Flesh Gothic by Edward Lee (34 page)

"Cathleen's not just a mentalist, she's telekinetic,"
Nyvysk said. "Some of those powers got away from her
when Hildreth left her body."

"That's reassuring," Westmore complained. "What if it
happens again?"

"It probably won't."

"Should we call a doctor for Cathleen?"

"Not necessary," Nyvysk said. "She'll wake up in a while
and be fine."

"She wasn't even acting like herself," Karen said.

Westmore sat down next to the safe. "According to
Nyvysk, she wasn't herself, she was someone else. It was
someone other than Cathleen talking to us."

Mack seemed skeptical. "If it wasn't Cathleen, who was
it?"

Another figure drifted into the room: Adrianne, in a disheveled robe. "It was Reginald Hildreth," she said. "I just
saw him and Cathleen at the Chirice Flaesc."

"This flesh church," Westmore said when they'd relocated
to the South Atrium, "that Nyvysk told us about."

At the long table, the older man nodded. "The Chirice
Flaesc-the Temple of Flesh-the altar of Belarius."

Karen was astounded by what Adrianne had said in the
office. "And you saw Hildreth there as well as Cathleen?"

"How could that be possible?" Mack added.

Adrianne sighed. "It's not the first time I've seen Hildreth's spirit-body there. Karen saw it too-"

"And so did I," Willis reminded, "when I saw the
revenant of the girl from the locksmith company, before
Westmore opened the safe."

But Adrianne specified. "Seeing Hildreth at this place in
hell is nothing new now. But when I said I saw Cathleen
too I meant that I saw the vessel of her soul. It's almost as if
they lured her spirit there to keep it captive."

"I still don't understand," Westmore said.

"Cathleen was out of her body," Adrianne elaborated.
"Just like I was."

"An out-of-body experience ..."

"Exactly."

"That would explain the transposition," Nyvysk calculated. "It was deliberate."

Adrianne nodded. "Those things--those Adiposians-
seem to be Hildreth's helpers here-the things that have
molested all of the women of our group. They canted
Cathleen to induce a trance, so that Hildreth could occupy
her body for a while."

Westmore didn't know if he could believe this.

But, at this point, what else could he believe?

"It's just so damned frustrating," Cathleen said next. She
looked blanched, a blanket wrapped around her. Since she'd
roused from the mishap, she'd wiped off the strange pontica
dust, but a few traces left the most minute glimmer on her
skin. "I don't remember any of this."

"That's not uncommon," Nyvysk said.

"Yeah, but it's still maddening." Cathleen looked around,
embarrassed. "I'm sorry I put everyone through that."

,.It wasn't your fault," Nyvysk reminded her. "You're a
very sensitive medium-we all knew that a transposition
was possible. Overall, the incident gives us more information about Hildreth and his motivations, however supernatural they obviously are. You, Adrianne, and Willis know full
well that your many talents can often go overboard."

"What exactly are your other talents?" Mack asked
Cathleen.

Bored, she replied, "I'm a diviner, a crystologist, a
medium, and a telekinetic. It's no big deal."

"Sounds like a big deal to me," Westmore had to comment. "A telekinetic? I'm starting to believe this other stuff,
but I'm not sure I believe you can move things with your
mind."

Nyvysk and Willis chuckled under their breath.

"I pretty much gave it up after the accident," Cathleen went on. "It's the kind of thing you have to constantly
practice, or else you get rusty."

"Cathleen doesn't like to show off anymore," Adrianne
told him.

Westmore smiled. "That sounds like an excuse to me, but
that's cool."

Cathleen frowned. "All right ..." She looked at the ashtray that Westmore and Willis were sharing. A few seconds
ticked by, then the ashtray turned a hundred and eighty degrees.

"Did you see that!" Karen said, impressed.

"This is bullshit," Mack insisted and looked under the
table.

Hmm, Westmore thought.

"Now, don't blame me if I screw this up," Cathleen announced. "I told you I was rusty."

She looked at the pitcher of lemonade at the middle of
the table. In increments, the pitcher began to move toward
Cathleen an inch at a time.

She reached out to grab the handle but just as it would
get close enough-

clunk.

The pitcher fell over.

"Damn!" Cathleen said.

The lemonade spilled. Everyone at the table stared.

"Well, almost," Cathleen said.

Mack was still looking under the table, to see if it had
been rigged. "I, uh, I guess it's not bullshit . . ."

