Succubi Part 34

"Yes," Ann replied.

"And haven't most of the dreams occurred around then?"

Ann's terror-drained face tightened in reflection. "Yes," she repeated. "Almost every time, I'd wake up, and the clock read 4:12."

"That's why. The dreams were really portents."

They stepped over Duke's body and made for the kitchen. "Same plan," Erik informed her. "We'll go out the back. I'll take you to the van, then I'll go look for your daughter. She'll be at the cirice-the church-now. Getting her out shouldn't be too risky. Most of the wifhands won't be there."

"Why?"

"They're looking for you, and so are the wreccans. Giving them the slip is the hard part. The rest'll be easy."

Ann didn't look convinced.

Erik stopped at the kitchen entrance.

"What?" Ann asked. "Let's get out of-"

Bullets, Erik thought. None of it would be easy if he didn't arm himself more effectively. He only had one round left for the shotgun. Erik thought. None of it would be easy if he didn't arm himself more effectively. He only had one round left for the shotgun.

Duke's revolver, he reminded himself. he reminded himself.

"Wait here. I'll need Duke's gun too." He went back to the dim foyer and peered down. The giant revolver still lay in Duke's grubby, squab hand. Erik knelt, fished around in his adversary's jacket for bullets, the- Holy sh- What he noticed in that fraction of a second was all that his destiny would ever amount to. Duke's plaid flannel s.h.i.+rt lay in tatters, but there was no blood. Through the holes he could see smudged, pocked white and several b.a.l.l.s of buckshot that clearly had not penetrated Duke's torso.

Bulletproof v- In one split-second motion, Duke's left hand grabbed the shotgun barrel, and his right hand snapped forward. Erik froze.

The revolver was aimed directly at his face Duke leaned up, grinning proudly as ever. "Fooled you again, huh, fairy?" he remarked.

Ann stood in the entry, letting the pulse of her thoughts slow down in time with her heart. The sweat of her fear sucked her clothes to her skin. Then the thought replayed: Kin sacrifice. Melanie must murder me before she can become the demon...

Time seemed to congeal before her face; all motion, even the world's, seemed to freeze. Ann sensed something but didn't know what. She stepped down the short hall to the foyer. Erik Tharp knelt at the body, rummaging for bullets. Suddenly, he seemed poised, his joints locked up. Then- -his skull divided into three segments She never even seemed to hear the sound of the shot. She felt concussion, and heat, then Tharp's head simply burst. burst. Wet hanks of brain slapped her in the chest. It all happened so fast she couldn't even react. Tharp's body collapsed before a fine gray cloud of smoke... Wet hanks of brain slapped her in the chest. It all happened so fast she couldn't even react. Tharp's body collapsed before a fine gray cloud of smoke...

And through that smoke, the figure rose: Duke Belluxi grinning behind the giant revolver pointed at Ann's face.

Chapter 33.

"So you're the one," the madman observed. The end of the gun barrel looked big enough to admit a thumb. "You're the one he came back for."

Ann stood taprooted in her terror. The chunks of Tharp's brains fell off her blouse, leaving glistening stains. A piece of scalp, tufted with white hair, stuck to her forearm. Duke's hair was the same strange color. He took a step forward, his grinning face broad as a carved pumpkin. Behind the closely set eyes, Ann saw sheer, raging madness.

"The c.o.c.ksucking little fairy set me up," Duke informed her. Old bloodstains streaked his pants. "He used me to help him bust out, thought he was smarter than me." He veered the mad grin down and laughed. "How smart are you now, f.u.c.ker?"

Ann's mind swam. If she tried to run, he would kill her. But somehow she also knew that if she didn't run-if she tried to placate him, bargain with him-he'd also kill her. She could see that fact. She could see it in his eyes.

"Tharp kept talking about destiny, like he was put on earth to do something special. He wasn't s.h.i.+t. But me, I got a real destiny. Know what it is?"

Ann couldn't reply, couldn't even move.

Duke was all over her at once, wielding his ma.s.sive body with a nearly eloquent finesse. Ann screamed as he dragged her to the floor by a handful of hair. As his weight sidled onto her, so did the meaty, fetid stench of him. He straddled her chest; she could only squirm within herself. His mad eyes focused down. Chuckling, he tore open her blouse, snapped off her bra. Then the chuckle shrank into a demented stare. Ann gagged when he drooled into her mouth. His breath grew short as he traced her nipples with the revolver.

"You're gonna be my best nut yet," he promised her. "Oh, yeah, you sure as s.h.i.+t are. I can tell just by lookin' at ya."

He opened his trousers and withdrew himself. Suddenly, his stench stupefied her. Dried blood matted his pubic hair.

Then he plugged the revolver into her navel.

"That f.a.ggot Tharp, he used to blow me for quarters. Always makin' phone calls. He was calling you, wasn't he?"

Look at the moon tonight. Ann remembered the words. She nodded tensely. Ann remembered the words. She nodded tensely.

