Posted by AlOmega on March 04, 2001 at 19:43:25:
The click of high heals echoing through the murky shadows of trash and bottles heralded the arrival of a
brunet harlot in search of business. For some reason this night she decided to detoured through a short alley
connecting Main and 1st Street. Just before entering she paused as if common sense warned of possible
dangers lurking with the darkness. She scanned intently but discerned nothing (though her city-dulled senses
would have failed to perceive anything within that darkness). But even possession of a night predator's
senses would not have enabled her to detect the presence of the one called Spider.
The staccato of heels announced to the darkness the resumption of the young woman's walk. Her short skirt
and skimpy cheerleader sweater was a vain attempt to appear younger than twenty. This was not lost on
Spider who watched as each step caused her breasts to dance with a life of their own. Again she paused.
Braided pigtails whipped left and right as she searched the dark. Like a tarantula eager to sink his teeth into
the soft neck of its pretty prey, he waited.
As she neared the middle of the small alley, Spider leaped out of the darkness. The sharp intake of breath
accentuated the muscles of her neck. Like a rabbit she was poised to flee yet his eyes held her transfixed
with promises of joys and riches such as she had never known. She didn't even know when his hands gently
cupped each breast. Only when the night breeze caressed her hardened nipples was she aware of what he
had done. His hands rested on her shoulders as her breasts ceased quivering. Then gently like nylons
exploring the perfect curve of a calf, his hands encircled the long, pale column of her neck. She breathed
faster realizing that there could be risks in this attention (for her profession always had its dangerous
moments even with a pimp). And her suspicion graced her eyes. This was what he had waited for.
His hands tasted the soft contours of her neck from top to the deep hollow at its base. All the while her eyes
opened wider. Her breath came in short quick gasps as her nostrils dilated. But always his eyes held hers.
Then he smiled and her heart leaped in her throat. Promised pleasure turned to fear - then terror. However
even then she couldn't turn away from his gaze let alone scream. She could only tilt her head back as if
drawing away for his teasing fingers. His fingers squeezed gently then released her as if tasting her neck.
Looking at her, he applied pressure in earnest drinking in the terror bulging from her eyes. Deeper his
thumbs dug into her trachea etching lines into the soft soil of her throat seeking even more fear from her.
Wider her brown eyes became as they seemed to burst from their sockets. She silently screamed as her
tongue searched - quested - for liberation from pain.
************************************************************************
Mystique sniffed the ozone-laded air as she walked home from her night job. By her side, the demon called
Toofh (Childe’s story) who was named that because of the one fang visible when his mouth was closed.
Right now he paced beside her in the form of a large black Rottweiler. She was small with short black hair
that the damp air teased from sleekness and turned to a tangle of tight curls. Her hazel eyes could look
either green or yellow according to the way the light hit them. Sometimes they changed with her moods,
dark when angry and almost gold when she laughed pleased with life. But this night, she was neither happy
nor angry. Only tired, thinking about how she’d been long enough in this west-coast city with its roses and
rain and the material minds of its folks with rages too simple to be interesting. Its air too pristine; its
structures built for use, not dreams. Dreams. Ah, yes. She had begun dreaming about the old places.
Thinking it was time to see what time had changed.
The air had a nip of winter at its edges which caused her to pull the silken shawl closer about her body, the
long, red fringe swaying against the sleeves of the black shirt and black trousers she’d stuffed into knee-high
boots. When she walked by the small park, the three White Ladies dancing on the bridge over the creek
beckoned to her. She smiled and waved from a safe distance before walking on. Even for her these three
were dangerous beings. Though their intentions seemed friendly enough, it was impossible to tell how or
where their moods might take them. Better safe than sorry.
They beckoned more urgently and curiosity caught her breath. With Toofh whining uneasily beside her, she
walked to the edge of their summoning field and signed to them - *I am no meat for you this night*
The signs flowed one to the other as if they were merely three aspects of one being. The White Ladies
signed *Maria is no more. Dead. Killed.*
Toofh growled, a rumbling starting deep in his throat. He liked Maria, liked the way she petted him and
scratched between his ears after she’d gotten over being frightened by his size and looks. His ourlines
shimmered as he fought the form Mystique had fashoned for him. Mystique spoke a few words in the Old
Tongue and he sat on his haunches, soft growls rumbling in his throat, his ears tight to his head, his eyes on
the White Ladies.