"I can't believe what I just saw," Karen said, astonished.

"It's still no big deal," Cathleen repeated, wiping up the
mess with a bunch of paper towels.

Seeing really is believing, Westmore thought. The demonstration stunned him. He didn't see how it could possibly be faked, and that made him wonder harder about everything
else that had happened here. "All I can say is ... I'm pretty
friggin' impressed."

"Such is the power of the mind," Nyvysk offered. "But
I'm sure that Cathleen can tell you, her talents can be quite
a burden at times, and the same goes for Adrianne and
Willis."

"With every benefit, there's a detriment," Adrianne said.

"What exactly are the detriments?" Westmore asked.
"You all have incredible talents. Seems to me you have a
unique power. How can that be a burden?"

"I can't touch anybody," Willis volunteered an answer.
"I'm a tactionist. I can read target-objects. When the target
object is a person, I see things I don't want to see. That's my
burden."

Strangely, Mack piped in, "Why don't you tell them
everything, Willis? You would if you had the balls."

Westmore's brow furrowed. For the entire stay, there'd
seemed to be a strained animosity between Willis and Mack
that Westmore could never figure.

"We were all born in original sin," Adrianne said. "Not
just Willis-all of us. It's between us and God ..."

Another strange comment.

"Indeed," Nyvysk said next. "We all have our secrets. We
don't need to discuss them here."

"No, why not?" Willis seemed perturbed yet animated.
"I don't care. Mack and I know each other, from five years
ago. We hate each other. Now he wants me to tell you all
why, so I will." He looked right at Mack.

"Go ahead," Mack said. "And you can also tell them why
you lost your medical license."

An uncomfortable silence ticked by, which Willis eventually broke by saying, "I have a sexual problem. It's got noth ing to do with my target-object abilities-I'm just what
you'd call a sex-addict."

"Don't feel bad," Cathleen said. "I am too."

"But you've never broken the law because of it," Willis
went on. "Earlier in my career I was a clinical psychiatrist. I
chose to work for the state instead of private practice. I
wanted to give something back to the world-I'm not materialistic" He shrugged at the table. "Social services seemed
ideal for me, but as a psychiatrists you can imagine-I
got the hard cases. Mostly battered women, rape-trauma victims. Women with drug problems. My tactionism was a
great advantage to a point; when I'd touch a patient, I'd see
so much of her life. It was all very, very dark, as you could
guess, and it was very depressing. I did manage to help a lot
of women, but there was a price-all that mental backwash,
all that despair and horror: I had to look at it in almost every
patient. Over time, I began to medicate myself, so to speak,
with sex.'

"Sex with your patients?" Westmore asked.

"Damn right," Mack said. "Some doctor-he was fucking his patients, and that's not all."

Willis' voice grew grim in this confession. "It's true, I'll
admit. Just as I was addicted to sexual release, a lot of my
patients were addicted to drugs. I'm not a strong person.
There were many times when I was manipulated."

"Bullshit," Mack said. "You're the one who was doing
the manipulating. You were taking advantage of a bunch of
head-cases."

"That's not true!" Willis snapped.

Nyvysk held his hand up to Mack. "Let him talk."

Willis continued. "Sometimes my patients would seduce
me-for drugs." He gulped. "I'd prescribe drugs for them, in exchange for sex. I had many weak moments; I wasn't
strong enough to resist the temptation. I was falling apart;
the despair was burying me, all those bleak, traumatized
lives washing back to me, any time I touched them seeking a
diagnosis. So, yes, I used some of them-to treat my own
addiction."

The room stood in a stunned hush. Wow, Westmore
thought. That's some confession.

"I admit, some of my actions were criminal, and all were
unethical," Willis went on. "It didn't last long. Eventually a
complaint was filed against me by the husband of one of
my patients. The hospital investigated, I confessed, then I
was fired. The hospital was sued. My license was revoked."

"Sometimes it's good to talk about things like this," Adrianne broke some of the discomfort.

"Yes," Nyvysk added. "Self-disclosure is therapy in itself.
We all have our misgivings and our outright mistakes, or sins."

Mack leaned forward, with a sarcastic grin. "But Willis
hasn't told you the best part. He hasn't told you who the
husband was that turned him in."

The table waited. Willis took a deep breath and said, "It
was Mack."

Another hush bloomed over the table, with some shocked
looks.

"I didn't know you were married," Cathleen said.

