Dance For The Devil (25 page)

Jason knew from a very early age he was special. His father, despite his permissiveness towards ritual beatings, insisted his son be exempt. The only one to lay a hand on the Vandercamp
boy would be Gil himself, and then only sparingly, when Jason truly deserved a thorough thrashing. Usually his punishments were worse than physical beatings. When Jason misbehaved, Gil sought another to pay for the crime. With Jason restrained and forced to watch, Gil would methodically torture someone, usually another child, of similar age, culled from the street. So, although he carried no signs of physical abuse, Jason wore the guilt of favoritism like a heavy cross.

By the age of four, Jason was smart enough to carefully obey his father and elders. By the age of twelve, his cult education took a new turn, the sin – and the pleasure – of fornication. Under strict tutelage from his elders, Jason joined in ritual orgies. But even in this his father protected him. It was understood that Jason would not partake of violent sex, nor in any acts containing homosexuality or bestiality. When he heard the inevitable stories from his friends, he was once again guiltily grateful.

By his strong emotional nature and inherent will to survive, Jason shut out the images from years of witnessed atrocities. He understood intrinsically these horrors weren’t his fault, and knew he could do little to stop them. And through it all, his love for his parents twisted with despair and hate.

Jason had long ago made the decision to leave the cult, and his family, as soon as he was able. Since the age of seven, he’d been squirreling away money for his escape. He knew, that to evade the long reaches of Gil Vandercamp and the powerful resources of the Temple, he must save a great deal of money and bide his time. This was not an easy decision. The cult encompassed his entire life: family, friends, his entire social matrix. Away from the cult’s protection he would be free, but he would also be vulnerable and totally alone. It was a frightening thought.

Jason thought of all this as he changed into his ritual garb, dawdling to prolong the inevitable. Gil had already rapped twice on the door – Jason knew further stalling would not be tolerated.

**

“Hey, this isn’t the way to Marvelworks,” Skeeter proclaimed.

Rat smiled his pointy
smile. “Got something more important to show you.”

“What?”

“A surprise.” He glanced at Skeeter, noting the wideness of Skeeter’s eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

It occurred to Skeeter that
absolutely no one knew where he was.

**

The luminescent blue moon hung pregnantly in the sky. There was no doubt of its fullness. The ceremony tonight held extra promise. Had Gina not begun labor naturally, Gil would have been forced to perform a caesarean section, of which Gina would not have survived. It appeared his dark Lord’s wish to spare the breeder; to leave her able to bear further sacrifices.

Gil handed the newborn to Jason and instructed him to put it in the car seat.

“What’s the point?” asked Jason. “You’re only going to kill it anyway. Who cares if it’s safe or not.”

“I do. Dead sacrifices do not have the same impact, and if we should happen to get stopped by a policeman, we won’t be ticketed for having an unrestrained infant.” Gil tapped Jason’s head. “Use your noggin, Son. Examine every angle and never leave loose ends. It’s the little things in life that get you in the end.”

Jason placed the baby in the car seat and buckled her in. She looked up at him and cooed. She
is
smiling, Jason decided. I don’t care what they say, I can recognize a smile when I see one. He resisted the urge to smile back – Gil was watching in the rear-view mirror.

**

“I think we’ve made a mistake,” Jake whispered, surveying the room. “These people aren’t Satanists... they’re just plain weird.”

“I don’t know,” Cari whispered back. “
The guy with the swastika tattoo on his skull is pretty cute.”

“Should I arrange for an introduction?”

“Only if I can introduce you to that biker-chick, although she looks like she’d eat you for breakfast. Scary.”

Jake followed her gaze. “
Um, I don’t think she’s my type. Maybe not anyone’s type, unless you’re a praying mantis.”

Cari swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Jake was right: this wasn’t the place. The energy was all wrong: while undeniably dark, there was more a sense of desperation rather than power. “If this isn’t the place, where does that leave us?”

“Screwed.”

She nodded. “Back to square one, surrounded by cult-wannabe’s. I knew this was a mistake the moment we walked in, the atmosphere is all wrong.”

Jake’s mouth quirked under his hood. “On
so
many levels. I feel like I need to scrub my eyeballs. With bleach.” A man walked by with a mesh shirt and pierced nipples.

“This place is nothing more than an underground nightclub. You know, a Rave.”

“Ah, so this is a Rave.” He looked at the leather-clad, scantily-dressed, pulsating throng of humanity. “Good God, Amy was at one of these?” He shuddered and caught himself. “At least we don’t look out of place. Quite a few people are wearing hoods... hey, where are you going?”

“To talk to the bartender. Maybe he can give us some leads.”

“The bartender’s male? How can you tell?”

“Can’t. Just guessing.”

“God, he doesn’t even look human.”

They had reached the bar. The music started suddenly, with deafening intensity, and a crush of bodies instantly began swaying and jumping and flailing about.

“Two beers,” Jake yelled. The bartender glanced at them curiously. At close range, Jake still couldn’t tell whether the bartender was male or female. Regardless, he or she was the ugliest human Jake had ever laid eyes on.

Cari accepted the beer. She took a few swigs, then leaned close, her lips almost touching the bartender’s ear. “A hundred
-dollar-bill bets you know where some intense activity is.”

“Wh
at kind of activity?”

She licked her lips and flashed open the front of her cape. Underneath was a tight t-shirt proclaiming
‘Satan lives’.

The bartender frowned. “Never seen you around here before.”

“And you probably won’t again. This scene is too... tame”

“How do I know you’re not undercover?”

Cari motioned to Jake, then lifted the back of his cape. His naked skin glistened with multiple tattoos, all depicting imagery of a Satanic nature. “Would a cop sport these?” She stared into his eyes and enunciated: “He is
not
a cop.”

