Reilly blew out a long, slow breath.
“You enjoying this?”
“No,” said Reilly, shooting a glance at him.
“Because, you know, when we talked earlier—”
“I’m being professional,” said Reilly, tugging harder on the edges of the robe, closing it over his body. “Just like you said I should be.”
Krieger snorted.
“We should just observe,” said Reilly. “We can’t interview people, so we watch and wait.”
Krieger considered this and nodded.
They quieted, and they looked out over the rest of the classroom. But then Reilly remembered why he hadn’t been watching what was going on in the rest of the room, because it was just other men removing their clothes and putting on robes. The other men were casual about it, engaging in conversations about baseball games and barbecues.
Reilly looked down at his feet. His feet were bare, and he began contemplating whether or not he should put on his shoes. He knew that some people were very sensitive to their feet getting dirty, but Reilly didn’t much care one way or the other. He tried to look and see if the other men were wearing shoes or not, but it was difficult, because they were all spread out amongst the tables in the classroom.
He leaned to one side and caught sight of several other pairs of bare feet.
“What are you doing?” said Krieger.
“Nothing,” he said, straightening up.
Doug appeared in the front of the room.
Everyone quieted and turned to face him.
Doug was wearing a triangular shaped hat on his head, with an emblem embroidered in the middle. The emblem was a shining five-pointed star, like a pentagram, but it wasn’t encased in a circle. It appeared to be shining because beams of light had been embroidered coming out of it. He was also in one of the black robes, but he had a chain around his neck with another star pendant. Reilly couldn’t be sure, but he thought that Doug was wearing eyeliner.
“Welcome, children of the light,” said Doug.
The light, huh? Reilly thought that was a little funny, considering how they were all wearing black.
“We bow in service of goodness,” came a chorused response, all of the other men in robes bending at the waist and bowing to Doug.
Belatedly, Reilly and Krieger followed suit.
“Let us join with the power of our spirit and be blessed,” said Doug. He made blessed have two syllables. Bles-sed.
“Blessed be the children of the light,” chorused the men. “Blessed be the passion of our spirit.”
Doug turned, robe swirling out behind him, and went for the door.
The men fell in behind him in a single-file line.
Reilly and Krieger brought up the rear.
When they entered the hallway, they saw that the women were also coming out of their classroom in a single file line, and also that only a third of them were wearing robes.
Krieger noticed all the naked chicks and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.
Reilly was in front of him, and he turned over his shoulder and shot him a look.
Krieger spread his hands as if to say, What do you want from me?
Reilly had been looking for Wren, but decided he didn’t want to look at all the boobs either. He faced the back of the head of the man in front of him.
They entered the cafeteria, but the cafeteria had been transformed. All the long tables had been folded up and moved to the sides of the room where they were now draped in black velvet. The middle of the room contained plush, red chaise lounges and black leather couches. There were easy chairs and ottomans, and there were lamps covered in draped fabric to mute their light. Candelabras sat on tables throughout the room, and the air also smelled cloyingly of incense.
The two lines of men and women marched single file up and aisle between the living room furniture and stopped.
Doug climbed up onto a dais and raised his arms to the sky, which made his robe gap open.
Reilly winced and averted his gaze. He had to note, however, that when Krieger had said that the people here would all likely be fat, ugly old guys, he’d been mostly wrong. Mostly the people seemed trim and fit and he’d put the average age to be the late twenties to early thirties. There were some older people as well, but Reilly imagined the fire one had for orgy cults tended to die out in later life.
“Bowing our heads, children,” rang out Doug’s voice.
Everyone bowed their heads.
“Closing our eyes,” intoned Doug.
Obediently, Reilly closed his eyes.
“Picture yourselves on a long journey through a narrow stone tunnel,” said Doug. “In the distance, at the end of the tunnel, you can see the light, and it is bright. It floods you with the promise of joy and pleasure, there in the distance. All together, now, focus on that light.”
Without meaning to, Reilly did find himself focusing on the light. He could picture it in his mind’s eye.
“Yes,” intoned Doug. “Do you feel that, children? Our single-minded meditation. Can you feel the power begin to radiate around you? It is in the air. It is caressing your skin. It is bright and warm and pleasing.”
And Reilly could feel that, which made him open his eyes. He was a little unsettled, even though he knew that there wasn’t anything to actually feel. It was his brain, obliging Doug’s words easily enough. In the absence of other stimuli, the human mind could summon all kinds of sensations and images at will.
Reilly turned back to look at Krieger, but his eyes were still closed.
He ran his gaze up and down the row of women until he caught sight of Wren.
She was looking straight at him, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
“We are moving forward, toward that light, and we will reach it soon,” rang out Doug’s voice. “The light will wrap around us and pull us into its welcoming embrace. Then we will embrace each other. But we will only embrace those who welcome it. Love over want, children, ask for permission in love.”
