Lord of Devil's NightbyMSTarot©
I give a slight shiver in the cold October air and walk across the street. I have plenty of time, so I walk past the doorway and down to the corner.
The bronze plaques stand out against the white stone. I read the words though I know them by heart.
Long months of research found me this place. This wonderful place. I close my eyes and try to imagine what it must have been like.
I feel myself harden. It's a wonderful feeling. I've not felt it in so many years. Not since... the angels...not since the night I...
I shiver away from that memory. I had been weak. The old scars ache as I move my hand. My Mistress punished me very harshly for it and I fled from her. I ignored her sweet calls. I hide myself in the dark places in my head and locked away the Lord of Devil's Night.
But no longer!
Edward the weak coward has fled. I...Am... Here!
And it took so little as an old movie to call me back.
As I look up at what was once the Asch building; I can hear the words that summoned me again.
"I want you to light a Fire so goddamn big the Gods will notice us again!"
A slow grin splits my face.
"Oh... I can do that." I whisper to the heavens.
That's one thing the Lord of Devils Night is very good at.
I've had a lot of practice you see.
The papers in Detroit listed more than two hundred fires to my handiwork when they coined my non-de-guerre. That was the insult that led me to setting the blaze in their building the next year. Two hundred? More like two thousand!
Hell for five years hardly a barbecue fire got started that I didn't have some hand in. In the dark places I would meet with the others like myself and give them advice. Show them how to make the simple toys of the trade. I'm not selfish.
I shared my Mistress with many.
Walking into the former Asch building, now the Brown building the home of the Biology and Chemistry section of N.Y.U. I head towards the guard with an easy calm. Edward would be bundle of nerves and would be easily seen as up to something.
Not me. My palms are dry, my eyes steady. I carry about me an air of bored student that has been seen by the guard so often he doesn't even give my face a second look, despite my age. He just looks over my fake school pass. Just another old guy coming back for a better education.
And what's this in his bag? A homemade kit with everything needed to burn a building to the ground? No, it's just a bag of the odds and ends every student would carry. Books, a sports bottle of lemon lime Gatorade, a small thing of hand sanitize...a box of tissues? A bottle of cold medicine? I better get this guy away from me I don't want to catch anything.
I smile as I walk towards the elevators.
As I wait I wonder if this was the one used by Joseph Zito or Gaspar Mortillalo. The shaft, not the elevator itself of course. Those two had to be replaced after the fire.
The impact of dozens of women's bodies falling eight and nine stories down the shaft and impacting the roof of the elevator had warped them beyond repair.
The door opens. I step inside.
As I go to press the button I see the little plaque.
Ah, it was Zito's.
A brave man. He dared my Mistresses ire many times to pull her female lovers from her grasp.
In the months leading up to this day I had a long debate with myself over where to start the fire. Eight, where the original began, or nine where the most lives were lost? Twenty years ago it wouldn't have been a contest. It would have been eight. It had been a library back then. All that paper? A dream set up. Ask the Detroit news.
The elevator opens onto the ninth floor and I look out at the white lab walls. I know the floor plan by heart, but the place still is startling to see.
All the pictures of this place show it like it looked in nineteen eleven. A fire-gutted husk of a building filled with the burned and twisted remnants of cloth...and people.
The lab is empty. Every ones out watching the play.
As I said, perfect.
Moving towards my left I go to the service closet. A few moments work with a lock pick gun and the door opens. It's not really made to keep out anyone; it's only locked to keep lost people from trying to take the wrong door.
The small red wheel turns easily. The oil from my sanitizer bottle sees to that.
The sprinklers turned off; I open the box on the wall nearby. So very nice of them to put everything in the same place for me.
A small wire with two clips and the fire alarm is bypassed nicely.
As much as I love seeing firefighters we can't have them called in too soon.
Now can we?
Following the floor plan I memorized, I head into the labs. I know what I'm looking for, a chemical storage closet. All sorts of nice things in it for me to play with. It sits back to back with a hard copy storage room. Filing cabinets full of printer paper. Not as good as the old library would have been, but it will have to do.
My mistresses perfume?
I sniff the air around me. It was fleeting, but it was there.
