How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9) (5 page)

“This isn’t what we agreed on.”
She twisted her head to locate the speaker in the dark shadows of the train
car.

A man wearing a long blue
conductor’s coat walked into the circle of light surrounding the table. It was
the ghost she’d made a deal with. His eyes were completely white here.

“Now, let’s see the whole
picture.” He pulled the rubber sheet off her naked body. Old scars lay in
patterns across her chest, stomach and legs. The burn scars on her back were a
thick pad against the metal table. “Your stepfather was a meticulous man.”

“What are you doing?” she asked,
shuddering.

“I’m honoring our agreement.” He
gently traced a scar on her stomach with his fingernail. His touch was light as
butterfly wings. “I’m pleased to be able to provide you what you require.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she
screamed, kicking in spite of the restraints. Bones in her ankles cracked.

He opened his coat to reveal
shiny surgical tools interlaced in the brown skin of his chest.

The leather straps bit into her
wrists and ankles as she thrashed back and forth. Animal sounds rose from her
chest, erupting into deep shrieks. She bit her tongue; blood mixed with spit as
she screamed and growled at him.

He waited until her energy was
gone and she collapsed onto the metal table. Then he slowly pulled a slim,
hook-shaped scalpel from his chest.

“Please, don’t...” she said in a
small, hoarse voice.

He leaned close to her face. A
sweet scent made her stomach churn; it was the cologne her stepfather wore. It
took all her strength not to vomit. The ghost laid the cold metal tool on her
convulsing stomach. “Look.” He pointed across the room.

A light turned on the opposite
wall of the train car. Invisible bonds against the padded wall held her stepfather.
He started whimpering.

The ghost held her head up and
picked the scalpel up with his other hand. He used the blunt side to trace a
long ‘Z’ shaped scar that crossed her belly. Burning slid deep from inside her
and out through the scar. A childhood of fear and deep rage began to boil away.
She moaned. Her stepfather screamed as his stomach opened at the middle; thick
black liquid bubbled out. Her scar disappeared.

The ghost rubbed hot fingers over
the re-smoothed skin. “This will take a while. Watch closely.”

He worked slowly. Her stepfather
screamed and begged as his body gathered fresh wounds. Redi studied how each
instrument was used. When her scars were gone, he released her from the table
and they worked together on her stepfather to create new wounds.

Hours seemed to pass and Redi
didn’t tire. What was left when he finally stopped screaming didn’t resemble a
human as much as a dissection diagram.

Redi opened her eyes. She was
still sitting at the kitchen table opposite the ghost. The clock over the stove
showed about the same time.

“What kind of trick was that?”
she asked, throwing the coffee cup at the ghost. The ceramic mug passed through
him and shattered against the wall.

“No trick,” he said, opening his
hands as if to show he had nothing up his sleeves. “Look.” He pointed to her
chest.

She lifted her t-shirt. The scars
were gone. She jumped up and ran to the bedroom and looked at the brown smooth
skin on her back and legs. All the scars were gone.

He stood in the doorway. “What do
you feel inside when you think of him?”

The deep twisting bitterness was
gone. Nightmare memories no longer burned in her gut. She sat down on the bed,
picked up a cigarette, looked at it and put it down.

“Is this real?” she asked, tears
in her eyes. All the hatred, disregard for human life, disbelief in anything
good was gone. The pain of all the people she had killed overwhelmed her, she
ran to the sink to vomit. Redi asked, “How did you do this?”

The ghost shrugged. “Bodies are
illusionary fragments of flesh. This body is in this reality, so this is real.
In another realm things could be very different.”

“You like to talk in riddles,
don’t you?” she said, wiping away tears.

He smiled. “I assume you can
still do your part, even without your deep-seated, unresolved anger?” he asked,
standing.

Redi closed her eyes. “Yes, I
can.” She picked up the cigarette and lit it. “I’ll need some time alone.”

“Indeed.” He bowed and melted
into the floor with the dog.

The Gate of Descending Reversion:

Redi shaved her head, dressed in
black jeans, and shirt. She pulled a dark leather jacket out of the back of her
closet. The black felt hat fit snugly. The wide brim cast a deep shadow over
her face.

She entered Ana’s building at
midnight. The apartment building was easy to get in since Redi knew where the
secured entrances were and how to open them, information necessary to protect
her client.