“Love over want,” responded the gathered crowd.
“We approach that light, that bright, beautiful power,” said Doug. “ ‘May I?’ we ask the light, and we wait for the light’s response. If the light says, ‘Yes, I enfold you in love,’ we continue to move. If the light says, ‘No, go in love,’ we retreat. In the same way, when we join with each other, we ask the same question and wait for the same response. The light works through us, children, the light encompasses us. We are one with the light.”
“We are one with the light,” came the response.
“Do you feel it?”
“We feel the light!”
“May we?” Doug cried.
Silence greeted him, but there was something about it that affected Reilly, something permissive, something that promised something pleasing.
“Do you feel it, children?” said Doug. “You feel the light’s embrace? It enfolds us in love. Enfold each other thus. Enfold each other and find the power within.”
The others in the robes raised their heads and they turned to face the line of people of the opposite sex.
One man broke from the line and went to a woman. “May I?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I enfold you in love.” She took his arm and they went off together to one of the couches.
Now two other men came forward also, going to other women, but before Reilly could see the outcome of this, more men were moving, and it was too much movement to keep track of anything at all.
“Okay, I’m making myself scarce,” said Krieger in his ear.
“Fine,” said Reilly, looking straight at Wren, who still looked amused. He headed straight for her.
She giggled, pressing into him. “I thought I was going to start giggling during all that and ruin everything.”
“Did you ask permission to touch me?” he said.
She giggled again. “May I?”
“No, go in love,” he said.
She immediately backed a
way, dragging her hands over his chest, her fingers touching his skin and his robe as she did so. “Guess I’ll just find someone else then.”
He caught her by the hand, pulling her close. “Okay, I guess I’ll embrace your light.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I mean, might as well.”
She squeezed his hand. “Well, I gotta say, this is doing wonders for my self-confidence.”
He snorted.
“Where’s Krieger?”
“Not sure,” he said. “He said he was going to make himself scarce.”
“We should be professional,” she said.
“Definitely,” he said. “Focus on the case.”
“That’s all I intend to focus on,” she said, winking at him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WREN looked around the room, trying to keep herself from laughing. She wasn’t sure what about this whole thing struck her as so ridiculous, but it did. Maybe it was because, otherwise, it would remind her too much of strange gatherings around bonfires on the compound, men and women entwined as they supposedly worshiped the Horned Lord by taking lots of weird psychedelic drugs. That would trigger her, so it was best to only think of everything being silly.
And the case.
She could focus on that, as Reilly seemed to want to do.
“So, I asked Gloria about Harmony Peterson, and she got weird.”
“Interesting,” said Reilly. “I guess we should talk to her.”
“Well, she’s very, very naked, and—” Wren broke off, shaking her head.
“What?”
“Busy,” said Wren, who was trying to wipe from her mind the image of Gloria bent over a leather couch across the room.
Reilly glanced around the room and seemed to realize what was going on. It was an orgy, after all. People had paired off for the most part, but there were some groups of three or four. There were also some same-sex pairings. “Well, okay,” he said. “Let’s find someplace to wait this part out.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sounds good.”
He yanked on her arm and tugged her toward an oversized leather easy chair. He sat down on it and pulled her down on his lap.
She wrapped an arm around his neck. “We should pretend that we’re…”
“Sure,” he said.
She swallowed. There were noises coming from the darkened room, and she was close to Reilly, and parts of their skin were bare and touching. She felt uncomfortable and also… well, it was difficult not to feel excited.
“You should face me or something,” said Reilly in a low voice. He grasped her thigh and rearranged her, so that she was straddling him.
She let out a little gasp.
He laughed, sounding embarrassed. “Sorry. I just though that if we were pretending… this would look better.”
“I get it,” she said, giggling again. They were whispering, even though she didn’t think anyone else was close enough to be in earshot, and even though she was fairly sure no one else was paying them any mind.
His hands smoothed down her back, and she could feel how warm they were through the thin fabric of the robe. His palms settled on her hips.
“You think we should like… move?” she murmured. She demonstrated, undulating her hips.
He dug his fingers into her, making a grunting noise.
Which was when she felt that Reilly was excited too, and this position of theirs mean that there was nothing between their bodies in the place where it counted.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he breathed. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her neck, just below her earlobe.
She shivered.
His lips hovered over her skin. “We should just be careful if we’re doing that, because things could…”
“Yeah,” she said. And she’d left the condoms in the pocket of her jeans in the classroom. Not that the robe had any pockets, so she couldn’t have brought them with her, but she still felt stupid for not having them. How had she forgotten? She waited for Reilly to say something about the condoms.
