Sacrifice (20 page)

“What time should I come back for you?”

“You’re not coming back for us. I don’t want me and my lady to be standing out here waiting for your silly ass while you’re somewhere jackin’ off. You wait right the fuck here like I said!” Mohammed growled.

“Yes, sir. I’ll go wait in the car.”

Chapter 33

Mohammed walked forward holding Emily’s hand. He was excited, nervous, terrified, and anxious to see what mysteries the two thugs in black suits were protecting, what lay beyond the imposing front door of Delilah’s home.

“Can you believe this motherfucker?” Mohammed said, going into his best approximation of a slang hip-hop drawl.

“Where’d you get him anyway?” Emily asked.

“My friend Nate recommended his ass. He’s supposed to be some kind of ex-military or some shit. I told him I didn’t need no bodyguard. I think I need to kick Nate’s ass.”

The two goons were now standing so close to Mohammed and Emily he could smell their breath, a mixture of alcohol, coffee, cigarettes, and breath mints. Emily and Mohammed continued their conversation, enjoying themselves as they got deeper into their roles.

“I don’t know why we’re here anyway. You really believe in this crap?”

“Don’t, Susan. Don’t disrespect my beliefs. This is my religion. I don’t diss you for being a Catholic.”

“But why did I have to come?”

“I go to your church, don’t I?”

The older of the two thugs interrupted them. “Excuse me, but can I help you?”

“We’re here for the ceremony. We’re friends of Frank, Frank Wells? He’s my accountant. Frank said we didn’t need to call ahead or nuthin’. He said everyone is welcome here.”

“And who are you?” the younger one asked, flexing his fingers as if hoping Mohammed would give him the wrong answer and an excuse to choke the life out of him.

“I’m Floyd Mack. I’m a record producer. My family is from Jamaica, and I’ve been looking for a mambo here in Vegas ever since we got here. Frank says Delilah is ‘special.’ I want to see for myself. This is my wife, Susan.”

“Record producer? What’s that, like, some new slang for drug dealer?” the younger guy asked.

The muscular thug with the gray hair cast his colleague a stern look. “Excuse Tony here. His manners ain’t always da best.”

“You two married? Got kids?” the one called Tony persisted.

The older guy pushed him back with one arm that seemed far more muscular than was normal for a man his age. His dark suit bulged around the chest, shoulders, and arms. Even Arnold Schwarzenegger wasn’t built like that anymore. This guy had to be around sixty, judging from the wrinkles and gray hair, but he was a behemoth of a man.

“Uh … yeah … uh, that’s cool. Yeah, we’re married. Ten years. We’ve got three daughters. Why?”

“We’s very family oriented here. We like to know who we’s lettin’ into our little congregation. Make sure they’ll fit in,” the older man said with a smile that sucked the warmth from Mohammed’s blood.

“So can we come in?”

“Sure. I’m gonna need to frisk you first. No weapons allowed here.”

“I’ve got a Glock .40 in a holster. It’s legal though. I’ve got a permit and everything. Let me go put it in the car. I don’t usually go nowhere without it. Shit is crazy out here these days. You can never be too careful, you know I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah, homeboy. I know what you’s sayin’,” the younger thug said, eying him suspiciously and opening his jacket to show Mohammed his own silver-plated 9mm Smith & Wesson.

“Nice piece. Custom?”

“Yeah. A present from Pops. Now go put your piece away and you can come in.”

Mohammed walked back to the car with Emily, took off his holster, and handed it to Malloy.

“What’s going on?” Malloy asked.

“No weapons. They’re going to frisk me.”

“Fuck. So you’re going in alone, unarmed, with your wife? If anything goes wrong, we’re fucked. You know that, right? We’re breaking every rule in the book here.” Mohammed and Emily returned to the house.

“Who’s the guy in the car?” Pops asked.

“My bodyguard. Like I need a fucking bodyguard, right? I can take care of my own shit. But a friend of mine loaned him to me along with the car until we can get our own driver. We just moved here and we’re still settlin’ in.”

“That rap music must pay pretty well, huh?” the younger guy asked as he frisked Emily a little too intimately, running his hands up her inner thighs. The one called Pops was frisking Mohammed and doing a remarkably thorough job, better than half the cops Mohammed knew.