"Why?" Duke Belluxi asked, and pinched a nipple.

Doefolmon, she thought. she thought. Fulluht-Loc. Fulluht-Loc.

Duke laughed. "Doesn't matter none to me. Now, don't take this personal, honeybunch, but it's best if you're dyin' slow while I'm boppin' ya. Gives me a better nut-know what I mean?"

Ann tremored in her paresis. Duke c.o.c.ked the big, clunky revolver, growing erect in time with his pulse. Through the front bay window, the moon s.h.i.+mmered pinkly.

Ann prepared to die. She closed her eyes Then the awful weight was gone.

Ann turned where she lay, looking ahead. Duke Belluxi was being dragged across the carpet by...something. Ann caught glimpses of faces, flesh. Duke thrashed as he was pinned to the floor by quick, s.n.a.t.c.hing hands. Abruptly, he was screaming in hoa.r.s.e bursts. What's happening? What's happening? Ann dumbly wondered. She felt in shock. Duke's heels and palms pummeled the floor, his body arching up. Two fingers sharp as masonry nails sank promptly into his eyes. Two more clawlike hands ripped his trousers off. Ann could only stare frozen at the dreamlike sequence of horror... Ann dumbly wondered. She felt in shock. Duke's heels and palms pummeled the floor, his body arching up. Two fingers sharp as masonry nails sank promptly into his eyes. Two more clawlike hands ripped his trousers off. Ann could only stare frozen at the dreamlike sequence of horror...

Two shapely, concupiscent bodies knelt over Duke with grins like shards of gla.s.s. A long taloned finger raised a skewered eyeball to a needle-toothed mouth. The eyeball was eaten whole, like a grape. Humor was licked off the elegant finger. l.u.s.t-swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s s.h.i.+ned over the atrocity. Ann could only continue to catch glimpses at first. Pale pendants swayed as Duke's body twitched with vigor. The figures persisted in their delighted butchery-Duke's abdomen was laid open, exposing glistening organs. Blood flew like spaghetti and sauce. The closest figure grinned down at Duke's genitals. A mouth like a knifecut in fresh meat opened heinously wide; rows of gla.s.sine teeth sparkled. A moment later, the mouth lowered, gritting down. Duke's p.e.n.i.s and t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es were quickly eaten out of the apex of his groin. A river of blood gushed onto the carpet.

Then the first figure's mouth spread likewise. The top of Duke's skull was bitten off. Orbs of brain glimmered. Duke Belluxi died in flinching convulsions, atop a blanket of his own blood and offal.

Holy Mother of G- The two figures looked at Ann. They seemed amused. Ann's mind crumpled at the impact of recognition. One figure straightened up on her knees, her nipple ends erect as coat pegs; she chortled, smearing Duke Belluxi's blood over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and abdomen like some luxurious lotion. The other figure was sloppily eating gobbets of Duke's brains out of the cranial vault.

Milly. Maedeen, Ann realized. Ann realized. But... But...

It was something she apprehended rather than saw, a recognition that somehow reared beneath beneath the tainted features: p.r.o.nglike taloned hands and feet, elongated heads, bottomless, primeval eyes. the tainted features: p.r.o.nglike taloned hands and feet, elongated heads, bottomless, primeval eyes.

Not women, Ann's thoughts verified. Ann's thoughts verified. Things. Things.

Maedeen rummaged for plump morsels amid Duke's plundered gut, while Milly rather greedily slurped blood and spinal fluid out of the emptied skull. They paused only briefly to grin at Ann.

By now her incomprehension turned her limp. Laughter followed her as she was dragged away suddenly from behind. She was being helped up, urged out the back door into darkness. She was insensible.

"Come on!" a voice bellowed at her. Rough hands shook her at her shoulders. "Snap out of it!"

Ann's eyes roved up, focused on the plump face in moonlight. It was Chief Bard.

"It's tonight, Ann! We've got to get you out of here!"

Her awareness returned in pieces, in slabs. "What..."

"They're succubi, Ann. They're part of a cult that's as old as civilization," Bard told her, dragging her now toward the woods behind the house.

"Then it's all true," Ann muttered. "Everything Tharp said-"

"Yes!"

"They want Melanie to be the physical body of-"

"Come on!" he yelled again.

But the voice stopped them in their tracks. They turned, staring. In the sliding gla.s.s door, Maedeen stood looking after them. She was holding what appeared to be one of Duke Belluxi's lungs. Even at this distance, Ann could see the chaotic features of her transformed face, and the teeth glittering like chisel blades.

"Bring her back, Bard!" croaked the inhuman voice. "You can't get away from us! You can never get away!"

Bard yanked her on through the brambles. The moon followed them like a distended, pink face. "I'm one of their helots," he panted to explain, "but they never fully initiated me because they needed someone on the outside. I'll be G.o.dd.a.m.ned if I'm going to watch any more innocent people die for their devil. It's your mother, Ann-she's the wifmunuc. They've all been waiting for this day for the last-"

Thousand years, Ann finished in thought. Tharp had said the same thinly. But- Ann finished in thought. Tharp had said the same thinly. But- "Melanie," she said "We have to get Melanie."

