Our Lady Chaos, page 7
part #5 of Bloodletter Series
“Wake up, Mason. Haven’t you seen tits before?” he asked in a wry tone.
The situation would’ve embarrassed most human males, but not Mason. He shook his head as if it hadn’t been a rhetorical question. “Not silver ones. Not perfect ones. Not like hers.”
LaBouche flashed his alligator smile at Nicole, who had turned to glare at Harper.
“No offense,” Mason said. “I think you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Perfect.” He grinned at her in dazed amazement.
Nicole turned her gaze back to LaBouche, then rolled her eyes. “I eat your kind, human.”
“So do I. I’m an artist. I’d love to show you my work, but…” Mason’s face fell.
“Mason is our guest until the authorities grow distracted,” said LaBouche.
“They will take my whole collection. They’ll ruin it.”
“No doubt,” said Nicole.
Mason dropped his gaze to the floor.
“But you must start anew,” she purred, and Mason lifted his head and smiled at Nicole. “Perhaps I will help you.”
“That would be…” He floundered for a word, eyes zipping from place to place in the small living room. “That would be awesome!”
Nicole turned a lopsided grin at LaBouche. “But before we even consider that, we must do as LaBouche asks. We must find these ‘hunters.’ The men and women from your house on the lake. We should work…closely…with one another.”
“Yes, we should,” he said, his excitement plain in his voice. “I’m real good at finding people. I used to do it for Chaz all the time.”
“And, as I understand it, you’ve already tracked the ringleader once. Drew Reid also known as Toby Burton.” LaBouche tilted his head back and stared down at the man. “For Chaz.”
“Yes, but Chaz put too many constraints on that search. He said to look in Rochester only, but they weren’t there.”
“Obviously.”
“They were on their way to Genosgwa by then.”
“Yes,” said Lee. “How will you find them?”
“We can start with a few Internet searches. It won’t be easy, but with perseverance comes success.” He paused and glanced down at his shoes. “Red taught me that.”
LaBouche jerked his head toward Mason, his gaze locked on Nicole’s.
“And what shall I teach you?” she asked in a voice silkier than the night sky.
Mason shivered.
11
“You’re kidding,” said Scott, looking down at his brand-new Pennsylvania driver’s license.
“Why? What’s yours?” asked Mike, his smile stretched wide. “Mine is Richard Michaels.”
“Louis Scott.” He grimaced. “Very creative.”
Benny came to the table. “I want to see what you came up with for me. I can’t imagine anyone would believe Cartwright Benjamin would be real.”
Toby shook his head and handed it over.
Benny laughed and tapped the card against his palm. “That’s a good one. Say, you know I can’t drive, right?”
Smiling, Toby said, “You may have mentioned it.”
“So what is it, Benny?” asked Mike.
“Tobias Benjamin. At your service.” Benny made a slight bow.
“And yours, Shan?”
She blushed and dropped her gaze. “Bertie.”
“Bertie what?” asked Mike, grinning like a little kid.
“Bertie Benjamin,” she murmured.
“You married us?” Benny asked.
Toby chuckled. “Why not? You already act married. I just thought it would be more believable that way.”
“And me?” asked Greg from where he stood behind them.
“I didn’t know much about you, so I had to ask Benny,” said Toby, holding out a driver’s license. “We named you after your grandfather and your dad. Joe Stephens.”
Greg nodded and took the card, staring down at it.
“What’s your new name, Toby?” asked Shannon.
“No new name for me. I own this house, remember? But here in Erie, I go by Ben Withers.”
“Oh,” she said. “Now that we’re new people and all, what do we do?”
“Greg, Mike, and I talked that over yesterday. Greg has a great idea, and we should run with it.” He pulled out a stack of photocopies and passed them out to each of his friends. “We will all be principles in a new non-profit organization called SEMPRe. Greg and Mike will—”
“SEMPRe?” asked Benny.
“Society for Extrasensory, Metaphysical, and Paranormal Research. Each of us will hold an executive position or board seat—that’ll just help with the IRS. It will justify your incomes. In addition, though—”
“Incomes?” asked Scott, a sour expression on his face.
“Yes. I have plenty of money—more than I could ever spend. I’ve amassed it over the years against a time when I might have to run. I’m sharing it with you. I had my lawyer set up two blind trusts to funnel the money into SEMPRe, and you will all get paychecks. Nice and legal.”
“Except it all comes from hacking.”
Toby shrugged. “Not all of it. I stole some money from the demons I killed.”
Scott closed his eyes and clicked his tongue.
“Anyway. Greg says we need a software company, too. To build the infrastructure for SEMPRe. It’s—”
“Infrastructure?” asked Shannon.
Toby sighed and shook his head. “I’d be able to describe this faster if you guys would stop interrupting me to ask me questions about what I’m going to explain in the next sentence.”
Shannon rolled her eyes but made a shooing gesture at Toby.
“SEMPRe will have a private layer. On the top, a bunch of crackpots, but members of the secret society outside the public view will work on sifting the Internet and old histories, trying to discern the truth from the lies in the records of supernatural activity around here.”