Maria was an eighteen-year-old runaway, an illegal from a family of illegals; she never talked about her
parents, only her grandmother back in Mexico. Her mother’s mother. The old woman was a witch of
considerable local repute and she’d inherited the gift, though it had totally skipped her mother. Once she’d
discovered the White Ladies, she had begun abandonment of her only job as a hooker to make compact with
them and entice men here for them. She got the money and credit cards. The Ladies go their needs filled.
It was not a bad bargain for either side, given their circumstances, though it was less than good for the men
who followed Maria to this bridge. Some would say it served them right, though, in that if the men had not
been so intent on having sex with an underage teen, they would never have followed her in the first place.
But such is life.
Mystique frowned. *You want me to find you another girl?*
*That’s not it. There are many girls like Maria here. We will call one to us when the time is right. We want
you to find the man called Spider who killed Maria and bring him here. He has robbed us of value and must
pay for what he took.*
*Why should I spend my time for your value?*
*If you will bring us that man, we will allow you three requests. You may ask for the answers anywhere you
find one of us and at any time. If you ask for what we cannot give, you may ask again without losing the
turn.*
*Why give so much for so little?*
*The creature has killed such girls before. We felt the death of a girl of Maria’s kind two moons ago. He
will kill again, perhaps the one we call to us, robbing us yet again of value. We pay a fair price. No more;
no less.*
********************************************************
Then unexpectedly, he released her neck. Gently he lowered her to the concrete while she gulped huge
quantities of oxygen. A few moments passed as she gathered her strength. Then Spider again held her neck.
Slowly it dawned on her what had just transpired.
AND HE WAS HOLDING HER NECK AGAIN!
The pretty girl's quick inhalation caught Spider off guard but only for a moment as again he applied crushing
pressure. Only a faint squeak managed to escape her thin lips as he smiled savoring again her fear. As his
grip loosened, she managed to gather a tiny bit of life giving air but only a small amount as a gasping
whimper escaped through clinched teeth. Yet one more time he loosened his death grip.
One more breath, her eyes pleaded. Then another. Hope?! Her eyes focused on his. Maybe he'll relent, she
thought. Then he smiled and all hope was lost as fingers gouged her neck yet again. The fear in her faced
changed to imploration but his smile precluded any final reprieve. Veins coiled on the sides of her neck and
head as she slowly released his wrists. Dark clouds invaded her mind while veins burst in her eyes coloring
them pale red. But it was the pain that enveloped her whole being. Pain starting from her neck, entering her
head and culminating in her breasts. Pain from air-starved lungs. Pain from bruising fingers.
Suddenly, she was still. No pain. No problems. No life. for the final time, Spider released her neck..
Standing, he looked at his latest handiwork, the darken neck, the bulging eyes, the screaming mouth with
saliva glistening from the tongue lolling to the left. She was dead; she was at peace. Her fear was gone
taken by him along with her life. His only regret was that he hadn’t had time to take her to his office lair.
Well there was next time. Always there was next time.
