark now and he could barely see what he was doing. He paused to pull out his flashlight, nearly shrieking as he switched it on to illuminate a reddish figure crouched on a nearby headstone, watching him.

Maxine. Here.

Fuck.

Before he could even blink, she leapt and plucked the shovel from his hand, snapping it cleanly in half like it was a toothpick.

"Digging time is over," she said, grinning wolfishly as she tossed the pieces over her shoulder. "Now it's time to play."

Nate somehow doubted that he was going to enjoy her idea of playtime. He made a run for his bike but she intercepted him easily, shoving him backward onto the pile of loose, muddy earth next to the grave. His flashlight went flying and landed somewhere among the headstones. Desperate, Nate tried to rise but was sent back down again by a hard smack to the forehead. Maxine fell on top of him, pinning his shoulders as she slowly licked the side of his face with her hot, slippery tongue.

"Um, can't we talk this over?" Nate sputtered.

"Shut up." She growled.

Nate gritted his teeth as she slowly raked her claw-like fingernails down his chest, ripping his shirt and drawing blood. Then she put her lips to the fresh scratches and sucked at them, causing a shiver of mixed pleasure and pain to ripple through his body. Her scent filled his nose, the arousing musk now blended with the strong acridity of smoke, or possibly brimstone.

Maybe she's just kidding around, he thought hopefully, then yelped as she reached down and quite literally tore his pants off, her sharp nails shredding the fabric like tissue paper. His traitorous erection popped up stiffly into the night air, but it was only free for a moment before Maxine impaled herself on it with a low snarl. Nate's eyes rolled back in his head as he slid deep into her tight demonic pussy, the wet, heated embrace of her flesh feeling like liquid fire around his cock. She began to ride him, grunting and growling as she moved with violent, bruising undulations of her hips.

Ok, she's going to fuck me to death, Nate thought distantly. He never thought he'd die this way, but he'd always sort of hoped he would.

However, the reality of it wasn't turning out to be that much fun. Maxine kissed him roughly and there was a sharp burst of pain as she bit his lip so hard that blood flowed.

"Oww!" He protested in something between a groan and a whimper. "That hurt!"

"I know." She grinned, her teeth flashing white in the dark as she clawed his chest again.

Despite all the abuse, his dick was still rock hard, thrilling in the slippery confines of her gripping cunt. She moaned and began fucking him harder, then suddenly he felt a breath on his throat, felt her sharp teeth pressing against his skin. He could picture them sinking deep, tearing flesh and piercing arteries.

"Don't do this, Maxine!" He pleaded, doing his best not to whine. Then, in sheer desperation, he accidentally blurted out the one thing that might have saved his life.

"Myrtle! Stop!" He cried. "I love you!"

To his surprise, she let go and raised her head.

"Wha--" She began.

Nate interrupted this potentially tender moment by punching her on the jaw as hard as he could. The blow hardly seemed to faze her, but it provided enough distraction to follow up with a mighty heave that succeeded in pushing her off him. Now free, he quickly turned and scrambled up the mound of dirt. His only thought was to run, to get away somehow.

He didn't get far.

Enraged, Maxine seized him by the ankle and pulled him down, his futile efforts to grab for a handhold only leaving him with fistfuls of moist earth. Something cold and hard dug into his left palm, but he had little chance to ponder what it was as Maxine threw him onto his back with a murderous snarl, her fangs flashing as she dove for his throat.

Nate screamed and threw his arms upward to shield himself, hopelessly praying to whatever God might be listening that Maxine would come to her senses and stop.

After a long moment of waiting to become a demon snack, Nate's scream trailed off as he realized that he was still alive. The moon had come out from behind the clouds, and now he could just barely see Maxine sitting on top of him, her face twitching in rage and confusion.

Nate felt lightheaded as he turned his hand palm-upward and opened it, seeing a faint gleam of silver from within. It was the ring. Her ring. It must have fallen out of his pocket while he was filling the grave earlier and he'd grabbed it again by sheer accident. Or sheer luck.

He felt a surge of relief so strong that he thought he might faint. It was about time that he had some good luck for a change.

"I guess this means you're mine after all." He said, grinning weakly.

The animalistic fury on Maxine's face was gone. She climbed off him and stood there awkwardly, avoiding his gaze like she was embarrassed.

"I wasn't really going to kill you," she said with a shrug, her skin already beginning to return to its normal pale hue. "Much."

The painful throbbing in his lip and chest left him somewhat unconvinced. Nate looked down at his shredded, bloody shirt and suddenly felt like he was either going to throw up or pass out, maybe both.

"I wanna go home," he mumbled, then leaned over and yakked into the dirt.

* * *

Nate lay in bed, watching drowsily as a half-naked Maxine surfed the web on his computer, her head nodding in time with the music coming through the headphones. He wondered distractedly what she was listening to. Something evil no doubt, like Kannibal Korpse or Justin Bieber. At least she'd returned to her normal, sexy self, no more red skin or horns.

She was currently wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else. Her tits were barely covered, her naked, perfectly shaped ass was sticking out over the seat of his small desk chair. She was almost unbearably hot even though she still scared him a bit. He guessed that little things like attempted murder could do that.

His chest was a patchwork of gauze and band aids, and his lip was still raw and throbbing where she'd nearly bitten it off. He hoped she hadn't given him a demonic case of rabies or anything.

After blowing groceries in the graveyard, he'd ordered her to go back to his room and wait for him there.

"Don't let anyone see you," he told her. "And don't hurt anybody. Just stay out of trouble, okay?"

Maxine had rolled her eyes as if insulted, then vanished. Nate rode home in his shredded pants feeling like he'd just gone twelve rounds with a wildcat on PCP. His mom had raised such a fuss that someone might have thought he'd been missing for days instead of just a few hours. He'd made up a story about falling into a thorn patch and then endured thirty minutes of excruciating first aid before finally being allowed to go to his room.

He felt better now, especially since he'd tied the ring securely around his neck with a leather cord. As long as he had it, he was safe and Maxine had to obey him. He saw several obvious perks resulting from the situation, but first he wanted to figure out how he was going to fix the shitstorm that had become his life, if that was even possible.

"Okay Maxine," he said, sitting up. "Let's talk."

She took off the headphones and spun the chair around to face him, all bare legs and cleavage. Nate forced himself to focus.