“And so, we need an infrastructure to support that,” said Greg. “We don’t want to rely on public investigations. The people in Oneka Falls could track that.”
“We’ll build something to allow private inquiries?”
“Yeah, think of it as an Internet below the Internet. Plus, the job requires huge databases and user interfaces for those—”
“Okay, so we require a software company,” said Scott. “Besides Greg, who actually works in the field, the rest of us just hang around all day doing nothing?”
Toby shook his head. “No. I bet SEMPRe will have something that will interest you.”
“Doing what?”
Mike smiled at Toby and the two shared a laugh. “Investigating things.”
“Oh,” said Scott. “Well, okay, then.”
12
“I’m glad to hear from you again, Brigitta,” said Chris Stanton.
“Yes, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
“Twenty years.” His voice shook with strong emotion. His eyes ravaged her body. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Brigitta smiled. “Of course I have, silly.”
“You haven’t aged.” He glanced down at his middle-aged body, at the paunch bought by too many meals on the run, too little exercise, and he shook his head.
“Chris,” she purred. “I need a favor.”
“If it’s about the foundation’s accounts, I can assure you—”
“No, it’s not about that.”
“What kind of favor?”
“I’m looking for a friend. We’ve lost touch.”
“I’m not sure how I can help with that, Brigitta. I’m just an investment banker, not a private investigator.”
“But that’s what I need. My friend was an avid investor.”
“I see.”
“I need someone who understands this financial stuff. Someone who can trace the money.”
“Trace the money,” Chris repeated.
“Yes. My friend… Is this conversation being recorded?”
“Uh, let me call you back from my mobile phone. Is this number good?”
“For the next twenty minutes, yes,” said Brigitta.
“Will I…” Chris’s voice broke.
“It can’t be that way again, Chris. Not while you are seeing my aunt.”
“Abby is your aunt? I never—”
“Call me on your cell phone, Chris.”
“Brigitta, I’ve never understood why you…” He trailed off as he realized the line was dead. With trembling hands, he grabbed his cellphone and jogged to the elevators. He had a feeling the conversation he was about to have was not one he should have in the office—not even on his private mobile phone.
Chapter 3
1976
1
February 1976
The monster stood in front of the remains of a teenaged girl and leered at Sean. The massive thing looked similar to a cross between a banana and a giant monkey but had the mouth of a great white. His smile stretched and stretched and stretched until Sean thought the monstrous head would split in half and topple off the beast’s neck.
Sean wanted to scream, to cry out, to raise the alarm. Oneka Falls had its very own monster lurking among the inhabitants, feeding on the residents. He leaned to the side, attempting to catch a glimpse of the girl’s face past the big yellow monster’s girth, but all he saw was blonde hair.
The thing hissed at him, drawing his attention. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, Sean,” the yellow fiend said. He held up one thick, claw-tipped finger and shook it at Sean. “You shouldn’t meddle in my business.”
Sean wanted to answer, but all the moisture had drained out of his throat. He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, couldn’t even make clicking noises. He stared into the thing’s alligator eyes, as if mesmerized, his arms going limp, his shoulders slumping. That voice…it’s so familiar, Sean thought but couldn’t place it.
The yellow miscreation stretched a long, ape-like arm behind him, and when he pulled his fist back to the front, a bursting, sucking sound accompanied the movement. He gripped one of the girl’s forearms in his massive fist as if he held nothing more awful than the drumstick from a Thanksgiving turkey.
Sean sucked in a breath to scream, his eyes watering at the pain caused by ripping his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He half-turned away from the appalling spectacle.
“No, son,” said the beast. “No screaming, no carrying-on. I’ll not have it.”
That voice reminds me of… Sean bit down on the thought, not wanting to complete it. Not wishing to face what his mind wanted him to show him. He rocked his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea, kid. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” The monster chuckled—the harsh, basso sound of a lugging lawnmower engine. “Not yet, at least.”
Sean awoke with his heart pounding and his sheets soaked in sweat. He felt enervated, drained of his will, and sad for reasons he didn’t understand. Not one bit.
The voice of the monster… It belonged to Karl Munnur.
The front door opened, followed by the storm door, and then both snicked shut. Steeling himself against the chill, Sean threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. He almost gasped at the shock of his bare feet hitting the ice-cold oak floor. Almost.
Karl must’ve decided to go home rather than stay and sneak out in the early morning. It amused and disgusted Sean in equal parts that his mother and Karl thought he was so easy to fool.
He tipped-toed to the window and peered out from behind the curtains. Karl stood naked in the drive next to his big green Impala, looking up at the midnight sky. His head swiveled toward Sean’s window.
With an almost physical shock, Karl met Sean’s gaze, despite the fact that he’d only twitched the drape aside to peek out, despite the fact that he stood in near-perfect darkness. Sean sucked in a breath. He didn’t dare let the curtain fall back into place, but something in Karl’s demeanor frightened him.
No way he can see me, Sean thought.
In the driveway, Karl’s face distended with a lopsided smile that seemed grotesque. He lifted one of his big hands and extended his index finger. He shook it at Sean in the same manner the monster in his dream had.
