Legion's Lust

Copyright 2014
Samantha Blackstrap

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

Cover: Copyright 2014
Samantha Blackstrap

All Rights Reserved

Cover Image:
IgorIgorevich/Bigstock

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is for meant for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and language which may be considered offensive. All sexually active characters in this work are eighteen (18) years of age or older.

The room quaked when Martha slammed her fists on the table.

"You leave this house and go back from whence you came, demon." Martha gritted her teeth against the pain that stabbed her head. "Be gone!"

The lights in the old Victorian surged and popped. The homeowners screamed and their faces twisted in the flickering candlelight.

"Be gone demon," Martha screamed, "your kind is no longer welcome here."

Moans echoed in the dark corners of the room and energy swelled and pulled the candle flames this way and that.

Martha pushed back from the table, her head down and jaw set. She slowly uncurled herself to her full height and stared just above the family huddled in front of her. She raised one curled finger and jammed it at the air. "Out," she yelled, drawing out the length of the word with as much force behind it as she could muster.

There was one last burst of the horrible swirling air then the room lightened. The candle flames burned steady and upright.

Martha crashed to her knees and sucked in large gulping breaths.

The family crowded around her. "Thank you," they said, each one breathing palatable relief onto her. "Thank you."

"That wasn't even a demon. All the meters were giving readings for a disgruntled spirit."

Martha looked over her new hire, a young scrawny thing, and smiled. "Theatrics dear. In situations like this, the cleansing is secondary to the act." Martha popped open her trunk and dropped her kit inside. "If I would have said some words, poured some salt, and clutched my talismans to get rid of that grouchy bastard the homeowners would have never believed it."

"But it's dishonest."

Martha sighed. "What's your name again?"

"Jeff," he said, worry clouded his dark eyes.

"It's not dishonest, Jeff, it's show business. We provide a service and the pomp and circumstance has come to be expected be it for ill or good."

Jeff's gaze dropped to his feet. "Yes ma'am."

Martha slammed the trunk and walked back to the boy. "Just be thankful we no longer have to manifest ectoplasm." She chuckled at her own joke and held the keys out to him. "Would you be a dear and drive? I've got one heck of a headache brewing."

Martha checked her messages as the boy drove. The two new potential clients sounded interesting and straight forward, a lady in white and a child with an imaginary friend. They were probably run of the mill hauntings, and as usually happen in those situations, once it was explained to the dead that they were in fact dead everything cleared up and they passed over through their own volition. Of course, Martha would play it up to the clients.

The next message was a hang up. And the next. The third too, but she heard something there. "Listen," she said and turned the phone to speaker to replay the messages.

The phone played its messages and she heard it again. A chill ran through her.

"Hang ups? Jeff's eyes were on the road but he wrinkled up his face in confusion.

"Listen better." She replayed the messages and shoved the phone at Jeff.

"A hum?" I think I can make out a hum. Maybe. If I really stretch."

"There's a way to put this on a computer, right? Enhance the audio?"

"Sure," Jeff said, his tone took on a patronizing air, "But I don't think it's anything more than electronic noise. My ears are tuned-"

"Your ears are tuned to this world, not the others." Martha had dealt with confusion and disbelief and fear her whole life, yet she still got her ire up when confronted with it. "You're the tech. I'm the medium. You deal with it when the machines beep and I'll deal with it when the dead speak. Agreed?"

"Yeah absolutely. I'm sorry. I-"

Martha raised a hand to him and waved it off. "Not necessary." Her mind raced. She needed her energy for dealing with whatever was coming not bickering with a boy.

"Can I ask what you heard? What did the voice say?"

"Voices," Martha said. She took a deep breath. "One screamed and the others laughed."

She reached out physically to find the source of the call but only got static or horrible darkness. It ate at her, the scream just as much as the laughter. It was like she had listened in on the spirit of someone battling for their soul. The laughter, that awful black sound like a dog coughing, seemed to be winning.

"Martha?"

She pulled her head off her desk and sat up. Jeff looked down at her from the entrance to her office, eyes crinkled and his mouth pressed into a hard line.

She had never seen such a severe look on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he said, his expression unchanged. "You have an appointment."

Martha racked her brain but found only the static and the deep dark where evil laughed.

"It's Ms. Thorton. She's been hearing strange things."

"Ah yes," Martha said, though she did not recall setting up an appointment with anyone, "send her in." She neatened papers on her desk and saw Jeff still stood in the doorway. "Is there something else?"

Jeff sucked in a large breath. "What's wrong with you? Did something happen?"

Martha scoffed but an ache in her gut grew. She tried not to acknowledge it. "Just a little tired is all. Now send her in. No need to make her wait any longer."

Jeff disappeared and seconds later a large round belly came through the doorway, followed by the most petite woman Martha had ever set eyes on. She looked as if she were in her early twenties, but haggard. Thin and sunken and so pale she was grey.

Martha's first instinct was to send her to bed and force some soup into her. "Sit sit," she said, the urgency apparent in her voice.

The young woman waddled to the chair and lowered herself into it; her face reddened some by the exertion.

Martha waited for her to catch her breath. "Now, what is it exactly that you have been experiencing?"

Miss Thorton rubbed her hands over her massive belly. "I feel so stupid about this."

"There's no reason to feel stupid. Experiences are experiences." The same old spiel she had to tell most clients. Those who came in confident about their assumptions were usually victims of bad wiring and an inflated sense of self.