“I wouldn’t know. We sell Gospel music, and yeah, that pays good as fuck. We good?”

“Yeah, go on in. The ceremony will be starting soon. Everyone’s in the backyard. Just walk straight through the living room. You can’t miss it.”

Mohammed and Emily walked past them into the house. He half expected to be shot in the back as he opened the huge door and stepped into the stunning entryway. The crystal chandelier was as big as him. The entryway was floored with marble tiles and stepped down into a massive living room. Two huge French doors opened out into a yard already filled with guests. There were torches lit here and there though the sun had not yet fully set. The drums began just as they stepped through the doors and into the yard.

“I’m scared. Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” Emily said.

“It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But you left your gun in the car.”

“I’m not completely helpless without it, you know. And Malloy’ll be in here in a second if anything funny goes down. Don’t worry.”

“Those two guys at the front looked like gangsters. I thought they were going to shoot us.”

The drums sounded like they were coming from all directions. Mohammed could feel the beat pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat. The door opened behind them, and the guy called Tony came out carrying a white python. Behind him, the huge gray-haired guy led a goat by a leash. A woman he didn’t recognize carried a chicken upside down by its feet. They brought the animals to the center of the circle and waited. They all turned toward the French doors.

Mohammed and Emily stepped out of the way. Whatever was coming was coming through those doors.

Mohammed draped his arm around Emily and walked her out into the yard where nearly two dozen other couples, all normal looking, all apparently wealthy judging from the cars parked out front, waited with bated breath. There was only one person they could be waiting for. Delilah.

“Just relax and try not to freak out. I think things are about to get weird,” Mohammed said.

Chapter 34

The two guards were inside now with Mohammed and Emily. Malloy sat by himself in the driveway. Calling dispatch for back-up units was probably out of the question now. Not if he wanted to keep his job. What he needed now were friends. Friends with badges and guns who owed him a favor and could keep their mouths shut and go along with whatever story he and Mohammed came up with to explain all of this.

He reached for his cell phone.

“Detective Lassiter, Sex Crimes Division.”

“Trina? It’s Malloy. Can you go somewhere where you can talk without being overheard?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Just let me know when you’re clear.”

There was a long pause, and Malloy could hear the familiar sound of thick rubber soles squeaking on cheap vinyl tiles. A door opened with a rusty metallic whine and then banged closed.

“Okay. I’m in the lady’s room. What’s going on, John?”

“Me and Mohammed are on an undercover investigation and need back-up - but this has to be real quiet. Mohammed is in there with his wife, and if the captain finds out we’re both out of a job. I need you and Torres and whoever else you can think of who knows how to keep their mouths shut.”

“He brought his wife undercover with him? Fuck, John, you guys know better than that. Pull her outta there before you get her killed!”

“It’s too late for that now. I’m alone out here. If I go in there by myself I might get all three of us killed. I need your help, Trina.”

“Fuck, John. I’ve been behind a desk for months. I don’t know if I’d be any good to you out there.”

“Well, then I’m fucked because you’re all I’ve got.”

Her exasperated sighs sounded even louder somehow. “You’re both idiots, you know that, right?”

“I know, Trina. But that’s why you love us.”

“Fuck, John. Shit! I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure Mike’ll do it. He ain’t got no sense anyway, and you and him are buddies. I’ll give Harry a call and see if he’s up to this.”

“Harry? Are you sure he’s … you know … okay?”

“None of us are okay, John, but if you need our help, we’ll be there. You’re going to have to do me a favor, though.”

Malloy closed his eyes and braced for it, knowing what was coming.

“I need to know what really happened to me that night. You’ll have to tell me what you know about Dale McCarthy.”

Chapter 35

She was completely naked, and her body was as close to perfection as anything this side of heaven had any claim to be. Mohammed’s mouth fell open and his eyes ravished her smooth brown skin, lustfully tearing over her curves. The sudden tumescence in his pants made him self-conscious. He remembered that his wife, Emily, was standing beside him. Instinctively, he looked away from the naked priestess, blushing, waiting for his wife to berate him for being unfaithful with his eyes. A second ticked by and then another. Emily remained silent. Mohammed looked over at her and was surprised to see her staring at the woman with the same undisguised lust he felt. Normally she would have let loose with a tirade of “nasty slut,” “trifling whore,” and “skank-ass hoochie” before berating Mohammed for leering at her like some sex-crazed teenager. Seeing his wife looking at another woman like that was as disconcerting as it was arousing.