"I'm not now. My wife went off the deep end and ran off.
She went nuts on the dope Willis got her addicted to-"

"That's not true at all!" Willis shouted back. "She was already strung out, long before she ever came to me for treatment. She got into drugs in the porn business, where she met
you!"

More shocked looks spread across the table.

"You were in the porn business?" Adrianne asked.

"That's how Mack met Hildreth in the first place," Karen
offered. "And me too. We were both working for T&T Enterprises when Hildreth bought it." Karen smirked, if only
at herself. "Mack and I were both in the movies.. ."

"It's not part of my life that I'm proud of," Mack said. "I
came from a shit town, got almost no education. The porn
industry was there, so it was a way to make money. That's
where I met my wife. She wound up having some psychological problems, so she goes to see Willis and he gets her all
fucked up on drugs-"

"I didn't do anything of the sort!" Willis exploded. "I
admit, what I did was wrong--"

"Wrong! You were exploiting disadvantaged women,
manipulating their addictions, and giving them drugs in exchange for sex! Yeah, I'd say that's wrong!"

"I wasn't the cause of your wife's problems, you were! I
know, Mack! I saw her entire life every time I touched her!"

Mack jumped up, red-faced in rage. "She fell off the edge
of the earth, you asshole! She's probably dead now, and it's
because of you!" and when Mack made to lunge at Willis,
Westmore and Nyvysk grabbed him, held him back.

"Stop it, both of you!" Nyvysk insisted. "This is accomplishing nothing."

"Everybody just calm down," Karen said.

Mack stared Willis down. "You're a piece of shit." He
shrugged away from Nyvysk and Westmore and stalked out
of the room.

"So much for self-revelation," Cathleen said when
everyone was reseated.

"That was a shock," Adrianne said. "I didn't know you
two guys even knew each other."

"It doesn't matter now," Willis said. "It's between him
and me. Anyway, I apologize for all that."

Nyvysk looked contemplative now "It's interesting,
though, objectively, I mean. Another sex-connection."

"What?" Westmore asked.

"Everything about this place, and about Hildreth, is sexually rooted. Everyone here has a sexual connection.
Karen's been in the sex industry, and tonight we learned
that Mack has been in the sex industry. Adrianne is sexually
self-repressed; she hasn't had sex in a decade because sexual
contact for her triggers involuntary OBE's, while I, too, am
sexually self-repressed-I'm a gay yet celibate ex-priest. Willis
is a sex-addict who can't touch other people, and Cathleen
is a sex-addict who can't function psychically without some
sexual motivation. We all have sexual secrets, and it's almost
as though those secrets have brought us here." The older
man paused and looked at Westmore.

Everyone else was looking at Westmore too.

"All but you," Cathleen said through a half-smile.

"Yeah, what's your sexual secret?" Karen asked. Her eyes
glimmered.

Gnat ... Westmore swallowed a laugh. "I don't think I
have any ... because I almost never have sex, not since I
quit drinking. For all my adult life, I was a one-night-stand
guy because my social life was the bar scene. Now I don't
drink. I still go to bars but never drink, and when I'm there
I'm not interested because I'm the only one sober, and the
only available women are drunk. I stay away from them because they'd get me too close to my addiction: alcohol."

"Ah, so you're sexually self-repressed too," Nyvysk
seemed satisfied.

Westmore frowned. "How'd you arrive at that?"

"To you sex and alcohol are synonymous. But you've
eliminated alcohol from your life, therefore sex is eliminated
by default. Simple."

Westmore threw up his hands. "Whatever you say."

"It's just worth considering as something more than coincidence," Nyvysk went on. "Each one of us has a sexual
quirk or anomaly, and we're all sitting in the middle of this
house which used to be a porn studio, a bordello, and a
treatment center for clergymen guilty of immoral sexual
behavior. Prostitutes were murdered here in the '50s, and
adult film stars were murdered here several weeks ago. So
far, Cathleen, Adrianne, and Karen have all experienced a
discorporate molestation. Willis has target-object visions of
the mansion's sexual atrocities, Westmore finds DVD's full
of even more sexual atrocities, and I'm getting EVP's of a
dead young man I was sexually obsessed with twenty years
ago. There's something very sexual about this house, in an
innate way. Carnality seems to live in its walls, and there's
either an active or passive carnality in all of us. It's almost as
though the sexual singularities of everyone here have been
magnetized-by the mansion. We didn't gravitate toward
the house, the house gravitated toward us."