The woman chewed her lip. "I've heard noises. Like footsteps. And it-" She shook her head.

"Go on," Martha said.

Miss Thorton's gaze dropped. "It feels like someone is there. Watching me. Like they're waiting for something." She clutched her round belly. "Just waiting to pounce."

Cold shot up Martha's spine.

The woman looked up, eyes wild. "I've no where to go. Nowhere. I'm alone. I can't get away." She sucked in a hitchy breath. "I don't know what I am going to do. Where I'm going to go? I can't stay there with those things!" She reached out and grabbed the desk. "They're going to take him. I know they will." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Okay just-"

"No. I won't let them. I'll kill us both first."

Martha reached across the table and took her hand. "Look at me."

Miss Thorton's eyes settled on her.

It nearly broke Martha's heart. "What's your name?"

"Angie Thorton."

"Nothing is going to hurt you, Angie Thorton, or that baby you're carrying. You hear me? I won't allow it."

Angie squeezed Martha's hand. "So you'll help us? You'll help get rid of whatever it is?"

Martha's stomach sank, like she spiralled down into darkness. She forced a smile on her face and hoped it was less ghastly than it felt. "We'll help you. You'll be perfectly fine. You and the baby."

Angie exhaled loud and hard like she'd been holding in the breath for months. "Thank you."

"We'll take care of this. Don't you worry." The words rang false to Martha's ears. She worried. Angie should worry. Everyone should. Something was loose here. Something old and terrible. "Jeff."

He popped his head through the door.

"Jeff will make sure we have all the information we need."

Angie struggled to her feet and Jeff rushed to her side to assist. As they walked out together Angie turned back to Martha and smiled. Waves of nausea splashed over her. That smile. It was the stress of this situation and the laughter on the phone call making her imagine things, she knew, but that smile did not look human.

The Thorton home was a cookie cutter box nestled into street after street of other cookie cutter boxes. No dilapidated house loomed upon a scary hill. The neighborhood could not have been more than ten years old. Yet Martha felt an ancient darkness here. Something beyond time and human understanding.

"You ready? You look out of it." Jeff slammed the van door.

"We won't need the gear," Martha said, still staring at the quaint little house in the quaint little neighborhood that held unimaginable evil. "You should go. I'll take a cab back."

Jeff rattled with something and huffed. "If you think it's something that bad there's no way I'm going. Evidence. We need it."

He walked to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. She clutched it. She did not want to do this by herself but she also did not want to put anyone into unnecessary danger. "I can't convince you to go?"

"Not a chance," Jeff said.

"Thank you." They walked together to the house and whatever abomination dwelled there.

Jeff pressed the doorbell and movement erupted behind the windows. Dark eyes stared out at them, black as coal. Jeff jumped back and knocked into Martha sending her back into the porch railing. She rebounded forward and fell to her knees. Pain shot from her kidneys throughout the rest of her body in pulses.

There came laughter from the other side of the door, dark and choppy, and eerily similar to a dog coughing.

Martha's stomach plummeted. "Jeff. Go."

"Shit! I am so sorry." He rushed to Martha's side and offered a hand. "Are you okay?"

She waved him away. "It's worse than I thought. This is incredibly dangerous. The laughter. You need to go. Now."

Jeff looked around at the seemingly innocuous surroundings. "If it's really that bad you're coming with me."

Martha pushed herself to her feet. "She needs my help."

"Then I'm helping too."

For the second time today Martha was thankful she hired a stubborn ass for an assistant. She rooted in her pockets and withdrew a black stone, polished to patent leather sheen. "It's volcanic," she said, testing the weight of it in her hand. "Pompeii."

Jeff cocked his eyebrows. "Mount Vesuvius?"

Martha nodded and handed the stone to Jeff. "Funny enough, the thing's a good luck charm. You hang onto it for me, will you?"

"Sure but-"

Martha held up her hand. "Are you ready?"

Jeff shoved the stone in his pocket then nodded.

"Once more into the breech," Martha said.

The door opened at their approach.

Despite the heat of the day the inside of the Thorton home was cold, dark, and damp. It was as if the whole house had been pulled up from the Earth and settled here inconspicuous amongst the endless streets of unsuspecting homes that held their unsuspecting residents.

"Angie?" Martha padded to the stairs and placed a trembling hand on the banister. "Miss Thorton?" Martha could sense Jeff's nervous but excited energy behind her and the brooding hatred that grew the closer Jeff got to the stairs. "You need to stay down here."

"You know that isn't going to happen."

Jeff stood close enough that Martha could feel his breath on her neck, damp, hot, and hurried. She mustered courage. As much for herself as for her partner, and stepped onto the first step. "Angie Thorton?"

"I apologize. I'm not feeling very well today." Angie's voice was faint and raspy, like it had to crawl and scrape to make it out of her throat. "I am afraid you'll need to come up here. I can't make it down."

Martha did not want to find out what trap the monster had laid for her up there. "If you can make it to the stairs at least, Jeff and I can help you down. We really need you here Angie."

"I am afraid that is not possible. Maybe you can help me out of bed." The voice came louder this time. No longer so feeble. There was a mocking undertone.

"We can't do that. Angie, if you can hear me, we're going to get you out of this." Whatever was in her was either young or not accustomed to dealing directly with mankind. It did not even attempt to hide its energy. If Martha could make it angry it would be easy to trip up.