Camilla Ch. 087byMawrGorshin©
"Yeah," he panted. "You were...amazing, as always."
"Thank you," she sighed.
"Try younger men. It may help you."
"I'll think about it."
After leaving Dr. Mason's house, Camilla went to that park again, for more target practice.
She was determined to hit that centre tree this time. If she missed, she'd use Nigrovum to heal her sore, bleeding finger quickly, then try to regain her focus as soon as possible so she could try again. On the other two occasions, when she'd fired and missed, she was always too mentally drained from overuse of Nigrovum to take second shots; this time, she was going to try either to get her aim just right the first time, or to get rid of that drained feeling quickly.
She pointed her right index finger at the tree, aiming as if her finger was the barrel of Don's pistol. She concentrated hard, visualizing the feel, weight, and internal structure of that gun, and imagining her finger to be exactly the same.
As she focused, her hateful feelings for Carrie were ballooning inside her heart again, distorting her sense of her surroundings. She fought hard to reverse this blurring, keeping her hand as steady as possible. She looked at that tree, thinking hard about hitting the centre of it.
Finally, she 'fired', and her finger felt a sharp pain as the psychic bullet came flying out in a straight line. "Ow!" she yelled. "Fuck!"
She hit the centre tree, dead in the middle.
"I did it," she said in disbelief. "Maybe I can kill Carrie myself after all. I may not need those other guys to do it for me, if my marksmanship stays the same. Carrie, I'm coming to get you."
Camilla put her sore finger in her mouth and sucked the blood off as she walked towards the swings.
But I'm not killing her tonight, she thought; My finger hurts too much. It sucks that I can practice only one shot at a time. Apart from the pain, I'm always too mentally wiped out to keep practicing. Why does Nigrovum's power have to have these limitations? Maybe I'll kill Carrie tomorrow night. Between now and then, Candice, Mr. Berman, and Patrick will first have a chance to prove their love to me.
She sat on a swing, closed her eyes, and began meditating on Agape again.
Please, let me find some sexy thoughts about me this time, she thought.
She psychically scanned the darkest areas of his subconscious for any possible incestuous feelings that her father may have had for her; she did a thorough sweep of his brain, spending almost a half hour searching and searching, and not wanting to get up until she'd found something.
Still, she found nothing to her liking.
Every desire the man had was for making love with Carrie: kissing her, holding her, and fondling her ageing body. After a gruelling fifteen minutes or so of this jealousy-inspiring ordeal, Camilla could go no further.
Now Camilla searched his mind for all his thoughts about her. She ran past image after image of innocent, sentimental feelings of dandling her, as a little girl, on his knee, hugging her when she was crying, and kissing her on the forehead. Though the mental scenes of him comforting her reminded her of how much she was so deeply in love with him, her heart was aching from never seeing any images of him wanting to fuck her as an 18-year-old.
Again, after about fifteen minutes of going through those exclusively innocent thoughts, she gave up in frustration.
"Fuck!" she said. Carrie's gotta go, she thought; but even when she's gone, how am I gonna make Daddy want me as he does her?
Later that night, Berman found the address where Agape and Carrie lived. As well as giving Berman Agape's address the day before, Camilla had shown him where the gun was in her locker, though he hadn't taken it.
He stood on the sidewalk, just staring at the house. His mind was splitting apart in two opposite directions: killing Carrie was the only way to get Camilla's love (she wouldn't be talked out of that), and he couldn't live without her; but he didn't want to kill anyone, except maybe her father.
Another conflict was with her father: Berman so hated anti-Semites, from all his life experiences having been baited for being a Jew, that killing a Jew-hater seemed more a public service than a crime. Yet killing Camilla's father would only make her hate Berman. He couldn't see how this Carrie could have been such a bad woman; Camilla was obviously jealous, and killing her wouldn't bring Berman any closer to winning Camilla's love, because she obviously wanted to have her father.
Killing Carrie was the only way to get Camilla's love, yet murder would bring a prison sentence. Camilla claimed her psychic powers would stop the cops from linking the crime to him, but why was she to be believed? With Carrie killed, Camilla could have just had Berman convicted of the crime, then she could have her father. This seemed like an obvious trap, and she was obviously using Berman, yet he was so insanely in love with her that he couldn't resist falling into the trap. He'd been in love many times before, but something--seemingly swimming in his blood--was intensifying this love so much that reason had become a completely alien concept to him.
As alien as those tiny black 'eggs'.
Both Agape and Don psychically sensed that 'gunshot', as well as Berman's presence in front of Agape's house, as they meditated in their bedrooms that night. The men sensed no gun in either Camilla's or Berman's hands. Agape and Don were also completely puzzled as to how Camilla could have fired at targets with no gun. Their sense of what she'd been doing was blurred, because she was always blocking their attempts at mental probes of her.
Indeed, it was precisely her blocking of the two men that was forcing them to use the extreme measures they were using. They couldn't find her whereabouts, so they couldn't talk to her face-to-face. They knew her psychic powers were so strong that the police would have been of no help. If she was blocking Don and Agape, and psychically keeping them far away from her, they couldn't communicate with her at all. That meant that they couldn't reason with her, and make her see the folly of what she was trying to do.
They had only one choice: to draw her out, and have her make an attempt on Carrie's life.
The men sensed Camilla would try to kill Carrie only in Agape's house at night, the safest place and time. Having Camilla in Agape's house, he would be there with her to protect Carrie, and Don could be there to help him. Then they'd have a hope of talking some sense into Camilla, and of stopping her.
