The Devil You Know (8 page)

“I’m
afraid nothing seems quite right,” she said.

“Don’t
worry about it,” she heard him say. “I still have tea all over the back of my
jacket, remember.”

She
laughed in spite of herself. “All right,” she said. “Fair enough.” She pulled a
black and white dress from its hanger and considered it for a moment. Though it
was the sort of thing she would more readily have worn to a casting call, she
decided it would have to do for dancing. It had a matching jacket, and if she
left it behind, the dress would look casual enough for whatever nightclub
Taylor had in mind.

With
a deep breath, she stepped around the screen, the dress draped over her
forearm. Taylor was still seated at her little dining table, and when he saw
her, he stood immediately. “I’ll just pop down to the bathroom and be right
back,” she said.

He
stood between her and the door, and though he half stepped aside to let her
pass, he also reached out to take both her hands to stop her. It was the first
time she had felt his touch. The sensation was like electricity running up from
her fingertips. Instantly, she forgot about dancing or changing her clothes,
but just gazed into the eyes that looked so much like Cary Grant’s.

“Laura,”
he whispered huskily. “I think I’ve gotten lost in your eyes.”

He
bent to kiss her, and she tipped her head back, letting the dress slip from her
grasp as she put her arms around him. She felt the same tingling in her lips
that she had felt in her fingers, and she moaned as he pulled her to him.
Desire flooded her mind, consuming her. She wanted nothing now but the man in her
arms. Everything else about her existence faded into the back of her mind like
a barely remembered dream that grew more and more hazy with each passing
second.

For
a brief moment, he broke away from her. Her eyes had been closed, and she
opened them now to see that he stared at her with an animal hunger. He wanted
to consume her, and for a moment, she felt afraid. She had never been looked at
with such animal desire before. Before long, though, the fear turned to
excitement, and she let him back her up against the little dining table. It was
as though he couldn’t wait for the bed to be folded down, but lifted her
instead onto the table, which creaked a bit under her weight, and ran a hand up
her skirt and between her legs.

Laura had always told herself she was a good girl, and
had sometimes convinced herself that it was true. Today was another story
altogether. She had felt daring bringing him to her room, but now—with
one of his hands roughly holding her by the hair and another tugging at her
underwear—she no longer felt merely naughty. There was urgency to her
desire that she had never known before. Warmth built in her loins as she felt
herself beginning to be overcome not with sexual desire, but sexual need. It
was a physical need, stronger than any she had ever had, stronger than the need
for food, water, sleep or warmth. Never in her life had she felt such a sense
of sexual abandon, free of intimidation, shame or guilt.

Her
hands were at his belt, pulling and twisting at the leather to unfasten the buckle.
She pulled his zipper down with one hand while using the other to lift herself
off the table, just enough for him to pull her underwear off. Then she was
reaching into his pants as he laid her back and pulled one of her legs up. His
hands were soft, his touch somehow electric on her thighs. Something fell off
the table, hitting the floor behind her with a thud that sounded incredibly far
away; she was conscious of a humming in her ears, and realized she had been
hearing it for a while, maybe since he had started kissing her. She felt a
moment’s panic, but desire overpowered her fear. Then he was in her, and the
buzz in her ears no longer meant anything to her, nor was she alarmed by the
sensation that the tabletop beneath her had melted away and that she was
somehow floating above the floor.

The
man who had seemed worldly and debonair at the Brown Derby was now like a
beast, his thighs smacking the edge of the tabletop as he pounded against her.
Almost as soon as the thought of his animal behavior entered her mind, she saw
his skin change, slowly darkening to a reptilian green. When he ripped her
blouse open, she saw claws at the ends of his fingers; they tore at her
brassiere, and when he bent forward to flick his tongue across her nipples, she
saw that it was forked. At once, she knew she was hallucinating, knowing it
with the same certainty she had during lucid dreams. She had the strange
sensation of knowing none of these bizarre things were really happening, but
feeling them happen nonetheless. It gave her the most wicked joy she had never
known, and she reveled it. By the time she realized that the buzz in her ears
had transformed into excited whispers, she was too far gone to care, and so it
was without panic that she could glance to the left and right and see shadowy
figures about the room, their forms hidden as they watched the show she was
putting on. She wanted nothing more than to please them and her lover, the
thought of which took her over the edge.

