Dance For The Devil (34 page)

“Maybe nobody’s home?” suggested Bobby-Dean.

“Or maybe we’re too late.” His chest ached at the possibility.

“No,” Cari said, feeling the pain of a hundred souls. “Something’s happening inside – I sense it.”

Jake squinted, checking the grounds again. “Let’s make our move. The guards appear distracted, at least momentarily, and the darkness will work in our favor.”

“Yeah,” Bobby-Dean agreed, watching the guard thrashing in the bushes, struggling to pull something out. “Their dance cards are full. So, how should we do this? Singly or as a team?”

“I vote we go together, but keep low to the ground in case they start firing.”

Bobby-Dean’s mouth twitched. “They’re gonna start shooting at us?”

Jake nodded solemnly. “Distinct possibility. Listen, Bobby-Dean, we appreciate your help, but no one will think less if you bow out now. After all, this isn’t exactly your fight.”

Bobby-Dean spit on the ground. “Never me
t a fight that wasn’t mine.”

“Cari?”

“I’m with you a hundred percent.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Okay, on a count of three. One...”

“...Two,” Bobby-Dean grunted.

“...Three,” Cari finished, already starting her sprint.

**

Gina heard the distant shots, and despite th
e growing pain in her belly, kept moving. Her breath came in heavy, spastic gulps. Two years of inactivity, combined with her recent pregnancy had left Gina’s young muscles soft and ineffective.

The forest around her was full of ominous sounds. Eyes seemed to be watching her, taunting her, and she was certain someone was pursuing her. She stumbled once, falling abruptly and opening her knee on a sharp stone.

The kitchen knife, she thought. Where did I drop the knife? She fumbled around in the darkness, palms down, desperately trying to locate it. It was her only hope.

A crash in the bushes behind her. Someone
was
following her, and he was close enough for Gina to hear his heavy breathing. She forgot about the knife and struggled to get up. “Please God,” she whispered. “Please help me. I know I’ve never talked to you before, and I know I said I didn’t believe in you, but please, don’t let him get me again.”

**

“We made it,” Bobby-Dean gasped, gulping for air.

Jake closed the front door behind them. “
About time we had a little luck. I guess no one expected the security to be breached from inside the fence.”

“Or it could be the protective spell I put around us,” Cari stated matter-of-factly.

Bobby-Dean cocked his head to one side. “Or it could be we’re just too late.”

Jake looked at him grimly. “That’s not an option we care to entertain.”

“Sorry. You two talk an awful lot about spells.”

Jake was already scoping the place. “Confusing, huh? I promise a full explanation over a cup of coffee when we get out of this mess.”

“Make it a beer and you’re on.”

“I’ll make it a dozen. Cari, which way should we go?”

She was standing in the foyer with her eyes shut, concentrating. “This way,” she pointed, and a shard of fear tore through her. Her energy drained completely, making her limbs feel like overcooked spaghetti. She became more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. The danger was overpowering and she understood intuitively her witchcraft would fail to protect her. It was no match for this shroud of evil.

“Cari?” Jake asked, glancing at her white face. “You okay, honey?”

“Fine,” she whispered, then tucked her arm into his. How could she tell him?

From the look of his face, she didn’t need to. He felt the same way.

**

As Gil prepared to tether Amy’s limbs to the altar, Suzanne abruptly decided she’d had enough. She was deliriously tired, and suddenly couldn’t bear to watch another ounce of bloodshed. The frantic appeal in Amy’s eyes unsettled her. Before, she had been able to shut out the images of the tortured victims, justifying it
as part of her religion. Sacrifices, sometimes human, were needed to appease Seth. The ritual abuse upped the ante, making the sacrifice more worthy. And if the victims suffered unduly, well, that couldn’t be helped.

Suzanne knew she was unable to prevent Gil from sacrificing this girl, but she could
help Amy preserve her dignity by hastening the act. Gil was a showman: he thrived on audience participation. Without the congregation to witness his abuse, his need for ceremony would be diminished. Without adulation there would be little point in prolonging the torture.