And if they couldn't stop her from being violent, then maybe a change of the victims of that violence would serve their purpose.
Agape had an invisible psychic dome covering Carrie as a protective barrier; he'd instantly be able to sense Camilla trying to weaken it, then he'd strengthen it, twice as strong as before. No matter where Carrie was, she'd be safe. At night, in their home, Agape would occasionally, briefly remove the dome to lure Camilla out. She wasn't coming that night, so Carrie's dome was set and secure.
Agape was meditating, navigating the other world, sensing all the gradations form the darkest hell, where he hoped Camilla would never go upon death, and the higher, more 'celestial' realms, where he was assured he'd go upon dying. His spiritual growth was so impressive, he hadn't had a drop of booze for the past several weeks!
In his growing enlightenment, he realized that this physical world was insignificant next to the other world: that world is our true destiny. Though Agape was terrified of Camilla's killing Carrie, he was even more afraid of how much karmic damage that murder would do to his daughter's soul. Camilla had always been troubled; true peace of mind was something that had been denied her for too long, and Agape was determined she'd have it one day.
No matter what the cost, in this world.
On Thursday night at Club Ritz, Camilla sat at a table, fuming in frustration that no one had come to take the gym bag out of her locker. Patrick hadn't shown up to take it, though she'd shown him where it was the day before; Mr. Berman hadn't shown up since she'd shown him her locker two days before; and Candice was way too high on dope to come near the locker. Not even Don had come over to try to get his gun back.
Now Candice still had that wild look in her eyes, the look of a killer...an unfocused killer. It actually frightened Camilla to look in Candice's eyes, for she had no idea what violent thoughts Candice was thinking. Candice was psychically blocking Camilla's attempts to find out: she was obviously stronger with Nigrovum than Camilla had originally thought.
Camilla wasn't so sure if giving Candice that 'vampiress bite', and passing all her hate into Candice's blood, was such a good idea. Still, Camilla had vague hopes Candice would use that aggression to Camilla's advantage, and kill Carrie; after all, Candice was still in love with Camilla.
Giving up in total frustration, Camilla left Club Ritz at about midnight and went back to Patrick's house. He wasn't home: she psychically scanned his whereabouts. He was getting drunk in a bar not too far away from Club Ritz, but the strip joint would close soon, and Camilla doubted he'd get over there in time to get the gym bag before closing time.
She went upstairs, went into the bedroom, got naked, and got in bed. She was so frustrated that she forgot to set up the psychic barriers again.
She soon fell asleep. In her dream, she was in the burning mansion again, on basement one. She was being gang-banged by Larre, Wayne, Leroy, and Holland. This seemed like a pleasant surprise to her; she actually imagined she'd have a pleasant dream for a change.
She was sucking Larre's cock, Wayne's was fucking her tits, Leroy was fucking her pussy, and Holland was ass-fucking her.
When Larre was about to come, he pulled his cock out suddenly and rained his come all over her face. She looked up at him and asked, "Did you...like that? Ah!"
"Yeah," Larre panted. "But I hate you."
"Why?" she asked. "I just...got you off. Oh!"
"It's your fault...we're all here," Wayne grunted, spewing his come on her face. "Oh!"
"We're miserable...here. Unh!" Leroy groaned as he kept thrusting inside her cunt.
"I wish...I'd never...met you," Holland said, his cock sliding in and out of her ass. "Ah!"
"But I...saved you...from your wife," she sighed. "Oh!"
"No, you didn't," Holland said. "Ow!" Mrs. Holland, having suddenly appeared, hit him on the back with a baseball bat. She then pulled him away.
"Still fucking that slut?" Mrs. Holland growled. "Let the masked men have her! You're mine!"
Camilla looked around, and indeed, she was now being gang-banged by four masked men, with one fucking her mouth, one fucking her tits, one fucking her pussy, and one fucking her ass, just as before. The Vancouver punks were standing by, watching and laughing.
"If you think...your plan will work," the masked man she was blowing said, "you're in...for a big...surprise!" He laughed his eerie laugh, as did the other masked gang-bangers with him.
"We're up next, big titty bitch!" the leader of the Vancouver punks said. "When you die, we're gonna gang rape you for ever, and ever, and ever!" The punks joined the masked men in laughing at Camilla.
Then the incubi all began singing a variation to the lyrics of Trampauline's song: "She wants to get gang-banged! She's gonna get gang-banged!"
Camilla suddenly woke up in a cold sweat. What if the incubi are so powerful with Nigrovum, they come into this world and interfere with my killing of Carrie? My finger doesn't hurt anymore; I'm going over to Daddy's house and killing her now, while the incubi aren't yet too powerful.
She got out of bed, got dressed, and left the house. At 2 PM, Patrick still hadn't come home.
Agape woke up, sensing that Camilla was coming. He undid Carrie's psychic dome to lure Camilla. He yawned in bed.
This is it, he thought; the moment of truth. He yawned again.
Though he was deeply worried about what would happen, he was also extremely tired from having slept so little throughout the week, obviously from the same worry. To calm himself, he visualized that mystical, infinite ocean that is everything, and its slowly moving waves calmed him...to the point of nodding off...
Desiree had stayed at Club Ritz late, until 2:10 in the morning before going home. She'd been giving the boss blow jobs in his office, and the fun had just kept on going until a ridiculously late hour.
She went to the room where the lockers were, and noticed Camilla's locker door wide open. Camilla's jacket and some high heels were inside--and that was all.
"Damn, Camilla," Desiree said. "What you leaving your locker door open for? I hope nothing was stolen." She closed the door, reset the padlock, and left.