The drums sped up as the woman, who could only have been Delilah, walked into the center of the circle now formed by her followers. She began moving to the rhythm of the drums, slowly whirling her dreadlocks in a dervish-like dance, bending and contorting like a circus acrobat. Her thick muscular thighs propelled her through the air as she leapt and twirled and then dropped to the ground and began to convulse. It looked like she was having a seizure, but no one among the crowd of acolytes appeared the least bit concerned for her well-being. Mohammed assumed this was all a normal part of the ritual, but he couldn’t help feeling like he should be doing something. He just didn’t know what.

Around him, the other couples began to dance. Many were going through the same spastic contortions as Delilah, others waltzed languorously in a sort of somnolent trance, staggering zombie-like around the circle of drums and burning torches, while still others had begun to remove their clothes, gyrating and undulating against each other in a violent parody of coitus.

“What the hell is going on?” Mohammed whispered to Emily, but she could no longer hear him. She was bouncing on her toes, her entire body vibrating, her eyes blank, still fixed on Delilah. Without pausing to look at her husband, Emily spun off, doing a series of off-balance pirouettes like a drunken ballerina into the center of the circle, where quite a few of the assembled worshippers were now fucking like animals. Mohammed started to call out for Emily, to order her back to his side, when he felt something thrust itself into his mind. This presence now sharing space in his head was foreign, alien, but somehow not uncomfortable. It was simply an oddity, a peculiarity to be contemplated. He felt its thoughts and they were familiar, not unlike his own private desires but without the filter of rationality and civilization, free of social mores and admonitions. It wanted to fuck, suck, eat, and get drunk, and at that moment, that’s all Mohammed wanted as well. He let the alien mind passenger take control of his body, happy to let go of the responsibility of it, knowing what it would do because it was what he would have done if he wasn’t so … controlled, so perfectly conformed. He wanted to be wild, and this hitchhiker in his skull sensed it and obliged.

Mohammed began stripping off his clothes. He pulled off his pants, his underwear, his shirt and tie, oblivious to his wife who was now on her knees being ridden from behind by some corpulent pig of a man with skin the color of unbaked bread. Mohammed grabbed a woman with big floppy breasts and titanic thighs laced with thick blue varicose veins and bent her over, thrusting himself inside her with a recklessness and aggression completely unlike him. He fucked her hard and fast, staring at Delilah the entire time and wanting her even as he copulated wildly with this ancient cow that he normally wouldn’t have looked at twice. He thrust deeper and deeper into her unctuous sex, wishing it was Delilah’s smooth brown flesh he was pillaging.

He watched Delilah rise from the ground. She was singing or chanting in Spanish and then in some language that sounded African, Yoruba, or Swahili. Her eyes were black as a starless sky and her tongue slithered back and forth like an adder’s, looking impossibly long, moving with serpentine fluidity like no tongue he’d ever seen before. She lifted the huge albino python over her head and began tearing it apart with her teeth, spraying blood everywhere. She drank the viper’s blood as it poured over her. Still dancing, even as she sacrificed the serpent to whatever god or spirit now possessed her she remained impossibly beautiful, even awash with blood.

Delilah sprayed blood from her lips onto her dancing, fucking, entranced congregation as she chanted in Spanish and French and what sounded to Mohammed like Latin. She did the same with the chicken and then finally the goat, slitting its throat and washing her hands in its blood, licking it from her fingers. Everyone rushed in to join her, wetting their fingers in the goat’s blood, drinking it, painting their faces with it. Then, one by one, Delilah’s followers came to her, cutting their fingers, their nipples, even their wrists and offering their blood to her as well. Mohammed was approaching a cataclysmic orgasm, his body beginning the hitching and jerking that preceded the spraying of his seed into the obese middle-aged banker, lawyer, politician, entrepreneur’s wife, or whatever she was when he saw Emily approach the beautiful mambo and offer her blood as well.