With a deft movement, Suzanne motioned for the congregation to begin drinking their cocktails. The throng obediently lifted the poisoned beverage to their mouths. Suzanne thought of Jason one last time
, held her own cup to her throat, and guzzled it down.

For a moment nothing happened. Then, as she turned her back on her husband, the spasm hit her. Against her will, her mouth
began convulsing as she struggled for oxygen. Her throat swelled a million-fold, choking out the fresh air and holding in the vomit which hurled upwards from her stomach like an acid-bomb. The room began to spin like an evil tilt-a-whirl, and she collapsed, sprawling, arms and legs twitching bizarrely amid the other sufferers, oblivious to the tangle of agony around her.

Her last coherent thought before pain ripped through her skull with the force of a hurricane was:
This is a most undignified way to die.

**

Gina struggled as she felt strong hands grip her ankles. “No,” she screamed, kicking ferally, but her pursuer held tight. She wiggled her torso, trying to dislodge her capturer, then shuddered as she saw the tall, foreboding man standing above her. His bone-thin torso was at odds with his height, topped by a balding head and a stern, unyielding face. The giant’s lankiness belied his physical strength: he held her firmly and easily.

Gina’s eyes flashed to the weapon peeking up behind his shoulder. A powerful-looking rifle, the kind used by hunters was strapped to his back.

“Hold still,” he ordered roughly, raising his arm. Gina flinched and covered her face, waiting for the blow.

**

The scene was surreal: bodies upon bodies, mostly dead, although a few still thrashed in the terrible throes of dying. “Dear God,” Jake whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cari caught movement. “There,” she said, pointing to the front of the room. “I think someone disappeared through the wall, and he was carrying someone. A girl.”

“The wall?” Jake was already moving, picking his way through bodies, trying not to step on anyone. In some places, they’d fallen three-deep, lying interlocked like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. With a heavy heart, Jake glanced at the victims, searching for his daughter, grimacing as he recognized several faces from Marvelworks. Harris Bentall. Cynthia Blake. Lisa Tandy, his ex-secretary. A few of the teens from the arcade, their young lives snuffed out before they had a chance to begin. The bile rose in his throat as he tallied the incredible loss.

Then, near the front, her face oddly serene amongst the twisted, tortured expressions of her colleagues, lay Suzanne Vandercamp. Her perfectly-coiffed hair and exquisitely made-up face stared lewdly at Jake like a ruined Barbie doll.

“Jesus,” Bobby-Dean muttered. “That one looks like she’s smiling.”

The altar held no evidence of an exit. “You saw someone leave through here?” questioned Jake.

“I’m certain of it,” said Cari, concentrating. As a witch, she was more sensitive to the human pathos than others, and the suffering in this room threatened to overload her. She fought the bleak darkness that gripped her soul.

“Was it Vandercamp?”

She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. “I didn’t see a face, just a flash, but I believe it was him. I’m sensing his power – it reeks overpoweringly like the stench of filth and decay. Can’t you smell it?”

Both men shook their heads. “Must be a secret exit,” Jake said
with frustration, running his hands along the back wall. The others joined in, searching for clues.

“We’re wasting time, let’s search the house,” Bobby-Dean muttered after several precious minutes evaporated.

Cari agreed. “We shouldn’t spend too much time here – Vandercamp could be leaving the property.”

Jake pounded the wall viciously. To come so close.... He struggled to remain calm and focused. He thought about Gil, concentrating on his persona. “No,” he said slowly. “Vandercamp’s still here. He’ll want to finish the job in style. We interrupted him, and one thing I know about Gil Vandercamp is that he’s not a quitter.” He thought about their competitive
racquetball games. “Gil hates to lose.”

“It’s your call,” Cari said quietly. “We’ll follow your lead.”

He nodded, pushing aside nagging doubts. What if he was wrong? What if Cari was mistaken about seeing someone flee through the wall? What if Gil was somewhere else, making his escape, taking his children with him? What if he was somewhere in this house, killing them this very minute?

