The Demon Pool (15 page)

Kat brushed past Bruce as he opened the front door.
Bruce watched as Demore’s car exited the cul-de-sac. The bright sunshine made
Bruce squint and blink. He stayed in the doorway as Demore drove away.
The
cop probably thinks I’m an idiot
.

Bruce did not care for the way Demore looked at
him when he left. Something’s wrong. Kat did something. Something that involved
the car. Bruce watched until the patrol car turned off his street and
disappeared.
This is not good. Just think it through. Don’t panic.

He would find out what Kat had done and, if
necessary, throw her to the dogs. Or the wolves. Or under the bus. Whatever
.
After all, he had discovered and tapped into an untold source of wealth. He had
seduced a woman who would not normally have given him the time of day. Kat was
the hottest woman at the club, and the sexiest, most beautiful woman he had
ever known. And he got her without her knowing about the extent of his newfound
wealth. He was finally coming into his own. Finally becoming the man he had
always believed he should be. Love had its limits. He knew that from his
ex-wives.
If she has to go, oh well. I got her and I can get another one.
That waitress Kat terrorized, seemed pretty interested.

Yes, he was on the verge of having everything he
wanted. Even if he truly loved Kat, he would not let love make him stupid. Once
again, experience with the ex-wives.

Admittedly, it had been risky to let Kat take the
Viper to Naples without him, but he could never have predicted that he would be
stuck in Atlanta. The law of unintended consequences.
You do this, expecting
that, and some other crap happens. Should have known better. Might have bit me
right on my ass.

Worst case scenario, Kat had done something that
would screw him, and not in the good way. No doubt, she had some reasonable
level of intelligence. He knew that Kat had an associate’s degree from the
local junior college, but he had a master’s degree in finance and accounting
and a CPA designation. He was smarter than Kat. Hell, he was smarter than most
people. Mentally, Kat would be no match.

The light outside dimmed as the horizon embraced
the setting sun, but the air remained hot. Once again, the night would be
unseasonably warm. His thoughts drifted to watching Kat skinny-dip in the pool.
He didn’t swim, just lounged around in the shallow end, but he loved the feel
of the subtemperate water on a blistering hot summer day. Watching Kat swim
naked was a bonus, but not something he was willing to risk everything for.

Of course, that presumed that Kat had done
something wrong. It could be a case of mistaken identity. It was unlikely that
he had the only red and black sports car in Florida. After all, the trooper did
not arrest Kat or have the Viper impounded. That could be a good sign. He and
Kat would have a heart-to-heart tonight.
Maybe in the pool. Naked.

***

Kat lit the second candle. She had set up a small altar
on the ceramic tank cover in the guest room toilet. She had no time to waste,
Bruce would be sniffing around looking for her in a minute or two. She hated
the idea of having to go to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get another
driver’s license, but Trooper Demore had left his body oil behind on the
license she had shown him, and she needed something personal from Demore to
burn in the flame of the black candle. It wasn’t ideal because the plastic
lamination would stink, but for the moment it was all she had.

Bruce would be difficult to control if Demore’s
investigation threatened his personal security. When Bruce had called her this
afternoon, right after he had spoken to Trooper Demore, Kat assumed that she
would have to deal with both men. The two candles would take care of both
problems.
Black for undermining an enemy. Red for controlling someone.

She had also brought a third candle, a yellow
one, to use with Bruce later in a special divination ceremony. Infernal sex
magick. She was anxious to use the secret spells of Luciferian Witchcraft she
had found in the book Martha had given her. It had opened a new world of power
and possibility. She would take Bruce to levels of sexual pleasure he had never
imagined.
When this is over, I will own both his ass and his soul.

The book taught Kat that by being bold and using
the right spells, she could summon and control guiding spirits. These were the
indisputable signs that she had tapped into a source of metaphysical power.
Evidenced by the laughing voice she had heard at her apartment, and the
unexpected knowledge she had gained, Kat knew now that she had awakened her own
internal guiding spirit.

Kat lifted her dress and pulled down her panties.
She sat on the toilet and defecated while the black candle burned. She had read
on the Internet that in
hoodoo
candle magick — one of the powerful
variations of black magick —  exposing Demore to her excrement and her ass as
the black candle burned added insult to injury. She did not know exactly what
effect this last gesture would have, but she liked the idea of metaphysically
crapping on her enemy.

