Dark Places of the Soul: Dark Soul Trilogy - Book 1 (10 page)

***

Stephanie had left Abner while he rested in
his room. She hadn’t dressed in the most conservative manner. She
wasn’t one to normally flaunt her sexuality. The mini-skirt and
thin blouse had been packed away for purpose of a fantasy she
hadn’t the courage to act upon. She felt naked without a bra and
when she looked downward she noticed the dark outline of her
nipples exposed to public view. This wasn’t like her at all, then
again, as a strange voice in her head reminded, if she had been
more like this all along she might not be so lonely.

She walked down the hall toward the
elevator. Off the first floor lobby she had noticed a lounge when
she arrived this afternoon. She couldn’t believe how randy she
felt. The movement of her blouse against her bare nipples caused
them to harden. The arousal traveled instantly to her thighs.

She reached the elevator and pressed the
button marked with a downward arrow. She waited for the tone to
announce the car’s arrival. The door opened to reveal an empty
elevator car waiting to serve. She felt a draft, as if someone
moved behind her in an attempt to share her ride to the first
floor, a cold breath, leaving her with an uneasy feeling. The
elevator was empty, as was the hallway behind her. She pressed the
button marked for the lowest level assessable to the hotel’s
patrons. Without reservation she pressed a hand to her breasts and
felt her erect nipples.

The ride was short from the third floor. No
one joined in her journey to the watering hole. She crossed the
lobby, paying little attention to the other customers, and entered
the lounge. A tall black man behind the bar took immediate notice
of her. He fit well with the jazz tune being blown out of a
saxophone by a stout musician on the tiny stage. She took a stool
at the bar and the bartender immediately moved to take her
order.

“
Scotch on the rocks,” she
said before he had a chance to ask.

Again she felt the cool draft of someone
behind her. No one stood where she would have expected an
interloper when she turned. The bartender set the drink she ordered
in front of her.

“
Quiet night doll,” he
said, as if crowd size was important to her. The bartender removed
an empty glass from the bar. “Not a good night for business,” he
added turning away to rinse out the used glass.

“
He thinks you’re a
hooker,” a soft-spoken voice said from behind her. “Are
you?”

For a brief moment she assessed her choice
of attire, the short skirt, riding up to expose most of her thigh,
the blouse leaving little to anyone’s imagination. A girl alone,
dressed as revealing, the assumption could easily be made that she
had a price. She wondered how many crisp twenties it would take for
the bartender to be correct.

“
So are you… open for
business.”

How bold could a prospective john be?
Prostitution was illegal in the state of Massachusetts. It was
sinful in her mind. She turned on the stool to look at the face of
the soft-spoken voice. A young man, maybe a few years her junior
smiled, familiarity touched the peripheral edges of her memory.

“
No,” she answered his
question. She should have been angry at the accusation. Another
time and her tongue would be sharp. Tonight, she realized, she
nearly answered ‘yes’ to his question, ‘a hundred dollars for one
hour’.

“
Didn’t think so,” the
young man said as he took a stool next to her. “Let me buy you a
drink… a way to say sorry for the mistaken identity
thing.”

“
You don’t have t’ do
that,” she responded.

“
No big deal, I want
to.”

Familiarity, the face of the man beside her
pulled at an ancient memory.

“
Have we met… somewhere…
before?” She asked.

“
I would have definitely
remembered if we had.”

Something about his voice sparked a memory
from a long time ago. She felt a yearning for childhood, as if a
sequence of musical notes reminded her of a special song made
popular during a special summer. Like the flutter of wings,
something she couldn’t grasp, the feeling of having been in the
company of the individual in the distant past faded. She decided he
simply looked like someone from long ago.

***

The others had all settled in for the night.
James, sleepless as had been his routine, occupied the living room,
sometimes pacing before the large picture window facing the water,
sometimes sitting in one of the two white wicker chairs. He had
made an attempt to settle his tired flesh in one of the bedrooms
upstairs, but moment by moment this night was becoming another
sleepless one.

One light glowed softly in the corner. A low
wattage bulb left the room full of shadows. He was attracted to the
water once again, through a window that reflected his fatigued
features. This dream following quest was wearing him down.

He saw a face along the water’s surface,
superimposed by a memory, a teenager, a past student with tracks of
spent tears garnishing her cheeks. She called out to him from the
moon blemished darkness. He had made a decision not to listen then,
not to hear or see the obvious, now all he could do was listen to a
haunting memory.

“
Still awake?” The voice
came from the foot of the stairwell across the room.

James turned from the window wondering if
the mirrored image was a beacon of the past or present. Keri
entered the room, wrapped in a thin white sheet from the bed she’d
nested in.

“
Couldn’t sleep,” she
added when her question went unanswered, “figured you might still
be down here… rehashing the crazy sort of day we’ve all
had.”

She stood beside him at the window. James
knew she wore nothing beneath the garment which once adorned a
bed.

“
This has become a
routine,” he commented.

“
Not sleeping?”

“
Restlessness… since the
very first of the dreams.”

“
What happens to us… after
this is seen through?” She asked looking at his distorted
reflection in the window.

He gazed at the girl who failed to meet his
eyes with the question. A part of him wanted to stroke her cheek
and run sweaty fingers through her curls. He wondered about holding
her, in a time different from the other morning, a moment where
passion, not protection, was the immediate concern. “I think we’re
going to be alright,” he answered, misinterpreting her
question.

“
Us,” she said simply,
turning her face to meet the unshaven expression of the high school
English teacher. After allowing a silent moment to pass between
them she continued, “I’m drawn to you… and I wonder where we’ll
stand after we’ve succeeded in the task God has given
us.”

She turned back to the window and watched
his reaction to her vulnerable thoughts on the glass. He continued
to study the surface of the reflected world.