“Daddy...”

Jake’s imagination, or the thin wail of Amy’s voice, far below the surface of the floor? “You two go,” he ordered suddenly. “Check the rest of the house, I’ll keep searching here.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

With an expression of grim satisfaction, Gil retied Amy’s hands. “Not to worry, little one,” he admonished, grinning seductively at her anguished cries. “We’ll still have time to complete our mission. Death takes but an instance, yet eternity stretches forever.”

“You’re a filthy disgusting pervert and my father will kill you for this.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Gil answered, shoving an oily rag in her mouth. “Is that anyway to talk to your benefactor?” He stroked her hair gently, watching her squirm. “We really needed more time together, Amy Montclaire. You’re so young and pure, like your mother. Well, actually, your mother wasn’t exactly pure... no, she was as horny as they come.” He chuckled at his pun and allowed his ha
nd to drop to Amy’s backside, caressing her buttocks. Aside from her filthy, torn pink panties and stained t-shirt, Amy was naked and shivering.

“We need more time,” he added thoughtfully. “More time for me to teach you the intricacies of sexual fornication, the total gratification of pain and pleasure, the giving and the taking.”
Gil looked up at a sudden banging on the ceiling. “Ah, the natives are getting restless. We’d better commence.”

Nude
from the waist up, Gil stepped out of his tight leather breeches, allowing the fabric to fall in a stiff heap on the floor. His nudity caused Amy to cringe and close her eyes, but not before she witnessed the enormity of his throbbing erection. Odd symbols were tattooed on his body, and his toenails were painted black. When he spoke, his voice was soft, hypnotic. “Don’t be afraid of nudity, my dear, nor of death. Both are natural forces in life, yet society condemns us to fear what we should embrace. Sex is a celebration, not a sin, and the same holds true for death.

“I’ve given it much thought, Amy, daughter-of-mine-enemy. Your death must be symbolic. It was to be perfor
med in front of my congregation until my darling
demented
wife jumped the gun and spoiled it. So I’ll just have to ad-lib, and given the time constraint, I believe I’ll tear your heart out with my bare hands while I rape you.” He licked his lips in anticipation as Amy’s eyes flew open in alarm. “Poetic, yes? My Dark Lord will adore it.

“Then,” he continued, moving to stand over her, one strong leg forcing hers apart, “I shall drink my special elixir and join my family on the other side. When your darling father finds you, he’ll find my penis shoved up your cunt and your warm heart dripping from my hands, and there will be nothing he can do about it. The final revenge. Prepare, Amy Montclaire, daughter of self-righteous, pitiful-Jake and the whore-Elizabeth, prepare to meet my maker.”

The door swung open and Bobby-Dean crashed through the portal, Cari still several paces behind him. Gil glared at the interruption, then smiled with satisfaction as a dozen spikes swung from the ceiling and impaled the intruder. The force skewered Bobby-Dean Jensen clean through, sending him staggering back with a morbid whoosh as the air leaked from his punctured lungs. He was dead before he hit the floor, one eye staring blankly upwards, unseeing of the spike which entered the tender space between the eyeball and the bridge of Bobby-Dean’s nose.

Cari gasped, then raised fierce green eyes to Gil. He raised his hands and hissed.

“It’s over,” Cari said, staggering slightly as she passed over the horror of Bobby-Dean’s body.

“It’ll never be over,” Gil taunted. “I’m aiming for eternity.”

“You are aiming for an insane asylum. You are a very deranged man.”

“I am a visionary. History will applaud my efforts.”

“You’re delusional. You won’t get away with this.”

Gil laughed. “I already have. You disappoint me, my dear. I know what you are and our religions share many parallels. You’re not as different from me as you’d like to admit.”

She snorted in disgust. “We’re as different as black and white. My religion stands for light and purity, for embracing the positive side of energy and employing it for good.”

“Mundane,” he yawned. “That’s precisely why you remain weak and ineffectual while I have attained grea
tness. Join me in my triumph,” he suggested suddenly. “There is still time.”