Slowly I go back to work.
I look up at the white piping of the now useless sprinkler system. There is a feeling of being watched that I'm not comfortable with. I move to the storage room first and close the door behind me.
Opening filing cabinet, after filing cabinet, I get out my box of tissues and the sports bottle. They soak quickly in the mixture of pancake syrup and kerosene. I shiver at the sweet high-octane smell as it starts to fill the room.
"You shouldn't do that, the Dybbuk will come."
I jump and splash the floor with juice. The voice was hardly more than a whisper, but it was right by my elbow. I spin in the room looking around.
Taking the bottle in one hand I stuff my backpack into one of the cabinets. The four-pound blocks of thermite that looks like books will do the rest for this room. I lead a trail out of the room and around to the chemical closet.
This lock is no harder than the one on the janitor's closet was. Really people make it a bit of a challenge for me at least.
Sodium, sulfur, my old friend phosphorus. So many nice things to play with. The thick liquid from my cough medicine bottle covers them all in a bright red glaze. My own mixture, it's signature burn was what led the newspapers to say two hundred fires. I only started using it near the end of my years in Detroit.
Detroit! That city should be in flames tonight!
Damn the angels!
Fifty thousand strong they take to the streets to watch for suspicious people in the nights before Halloween. It was them, rushing me, that caused my mistress to become angry with me.
I look down at my left hand. The old scars. The hospital had of course been curious about how a man gets second degree burns the night before All Hallows. The police had been even more so. Did they find anything when they searched my house?
Of course not.
Even Edward Mcguffin is not a fool. A coward, who fears the touch of our Mistress's hands yes, but not a fool!
I place the device into the closet with the chemicals. There is a similar one in the book bag. Was I afraid the guard would find them? Of course not!
They're just cell phones after all.
Chuckling I close the door. Other than a slight shine to the floor along the baseboard and a sweet smell of pancakes there is nothing to see of my handiwork. Time to go.
"The Dybbuk likes fire."
I spin at the whisper. My heart going to thunderous speeds. It was right by my elbow again. I look around, but again see nothing.
Time to leave.
My eyes are drawn to a window at the end of the hall. I walk without hesitation to it. Running my fingers over the sill I look down out the tempered glass down to the street below. I shudder back from the heights.
It's such a long way down.
Strange. I've never been afraid of heights
I feel a sudden feeling settle around me. It's a dark shadow that comes up and gives the Lord of Devil's Night an embrace. Like old friends greeting each other after many years apart.
Inside me Edward is screaming!
I ignore the coward.
Turning I walk back down the hall. I stop by the closet. Looking down at the shiny gloss of kerosene my hand goes into my pocket.
My zippo lighter is bright silver in the florescent lights. I hold it before my eyes turning it in the light.
My left hand begins to unbutton my shirt. I pull the shirt off.
The white fabric catches easily.
The burning cloth falls from my hands to the floor. The trail catches at once and runs off towards its date with the filling cabinets.
My Mistress is here!
In seconds I can smell her perfume. It rises up around me in it's overpowering wash of scents.
Forgotten my lighter drops to the floor with a clatter.
My hands go to my pants unbuttoning them. I step out of my shoes as my pants drop around my ankles.
The tile floor feels cold under my socks I shiver at the cold wash of air around me touching every part of my skin as I drop my underwear off me.
The chemicals ignite with a rush and the door blows open with a thunderous roar.
I open myself to the warmth of my Mistress' arms as she comes closer to me. I fill my lungs with her scent as it floods the hallway.
I watch the fires burn upwards across the ceiling I see it catch with joy. I smile seeing the paper on the walls curling away, drifting in pieces up and into the air. They fall around me like snowflakes of ash.
Walking to one of the lab tables I grab up a bottle of alcohol and ripping open the top I splash it across the plastic bottles on the table. The flames rush to embrace this new fuel, they burn blue with joy!
I feel the warmth of her against my back.
With an explosion that shatters glass I hear the documents room blow itself apart.
I revel in the shadowy feeling that holds me so tight. A lovers embrace I've never felt before. My mind caresses it back. I hear it laugh and purr in my ear.
Turning back down the hallway I see her.
