“You are not getting away from me a second time.” Kal tightened his hold on her and a rough edge entered his voice, a tone that was very familiar to Loriel.
Ah, now this is something I can deal with. She closed her eyes and relaxed.
“Good girl.” Kal kissed her again, harder and more urgently, pushing his body against hers.
As his hands wandered, Loriel felt a familiar heat stealing over her, clouding her vision. She kissed him back and he gasped as her growing fangs raked his lower lip. The blood pouring into her mouth strengthened her.
“What in Hel’s name?” he stumbled back, blood trickle from his mouth, running over his hands as he tried to stanch the flow.
Loriel removed the bundle from her back.
“We don’t have time for this!”this time the voice from the bundle was loud enough for Kal to hear.
He frowned. “What’s going on?”
Loriel stepped back towards him and dropped her cloak. “Lady Hel will have nothing to do with me, Kal, dahling.” She licked a dribble of blood from her lower lip.
He stared at her. “Who are you?” His body reacted predictably to the skimpy, leather battle harness and mythril scale tunic that strained over her buxom figure to end above thigh high heeled boots.
“Tut, tut. So many questions.” Loriel looked at him and crooked a finger. “Come here, Kal.”
He struggled against the spell she wove, the blood magic reaching out to surround him in impenetrable force.
“You want to know who I am?” Loriel smiled, her fangs white against the vivid red of her tongue. “I am the Lych Mistress, ruler of The Black Forest.” She wound in her spell, pulling the suddenly unwilling man toward her, his feet leaving furrows in the leaf mold.
“What are you going to do?” Kal’s voice rose into a terrified squeal.
“You started this with a kiss.” She said, holding him still in front of her. “So allow me to finish it with one.”
The nails on her left hand grew and she slid them up his body, slicing the wool tunic away to reveal a honed body. Her smile broadened and she stepped in, digging her nails into his chest and twisting her hand.
He screamed and she stopped it with a soft kiss. “Not much longer, Dahling Kal. You have something I need.”
She threw the circle of bone and flesh to one side and plunged her hand into the chest cavity. Simultaneously, Loriel kissed him, ripping his heart from the hole and drawing his spirit through her fangs as it rose from him.
CHAPTER 44
Softly I Step
By Adam Sifre
Something is wrong.
His snoring is loud and deep and she knows that he’s dead to the world when he gets like this. Still, she’s careful not to make any noise. Tonight is not a night for mistakes.
The house is pitch dark. He never allows any lights to remain on when they’re ready for bed. Not even the outside porch light. Otherwise he can’t sleep. As it is, he’s up every morning with the first blush of dawn. Then down to the cellar. He’s always down there by the time she wakes up, and he’s always back up before the coffee’s done brewing.
“It’s just my man cave,” he jokes. “I like to go on the computer, do a little writing. There’s no real mystery to it.” A peck on the cheek, a quick goodbye.
But it’s locked. Always. And when he leaves, he takes the key with him.
He thinks she doesn’t know this, but she’s seen him do it before. Then she’s all alone – alone with her thoughts and a locked cellar.
Now tonight. His trousers over the chair, the shower running, and the soft sound of a key hitting the carpet. Hardly thinking, she scoops it up. She clutches it now, her hand a little moist. Even in the dark, she knows there's an imprint on her palm. For a second, she’s afraid it will be there in the morning like a scarlet letter, and he’ll see.
Ridiculous.
Still, she forces her hand open. She waits, making certain the man she loves is not waking up.
Something is wrong.
She turns on her Blackberry phone, the modern flashlight, careful to point it away from him, and quietly makes her way past the bed, past him, and out into the hall. Holding the phone and key in front of her, like two bizarre talismans, she makes her way down the stairs.
She thinks about the flyers. On the telephone poles, in the library.
Now why would I think about that?
Even now, downstairs in the kitchen, she doesn’t turn on any lights.
Why take chances?
She pauses and listens. But if he’s snoring, she can’t hear it. Almost, she turns to head back to the bottom of the stairs to confirm that he’s still sleeping.
Almost.
But I won’t come back. I’ll lose my nerve and sneak back in bed and then everything will be back to the way it was.
The key slips in and the door opens on well oiled hinges.
CHAPTER 45
One Last Look
By Diane Dickson
The dark was viscous, she believed her eyes were open but blinked them to make sure. “This flashlight is a good one.” Simon had told her. Huge and heavy and now in her hand about as much use as a chocolate teapot.
She tried to visualize the last thing she had seen. Okay, she had entered the cave and walked down the well worn slope. On her left had been the little scene that delighted the children every day. The Fairy Grotto, usually lit with blue and pink lights and with the hint of magic about it.
Next there was the first cavern with enormous stalactites and the reflecting pool. She had passed that about ten minutes since. Then there was the wishing well and – no wait before the wishing well there was the Witches’ Fireplace with the deep bowl worn to mirror smoothness by the constantly dripping water. Then it was the reflecting pool. She had turned left at the Devil’s Cauldron, left for sure. Had she? Was it left or right at the Devils Cauldron.