It was a shame that she and Demore were enemies.
He was tall, good-looking, and, from what she could see, he was in great shape.
He might have been a good lay, maybe even a great lay.

She cleaned herself, flushed the toilet, and then
washed her hands. She used her wet fingers to pinch out the candle. She would
burn the red candle next. Tonight she would give Bruce everything he wanted,
but, in exchange, he would be writing her a blank check with his soul.

***

Kevin Williams followed the Highway Patrol car from a
safe distance. Unknown to Trooper Big-Blond-Prick Demore, he had placed a tiny
GPS tracking device under the Charger’s rear bumper. Kat had called Kevin right
after Bruce had called her. He had driven through Bruce’s neighborhood,
picturing the middle-management jerks that lived there. Kevin did not know who
this Bruce dude was, but he was sure that he would not like him.

Kevin also foreknew that at some point Kat would
need his help. He had written his number down and given it to her before
leaving her outside Martha’s shop. The voice had told him to do it, and to do
whatever Kat asked. The voice promised Kevin special rewards for his
cooperation and obedience. He found simply thinking about the possibilities
arousing. He would need to make a trip to the beach the upcoming weekend to
relieve the pressure that was building inside.

Kevin had set up the tracking through his smart
phone, using the phone’s Internet browser. The tiny lithium battery used to
power the bug would allow the device to emit a signal for six continuous
months. Of course, Trooper Demore did not have six months. Kevin would see to
it that Demore would not even have six more hours.

Even before Kat called, days earlier, the voice
had told Kevin to prepare a special package for the big, blond prick. Getting
the parts and pieces he needed turned out to be quick and easy. No real
surprise considering the possibilities and opportunities created by the
Internet and next day air freight. Only a couple of years ago, it would have
taken weeks or months to set up what he had been able to do in days.

In spite of the ease in ordering and receiving what
he needed, Kevin knew that the Feds were watching for certain keywords. The
damn terrorists had screwed things up for everybody. Nevertheless, Kevin’s
sources were true experts at flying below the radar, and he knew that as good
as the Feds were, he was better. Kevin also had the ultimate advantage — he had
the voice to help him when things got rough. And the voice had never failed him.

Jim drove south toward Ft. Myers. He had decided to try
to interview de la Garza again tomorrow. Tonight he had a class. He had been
fortunate enough to be able to register for classes around his on-call
schedule, and fortunate to have instructors who were sympathetic to his work
situation. At the end of this term, he would complete all of the courses needed
to transfer to a bachelor of science program.

While tonight’s class would interrupt the
investigation, at least he was on track. His cop-sense told him there was
something screwy about Bruce York and Kat Connors.
And don’t even get me
started on that little freak, Kevin Williams
.

He had the photos of the Viper, and if de la
Garza recognized York’s little toy, he would be making a special trip back to
Tampa to talk to both York and Connors. It seemed as if York had a hell of lot
more to lose than Connors did. Nice house in a good neighborhood, a government
job that apparently paid well, some extra money thanks to a dead relative, and one
hot damn sports car.

As the mile markers passed, Jim found his
thoughts drifting back to Connors. Definitely a beautiful woman. Her body was
as close to perfect as Jim had ever seen. He was still embarrassed that he had
been caught peeking at her through the guest room door at York’s house.
Okay,
so I’m not perfect
.

Yet, in spite of her beauty, Jim found something
unsettling about Connors. It was not so much that she was with York and
probably a gold digger, or that she made her living at a topless club.

Jim thought about it for a moment. Her eyes. The
same strange look as the St. Onge woman. That, and the comments about special
candles and magic. Maybe Connor’s life revolved around weird, supernatural
crap.
But would that have anything to do with the accident? Not likely.

Jim’s attention shifted back to his driving. He
glanced at his gas gauge. He needed fuel. He could hit the truck stop at the
next exit on the east side of the freeway. They would accept his State-issued
gas card.

As he put his foot on the brake pedal, Jim’s mind
went back to the investigation. Truth be told, his mind went back to Kat
Connors and what he had seen through the guest room door. He ruminated for a
moment before realizing the light ahead had turned green. He also noticed that
the temperature inside the Charger had dropped again. In fact, it felt like the
inside of an icebox. He reached toward the dash to turn the air conditioner off
when a bright light flooded the Charger’s cabin.