Cutting the lines to the security
cameras was just as easy. The lock to Ana’s apartment wasn’t much of a
challenge. The entryway in the large apartment was dimly lit. The bedrooms were
down the hall to the left. The light was on in Ana’s office to the right of the
living room. Redi leaned against the hallway wall listening to the accountant
type on the computer.

She stood in the shadow of the hall
for a long time. She had never felt before how connected one human life was to
so many others: Ana’s son, husband, clients, relatives and friends. This woman
was loved and needed by others. Her death would cause so much pain. As much as
Redi didn’t want to kill her, she couldn’t return to the soulless person she
had been.

Redi used a silencer so Ana’s son
wouldn’t wake up. She dragged Ana’s body to the middle of the living room.

The accountant’s husband was
supposed to be out of town. Redi had no idea they kept a gun in the apartment.
She took two bullets in the back but managed to get out of the apartment after
rushing him. He put another bullet in her upper right arm before she knocked
him out.

Redi stumbled up the emergency
stairs to the roof and collapsed against the air conditioning tower. Dark blood
pooled around her in a slowly widening circle.

Redi had few breaths left. The
ghost and his dog appeared between breaths.

“Come to collect my soul?” she
asked, with a strained smile.

He bent near her face. The scent
of burning flesh was surprisingly comforting to Redi. The dog laid both heads
in her lap. She could feel their weight.

“I’ve come to help you remember
your destiny, as I always have before,” he said.

“I don’t have time for your word
games,” she said through clenched teeth.

“This game is done. You’re very
close to the last Gate, and returning to me and where you belong.”

The dog’s heads were heavier on
her lap. Redi shook her head and coughed blood. “Last gate?”

He leaned close to her face. His
tongue flicked out and wet the inside of her right ear.

Her true identity crashed back
into her mind. She was infinitely more than the cells of this dying body, had
lived longer than documented history. She arched her back, trying to stand up
as the truth of her existence filled the dying meat brain.

He held her hand as she collapsed
back to the ground.

“Show me,” she growled, pulling
his face close to hers.

Thick dark light poured from his
eyes over her face. She drank the bitter darkness in her open mouth. The
memories of the other mortal lives she’d suffered through came into crisp
focus.

“Dearest Abaddon, which Gate am I
passing through now?” she asked.

“The Gate of Emanating
Reconstruction, Magnificent Ender of Light,” he said, tears of blood dripping
from his eyes onto his white tuxedo.

The dog whimpered.

“It’s good to see you again also,
Geh.” She shifted her weight, causing waves of pain to pulse through her back.
“How’re things below?”

“The maintenance of the tortured
is arduous, but the torment continues, as you would want, Most Fantastic Being.
I miss you dearly.” He leaned forward on his knees to support her head. “Has
your pain been all you wished?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. “Oh, yes,”
she whispered. “Your healing my pain made the last killing particularly
difficult.”

He kissed her hand. “We’re
pleased to do anything for you, Deliverer of Exquisite Pain.”

She moaned. “I’m ready to return
to work. It’s been enlightening to see the job from the other point of view.
See you soon.” She slumped to the ground.

Abaddon sniffed the body to be
sure there was no life left. The dog stood, walked around the body nine times,
and howled.

De glass bottles

blue, green, yellow

gathered by the faithful.

Mama Earth feeds the trees

roots sunk deep

sweet tender pale fingers.

Reaching into the sky

red cedar arms

slender tips covered in glass.

De bottle trees

trapping flying spirits

holding them tight.

Until the night wind comes

bringing the clinking moans

ending only with the morning.

It is the new light

bringing deliverance

to lost and hungry souls.

They started early this year. The
sun had barely set as she watched the flickering lights through the thick fog
over the cemetery. Loud music and yelling thumped in the air. Her youngest one
began to whimper.

“Don’t cry, baby,” she said,
caressing his head.

“The lights are scary,” he
whined. “Are they going to make those noises all night like last year?”

She stared through the thick fog
at the lights again and shook her head. The sound of loud voices mixed with
haunting music. “I don’t know, but you need your rest, honey. We have to try to
ignore them.”

“Why do they do this every year?”
her oldest asked.

“Something disturbs them at this
time of the year,” she said. “Perhaps the end of summer and the beginning of
winter wakes something strange in them. We just have to stay put and wait for
the night to end. They won’t bother us.”

“But what will we do if they come
out here?”

“They won’t,” she tried to sound
calm, but she could see shadows moving in the oddly lit fog. She suppressed a
shudder.