As
her body convulsed with the force of her orgasm, she saw white, a light that
filled the room and erased her shadowy audience and even the strange, reptilian
face of Taylor Thompson. Then it began to diminish, receding like the tide,
only it gathered in upon her; it dropped from the ceiling and rose from the
floor, coming to her from all sides with a strange, impossible weight. She felt
a new penetration—one that was not physical at all. The light came into
her and was part of her for a moment; she felt complete serenity, the absence
of all desire. And then she began to feel the light withdraw, up from her toes,
down from head, gathering and building at her loins for just a moment with an
even greater intensity as she felt her lover begin to pull away.

For
a few seconds, she could see the room as it was again, could feel the table
underneath her, could hear her own heavy breathing along with Taylor’s. His
face was just above hers, and it was the same handsome face he had always had.
Gone were the reptilian features; the only changes in him were the beads of
sweat on his forehead and the disheveled mess she had made of his previously
perfect hair. For a moment, she saw him smile at her with a blend of curiosity
and cruelty, and then felt the room grow dark as she tumbled into
unconsciousness, sinking down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Seven

The
hospital corridor’s antiseptic smell had made Marie feel on edge when she had
first taken a chair outside the examination room. It was unpleasant, but it
forced her mind to stay exactly on why she was there. Even if she had not been
consumed with worry, the acrid smells kept her mind from wandering as she sat
and worried about Elise.

She
had gone straight home after leaving Colin Krebs in front of the Chinese
Theater, alternately convincing herself that Krebs’ story was true and that he
was a complete lunatic. The one thought she kept coming back to, though, was
that Elise was safe. The predator who had left her in such a state on Friday
night—be he a demon from hell or garden variety Hollywood lothario—was
not a danger to her friend; it was impossible for him to find Elise again.

Back
at home, she had fed Murphy and put the kettle on, telling herself she would
sit in her favorite chair by the front window and read into the evening. It
would be perfect, she knew, and when the streetlight came on, she would be able
to look out and watch the fine raindrops forming a misty curtain in front of
its yellow glow. She turned the burner off twice, though, before the water
boiled—once when she convinced herself that going to the movies was more
in order if she wanted to get the afternoon’s craziness out of her head. The
second time she cursed under her breath and finally admitted to herself that
she was still deeply troubled about Elise, especially in light of Colin Krebs’s
story.

The
phone was on the wall just inside the kitchen, and she stood with the receiver
in her hand, listening to the nagging, unanswered ringing on the line while her
cat did laps around her and tickled her calves with his tail. “Damn it,” she
said when she’d finally had enough and dropped the receiver back in its cradle.
Without thinking about it, she scooped Murphy into her arms and hugged him for
a moment. She let his purr vibrate against her wrist before she set him down
and went to the front closet, where she pulled her coat from its hanger and
slipped back into her shoes. Her purse was in its usual place atop the bookcase
where she kept all her
Weird Tales
;
it rested next to the framed photo of her late husband, the only one she let
herself keep out. She had regarded his smile for a moment, telling herself she
should find some strength in it before heading out the door.

Elise’s
house had been dark when she pulled up to it, and her knocking brought no
answer. To her surprise the knob turned when she twisted it, so she opened the
door slowly and stepped inside. “Elise?” she called out. There was no reply.
“Sweetie, it’s me,” she said and switched on the lights. Elise’s purse was on
the coffee table where she always left it. Forcing back her panic, Marie pulled
an umbrella from the stand beside the door and held it in front of her like a
sword as she moved into the hallway that led to Elise’s bedroom. A lot of good
the umbrella would do, she thought. Still, it felt good to have something to
fend off an attacker.