***

The driver of the westbound semi found himself
distracted by the teenage Goth-girl he had picked up at the truck stop on the
east side of the freeway. The girl was probably in her late teens; although,
who knew these days? It wasn’t his responsibility to check the ID of every
sweet thing that came along. Besides, they all had fake IDs anyway.

She wore a short black, white, and gray plaid
skirt, a black bustier half a size too small, torn black fishnet stockings, and
black, glossy, lace-up boots. Around her neck hung a black leather necklace
supporting a black circular pendant with an anarcho-punk scarlet “A” in the
middle. She had a small, upside down cross tattooed under the corner her right
eye.

His route did not include the side trip she had
asked for. But after hearing her story and her offer, he decided why the hell
not? She had told him that her friends had punked her, left her at the truck
stop as a prank. Unfortunate for them, they had forgotten that she was holding
their stash of King Bubba Kush, a truly righteous weed. He and the girl shared half
a joint before leaving the truck stop. As they smoked, her eyes seemed to
kaleidoscope into different shades and colors. It was almost as if more than
one person was staring out through them.
Probably just the dope.

The big truck rolled under a freeway overpass.
The girl leaned over toward him and held the joint to his lips. Her other hand
slid up his thigh to his crotch. The semi cleared the overpass and raced
towards a traffic light. As the traffic signal turned yellow, the driver
realized he’d misjudged his speed and decided it was too late to stop. He
closed his eyes for a second, sucking hard on the joint. The signal for
westbound traffic turned red a full three seconds before his truck reached the
intersection stop bar.

The girl’s hand slipped back to his thigh for
support as she continued to hold the joint to his lips. The truck driver opened
his eyes and saw the Highway Patrol cruiser pull out in front of him. The girl
laughed as he hit his horn. Traffic in the eastbound lanes didn’t give the trucker
any room to play thread-the-needle between the cop car and opposing traffic.

***

The sound of a semi’s air horn burst into the passenger
compartment of Jim’s Charger with all the finesse of a middle linebacker intent
on eating the opposing quarterback’s lunch. Jim jerked the Charger’s steering
wheel sharply right, stomped on the accelerator, and the car’s
performance-tuned steering responded. The car jumped to the narrow, gravel
shoulder, and the tractor-trailer missed its rear bumper by a fraction of an
inch. Jim fought to maintain control. The police-performance suspension and
special tires kept the Charger from spinning out into traffic, or off the
shoulder and into a ditch.

The tractor-trailer roared past. Jim looked down,
ready to hit his lights and siren, when the flashing colon between the hour and
minutes of the Charger’s clock blinked a wagging finger at him.
Get to
school on time, Jim.

He took a deep breath while drops of sweat rolled
down his forehead. He realized the car’s interior had gone from freezer to
furnace.

A loud rapping at the guest bathroom door shattered the
silence and her privacy. Kat put the red and black candles back into her tote.

“Just a minute.”

“Did you light a match or something?”

The edge in Bruce’s voice surprised Kat. She
expected pouting from Bruce, and when things really went against him, whining.
This time he sounded irritated, even angry. Maybe he had finally grown a pair.

“It’s only a candle, Bruce. A little ceremonial
thing I do.”

Kat grabbed the tote and opened the door. Bruce
stood there with that stupid, blinky-eyed look that he got when he was
surprised, concerned, or simply did not know what to do. Kat squeezed her body
around him, put her tote on the bed, and sat. 

“What did you do, Kat?”

Bruce sounded more perplexed than angry.

“Why did the Highway Patrol want to see the
Viper?” he asked.

Kat puckered her face into a little pout as Bruce
moved in close. She reached out and slid her arms around his oversized middle
and looked up at him.

“Don’t be mad, Bruce. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Some guy in a Corvette was being an asshole when I was driving down to Naples.
He scared me.”

Kat rested her cheek against Bruce’s chest. She
glanced up at him and his face softened, but the blinking continued.

“I tried to outrun him. Get away from him. Your
Viper is fast. I was afraid.”

“What happened?” Bruce asked, gentler this time.

“An old truck was poking down the slow lane. The
Corvette went around on the right. He hit a trailer parked on the shoulder. I
was scared, Bruce. I kept going.”

“Oh, shit, Kat. You killed that Briggs guy. Him
and his girlfriend. For God’s sake, he was a friend of the fricken governor. No
wonder that cop drove all the way up here.”