Sean couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out.
Karl winked at him and opened the door of his Impala. He got in and started the car.
It wasn’t until after he left that Sean’s ability to draw breath returned. It wasn’t until after Karl left that Sean realized he hadn’t taken his clothes, his shoes…as though Karl had tried to mimic the monster in his dream… How did he know what I dreamed, Sean wondered and shivered, but only partially from the cold.
2
March 1976
Eddie didn’t see the scary woman again for what seemed a long time to him, but when he did, it scared him more than ever. He had dreamed of her multiple times, but dreams didn’t count. They were just dreams after all.
His mother and father had fought more and more regularly between December and February. On Spring Break from Cottonwood Vale Elementary, the arguing and shouting grew particularly bad, and Eddie couldn’t decide what to do. He tried to make them laugh, but more often than not he succeeded only in making them angrier.
“Eddie!” his father shouted. “Eddie, get your butt down here, now!”
Eddie got up at once and ran to the kitchen but stopped at the top of the cellar steps. “Yes, Daddy?”
“I said down here, Eddie.”
Eddie hated going in the basement, and his dad knew it. Something about the musty-smelling room spooked Eddie in ways only his nightmares, and the image of the scary lady’s face could. “Daddy…”
“Don’t make me come up there, Eddie.” Ted’s voice slid up from the cellar like an angry serpent’s hiss.
Eddie stepped down to the first tread, and his dread stepped up a notch.
“Ted! You know it scares him down there!” shouted his mother from the living room. “Why do you want him down there in the dark and dust?”
In the basement below him, Eddie’s father growled something under his breath. Eddie thought he had said the F-word. “Kathy, you keep out of this!” his father boomed.
Kathy got up and walked into the kitchen, her hands already resting on her hips. “No, Ted. I will not stay out of this. What are you doing down there, anyway?”
“Do I have to clear every tiny thing I do? I don’t think so, Kathy. I wear the pants in this family, no matter what your Libber friends in the Garden Club have to say about things.”
Eddie put his back to the wall and stood on the top step. Though a tight little smile formed on his mother’s lips, she rolled her eyes up at the ceiling.
“Come on, Eddie. If your father wants to do something in the basement, more power to him, but you don’t have to go down there.”
“Goddammit, Kathy! Don’t you countermand me! I said get down here, Eddie, and you better believe that’s what I meant!”
Eddie didn’t know what to do. He wanted to obey his mother more than anything, to stay out of the basement, and to avoid his father’s anger, but disobeying his father would not make things better. He lifted a pleading gaze at his mom and held out his hands as if asking for a hug.
“Don’t you ignore me, Ted!”
“And don’t you butt into my business, Kathy!”
His dad came into the splash of light at bottom of the basement stairs and glared up at Eddie. Why are the lights off down there? What can he be doing in the dark?
“I’m going to count to three, Eddie, and if you’re not down here at the bottom of the steps by the time I say three…” The threat in his dad’s voice was clear. Eddie’s stomach fell, and he turned and descended a few steps.
“Eddie, come back up here to Mommy. Your dad’s just being a grouchy-bear, and as long as he is, he can stay down there in the basement. In the dark.” She said the last sentence words as though it tasted bad and she needed to spit them out. She held out a hand to Eddie and smiled at him.
He glanced down to the bottom of the steps. His father’s face had gone a deep crimson, and his lip was curled, but he wasn’t looking at Eddie, he was glowering past him at Kathy.
“Come on, Eddie,” said his mother. “I won’t allow your father to punish you.”
With another glance at his father, Eddie turned and obeyed his mom. At the bottom of the steps below him, his dad made a strangled, angry sound, but that only inspired Eddie to move faster. Something moved, off in the shadows of the basement, and Eddie’s mind supplied the image of the scary lady, leering up at him from the darkened room.
At the top of the stairs, his mother rested her hand on his head and smiled at him. When she shifted her glance down the steps, though, an ugly expression transformed her face from a thing of beauty into a thing of terror.
Eddie hated it. He detested the atmosphere that had blossomed within his family over the course of the last few months. His father had always been volatile, quick to anger, but his mom had always been able to soothe him.
Not anymore.
What was worse, though, was that his mother no longer seemed capable of calming herself. It was as if she no longer wanted things calm.
“Run along and play, Eddie,” she said. “Your father and I need a moment to discuss things.”
“Goddamn right!” his father snapped.
He went into the living room and sat on the edge of one of the overstuffed chairs. His gaze fell to his hands in his lap—they were trying to strangle each other again.
“I won’t have it, Kathy! I’m through coddling the boy because of you! It’s time he started to grow up!”
“Keep your voice down, Ted,” his mother snapped. “He’s just in the other room.”
“Think I don’t know that?” His father thudded up two steps. “You think I don’t get what you’re doing here?” His father’s tone had gone ugly and grated with suppressed violence. Until that point, they had limited themselves to hurling insults and slamming doors, and as awful as it had been, it was nothing compared to what his father’s tone promised. “Do you think I don’t see you’re trying to turn little Eddie against me?”