“There’s still time to do the right thing,” she countered.

Gil looked disappointed. “Obviously, we will not see eye-to-eye. Run along now, I’m rather busy.” He rubbed his erect penis against Amy’s panties and the girl began to wail. “But I expect you can see that.”

“I said:
Let her go,
Vandercamp.”

He halted for a second, narrowing his eyes, then relaxed. “Your power is no match for mine.”

Eyes locked with his, Cari summoned every ounce of herself, meeting his energy head on. She knew immediately he was right: her power was overwhelmed, a mere teaspoon of water against a crashing wave. When had he become so strong? During their previous meeting she hadn’t felt a tenth of this strength. It was like hitting a stone wall, and the evil swirled around her like rotten-maggots, burrowing into her skin, her pores, her brain, making her head feel like it would split into a thousand pieces.

Gil laughed. “Impressive, eh? I’ve collected the souls of my entire congregation and I hold them in me, ready to travel. I’ve consumed their energy, rudimentary and untamed...
and I am flying!
”

Cari held a hand to her temple. “Let the child go.”

“Never.”

She fought against exhaustion. Her pow
ers had been reduced to an ineffectual barrier. “Take me instead.”

That caused Gil a moment of pause. “You?” His interest piqued for a microsecond as he glanced over her. “Why would I want you?”

“You could have my powers too.”

Gil snorted. “I can have them anyway. You’re fading, my dear. You’ll only last a moment or two before I consume you.”

It was true. She felt the tendrils of evil snaking into her brain. She gave one last effort as he turned to dismiss her, bending to probe his erection into a sobbing Amy. “Listen,” Cari commanded. “I carry Jake’s seed, it has begun to blossom and will become twins. A boy and a girl, each carrying his likeness.”

“Twins?” He paused, studying Cari intently. “Yes, I see that it’s true.” Gil grew excited, moving away from Amy.

“Think about it,” Cari offered. “The energy from two-newly formed fetuses, only hours after conception, cells dividing and multiplying. The power would be enormous and the source would be inconceivably pure.”

“You love him?”

“Yes,” Cari whispered.

“Enough to give your life for him?”

“Yes.”

“Freely and willingly?”

She never paused. “Yes.”

Gil moistened his lips. “The purest sacrifice of all, with the added bonus of owning all of his wom
en. The wife, the daughter, and now the lover. What a compelling offer.”

“Untie
Amy first.”

Gil cocked his head. “There’s no time. Strip off your clothing and we’ll do it over there.”

Cari narrowed her eyes. “I may be laying with the devil but I don’t trust him. What will stop you from returning to Amy once you’ve finished with me?”

Gil laughed. “Your expectations of my sexual prowess are flattering. In the same vein, how do I know you won’t renege on your part of the bargain once I untie her?”

“You said it yourself, your powers are stronger than mine. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”

“True, but put like that, why should I let her go at all? Perhaps I can, as they say, have my cake and eat it too.”

“But that cake won’t be complacent. A willing sacrifice holds more power.”

He laughed again, delighted. “
Sound reasoning. Alright, untie the girl yourself, then we’ll commence.”

Cari hurried over and began to unfasten Amy’s bound wrists. The girl’s fing
ers were white, indication the straps were too tight. Cari fumbled with the gag as Amy rubbed her hands together, trying to restore circulation.

“Go quickly,” Cari demanded softly. “Don’t look back. Help is waiting for you on the outside.”

“Who are you?” Amy gasped, gulping great swallows of fresh air.

“
A friend... go.”

“But why are you doing this? He’s crazy, he’ll kill you.”

Cari looked directly at the girl. “Go, Amy, run away before he changes his mind. This will be wasted if you don’t leave now.”

Amy hesitated for a moment, then looked at Vandercamp, making his way across the room. “Thank you,” she whispered, backing away. She didn’t look backwards as she fled through the doorway to safety.

“Touching,” Gil remarked. “Ready?”