Kat squeezed Bruce and pressed her cheek farther
into his chest.

“It wasn’t my fault, baby.”

She felt both his heartbeat and his breathing
increase. She looked up at Bruce with pouty lips and puppy eyes. Bruce’s face
looked paler than usual.

***

It was time for more control.
Baalzaric melded his mind with Kat’s. His will became her will and she received
him as if he were her lover.
Take him to the bed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Bruce.”

Kat took him by the hands and stood.

Use the yellow candle.

Kat felt the bed against the back of her knees

“Keep me safe, Bruce. Take care of me.”

She let go of his hands and began removing his
belt.

“Take care of me so I can take care of you,” she
continued.

Bruce stood there blinking, watching Kat
manipulate his clothes.

Kat stopped for a minute.

The infernal sex magick. Use it now.

“Bruce, let me light a candle.”

Night had embraced the world outside.

“You should have told me, you know,” Bruce said.

Baalzaric heard a pathetic man who lived a
pathetic life.

Kat pulled the yellow candle out of her tote along
with a small vial of oil. Bruce undressed while Kat dressed the candle with the
oil. Bruce watched Kat use slow, careful strokes that covered every inch of the
candle. Baalzaric watched Bruce’s arousal become obvious.

She put the oil away and lit the candle. She
dripped wax on the nightstand beside the bed and placed the candle on top of
it.

In one smooth motion, she pulled the yellow
sundress over her head. Bruce had stripped to his shorts and socks. Kat reached
up. Her hands explored his chest. Then they suddenly went south. She bent over
as her mouth followed. Bruce’s pulse was racing now. Kat felt it. She paused
and looked up at him. Her hands kept busy.

“Do you believe in magick, Bruce?”

“Oh, God, yes.” Bruce groaned, his voice thick,
raspy. “What you’re doing is magic. Hell, right now, I’d believe in anything
you asked me to. Magic, fairies, little green men, demons from hell.
Just...don’t...stop.”

“I won’t stop, Bruce,” Kat told him. “I have
something special for you. A gift.”

Kat could feel little jerks and spasms pulsing
through his body.

“Do you want my gift, Bruce?” she asked. “It’s
magick. You have to ask for it, open yourself to it.”

“Yes, please. I want it,” he begged. “Give it to
me.”

That was all Baalzaric had to hear. His mind
radiated a power that oozed out of Kat, through the walls and the ceiling, and
into the atmosphere. Mere seconds later, while Bruce sighed and moaned, a dark
shape congealed below the vaulted ceiling. It began a slow orbit above Bruce’s
head.

Kat kissed her way back up Bruce’s torso. She
kissed Bruce on the mouth with wet, full lips. Her tongue forced its way past
his teeth and took ownership. She cut off the lingering kiss, spun him around,
and pushed him back on the bed. He wiggled backwards at an angle until his head
was on the pillow while Kat pulled off his shorts. His pasty-white skin had
turned pink, the capillaries flush with blood, his flesh hot to the touch.

Another shape appeared above the bed, even darker
than the first. Kat held on to Bruce and positioned herself above him. His eyes
were squeezed shut, his breathing rapid and shallow, his pulse close to his
aerobic maximum.

Kat let herself slide down onto him. She began a
low chant, almost a long, continuous moan. The two dark shapes went around and
around above Bruce’s head. A third shape appeared, even darker than the first
two. Some kind of living, black hole swirled between Bruce and the ceiling.

Bruce began to grunt and moan, his face painted
with impending ecstasy. Kat’s chanting got louder and she reached over for the
well-oiled, yellow candle. His eyes still closed, Bruce’s hands held her by her
waist as she pinched out the flame. She arched her back and reached around
behind her, forcing the candle between Bruce’s legs. His eyes popped open,
surprised, questioning. Kat rode Bruce harder and faster while inching the
candle toward its target. Bruce’s eyes squeezed shut and his face told her that
he was close to sweet release.

Do it
.

Baalzaric felt every sensation flowing through
Kat’s body. This was what he lived for — physical ecstasy.

Do it, do it now.

Kat shoved the oiled candle home. Bruce’s eyes
popped wide open. His mouth formed a pink circle.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

Not God, you fool.

The demons above Bruce’s head spun around in
frenzied anticipation so strong that Baalzaric felt it.

