Insatiable Desire (22 page)
Then Clarissa saw herself. Her hair tangled around her ashen face. Slash marks across her wrists where she’d first tried to end her life. Tear tracks where she’d cried as she begged for death to end her misery.
The rope tightening around her neck, choking her, cutting off the air as she kicked the chair from beneath her and prayed for God to forgive her.
A tortured cry wrenched her from sleep, the wail of a dying animal making her jerk her head up and search the room.
The demon was here; she sensed his presence.
Then she saw the shadow. A black faceless monster hovered at the foot of her bed. A hideous laugh reverberated through the air, and the animal’s cry followed, this time more distant. The smell of blood assaulted her, an animal’s blood, and she vaulted off the bed.
She recognized that animal’s cry. Wulf, her beloved dog, her best friend and confidant.
He was no longer in the room. But his blood soaked the floor.
A scream of anguish jolted Vincent, and he clutched the porch rail with a white-knuckled grip, searching the shadows of the live-oaks bordering Clarissa’s property for the source. No, not out here.
Inside.
Another cry boomeranged through the screened doorway, and he spun around and ran into the house.
Heart hammering in his chest, he took the steps two at a time, terrified that he’d find Clarissa dying or in the hands of a demonic monster.
Suddenly, he slammed into Clarissa rounding the corner to the staircase.
She screamed and tried to jerk away, her body quivering as he embraced her.
“Clarissa, it’s me, Vincent.” He searched her face, yet the hallway was pitch black, and all he could discern was the terror in her wide-set eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Her nails dug into his arms as she gulped a sob.
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” she cried. “It’s Wulf . . .”
“What happened?”
She dragged him back to her bedroom. “In here, he’s gone. Blood . . .”
A sliver of moonlight fought through the clouds and streaked the room, just enough to illuminate the blood. But he didn’t have to see it to smell the metallic odor or to know that it had spilled from an animal.
“The demon must have hurt him,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was here, sleeping. Wulf was at the foot of the bed, then he was gone . . .”
And Vincent had been downstairs on the porch. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone come in.
But he might not, not if a demon could slither through the shadows or orb through time.
Clarissa’s knees buckled. “Wulf can’t be dead, Vincent, he’s the only family I have left.”
“We’ll find him,” Vincent said, although instincts cautioned him that the dog might be dead. He might be chopped to pieces, his body scattered in the woods for the other animals to feast upon.
He urged Clarissa to sit on the edge of the bed. “Stay here. I’ll go search for him.”
She shook her head, a desperate air to the frenzied movement. “No, I’m going with you.” She stood, threw off her gown, and rushed into her closet, grabbing clothes. He sucked in a deep breath at the sight of her naked body, his own instantly growing hard with desire.
But now wasn’t the time . . .
What if the killer was watching? Had taken the dog to lure Vincent away so he would leave Clarissa alone and vulnerable?
If he fell into that trap, Clarissa might die. He couldn’t let that happen.
She dragged on jeans and a T-shirt, then socks and sneakers. “Come on, we have to hurry. He’s bleeding—he might be in real trouble, or worse. Near death.”
Panic laced her voice. Still, reservations kicked in. What if they did find her dog ripped apart as he had the other animals?
Or what if this was a ploy to lure them into the demon’s trap?
Clarissa didn’t intend to take no for an answer. She refused to let Vincent search for Wulf alone. Wulf would respond better to her, especially if he were injured and sensed a threat.
“Let me grab some flashlights.” She rushed past him, down the steps to the laundry room. Vincent’s boots clicked on the wood floor behind her.
“Clarissa, it may be dangerous out there.” His dark eyes met hers. “We don’t have any idea what we’ll find. I discovered other animals mauled and mutilated in the woods. If the same demon that killed them has done something to Wulf, it won’t be pretty.”
She swallowed back another bout of tears, willing herself to be strong. “Don’t you see, Vincent? It’s the only way. We have to do this together.”
She handed him a flashlight, gripping another in sweat-soaked hands, anxious to leave.
“I don’t like you going,” he said in a gruff voice. “So stay close to me and follow my lead.”