Cari s
quared her shoulders. When the first blow came, it was unexpected, and it sent her reeling. She steadied herself, touching her lips gingerly, tasting the blood. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice sounding funny through the swollen cheek. “I told you I wouldn’t fight.”

“Oh, but it is necessary,” he said, and slammed a fist into her stomach. “Makes it much more fun. So, where is he?”

She fought the urge to vomit. “Who?”

“No games, sweetheart. If you’re here, Montclaire won’t be far behind. I’ve got plans for him, too.”

“No! That’s not part of the deal.”

He looked at her squarely, sending a lightning bolt of pain crashing through her temple. Cari squinted, surprised to see his hands still at his side. So he hadn’t even touched her – his power had progressed that far.

“He’s as good as dead already.” Gil nodded his head at Bobby-Dean’s impaled body. “The house is rigged with surprises. Lover-boy is probably sliced to pieces. He’ll make great dog food.”

The thin wail of sirens wafted overhead. “Ah, we have company. That means we truly do have to hurry. Get ready, dear, for the ride of your life.”

**

Jake could hear voices but he couldn’t see – the
passageway was in total blackness. He’d finally found the secret trigger located inside a hidden box in the altar, and a door swung open to reveal this tunnel. He felt his way along, certain this was the route Gil had taken.

It was dank and airless. His progress was slow, impeded by the twisting, sloping path.
He came to an opening of sorts and found the path split into three. He waved his hand into the first opening and felt the silky-stickiness of spider webs. Not this way, then. Webs would have been broken by Gil’s passing. A quick feel into the other openings told him which direction to take.

Then, voices. The deep timber of a male. A thud, and a higher pitched gasp. His gut sank: Cari, in trouble.

His hands rubbed agitatedly over the stone walls, searching for a way to get through. Another trick, but how? He heard a grunt, then a masculine laugh. Christ, the bastard was torturing her.

His rage threatened to overcome him, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and regain composure. He had the element of surprise, he had a gun, and when the moment arrived, he would gleefully blow Gil Vandercamp to kingdom-come without a qualm. Now, where was the logical place to locate a lever?

Then it hit him. Not logical, the
illogical
. Nothing about Gil Vandercamp was logical. Why should this be any different? If Jake was building a secret passage, he’d put the opener somewhere accessible. Gil would have the aid of a flashlight when he travelled through here, so he wouldn’t have to fumble around...

It occurred to Jake that Gil wouldn’t be able to fumble, especially if he was dragging someone. He’d need his hands free to carry both the flashlight and his victim. So that left his feet.

Bingo. Jake felt around with his toes, stubbing them on a lever which protruded from the rear wall. Only a whisper of sound as the door swung outward, opening the room to view.

Jake took it in with a glance. The bloody carnage that used to be Bobby-Dean. Cari, h
er shirt torn, her face swollen, her eyes closed, standing docilely as Gil hit her. Gil naked, his handsome face contorted until it looked ugly and obscene. The face of insanity.

Intent on C
ari, Gil failed to notice Jake and he bent forward, clawing at Cari’s pants. “Back off you rotten bastard,” Jake yelled, steadying his gun. “Cari, move away.”

“Jake!” Cari gasped. “Watch out!”

Jake turned to see a giant sword swing down from the ceiling. At the last moment he dove, landing in a heap. He looked up in time to see Cari’s face one last time before the blood-stained fist of Gil Vandercamp came crashing forward to hit him in the face. And then there was nothing.

**

“I enjoyed that,” Gil stated with self-satisfaction. “I’ve been itching to do that for years. Now, I figure we have less than ten minutes before the moral majority finds us. My guards at the front gate will be able to keep the boys-in-blue occupied for only so long. So, my dear, where were we?”

Cari groaned. Jake had been her last hope. She t
ried one last time to attack Gil with her psychic powers.

“Valiant, but feeble,” he mocked. “Now, come on, a promise is a promise. Take off your pants and spread your legs. Be a good girl now, don’t make me hit you again.”