But instead, he said, “I don’t think anyone’s really looking at us. I don’t think we need to… to move.”
“Okay,” she murmured.
“We’ll just, um…” He kissed her.
She shut her eyes and cupped his face with both of her hands, opening her mouth to him.
The kiss was good, and her eyes were closed, and she felt as if the rest of this weird situation was blotted out. With her eyes closed, all she was sensible of was Reilly, and he felt like home to her. She let herself go into it, more for comfort than anything else, she thought. Even if she’d had some libidinous curiosity about this weird ritual, the reality of it was more awkward and silly than anything else.
As adventurous as she and Reilly were, she wasn’t sure this public display thing was a frontier she wanted to cross.
One of Reilly’s hands tangled in her hair, cupping her head as he kissed her thoroughly. The other one traveled from her hips to the small of her back and he pressed her body closer against his.
Little thrills of goodness went through her. She liked being close.
Of course, this closeness was also bringing the danger closer. She felt Reilly’s erection slipping against her. She angled her hips away from it.
But then Reilly’s hips made a sort of shallow thrust. She thought he did it involuntarily, and she murmured, “Careful,” against his lips.
Except it was too late.
She gasped.
He gasped.
“Shit,” he breathed.
He was inside her.
“I’ll move off,” she muttered.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pinning her there. “No, no. Don’t do anything. Just, um, just hold still,” he said in a strained voice.
She held still, but it was a little bit torturous. Her body was pressed tightly against his and her knees were pushed up against the back of the chair, and he was filling her, and it… it felt good. A little moan escaped her lips.
He rocked into her. “Don’t do that.”
“Let me off you,” she breathed.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, but he tightened his arm around her instead, holding her in place, and he rocked against her again. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Cai,” she breathed. She meant it to be a reprimand, but it came out breathy and pleased.
“Wren,” he groaned.
“Fuck it,” she said. “We were pretending anyway, and it’s already happening.”
“Are you serious?” He was already moving against her.
“Yes,” she said into his ear, and then she just repeated it. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”
It was quick, like they were both live wires ready to explode. They climaxed almost simultaneously, and then she felt like she melted into him, pressing her chest into his chest, laying her head on his shoulder, breathing hard.
He ran his fingers up and down her spine, panting softly as well.
They were quiet and still.
REILLY was thinking one thought very loud and that thought was, Good.
There was another thought, nearly as loud, which was, Sleepy.
And then there was a roiling mass of other thoughts underneath it, terrified thoughts, disgusted thoughts, confused thoughts.
I just fucked Wren bareback in the middle of a room with god-knows-how-many other people, one of which is our co-worker Krieger, and she forgot her fucking birth control, and what the fuck is wrong with me?
He was still inside her. He should not be inside her. He should move.
He didn’t want to move.
Good.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said. This had to be his fault. This was definitely his fault.
“It just happened, Cai,” she said, pulling back, giving him a pleading look.
He urged her head back down to lie on his shoulder again. He stroked her hair. “Shh.” Inside, he was in tu
rmoil, but he kept his hand steady as he rhythmically ran them over her hair. “We’re okay,” he murmured. He repeated it, like a litany. “We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay.”
She seized a fistful of his robe and burrowed against him.
He shut his eyes. You couldn’t have pulled out? What the fuck is wrong with you?
She sat up, and this shifted things just enough that he slithered wetly out of her, and they both made another gasping sound at the sudden lack of connection.
She looked around, straining to look over her shoulder, tugging her robe closed to cover her breasts. She looked back at him. “I don’t see Gloria anywhere anymore.”
“Yeah, this might be a wash, anyway,” he said, sitting up straighter. “We might not be in any shape to talk to anyone or do any kind of investigation.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I shouldn’t have told you to—”
“I shouldn’t have put my dick in you.”
“Well, you didn’t mean it,” she said. “It’s not like you did it on purpose.” Then she furrowed her brow and lowered her voice even further. “Did you?”
“No,” he said.
“It was an accident,” she said.
“I made you straddle me,” he said.
“It was an accident,” she insisted, and now her voice was a little louder.
“Quiet,” he breathed.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He glanced around the room, looking over her shoulder. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the place might be emptying out. He noted two robed people leaving through one of the doors. Where were they going? Maybe they should get up and go after them. “Should we get up?”
“Fine, as soon as my legs start working again,” she said.
He couldn’t help but chuckle.
She gave him a sheepish grin. “It was a little bit hot, in a way?”
He let out a disbelieving noise.
“A little bit,” she said.
Was she going to think that if she was pregnant? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He should say something. No, he would wait. They could get back to the hotel, and then they could have that conversation, which he didn’t want to have at all, but they would have to have.
“Sorry,” she said. “Are you okay?” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I mean, do you feel…?”
Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller Page 13