“Not a cop.” The bartender repeated and blinked. He reached for the money but Cari held tight. “There’s a guy named T-Bone. He’ll know about any
activity happening, and there’s bound to be, full moon and all. Give me your number and he’ll contact you.”

Cari shook her head. “I’d prefer his number.”

“Can’t do it.”

“Two-hundred says you can.”

The bartender licked heavily rouged lips. “Four.”

“Two-fifty.”

“Three, or you can go kiss your ass.”

Cari nodded and he scribbled something on a cocktail napkin. She held three fingers up to Jake and he produced the money.

“If T-Bone asks, you didn’t get it from me.”

“Deal. Know anything about the big meeting?”

“Nope, Satanism ain’t my bag. All I know is that it’s in the forest, up north, I think.”

She nodded and they drifted off. “Did you catch any of that?” Cari asked Jake.

“No, couldn’t hear a damn thing. Tried to lip-read but failed miserably.”

She filled him in, then wondered, “Now what?”

“Now we find this T-Bone. Nothing inspires more confidence than getting information from someone named after a piece of meat.”

**

Hidden deep in the forest stood the remains of a century-old burned-out church, surrounded by a small, forgotten graveyard. The church, St. John’s, had once been beautiful, and in a macabre way, she still was, especially brought back to life by the hundreds of cloaked bodies milling around, crowding her clearing.

Moonlight illuminated the ruined church. Blackened beams sagged heavily into the forest floor, creating homes for a plethora of creatures. Moss and lichens grew over the remaining rubble, softening the jagged effect, giving the illusion of serenity. Tonight this illusion was
shattered; the tension of the participants was palatable. It was a blue moon: tonight there would be a worthy sacrifice to the Dark Lord.

Jason recognized some of his peers and he veered clear of them. He didn’t want witnesses. He felt sick about what he was planning to do, and he didn’t trust anyone enough to ask for help. Like himself, they were all children of the cult. He saw Jamie Henderson coming his way and he ducked behind an evergreen.

The purpose of the hooded capes was to guarantee anonymity, but the idiosyncrasies of the capes sometimes gave away its owner’s identity. For example, Jason’s own cape was frayed and stained badly on one edge, the result of his habit of dragging it behind him when not in use. His mother’s cape, opened to display her bare breasts, was made of a richer, darker fabric. Gil’s cape had a thin vein of satin piping circumventing the hood. A casual observer might not notice these slight variances, but for the long-time member, they were as obvious as a name tag.

A hand on his shoulder detained him. “Jason,” Gil hissed. “We’re starting. I’m going to whip the crowd into a frenzy, and when I give the signal, retrieve the infant from the car and bring it to the altar. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Jason’s throat was bone-dry. As surreptitiously as possible, he walked back to the car, his heart pounding. He knew what he was doing was crazy, but he also knew, deep down, he had no choice.

The baby was sleeping. Good, that would make his job easier. He unbuckled the car seat and wrapped the baby gently in the extra blanket he’d stowed under the passenger seat. It was a cold night and he hoped its meagre warmth would be adequate. To be safe, he covered the baby’s face, leaving only a small breathing hole.

So far, so good. Now, the tricky part.

With a furtive glance over his shoulder, Jason walked quickly through the woods. He checked his compass often, and when he judged the distance to be far enough, at least a kilometre, he looked for an appropriate place.

It didn’t take long. He hung the car seat from an overhanging bough, then splashed a vial of bleach around the base of the tree. “That should protect you from wild animals. At least, I hope it will.”

He took a final glance at the sleeping infant and ran back to the church, making plans wildly.
I’ll phone the cops and tell them about the baby, but it can’t be from home. The cell phone? No, no good, Dad gets a monthly statement of calls placed and received. How then? Sneak out and use a pay phone, but don’t talk too long or else the cops will trace it. Tell them where the baby is but insist no information be publicized or I’m toast.
It was so much easier before they moved here – since then, his every move was scrutinized. Jason shivered. This act went beyond the occasional anonymous tip. In stealing the baby, he was betraying everyone he knew.

The festivities were in full swing by the time he returned
. He’d been gone for only twenty-five minutes. Enough time for anyone to notice his absence?

He joined the hundreds of bodies, absorbing the energy. It felt good, safe. Somebody passed him a goblet and he drank from it greedily, not caring its contents. It would
calm him, help him forget.

He watched his father, vibrant and alive. Suzanne stood beside him, surrounded by disciples. Some were stroking her, fondling her. Beneath the altar, several members engaged in copulation. One man wore a symbolic horse-head.

As he stared at his mother’s pointy breasts, Jason felt the familiar warmth spread and he vainly tried to push it away. Although his upbringing taught him that nothing was sinful, that pleasure should be obtained regardless of cost or orientation, he still felt ashamed to find himself aroused by his mother’s nudity.

Gil placed his hands around Suzanne’s throat and the crowd went wild. Jason felt his stomach tighten... the signal.

It was time to retrieve the baby. Jason backtracked to the car, lingered for a moment, then came running madly through the crowd. He didn’t need to fake his sense of panic – his heart felt as if it would burst from his chest.

“It’s gone,” he shouted at Gil. “The baby’s missing.”

“Missing?” Gil’s eyes seemed to penetrate Jason’s soul.

“Gone, car seat and all. Someone must have grabbed her. We shouldn’t have left it unlocked.”

Gil’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll speak to you later. For now, we need a sacrifice. Any ideas?”

“Uh, no, not really.”

Gil turned away abruptly and whispered something to Suzanne. She looked at him sharply, then at Jason, and then nodded. Jason watched as she wove her way through the throng, reaching beneath her cape.
Acid,
Jason thought,
she’s going to drug someone with a hit of LSD.