The fire walks with her elegant grace. Shifting in ways that no human woman ever could match. She's coming towards me, but at no more than a slow step.
Ignoring the terrified gibbering of Edward I walk into the arms of my lover.
Her arms enfold me, caressing my skin with hundreds of fingers. The warmth of her, the touch as those fingers brushing my skin. I moan feeling her contact.
I run my hands across her delighting in the hot touch. The ache of my scared hand disappears at her body heat.
My mistress forgives me my moment of fear all those years ago. I know now that she has been waiting for me to return all this time. I curse the coward Edward that kept me from her.
She enwraps me in the hard hot feeling of her power! I cry out in pleasure at the soft kisses all over me. I fall back clutching at a wall when I feel her tongue run down the length of my hard cock. Like the flapping of butterfly wings I feel the silky feeling of her tongue slick and warm lapping at my skin. Then her teeth are nibbling at my balls. Her fingers are caress my thighs and ass. I scream as I feel her sucking at me!
I dig my fingers into the drywall at her touch. The burning paper giving way under the ecstasy. I hear the sirens in the distance over the singing of my mistress. I give them not a thought. They will be too late to stop her now. She grows in power around me. Her lust consuming this place again! The new façade of paper, plastic, and glass beings to crumble under her passion heat and the old burns and blacking being to show itself again.
I hear howls of pain in the air around me. I open my eyes and see dozens of spirals of flame dancing like ballerinas made of flowers in the radiant blaze. I hear the voices of women crying in passion!
Grabbing my Mistress I ignore her need and thrust myself into her hard. I revel at the pain this sudden penetration causes me. Her cries of lust echo around me
I hear the dark laughter. I ignore it, as much as I ignore the pain racked sobbing of Edward. He was always such a fool! The touch of the mistress is a thing to be sought after not feared!
"The Lord of Devils Night! I Am the Lord of Devil's Night!" I scream it to the heavens as I feel myself spraying cum deep into my lover.
Gasping for air, I breathe in only her perfume.
I drop to the floor unable to support myself any longer.
But she is as insatiable as ever and does not stop. She follows me down riding me, clawing at me, kissing my lips, handling me roughly till I harden again.
I feel her touch all over me now. No place is untouched by her. In ecstatic joy I caress her as she rides me harder and harder. I watch her moving above me, feeding herself off of my flesh. I see orgasm, after orgasm racks her beautiful body with quivers of lust!
The tables near by shake and shatter throwing glass around the room in sparkles of light as the bottles explode under her touch. In the shrapnel I see a little girl watching me.
"I told you the Dybbuk would come. It likes fire."
Then she is gone and I fall back lifeless to the floor. Exhausted.
Still my Mistress demands more from me! I try; I truly try to satisfy her need.
I feel her anger building as I weaken.
Then the whips begin to land around me. The soft caress of finger becomes the harsh clawing of fingernails.
I scream in a pain filled ecstasy as my Mistress finds a way to make me do her will. I claw myself back to my knees and apply my tongue to her hot sex; I lap at the slick warmth I find there. I drink in her juices burring my face in the strong smell of her.
I claw at her body as she whips my back to make me lick harder. I suck in her clit and feel myself glowing in pride when I hear her orgasmic scream fill the hallway.
Her perfume so thick around me I fall away from her as she steps away from my waisted body. I can sense her lust is sated for now at least, but I know it will grow again in the seconds to come. I try to will myself to recover quickly enough so that when she has need of me I will be ready.
The lord of Devils night will not disappoint his Mistress. Never Again!
A burned and blackened hand appears on the tile floor before my eyes as I try to pull myself down the hall after her. I stare at it. I try to lift my hand to touch it, but it moves away before I can reach it.
I lift my head when I feel the thunder of feet through the floor. I try to drag myself after my mistress, but I can feel her lust shifting now that others have come. I look up and see the shadow looking down at me from by the sprinkler pipes. With eyes that glow like coals it looks down at me with a sarcastic humor. I roll over till I'm on my back. The hard lashes marks from her whip dig into me, but I don't have the strength to move again.
Like a thousand drops of rain I see the sprinkler turn on and begin to wash the smell of my mistresses perfume from my face.