The
umbrella dropped to the floor the second she turned the lights on in Elise’s
room. It was Friday night all over again. Elise lay naked on her bed with her
eyes open, the sheets and blankets in a tangle around her and her clothes
scattered on the floor. Marie ran to the bedside, feeling for a pulse, and
whispering, “Oh God, oh God, oh God” until she found it. Not knowing what else
to do, she slapped Elise lightly across the cheeks. She blinked but gave no other
indication that she was conscious. “Elise!” she called. “Elise! Damn it!” There
was no response. In her panic, she latched onto the idea that Elise should be
dressed, as though her nudity was somehow the root of her problem. She turned
from the bed and began digging through Elise’s clothes, looking for her
underwear. “Why did you have to let him back in?” she said, though she knew
Elise would not answer. “And how did the son of a bitch find you?” She stomped
her foot in impotent rage and then gave up on getting Elise dressed, storming
out of the room to call for an ambulance.

She
had begun second-guessing herself immediately. Even now, as she sat outside the
examining room, she wondered if she had done the right thing. Elise might have
come around again, might have been just as fine as she’d been on Sunday morning
when they had gone to Mass together. When she thought of how limp Elise’s body
had been when the ambulance workers lifted her, though, and of how quickly
Elise had been seen once they arrived at the hospital, Marie knew that the
situation was serious and that no amount of bedside vigilance would have
helped.

Deep
in thought, she jumped in her seat when the door opened and the doctor came
into the corridor. He was in his fifties with hair going gray and bushy
eyebrows sprouting over the rims of his glasses. He looked at Marie over the
medical chart in his hand. “You brought Miss Lockwood in?”

“Yes,”
Marie said, standing up to face him.

“Are
you a relative, or…?”

“Just
a friend. Her family’s all in Nebraska, I think.”

He
nodded and looked at her a bit uneasily. His expression shifted to one of
resignation as he said, “Could you come down to my office for a minute?”

“Yes,
of course,” Marie said. The doctor turned and walked along the tiled corridor,
not looking back to see if she followed. Quickly falling into step, Marie said,
“Is she going to be all right? Do you know what’s—”

He
cut her off. “Please. We’ll discuss it in private.”

Marie
glanced behind her at the examining room where Elise still waited and followed
the doctor around a corner and through a door marked “Dr. Danforth.” The door
led to a small office where several framed degrees and certificates hung on
paneled walls. The doctor sat behind a cluttered desk and indicated that Marie
should take the chair facing him.

“I
really shouldn’t be discussing this with anyone who’s not an immediate
relative,” he began. “But…” He set the chart down and leaned back in his chair
with a sigh. “I guess I have more questions than answers at this point, so I don’t
suppose it will hurt, as long as you’ll promise to do what you can to get in
touch with the family.”

“Of
course,” Marie said.

“You
told the nurse that this condition started over the weekend?”

“Yes.
We were at a party.” From the moment Marie had called for an ambulance, she had
been trying to decide just how much she should share about what had happened
with Elise. It was beyond the point of avoiding embarrassment over Elise’s
dalliance with the man, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything about what
Colin Krebs had told her about Elise’s lover. The whole thing was absurd
anyway, Marie told herself as she continued. “She went with a man, someone
she’d never met. I don’t know if he gave her drugs or…” She shrugged. “I just
don’t know anything. I found her in the nude, and I assume they’d been
intimate. She was in a daze, but she could stand and walk if I helped her. She
came out of it soon after I got her on her feet.”

“And
since then?”

“I
saw her Sunday morning. We went to church together, and she was fine. Then
nothing till I went to check on her this evening. I had tried to call her
Sunday afternoon and a few times today. No answer, so I went over and found
her. Is she still the same way?”

He
nodded. “I would say she’s far less responsive than the state you describe her
in on Friday. You know of no history of epilepsy or any mental or emotional
conditions?”

Alarmed,
Marie said, “No. Nothing like that at all.”

“Perhaps
her family could shed some light?”

“Of
course. I’ll try to contact them tomorrow.” She saw that the doctor was moving
to get up from his seat, as if to dismiss her, and she felt a surge of
adrenaline, angry that he might try to brush her off without saying more. “Do
you think this man could have done something to her? If he came back yesterday,
or today?”

The
doctor hesitated a moment, then raised his hands, palms upward in a gesture of
futility. “I can’t say. We’ve taken urine and blood and will do tests, but
there’s no outward sign that she’s been drugged. No needle marks of any kind.” He
glanced again at Elise’s chart. “Pupils are responsive. She doesn’t seem
intoxicated. I’m sorry to say this, but the problem appears to be more mental
or emotional.”