“Come, babies, time to rest.
We’ll get through this night and then we’ll have a year of quiet before we have
to worry about them again.” She turned her back to the pulsing sounds and
gently pushed them ahead.

“In you go,” she said, kissing
them as they lay down.

“You won’t let them get us?” the
youngest whimpered.

“No, baby,” she said. “I’ll be
near you as usual.” She covered them both and slowly lowered her aching bones
into her grave, willed the dirt into place, and tried not to think about the
sounds coming from the Halloween party in the house across the street from the
cemetery.

The Zirk’s top scientists

turned their kata twice to the left

jumped up and down three times

and said the sanu mantra.

The Vanuta’s top priestess

burned emsnu incense

sacrificed a many-noodled cangi

and slithered across the ancient floor.

All fifty thousand Kirsx hive
members

danced the rhythmic dance of death

for ten cycles of their moon

and promptly fell asleep.

The remaining archaeologists

argued to blows over the object

until a minor Gorkling pulled the
shiny stick

and the toilet flushed.

Chapter 3, Section 1.3.1a:

Maintain an acceptable holo image
at all times when visiting the most interesting planet, native-named Earth, in
the “Milky Way” galaxy. Neatness and a good fitting image will gain high marks
on the believability scale if inadvertently seen by Earth’s sentient beings.
Several varieties of images have been tested and rated in this galaxy. Certain
highly stylized images have been found to invoke agitated states in members of
the species. Reference: “Mars Attacks” vid 84.I.77, “Alien” vid series 39.N.5.2.

However, there is a wide range of
acceptable non-Earth styles to choose from that allow individuality and
personal style. Simplicity within the seeded archetypes has found to be most
successful. For popular interpretations of these images reference: “Close
Encounters of the Third Kind” vid 45.A.3.7, “X-Files” vid series 849.N.4.9.

An exception to the lists of
fashionable images is the favorite earthling Elvis look. A minimal amount of
language and behavior imprinting is necessary to become acceptable to the
natives. The only restriction is for travelers sensitive to flash light, since
this look invokes picture taking from the natives. This image will allow you to
travel among the natives freely; however, it is important to keep in mind that
this look should only be worn in the Las Vegas sector, to avoid the rippling
effects that have resulted from its overuse. See references to multi-media
archives, keyword: “Elvis Sightings”.

Chapter 7, Section 5.2.9g:

Abduction of human beings has
been strictly forbidden since the unfortunate incidents with unconscious memory
leaks. These leaks have not caused any high level problems and the long term
effects have been entertaining; however, they introduce unacceptable risks for
the travel program. Reference: all works of Chris Carter starting in the 20th
Century vid series 209.Z.4.7.

Abduction of other life forms is
allowed as long as the entire creature is taken. Although the problems produced
by the Geuu taking only internal organs and leaving the external coverings (see
section on Bovine Internal Studies) has not resulted in Earth being put on the
non-visitor list, we do not want to create additional issues for the
Interspatial Uniplacated Traveler’s Board (IUTB).

Chapter 14, Section 8.4.2v:

It is important to establish
viable landing sites if planet fall is intended. Studies have found that
locations of expected visitation are best since the local natives will have
already woven tales to explain any signs of other worldly sightings. Reference
maps of Roswell, Grovers Mill, Area 51. Other sectors have been deemed
attractive because of their tolerance of aberrant images. Reference layouts of
Hollywood, New York City, all locations of Disney World.

When visiting Earth it is
important to clean up after yourself. The non-littering clause signed by all
participants of the traveler’s contract will be strictly enforced. Dark matter,
hot or cold, in particular must be kept out of this developing galaxy for
obvious reasons. Manipulation of native material is strictly forbidden from the
sub-molecular level to larger structures. Documented incidents of the breaking
of these rules serve as clear examples of what not to do, no matter how
visually pleasing. Reference: the Step Pyramid of King Joser in Egypt, which
involved the masterful memory imprinting of several generations of natives.
Note that the creation of crop circles by vacationers is discouraged unless you
hold at least a Level III certificate in topical soil and plant design.
Although amusing in its final result, these kinds of graffiti will no longer be
tolerated by IUTB.

In conclusion, we expect all
vacationers to review the entire Traveler’s Guide in any preferred form
(visual, eatable, scent, spiked, etc) and commit it to memory. Enjoy!