She nodded and gestured to the laundry room. “I saw more blood in there. I think Wulf went out through his doggie door. He was probably chasing the demon.”
A hint of fury flickered in Vincent’s eyes before he masked it, and she understood his silence. He suspected Wulf had gone off to die alone.
Grief welled inside her, but she forged ahead, determined to find him no matter what his condition.
Vincent led the way as he tracked the trail of blood through the woods, forging deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain as if he instinctively knew which direction to go, as if he’d become one with the land and smelled the blood and evil.
Clarissa followed close behind, breathing deeply as she increased her pace to keep up with his long stride. The smell of fear felt oppressive, cloying, and her energy began to drain as if some physical force were sucking the life from her.
Heat from the ground seeped through the soles of her shoes, and an eerie quiet blanketed the mountain, the occasional howl of a mountain lion or bear rumbling in the distance. Fear vibrated off the ridges, echoing in her ears, and the stench of blood and maimed animals swirled in a vile stench around her.
Vincent paused, body rigid, a hiss escaping into the tension-filled air.
Clarissa hesitated and held her breath. “What?” she finally asked. “Do you hear Wulf?”
“No, other animals. I smell their blood.”
She stepped forward, but Vincent stood, blocking her sight with his big body. “You don’t need to see them, Clarissa. It’s brutal.”
“You think the demon destroyed them?”
“Maybe. Or it’s possible that some teenagers are up to satanic rituals.”
She didn’t believe that and neither did he, but she refrained from comment as he pulled her aside, then guided her to the left through a path heading west, away from the desecrated animals.
A sick feeling pitted Clarissa’s stomach, but she said nothing, simply followed Vincent.
As they plowed through the woods, the cries of other lost spirits poured from the stone walls of the mountain, closing around her. Beckoning her to help them. Drawing her deeper into their pain and the realization that something sinister was trying to recruit them to leave the light and join the quest for darkness.
“Look!” Vincent shouted. “The blood trail is leading into that mine.”
Clarissa hesitated, shaking all over, willing the voices to be quiet.
“What is it?”
“This is the mine where all the miners lost their lives. I hear their voices screaming in pain.”
He squeezed her hand, and she drew in courage. If Wulf was inside, she had to save him. She couldn’t let her fears imprison her as her mother’s had.
Her heart racing, she pushed past Vincent and raced ahead to the mouth of the cave. Vincent grabbed her hand to stop her. “Let me go in first, make sure the mine is safe.”
But Wulf was inside. Clarissa heard his low growl of pain. Recognized his scent. Knew he’d welcome her but that he might not Vincent.
Racked with fear, she jerked away and charged inside. “Wulf! Wulf, where are you?”
She shone the flashlight across the rocky dirt floor, noticed weathered rotting boards jutting from the ceiling as she plunged deeper into the mineshaft, listening.
The spirits gathered from the stone walls, floating and drifting toward her with outstretched skeletal fingers, their cries screeching from the depths of the tunnel to taunt her, crowding her mind with wails of sorrow. “Help.”
“We didn’t deserve to die.”
“Get us out. We’re trapped here . . .”
“A demon caused the explosion.”
“He killed us, took us from our families.”
A sob caught in her throat. How could she possibly help them all?
Wulf’s whimper mingled amid the roar of spirits. Then a rumbling sound followed, and rocks and dirt crumbled from above, raining down. Dear God. The mine was collapsing.
She stumbled and dropped her flashlight. It hit a rock and flickered off, plunging her into total darkness. She pivoted to search the ground just as another rumbling exploded behind her. Rocks and dust swirled in a brown and gray cloud as the mineshaft collapsed behind her,
“Clarissa!” Vincent shouted. “Come back, it’s too dangerous!”
She yelled his name and started to run back toward the mouth, but rocks pelted her, and she ran the opposite way, dodging falling debris. Like a mudslide, the walls tumbled down around her and the floor shook. A wooden beam slammed against the back of her head, and she stumbled forward, the sharp, jagged rocks tearing at her hands as she pitched to the ground.
She tasted blood and dirt, and pain splintered through her calf just before the endless darkness swallowed her.