“So
what are you going to do with her?”

“Keep
her for observation for now. If she snaps out of it the way you say she did
before, then we’ll see that she gets in to see her regular physician. Perhaps
he can diagnose the problem.”

“And
if she doesn’t snap out of it?” Marie asked, trying to keep fear and anger out
of her voice. She wanted Doctor Danforth to see her as rational and dependable,
someone who could be trusted with information she wasn’t really supposed to
have.

Again,
his hands went up, and he sighed. “If there’s no change, the most suitable
place for her would be the state hospital at Camarillo.”

Marie
sat up straight. “The mental hospital?”

“I
know it’s not what you want to hear, but they could give her the care she
needs.”

“And
this man? The one who started all of this?” She thought about Colin Krebs and
the role he had been assigned at the party. “There was something going on there
in those bedrooms. I don’t think Elise was the only one left in that condition.
Couldn’t you—”

Now
the doctor held a hand up. He looked like a traffic cop ordering her to stop.
“I’m sorry, Miss—?”

“Doyle.”

“Miss
Doyle. There’s just no medical evidence of anything external in your friend’s
case. There are no bruises, nor any sign of sexual trauma. If you feel there’s
some foul play involved, you’re welcome to call the police. But from my end,
well…my hands are tied.” He smiled at her, trying, Marie thought, to look
compassionate. He was not successful. “Of course, if anything else turns up in
our tests, we’ll be more than happy to assist the police. But for now…” Again
he shook his head. Then he pushed his chair back and stood up. “If you’ll
excuse me, now, I have other patients to attend to.”

“Of
course,” Marie said. She stood and opened the door before the doctor could
reach it first. “Thank you,” she added through tight lips and walked quickly
into the corridor, her heels clicking sharply on the tiles. She did not wait
for the doctor to follow her out. She knew she would not be allowed to see
Elise again, so she headed for the exit without stopping by the examining room,
her heart pounding from frustration.

In
the hospital lobby, she pulled her coat tight around herself and moved toward
the double doors, but then she stopped short. Across the room were two
payphones next to the elevators. Anger and frustration transformed into
determination as she reached into a pocket of her wallet and pulled out a dime.
The doctors may not be able to do
anything about Julian Piedmont and Colin Krebs or any of the others
, she
reasoned,
but the police won’t be able to
ignore a complaint
. They would have to go up to the mansion and question
Piedmont even though it might do no more than annoy the young mogul—which
was better than nothing. Better yet, if she alerted the police, they would be
more likely to believe the stories of any other young women who made the same
mistakes as Elise.

She
had the receiver to her ear and the coin in the slot when she stopped herself,
hanging up and collecting her dime. For her complaint to be taken seriously,
she would need to leave her name and submit to an interview. Keeping all
mention of incubi and strange rituals out of the conversation would be easy
enough, but what would that leave her? Elise had slept with a man at the party
and had acted strangely afterward. Other women at the party had likely been
left in a similar state, but she could not prove it without bringing Colin
Krebs into the conversation, which would lead to more questions about how Marie
knew him. The police would likely do nothing to investigate, especially against
someone as powerful as Julian Piedmont. If she mentioned incubi or demons or
rituals of any kind, she’d find herself sharing a room with Elise in Camarillo
for sure.

Tears
of frustration welled up in her eyes, and she wiped at them with the back of
her hand.
God damn it
, she thought
and reached back into her purse. A moment later, she had Colin Krebs’s business
card in her hand and was dialing the number.

He
answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Colin?”

“Who’s
this?” came the guarded reply.

“Marie
Doyle.”

His
tone shifted immediately. “Marie!” he said. “I didn’t think you’d call back. Or
not so soon. Did you talk to—”

“No,”
she cut him off. “And I told you I wouldn’t. Look, I’m at the hospital right
now. My friend Elise—from the other night?”

“Yes?”
He sounded nervous again.

“I
found her the same way tonight, only worse.”

“Oh
God.”

His
simpering angered her even more. “Oh God is right, you son of a bitch. What’s
he been doing to her? How did he find her?”

“Marie,
I swear. I promise I don’t know anything.”