Concentrate, Witches Fireplace, Devil’s Cauldron left, then down the slope to Hell’s Deep. That was when the bulb in the torch had blown. So, right all she had to do was go up the Hell’s Deep slope and then right at the Devil’s Cauldron. Oh God, if only there was a hint of light somewhere just the merest gleam.
She turned round, had she turned all the way round, she turned back. Now she didn’t know whether she had turned all the way back. Why, why had she come in on her own, why, why hadn’t she told anyone she was coming.
Okay, now she was facing towards the Devil’s Cauldron, or was that away from the Cauldron. Her heart started to thud and race. Her hands holding the flashlight were slimy now with sweat. Keep calm, she knew she had to keep calm. She had walked this route every day all the way through the season. All those tourists and she had told them over and over, “Don’t stray from the main group. It’s safe but stay close.”
Okay, left at the Devil’s Cauldron with that steep drop into the bottomless pool. She had warned the children, “Don’t go near the edge that pool is ice cold and no-one knows exactly how deep it is.
Why had she done this? and on the last day of the season. One last look she had thought, just one last look.
CHAPTER 46
True Love
By Mark R. Faulkner
Unprepared for the smell, Nigel retched as he prised the lid from the box. Still, she was worth it. With a tear of joy he looked upon his one true love.
Staring back at him from a withered, purple face were two pools of black ooze, a far cry from the glimmering blue orbs which had once adorned those sockets. Her once full lips were almost vanished and teeth protruded from the ragged hole of her mouth. A yellow and black beetle lazily made its way from a tattered nostril, pausing for a moment as if startled before scuttling along her neck and disappearing in the space between tattered fabric and blackened bosom.
He contemplated how she’d used to look and shrugged. It didn’t matter, she would always be beautiful in his eyes. After too many months separated, they were together again.
/> Reaching down, he tenderly brushed his fingers across her face before taking her hand in his. After a short while of crouching motionless, he looked up at the moon, now visible above the top of the hole. “Best get you home,” he whispered.
He put his arm around her back to lift her but his hand disappeared into thick, stinking slime. Eventually, after feeling around for a while his fingers touched upon a rib and he grasped it hard. Pulling with all his might he heaved her from the coffin. She peeled from the wood with a squelch before Nigel raised the body above his head like a power-lifter and unceremoniously heaved it onto the grass.
Extracting himself from the hole proved to be more of a challenge. The steep, slippery sides of the grave twice caused Nigel to slip back into the coffin with a thud. A worm made its way through a crack in the wood.
Eventually though he was sitting next to her in the open air, catching his breath before hauling her to the car.
After buckling her into the passenger seat, he drove slowly from the cemetery but the speed-bump still caused Julie’s head to flop to one side. An ear fell down the side of the handbrake.
Parked outside his front door Nigel hoisted the body over his shoulder in one movement and as he did, thick black ichor spilled from her mouth and anus, soaking through the thin fabric of his tee-shirt and onto his skin.
Back in the warmth of Nigel’s living room, he gazed at her and reminisced about how they used to make love.
CHAPTER 47
Still Time
By Quenntis Ashby
Holy moly! Will you look at that!”
What?
“On your back! Jeeyasus Keerist, I’ve never seen so much fly-shit on a woman’s back.”
They’re called beauty spots, moron. Beauty. Spots. Make. Women. More. Beautiful.
“They’re everywhere! Hey, this one’s moving...”
Beauty spots can’t move, idiot. That’s just me flexing a back muscle.
“You got mussel back here, too? I don’t see...”
Sigh.
“Hey, this one’s talking to his little hairy friend. And these two are growing fatter. I think they ate a small one.”
Grunt. Have you never seen moles before, dummy?
“Sure, I’ve seen a few in my lifetime, honey. But you take the whole chocolate cake on this collection. How long you been collecting?”
Excuse me?
“Well, I heard moles’re like pets. You can buy them at Beauty Salons or steal them if you’re really desperate. Some plastic surgeons even surgically implant them under the skin until some sunlight activates them and they pop up when you least expect it.”
Oh shit. You’re kidding me? Let’s move into the shade.
“Nope.”
I just had a liposuction treatment last week. I went to Korea. Much cheaper.
“I think I this one is talking Japanese.”
KUM-SAH-HAM-NI-DAH!
“Nope, sounds like Chinese.”
What?
KAR-MA-KRAY-ZEE!
“I think there’s still time to get them removed. I know a guy who has a friend whose sister is a skin doctor.”
Help. My back feels really itchy now. Can you scratch it?
“I’m not surprised. These little buggers are really going crazy. Some kind of mole war I think. Your beauty spots are looking decidedly ugly at the moment. It’s gonna get bloody soon.”
Arrrrgh! It hurts!
DOG-MAH-TRIX...
Get them off me!
“Wait, there’s still time. I’ll call the hospital once the show’s over. I’m recording this to make a Halloween You Tube Video. This is so wicked. I wish you could see this, honey.”
Ugh. Uh. Uh. I can’t breathe. My back’s on fire. Get some ice! Quick!
“Later, honey, we’re gonna be so rich. The attack of the beauty spots! Whaddaya think?”
HI-YAAAAH-HA-HO-HA-YEOW-ZAP!