*********************************************************
Mystique moved briefly inside the summoning range, bowed and stepped clear. Aloud and by signs she
intoned, “By Moon and Water, I accept this compact.” As the White Ladies began to retreat, she signed,
*Do you have anything that belonged to Maria?*
They opened pale green eyes wide and looked at her as if she didn’t understand what she had asked. In a
sense they didn’t. The physical things of the world meant nothing to them. Mystique waved the last
question away asking, *Did you see Maria die? Could you show me where it happened?*
*We saw nothing, we only felt the wrenching away from us and the ceasing of life, and we felt a lust that
was mixed with death. There was a feeding like and unlike our own. This was very strong. This came to us
on the wind, in the rain. But the winds and rains blow where they will and into many places where we may
not go.*
She knew they meant another wind and rain that tugged at her hair and had falled an hour ago. No help in
them for locating the place where the girl had died. *When did the wind speak?*
*When the moon was high. We danced her farewell and waited for thee to pass.*
*Will you do a thing for me? Will you take water from the creek and hold it in the cup of your hands and
allow me free passage to look into that pool?*
The forms of the White Ladies blurred, shifted, then stood again with the Lady in the center holding her
hands cupped together, the moonlight glinting on the water contained in that chalice of living ivory. *By
Moon and Stars; by Water and Wind, we give you passage. Come! Look!*
“Stay, Toofh. Wait for me here.” The hairs on her arms stood up, her stomach knotted, her breath came in
shallow gasps as she walked onto the bridge. Without speaking to the White Ladies, who stood as if carved
from stone, she bent over the water, and summoned the image of Maria. When the face was clear, she
whispered a small charm and breathed on the water. It wrinkled and pocked, then smoothed out.
An image formed - fading almost immediately - of an alley, several dumpsters, and a heap of black plastic
bags set out for collection. She bowed, walked quicly back to Toofh, and stood beside him a moment,
listening. It was getting close to dawn and she could hear the grinding roar of the garbage trucks. “That
alley is near here, Toofh. Different parts of the city, different days of collection.” She dropped her hand on
his head - something she didn’t often do. The short black hair and slightly loose skin was soft and warm
under her palm. He leaned against her almost as if he were a dog whose form he’d taken.
Toofh. Mostly she called him to act as a bodyguard on her way home from work and for those times she
went places where her size and sex invited attack. Otherwise she left him to live his unnatural life elsewhere.
You did that with demons. They were less dangerious than the White Ladies because they were more
predictable, more easily constrained. But they did have their dangers - especially if the controller got
careless. Still they’d known each other for longer than she liked to think about and she’d grown rather fond
of him. She thought about the wind that carried the smell of Maria’s death to the White Ladies. “Toofh, do
you think you can sniff out Maria’s body?”
He rose from his haunches and walded ahead of her for several steps, his ears pricked, his head up, turning
side to side. He stopped, body taut, alert. After a moment he looked at her. Though she heard nothing, she
got a powerful sense of impatience/inquiry with a subtext of anger.
“Go ahead. I’ll follow.”
He trotted along the sidewalk as graceful as any dancer. She followed, almost running, her boots clicking
loudly one the concrete - louder than she was comfortable with. But that didn’t matter. Finding the body
before the garbagemen was what mattered. She slowed at every sidestreet, every alley making sure it wasn’t
the one in her vision. Twice she heard garbage trucks but they were blocks off heading away.
Toofh growled and stopped beside two dumpsters pushed out onto the sidewalk, a pare of black sacks
between them. She ran faster. As she passed a sidestreet, she saw one of the dirty white sanitation trucks
stopped to make a pickup. When she reached Toofh, he was nosing at one of the sacks. She took out an
Eldrich knife from her boot. It grew longer as she slit the sack open. A quick spell retuned the sword to its
former size before she returned it to its sheath.
Maria’s face was twisted in some emotion - what was hard to say- Her hands frozen into claws several nails
broken. With the sound of the garbage truck loud in her ears, Mistique scraped a fragment of skin from
under one of thse nails and wrapped it in a handkerchief, then cut off a lock of the girl’s curly black hair and
tucked it in her pocket. “Now, let’s get out of here, Toofh”
*************************************************************************
His office was on the fourth floor. He stood aside and let her go in ahead of him, then followed, locking the
door behind him. The outer room was neat, with new paint and a carpet on the floor, a desk, and computer
station near the door to the innter office. There was a glass table with with white legs, magazines laid out on
it, a square white wooden couch with dull orange pillows. There were half a dozen prints on the wall, motel
art of the most bland and meangless. When he brought the girls here, he liked it when they relaxed as they
saw this desperately ordinary room. The inner office was much the same as the other - neat, low-end
expensive, reassuring.
The girl didn’t think so as tiny noises escaped her silently screaming face. Her tongue quested for air denied
her by bare poweful fingers digging into her small neck. Darkness overcame fear as another young girl from
the streets shuddered her last and voided. The smell alerted the ordinary looking man that she was gone.