“
It is God’s task, isn’t
it?” She asked.

“
I hope so,” he responded
with a shallow voice.

“
I have dreamt about us…
when this is over. The Jeep… I had never before seen it, but it was
in the dream. You and I were both in the dream. I would go anywhere
with you. I am certain of that… and I can’t explain why. I’m not an
innocent girl fluttering my eyes at my hero… I am far from
that.”

“
Innocent?”

She turned to face him and found his
expression locked on hers. She wondered if the man who saw her
present life was in jeopardy of knowing other things about her as
well.

“
I will stay with you… for
however long you’d like.” It was her turn not to answer a question
directly. “It’s how things always are for me,” she added, “take me
or send me back where you found me.”

Lost in the moment, he touched her hair,
interlocking his fingers with the unruly strands. “And if I… take
you, how long do you stay?”

“
I have nowhere else to
go.”

To James Lansing, a kiss would have seemed
the proper way to seal the moment. When the sheet, she wrapped
herself in, fell into a puddle around her feet, he knew their
meeting of wet lips would only be a precursor to a deeper
intimacy.

Without hesitation her naked body came to
his arms. Her breath sought a haven against his neck. His fingers
discovered the texture of her soft back, failing to cease their
progress when encountering the gentle curve of her buttocks. The
palms of his hands encased her firm mounds of flesh and he pulled
her tightly to him. Tonight he would make love to her without
intention of ever having her leave his life. Tomorrow morning he
would wake beside her and her presence would confirm their
future.

***

He carried the sheet for the bed they would
share. He wouldn’t let her cover her nudity. He said he liked what
he saw. She hoped Noah was asleep, but cared little. In a way she
wanted the other two travelers to know she had claimed her prize.
Twice they stopped to taste each other’s deep kisses. She
unbuttoned his shirt at the first pause, unfastened the front of
his pants on the second.

When they reached the room she found what
she sought. His arousal would fill her nicely. She wrapped her
fingers around the part of him she needed most. She wanted this be
love, not just a sexual release. He pushed her onto the bed and
removed all that might come between their flesh. She needed him
desperately.

He was on top of her and inside her. They
were one. If she could keep him this way she would. No Boston, no
chasing dreams, just lovers forever connected by an unquenchable
passion.

She was going to tell him everything she
felt. She didn’t understand love, but wanted it and if this was a
moment, of the deepest possible intimacy, she wanted to share it
verbally.

He whispered in her ear. Soft words of
passion which kept her own words poised in her throat. He wanted
her, he craved her. He wanted to be deep inside her like none
before.

And then he said it. “I love you.”

She went with him, the stranger from the
bar, as if some sexual trance forced her hormones to lose control.
For one night this man would own her, and for one night she would
allow it. This stranger aroused her desire in a way reminiscent of
pubescent fantasies. The kind she imagined on nights when sleep
came with difficulty and her fingers explored the most sensitive
crevices of her body. The kind she would have never taken part
in.

The elevator doors opened. Through a dazed
interlude she entered. She faced the rear wall without turning to
ensure he had joined her. She felt the strange sensation release
its grip on her and the world became what she always knew it should
be. She looked down to her bare legs, exposed beneath the black
skirt. Her modesty had taken leave. Her chest felt a chill, the
lack of an undergarment and the thin white blouse explained
why.

Stephanie turned toward an occupant within
the elevator. She recalled a vague familiarity in the face. He
smiled at her, a lust filled grin.

“
You’re lookin’ incredibly
hot… Stephanie,” he sneered as he pressed the red button, to the
right of the doors, labeled stop.

She’d come here with him. She remembered
leaving the bar like a prostitute with a paying customer in
tow.

“
You look like a high
class call girl, Stef. Let’s say one with a price range of a
hundred bucks for one hour of lying on your back and takin’ every
thrust a man has to give.”

She thought exactly what her client said.
She knew the words was plucked from her mind. A vile thought she
would have never acted upon.

Changes, subtle at first, began to contort
the man’s face. She first noticed the aging eyes, wrinkling
gradually at the corners.

“
Tell me Stef,” the man
continued, “are you a high priced bitch or just some slut who
crawled in from the alley?”

She tried to respond, to deny any and all
accusations against her, but she possessed no voice, no sound. It
was as if her throat had been amputated from her body. She backed
against the wall as the face before her continued to age.

“
I see it all Stef,” he
continued with the monologue she couldn’t respond to, “all the
demons in your soul that you keep hidden. Those things you think
about… often, but are soooo afraid to act upon. Remember those
younger years Stef… wouldn’t you have loved to flaunt yourself in a
garment like that.” An aging, crooked finger pointed at her short
skirt. “Not allowed, that old man of your’s wouldn’t have allowed
such a vile display of indecency.”

With each second the face gained
familiarity. He moved closer, to touch her, to rape the barely
dressed frozen statue.

“
You’re going to bring
them to me,” he said with stale breath.

The wall behind her felt cold against her
back. The man radiated heat. The man who began to look an awful lot
like Lonnie Wilkerson.

“
They are coming, four of
them. They follow a dream… to me… and you will be my herald. Make
straight the way for those who pilgrimage to my abode. I see their
sins, the ones they deny most. One has lived your most intense
fantasy, one devours those she loves, one preaches death rather
than life and one has closed his eyes when they should have been
opened. They will come to your doorstep… to you and the old man…
and you will bring them so I might taste their sins.”

He pressed against her, one hand groping her
breast through the thin fabric of her blouse. His crushing weight
pinned her. His ancient lips found hers, sealing a sickness within
the depths of her throat. His fist gripped her blouse, between her
breasts, filling the palm of his hand with frail cloth and the
buttons holding it in place. He tore at her garment and it yielded
no resistance.