Fuck!
“Honey! Holy shit! The big black ones won! They’re eating up all the little ones. Hey, they gobbled a freckle, too. Honey? Stop bleeding and wake up, this is so cool!”
KUM-SAH-HAM-NI-DAH-HAH-NEE?
“Yes, that’s my honey there, little black beauty spot. Here, you wanna climb up on my arm? Oh, you’re so warm and fuzzy, like a newborn puppy.”
KAR-MA-KRAY-ZEE-HAH-NEE!
“Ouch! No biting now! Stop that! There’s still time to be friends... Arrrrgh!”
STILL-TIE-MAH?
“Holy Mother!”
CHAPTER 48
Pain
By Lilian Kendrick
Fear can make people do all sorts of things that are out of character. It’s a much stronger emotion than love or hate. When I loved you, I would do almost anything to please you and you took advantage of that. You humiliated me and hurt me, emotionally and physically, if I didn’t submit to your will. Part of me wanted to resist, but mostly I wanted to make you happy and bask in the warmth of your smile. Your demands became more and more unreasonable. The marks on my arms and back became harder to hide, and my heart started to grow colder.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t expect me to do this.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t dream of refusing. You’re a snivelling, selfish bitch.”
The beating was vicious; the pain almost intolerable and the damage to my love terminal. I hated you with as much passion as I had once adored you.
With time, the bruises healed; the broken spirit did not. I continued to submit; there was no other choice. I had nowhere to go and no-one to help me. My hatred grew stronger. I would no longer let you see my tears. I allowed you to inflict the pain, but you could draw no pleasure from it when there was no reaction to feed your need. I stopped trying reason with you or answer back. I stopped saying anything at all to you. I carried out your instructions and became a zombie, an automaton controlled by you, but incapable of emotion or response, and you lost interest and left me alone for a while.
For a few weeks, I came to know peace. I bathed again and began to feel human once more. The silence in the house was unnatural as we skirted around each other, without touching or speaking. You still locked me in the bedroom when you left the house, ensuring that I would still be there when you came back.
Today, you brought someone back with you. I heard the click of her heels on the path as she got out of the car, and the sound of laughter and the tinkling of ice cubes from the living room. I thought about shouting a warning, or begging her to help, but I know you so well. If I make a sound, you’ll kill us both, but if I’m quiet, you might let this one live when you’ve had your way. I pray that I am right.
CHAPTER 49
Billy And The Afternoon Visitor
By WiSpY
The afternoon sunlight had found the chink in the blackout blinds on the window and cut into Billy Savoy’s brain like a dentist’s drill on raw pulp. Something, somewhere, had caused him to wake him up, when he was too hung over to live. There was a nearly imperceptible snick as his hotel room door opened.
With a speed and grace that belied his considerable girth, Billy was off the bed and in a shooter’s crouch before his brain rightly had a chance to protest. Billy had a problem.
He wasn’t armed.
A man entered the room, closing the door in a single oily movement like butter on a hot skillet. He turned to face Billy, his eyes taking in the vomit-stained sheets; Billy crouched like a commando on the other side of the bed, his empty hands held uselessly in front of him.
“I ain’t got no gun.” Billy said.
The man smiled.
“You with the service?”
The man said nothing, but moved towards Billy like he was walking on glass. Billy head was swimming and his stomach lurched as he tried to stagger to his feet. He fell back to his hands and knees.
“They sent you didn’t they? Goddamn it!” He rocked back onto his haunches; his eyes now tightly screwed shut, his mouth working noiselessly. The
man had stopped in front of him, and was rolling up his left sleeve.
Slowly, Billy opened his right eye. His blurred vision registered the man standing above him, his hands by his sides.
He opened his left eye. There was something he needed to see. It was there, just above his left elbow. The bastard had rolled up his sleeve so that he could see. So he could know.
“I see it, you fucking prick. I won’t become one of you, if that’s why you’re here.”
A grin twisted the corner of the man’s mouth. It widened to show a set of yellowed dog-like teeth. “Why would we want you?”
The words came with a sweeping strike at Savoy’s head by the man’s right hand. Savoy toppled to his right, thudding to the carpeted floor; his head slashed nearly completely from his neck, sightless eyes stared at the spattered ceiling as his body emptied blood onto the cheap carpet.
The ‘do not disturb’ sign the man hung on the door as he left twenty seconds later would ensure that his work remained a secret until the bill would come due; long after he was gone.
CHAPTER 50
Midnight Snack
By Lilian Kendrick
Halfway across the room, the rodent sensed danger and stopped moving. He crouched, concentrating on the silence, ready to pounce or flee, but all was silent as his eyes darted about seeking the cause of his sudden unease. He waited and then resumed his journey towards the cot where the two-year-old lay sleeping. He could smell the milk, dripping from the discarded feeding bottle onto the linoleum. His nightly treat was almost within his reach. The child always left some milk. When she grew tired of the bottle, she would push it aside. Tonight the teat was poking between the bars of the cot. He started lapped at the puddle. He was grateful to the child. The sense of danger returned and he looked up from his supper to meet the little girl’s curious gaze. She was peering down at him.