Now for some fun, he thought. And another piece of garbage would join the rest of the trash being trucked
from the city. The Trapdoor had been sprung once again.
*************************************************************************
Mystique’s apartment was in an old brick building with leaking windows - something more or less that kept
the rent reasonable. An efficiency, her apartment had one of those old style wall-bed, tiny kitchen, and even
tinier bedroom that may have doubled for a walk-in closet. A tall, rickety chest stood against one wall,
leaning tiredly on an equally ancient wardrobe that was the only closet space she had. She squatted beside
the lowest drawer of the chest and removed two squares of raw silk, a beeswax candle, and the special
matches she kept in a silver box. Behind her Toofh wandered about sniffing things (though he carefully
avoided the pentagram beneath the throw rug) thoroughly enjoying himself. She’d usually dismissed him
when outside in the hall, so he’d never been inside the apartment before. Over her shoulder, she said, “Stand
by the door, Toofh. I’ll send you home as soon as I’ve finished this.”
She felt anxiety and resistance, but he did as she said.
Mystique took her tools to the middle of the room, kicked aside the throw rug and settled herself in the
center of the pentagram. Though so tired that her hands were shaking, she knew that she must get the
specimens preserved until she could deal with them properly. “Be very quiet for the next ten minutes. Look
away. Think of something else.” She shook out her hankerchief over one of the silks, folded it into a packet,
and dripped wax to seal it. She repeated this with the lock of hair.
“You did good, Toofh, and I hank you.” She stepped across the line of the pentagram, started for the door.
“Let’s go in the hallway and I’ll turn you loose.”
He sat on his haunches and stared at her. There was no threat in his gaze - no red in his eyes - just calm
rsistance. She felt a powerful no. “You don’t want to go home?” Abivalence first, then acceptance.
“Well, Toofh, I’ll tell you true. If you stay, you stay bound.”
Shrug.
She rubbed at her chin. Demons were feral. No matter how tame, they could and would turn on you in a
second. If you didn’t dismiss them after they served your purpose, you got used to them and dropped your
guard. They became in your eyes like the creatures whose shape was assumed. What happened after that
was usually fatal.
“I’m uncomfortable with bondage,” she said slowly. “I can live with short-term ties on you, because I don’t
have it in my face all the time. This? I don’t know.”
Laughter.
“Right! That’s easy for you to say.” She moved from the door to pull down the bed. “Okay. We’ll discuss
this later. I’m tired and need sleep. If you get hungry, there’s milk and hamburger in the ‘fridge. Feel free
to eat anything you can get at and change shape if you need to. Um. I’m not suppose to have animals in
here. If you’re going to stay around, you can’t make a fuss and if anyone tattles to the manager and he
shows up, play shadow in the corner.”
************************************************************************
He wasn’t confortable. It wasn’t a pleasent drive anyway. He was too hesitant sometimes or too suddenly
bold, though he was careful to obey the traffic lights. By the time he got to the alley, it was dark. That
suited his purpose. The click of the opening trunk was not puncuated by a light to brighten his task. Indeed
that also was to his advantage. One small black bag. One bounce then another. Another bag of trash with
all the others. It wasn’t anything. Just an It. He left It where It had fallen. He started back to his lair
unaware of the small hand just visable to the moon. The trip back was swifter and safer. Opening the door
to his small apartment, he smiled once again. A click of a lock was the only sound he heard as he opened the
chest at the foot of his bed - a Hope Chest to some but not for him. Inside, he placed his latest treasures - a
darkened nipple and a fresh video. Not for the first time did he think about combining his videos into one.
The click of the lock broke the silence once again. Like the Spider he was, the husk of his latest victum
was sucked dry and had been safely disposed of. He went to sleep with that smile still on his face.
************************************************************************
When she woke, Toofh was stretched out at the foot of her bed, breathing slowly and loudly in what she
would have sworn was a snore. Did demons dream? It startled her that she didn’t know. She poked him
with her toe. If he wasn’t asleep, he did a fair imitation of waking with a snort and a growl - which changed
to a plaintive whine when he realized who it was. He jumped off the bed and scratched at the door.