"Melanie's lost! She's part of the bludcynn now. She's not your daughter anymore, she's hers!" hers!"

Ann pulled against him. "I'm not leaving Melanie!"

"I might be able to get her later," Bard said. "But the most important thing right now is to get you as far away from the cirice as possible. If they don't have you when the moon goes into complete apogee, then the Fulluht-Loc can't take place."

Could he really get Melanie back, or was he just placating her? Ann couldn't think of a way to resist him; he was saving her life, after all. She supposed all she could do was hope and pray.

He'd parked his police cruiser at the end of Senlac Street, in the dark. He was sweating, harried. He rushed her into the pa.s.senger side, jumped in himself, and gunned the engine.

He paused on the s.h.i.+ft. "It's all true, Ann."

"I...I know."

"And I'm sorry."

Ann tilted her head. He'd saved her life. What did he have to be sorry about?

His chubby face turned to her. "I'm very, very sorry."

"But I'm not." rose the voice from the darkness of the backseat.

Ann flailed, screaming. Bard's fat hands grappled at her. He clamped her head in the crook of his elbow. She shrieked at the sharp deep p.r.i.c.k of pain.

"Well done, Chief." Dr. Ashby Heyd's face emerged into the pink fight. "There, fine." He gingerly withdrew the hypodermic needle from her neck. "That's a good girl," he said.

Chapter 34.

Dr. Harold didn't know what he was thinking. He'd stopped only briefly at his house-for his gun. Clinical psychiatrists easily received state gun permits. But what do I need a gun for? But what do I need a gun for? he queried himself. he queried himself.

What did he expect?

The highway seemed to thwart him, its abandonment, its wide, open darkness-or something. His high beams stretched out ahead of the car only to be sucked up by interminable black.

He did not try to calculate the coincidences, and the facts, that had been revealed to him tonight. What am I thinking? What am I thinking? the question returned. It seemed fat, like a dull, protracted headache. the question returned. It seemed fat, like a dull, protracted headache. What do I think I'm going to What do I think I'm going to do? He felt certain that Tharp had already returned to Lockwood, that he was there now. do? He felt certain that Tharp had already returned to Lockwood, that he was there now.

But where does that leave me?

He could call the police, but what would he tell them? That Tharp had gone back to the locale of his crimes to prevent the incarnation of a female demon? They'd be committing me, They'd be committing me, he considered. Besides, the authorities had ignored his and Greene's early recommendations. Why should they listen now? he considered. Besides, the authorities had ignored his and Greene's early recommendations. Why should they listen now?

Maybe I should listen to myself.

The moon seemed to pace him, its odd pink light flittering through lone stands of trees. The light and the constant drone of the tires threatened to lull him at the wheel, or hypnotize him. Yes, he felt thwarted, he felt pus.h.i.+ng upward against some bizarre mental gravity that was bent on repelling him. Paranoia, Paranoia, he dismissed. He felt he was racing against something, but he couldn't imagine what. Time, perhaps, or unprecedented fears. he dismissed. He felt he was racing against something, but he couldn't imagine what. Time, perhaps, or unprecedented fears.

Or impossibilities, he thought. he thought.

The moon was so full now it looked pregnant in its raw light; it looked heavy enough to drag itself out of the sky and fall to earth. Doefolmon, Doefolmon, the strange word came to his head. the strange word came to his head. Moon of the devil. Moon of the devil.

And another word, a name: Ardat-Lil. Ardat-Lil.

He could not erase the image from his memory. It seemed indelible-the sheer beauty wed into the features of sheer repugnance, sheer evil. Most religions were born out of reaction to other religions; their roots were obvious. But the Ur-locs? Pre- Christian? Even pre-Druidic? pre-Druidic? What What bizarre sociology could've created such an idea? bizarre sociology could've created such an idea?

Dr. Harold did not attempt to contemplate an answer.

He felt sick in increments, waning as the car droned on into the inclement dark. The pinkened moonlight on his face felt warm, humid. He could see it still, Tharp's harrowing psych ward sketch transposing into a vision of stunning clarity: the perfect hourgla.s.s physique, the large and perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and then the b.e.s.t.i.a.l three-fingered hands with talons like meat hooks, and- The face, he remembered. he remembered.

-a black, thinly stretched maw full of stalact.i.tic teeth.

How long had he been driving now? It seemed like all night, or a week of nights. Perhaps he'd been driving in circles, his sense of direction perverted by Tharp's perverted imagery.

Perhaps I've died and gone to h.e.l.l, and this is how I am to spend eternity, driving forever in darkness.

Then the big green road sign flashed in the headlights, a beacon to his relief.

LOCKWOOD, 15 MILES.

The moon s.h.i.+mmered beyond the sign, beyond the night.