Sadie Sue had never been so furious in all her life. She’d always had a temper, just enough to give her the grit to do whatever the hell she had to do to survive.
The reason she’d slapped the living shit out of her drunk daddy when he’d tried to crawl in her bed one night. The reason she’d slept with anyone who’d given her attention as a teen.
The reason she’d kept her baby instead of giving it away to strangers, like Petey’s daddy had wanted. The reason she’d taken the dance job and then spread her legs to make ends meet for her and her son.
The reason she’d made the deal with the devil.
Ever since that fatal night when he’d wrapped that snake around her skinny neck and offered her eternal life, she’d felt different, as if blood no longer ran through her veins. She burned with heat and an energy that pulsed through her soul, tormenting her with vile thoughts and telling her to do things she’d never considered before.
Like whipping Vincent Valtrez until she’d licked the blood from his back.
Now she lay like a rag doll while another john screwed her, his grunts bouncing off the cheap hotel room walls as he rutted.
Finally he finished, heaving for air, sweating profusely.
Sickened by him, she laughed.
He snatched a hank of her hair. “What are you laughing at, you bitch?”
She laughed harder, watching as his jowls reddened with rage. “Your puny little dick. No wonder you can’t keep a wife.”
He slapped her, so hard her ears rang. Laughter died in her throat, and rage replaced it, oozing from her pores. Every time she’d given a blow job to some ugly creep flashed into her mind, followed by the time her daddy had pinned her between the wall and the bed. She’d grabbed his balls and twisted them so hard he yelped in pain, and she thought his head would spin right off.
“Don’t mess with me again,” she said as she lunged up, shoved him back on the bed, and glowered over him. That strange feeling suffused her, as if she no longer owned her body, and she blinked, then felt her eyes swirling back in her head.
He whimpered in fear. Thrilled by his terror, she gave his balls another vicious twist, then retrieved her clothes while he rolled into a fetal position.
A sliver of moonlight played off her hands as she grabbed the money he’d put on the table.
“That slap will cost you extra,” she said with another bitter laugh. Still glowering at him, she took his wallet from his pants where they lay wrinkled on the floor, emptied it of cash, and stormed out.
Reeling with the humiliation of having Valtrez dump her for crazy Clarissa, she contemplated revenge on the woman.
And she would have Vincent one day. In fact, he’d be her servant, worshipping at her feet, licking her ass if she told him to.
This time she’d be the one taking pleasure while she’d leave him hard as a rock.
Yep, Sadie Sue had the devil on her side now, and there was no stopping her.
A few minutes later, she let herself into her house. Trina was sleeping on the couch, snoring softly. Sadie Sue shuddered and walked past, then hurried into little Petey’s room.
When she saw her reflection in the window by the crib, her chest constricted. The devil had sunk his claws into her. She could see his fire burning in her eyes.
Little Petey stirred, then looked up at her, the scent of baby powder sweetening the air. Her head spun as vile voices whispered in her head.
“Your baby will only get in the way.”
“He’ll be better off without you, you whore.”
“Let the devil have him.”
Her head throbbed, vision blurring, and she reached for Petey.
He screamed as her hands closed around his body, and she pulled him from his crib.
V
incent’s heart thundered in his chest as he ran deeper into the mine after Clarissa.
He almost wished he could see them so he could fend them off for her.
More rocks tumbled around him, pinging off the walls, jerking him back to the present.
Clarissa . . .
Dammit, she was supposed to stay behind him, but he’d screwed up and she’d gotten past. Then he’d spotted bones, stopped to check them out, and the mine had begun to rumble.
What if she got killed in the collapse? He couldn’t lose her . . .
Ignoring the panic rippling through him, he shouted her name as rock and rotten wood tumbled down, but she didn’t respond. He smelled animal blood, then saw more bones jutting out from inside the cave. A human skeleton. Years old.
Dodging more falling debris, he veered to the right, pebbles scattering below his boots as he searched the tunnel.
Suddenly another rumble rent the air, the ceiling ahead totally collapsed, and more rock and dirt crashed down. He coughed against the dust and screeched to a dead halt, nearly plowing into the mound.