“Oh no you don’t. Bathroom for you, Toofh, if that’s what you want. And clean up after yourself!”
He whined some more, then trotted to the bathroom door and oozed through it. She chuckled. “Learn
something new every day.”
She swung her feet over the side of the bed, sat a moment running her fingers through her hair and rubbing
her, trying to waken enough to consider what had to be done next. It was definitely time to get out of town.
She glanced at the small travel alarm. “It’s 1:30. I really must have been tired.” She yawned, moved her
shoulders and reached for the phone on the table beside the bed. It took fifteen rings for her boss to pick up
the phone. About right for the guy - especially if things were busy.
“Mr. Adams? Mystique here. (pause) No I’m not sick, I’m just letting you know that I quit. (pause). Yes, I
know about notice but I can’t do that. My ex just showed up and he’s already tried to kill me twice, so in
another couple of hours I’m outta here.”
She hung up. Toofh, sitting on his haunches, stared at her.
Question??
“Why not just ‘go’? Mr. Adams is basically a nice man. He’d worry if I disappeared withough an
explanation. Might even go to the cops. If you provide a place where they can put you into, mortals mostly
don’t bother wondering about you. They soon forget you existed once you’ve been gone a few months.”
Question??
“What does it matter what they think? There are so many of them than there are of us, my friend. They can
keep coming and coming until you smother under the weight of them. Shadow and subtlety mean safety
here.”
Question??
“Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up, then we’ll get started on this business.”
Dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt, Mystique pulled the bed together and swung it up into the wall slot. As
she kicked the rug aside, “Toofh, I’m going to activate the pentagram so you’d better go sit in the kitchen.
You’ll be more comfortable there.”
Agreement.
He trotted into the kitchen; but, she was amused to see he flung himself down where he could look through
the door and watch what she was doing. She fetched her skrying mirror and the silk packets from the cedar
box where she’d left them along with two more of her candles. These had oil pressed windflower seeds
mixed with the wax. Windflowers. Well it wasn’t the name they had in modern texts, but the name she’d
known long before any of those texts were written. And the purpose it served was written nowhere.
With the lines of the pentagram glowing silver around her, she lit the first candle, breathed in the smoke
rising from the wick. The musky sweetness of the burning oils caught in the back of her throat as it always
did. She used the hem of her T-shirt to wipe off the mirror, then broke open the packet with Maria’s hair
and dropped a bit of it into the candle flame. Chanting the ancient words, she held the mirror over the
candle until the smoke from the burning hair turned it black. Holding the silver oval with the tips of her
fingers, she brought it close to her mouth and blew gently at the smoke.
The mirror cleared. An office with a desk and lamp. A girl forced down on the desk, stripped naked. A
man with a cord of some kind around her neck strangling her as she was sodomized. She fought him as the
image cleared: reaching around, clawing at his wrists. An instant later, her arms went limp, her head
dropped - and the mirror reflected only Mystique’s face.
She set the mirror down very gently, rubbed her fingertips on her T-shirt. In her long life she had seen many
ugly things. This was only one more. But she never, ever, got used to them. She doubted if she ever
would. She had looked but hadn’t seen the man’s face. No matter. Next step. Sitting the mirror next to
the candle and dropping the remainder of Maria’s hair on the mirror, she used her finger to draw a circle
around it, blocking it from the rest of the pentagram’s heart. She lit the second candle, composing herself,
then unwrapped the second packet and took out the tiny fragment of the killer’s skin. She sang the words,
then dropped the skin into the candle flame. “Bind and bring,” she sang, in words from a language spoken
of by few. “Bind and bring the man to me.”
When she felt the rubbery thrum of the bind-cord, she pinched out the candle flame, stretched over and
touched the glowing line of the pentagram, enjoying the hot tingle before the glow faded. “So that’s done.”
She got on her feet, stretched up as high as she could reach, then strolled toward the kitchen. “You leave
anything in the fridge, Toofh, or do I have to order a couple of pizzas?”
To be continued....
AlOmega