Kat’s body stiffened and the waves began crashing
over her, one after another. She pushed herself down on Bruce. As hard as she
could. He exploded inside of her. Her own body jerked and thrust itself against
him, frantic to complete its own release. Baalzaric was awash in a flood of
pure, ecstatic, almost celestial pleasure.

Now. Take him, now!

The demons broke out of their orbit and plunged,
one by one, into Bruce’s skull — the blackest demon penetrating last. Bruce’s
head thrashed from side to side. His eyes rolled back in their sockets with
only the whites showing.

Baalzaric let the waves of Kat’s pleasure crash
over him. At the same time, he absorbed as much of her psyche and her being as
he dared, without pushing her into a psychotic episode. He released the
connection between them enough to let Kat regain control of her body. She
jerked a few times, spending herself in the last spasms of her climax. She fell
to her right side, breaking her connection with Bruce. She rolled onto her
back, sweating and breathing hard. Baalzaric backed off more, letting Kat’s
mind float away from his control. For the moment, he was satisfied.

***

Kat looked over at Bruce. He
appeared paralyzed, his chubby body wet with sweat and his pubic hair sticky
with their fluids. His eyes remained tucked back into his head. She watched his
chest. It rose and fell with a regular rhythm. Still breathing.
Good
.
It would suck if I killed him before getting everything I want
.

She sat up, pushing her sweat-drenched hair back
from her face. She retrieved the yellow candle. Bruce did not move. Not even a
twitch. Just the in and out, in and out of his breath.

Kat grabbed her tote and went into the bathroom.
She carefully wrapped the candle in a tissue and placed it into a sealable
freezer bag that she retrieved from her tote. She hid the candle behind the
toilet. If Bruce ever failed to cooperate, she would only have to unwrap the
candle, burn it, and return it to its hiding place. With the powerful magick
contained in the candle, now smeared with his body’s excretions, she would
either guarantee Bruce’s good behavior, or end his miserable existence.

It was time to get clean. She opened the frosted
glass shower door and stepped inside. She turned the faucet handle to the hot
side and then pulled it. The flexible shower head, attached to a six-foot hose,
allowed her to quickly, and completely, clean away the mess that Bruce had left
in her. The steamy hot water even washed away the dirt she couldn’t see. She
had realized the importance of washing off the invisible dirt, the dirt that
polluted her mind and soul, from the first time Robert Greer had taken her into
the bathroom, after raping her.

Kat came back into the guest room and dressed.
Bruce was still breathing, with little tremors pulsing through his hands and
feet. As Bruce’s extremities twitched and jerked, Kat saw the first shadow. It
rose out of his torso, phantom-like. A second and a third shadow appeared. The
three shadows dipped in her direction. She had seen the same thing in Kevin
Williams at the Candle and Wind store in Ft. Myers. Somehow, during the sex
act, the shadow spirits had taken up residence in Bruce.

Kat turned and went back into the bathroom. She
stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. Nothing. She watched for a
few minutes longer. No shadows. Nothing but her own reflection staring back at
her.  Not a single shadow.
Ok, whatever got into Bruce, isn’t in me.

She smiled at her reflection. For a woman who had
suffered what she had suffered, had done the things that she had done, she had
to admit to herself that she looked good. She went back into the guest room and
sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Bruce. What a big, ugly toad he was. Kat
cupped her hand around his chin and shook his head gently.

“Bruce, wake up.”

Nothing.

A thought startled her. Words in an unknown
language. Kat spoke them aloud.

“
Ex abyssus. Excito. Nunc.
”

Surprisingly, she understood the words.
Out of
hell. Rise up. Now.

Bruce’s eyes rolled back down. He blinked,
blinked again. A look of terror crossed his face, then confusion.

“It’s okay,” Kat told him. “I’m here.”

“We were making love,” Bruce said, his voice weak,
tenuous. “Everything went dark. Dark and hot. Hot the way my mother told me
hell would be hot. Everything burned.” Bruce paused. “My ass still burns.”

His voice trailed off as fresh beads of sweat
erupted from his forehead. He rose up on his elbows.

“It was a bad place. Was I dreaming?”

“Were you Bruce?”

“I don’t want to go back there, Kat. It was a bad
place.”

“Do you love me, Bruce?”

Bruce nodded his head. No words, just his eyes
telling Kat that he would love and obey.