I curse it as it steals from me the taste of her. Crying at the lose, I look up and see the shadow.
It's laughing at me. Its face split in a hideous grin of flames. Turning my head I look down the hallway and see the men in the heavy coats coming towards me. They drag their long hoses through the hall spraying more of the water. Chasing my mistress even further from me. I cry out to her!
"Hey we got a live one here, Get a paramedic! " the men walk past me as I cry. One kneels down on the water-flooded floor.
"Don't more. Don't move!"
I settle myself even further down onto the tile floor and cry that my mistress is gone.
Then I stop the tears. I must be strong. Strong to keep Edward from coming back, and hiding us away from her again. I feel my mind already going to what I can burn next year to bring her back, as I drift into a gentle sleep under the rain.
"Stay with us! Were going to have to move him!"
So soft the rain.
"I'm losing him!"
* * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * **
Sitting outside the burn ward I rub at my tired eyes. Leaning over I pick up the paper from the bench next to me. The headline catches my eye.
"Centennial fire ravages the site of he Triangle ShirtWaist tragedy. One victim found at the scene."
My eyes drop to the line.
"Police are investigating it as a possible arson."
I chuckle. A possible?
I shake my head.
Looking up I see three people walk past me and into the burn ward. The smell comes back out to choke me again. I drop the paper and bury my face into my handkerchief till it fades.
Burnt hamburgers on a barbecue grill. The though and memory had hit me the moment I had tried to enter the room myself.
I've been sitting here ever since. Thinking about the victim. I'm suppose to be interviewing him...her...it... maybe?
My presence here is a waste of time in what has already been a long day, but I can hear my captain's voice in my head if I don't at least try.
I can't take the idea of going back into that room again though. One look had been enough to drive me back out and into the hall! Even with fifteen years on the force and all the things I've seen that...
I look up when I see the doctor walk out uncovering his face. The smell clings to him, but I make myself get up and walk over to him.
"Doctor? I'm Detective Branson."
The doctor looks at me, just looks. I can see the moment's pity for me and the tons of exhaustion that lie behind his eyes. He's not left the room in the eight hours since I got here and I know he was in there when I was at the scene four hours before that.
"Detective, I hope to God your not going to ask to speak to him." He says shaking his head.
"No." I swallow the bile at the though of entering that room again. "But has ...he, I don't know maybe said anything to you? Did he see who started the fire?"
The doctor just looks at me again. Ever so slowly he shakes his head.
"Detective do you have any idea just how badly that question bothers me? That man in there is burned over ninety seven percent of his body! Mostly third degree. We already amputated both arms and legs. They were little more than cooked meat. Speak? His lungs are charred, his throat is burned, and his tongue is ...I've never seen anything like it. I've been a burn specialist since my residency. I have never seen anyone burned this badly and still be alive. He is fighting with a fury that is unholy... to live. What's driving him I don't know, but any lesser man would have given up hours ago."
I look down at his nametag; it helps me cover my embarrassment. I sigh and look up.
"Okay Dr. Phillips. So in your opinion he will never speak again? I'm only asking because I have to tell my captain something."
He gives me a slow nod of understanding.
"Okay... sorry if I jumped down your throat." He takes a deep breath then shakes his head. " No he will never speak again. Hell if he makes it through the next hour it will truly surprise the hell out of me."
From inside the room comes the most bloodcurdling sounds I've ever heard in my life. I flinch back from the door.
"What's happening?" I ask in horror.
"My assistance are giving him a bath. To wash away the burned skin." Even he doctor flinches at the sound. "They have to scrub the skin to make it..."
"Enough!" I step back and shiver.
He looks at me and that look of pity is back. He sighs.
"Tell your captain this man didn't survive the fire. His body just hasn't told his brain that yet."
The screams die down into soft moans of pain.
"Can't you give him something for the pain?" I ask my heart curdling in pity for the man in the next room.
The doctor takes off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose
"If I gave you as much morphine as I have in him at the moment your heart would stop." He looks up when a woman comes out with a clip board chart. "Now if you'll excuse me Detective."
"Of course. Thank you for your time, Dr. Phillips"