“I broke Ishkalben’s spell for just a little longer. He can’t see us now.”
“He’s going to be awful pissed.”
Cameron picked up his machete, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Not as pissed as I am right now.” He stepped toward his father.
Harris backed up until his ass was nearly touching the salt. “You can’t hurt me! I’m already dead. It’s against the rules!”
In a swift motion, Cameron swept away the barrier of salt with his foot. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong, Dad. When you’re occupying a human body, you can bleed once again. And right now I’m going to do just that. I’ll teach you to keep my daughter’s name out of your filthy fucking mouth.”
Cameron lifted the machete and swung it down. Harris went to shield his face, and the thin, stained blade sunk deep into the flesh of Evgeni’s left arm. His father screamed, as did Hershel and the other two tied up on the floor. Cameron roared and took another swing, and another, until the blade broke through the bone. His severed arm flopped to the floor and sizzled at it dropped into the salt. Harris howled as his bright red blood arched over the floor in large spurts. Hershel wondered if Evgeni felt anything that was happening, or if his soul was long gone by that point. Though he wanted to hate him for putting him in a corner with his outrageous offer, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him and his wife. Beyond wanting him for Yana’s fantasies, they didn’t deserve this. Then again, neither did he.
At long last he felt the rope come loose on his wrists. His heart leapt for joy. He pulled his arms around and went to work on his legs.
Cameron raged as he repeatedly chopped at Evgeni’s arms and chest, hoping to tear his repugnant father to pieces. He lodged the large blade into his collarbone, then continued to hack into the same spot until it opened up wider. “The devil won’t even notice you!”
Suddenly Harris went ridged, and an unholy shriek erupted from his mouth. Cameron ripped the machete from the wound, and as he reached back for another swing, Evgeni’s remaining arm grasped his forearm. Smoke poured from his mouth. “Naughty, naughty boy, Cameron.” With the flick of his wrist, Ishkalben snapped Cameron’s forearm back in a ninety-degree angle. Bones broke, and Cameron’s eyes crossed, as he felt limp to the floor. The machete clattered away.
Ishkalben stood, his blood now a thick tar that oozed from his wounds. His head hung sideways as the tear in his shoulder widened. “You broke the spell, worm. That’s a big no-no. Now you die.”
Hershel struggled, but once the rope finally seized through the knot, he ripped it free. He forced himself to his feet, adrenaline surging.
Ishkalben stood over Cameron and grinned as a thick blue tentacle squirmed out of his arm stump. Another one pushed out of the wide divot on this neck. Cameron held his broken arm and screamed, but his eyes flickered sideways. Before Ishkalben could turn to look, Hershel stepped forward and swung. The demon grunted as his fist connected with his chin, and he spun toward the wall. Cameron opened his mouth to speak, but Hershel swept his foot out and struck Cameron’s chin. He was out cold before his head hit the ground. Even in a dire situation like this, Hershel abhorred violence. He’d only been in one serious fight in his entire life, but when those three white skinheads from high school decided he was a ‘nigger’ and not a man, he felt the ass beating he dished out was warranted.
Hershel picked the blood-soaked machete off the floor and proceeded to cut Yana loose. She cried in pain as he lifted her to her feet, helping her to keep the pressure off her mutilated foot. They moved toward Colin, but it may have been too late.
Ishkalben knelt over Cameron’s brother, his tentacles digging deep into his pale white stomach. Somehow still awake, Colin trembled as he watched the demon pull out ropes of steaming intestines. Hershel leaned Yana against the wall and, machete in hand, stormed forward and swung. The blade sliced through the demon’s neck, and with two more swings and plenty of Yana’s screams, Evgeni’s head rolled off his shoulders. Hershel wanted to puke, but instead he kicked the limp body aside. When his body hit the floor, Evgeni’s cell phone clattered out from his shirt pocket. Hershel quickly shoved it into his pants pocket, then tried to help Colin to his feet.
“I…I can’t. I think...I’m dying.”
Hershel shook his head. “Not on my watch. We’re going to get you out of here. Just hang on.”
Pale as a ghost, Colin allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet. Right arm slung over Hershel’s shoulder, his left was held firmly against his stomach, keeping what intestines that were still inside where they belonged. Gripping the machete, he held Yana up with his other arm, and the three of them shuffled toward the basement steps.
But there was nowhere to go.
FOURTEEN
Numerous bodies littered the first several steps and the floor below it, tossed into piles as if someone was in a hurry. They moaned and howled as the three approached. Though some were mostly complete bodies, many were just various severed limbs. Fingers and toes squirmed and wiggled in their direction. On the bottom step, a man’s decapitated head gnashed at the air. A woman, who appeared to be an unwilling quadriplegic, rolled toward them, not heeding the light dusting of salt haphazardly thrown about the floor. When her split cranium touched the salt, her hair immediately caught fire, and after a few moments her head burst like a rotten pumpkin. Hershel stared in horror, and just as they all began to sprout tentacles, he quickly backed them away.
Colin coughed, “The elevator!” and Hershel pivoted them toward the other side of the basement. Yana hurriedly pressed the up button several times. Behind them, the mass on the stairs howled as the tentacles broke free from their fleshy binds. The stink of burning meat filled the basement—then the sound of shuffling coming their way. The elevator dinged, and Hershel carefully led them inside. Yana jabbed the door close button as Hershel leaned against the wall with Colin. A nude woman with tentacles for legs slithered around the corner and reached into the cab just as the doors closed shut.
Colin began to scream.
“Colin!” Hershel yelled. “Colin, I need you to stay calm. I know you’re in a lot—”
Like a burst pipe, blood sprayed from his stomach, and a bushel of bright blue tentacles erupted from his wound. Colin howled in pain. Hershel dropped him and backed himself against the door with Yana. The tentacles swept through the cab as they continued to grow and elongate. They were quickly running out of room.
“Stay back!” Hershel yelled to Yana, putting his arm across her.
The door opened behind them, and Hershel tumbled backwards into the main level hallway, machete still in hand. Inside, Yana screamed as several of Colin’s appendages wrapped around her arms and pulled her forward. Groaning, Hershel quickly sat up and dove toward the doors before they closed.
Colin’s corpse, now standing, had Yana pinned upright against the corner. Thick, slithering tentacles circled her body, and one long skinny one filled her mouth. Her eyes rolled in her skull. His upper half, limp and lifeless, fell backwards, and his stomach yawned like a giant, bloody mouth. His eyes opened, and he winked at Hershel.
“She’s quite the woman, wouldn’t you say?”
Yana bit the blue obstruction in her mouth, and the demon inside Colin shrieked. Hershel seized the moment. He hacked at the tentacles with his blade, while Yana tore at the one filling her mouth. As soon as they broke through them, Hershel grabbed Colin’s shoulders and tossed him out of the elevator cab. His body hit the linoleum floor and finally broke into two separate halves.
FIFTEEN
Yana continued to spit blood as the cab rose.
Hershel checked on her, examining her arms and stomach for wounds. A thin, mucusy slime remained on her skin. “Are you ok?” he asked.
She stared at him dumbly.
“Are you—?” He stopped. “Shit. Do you understand anything I’m sayin
g right now? I don’t know Russian. I only learned that one phrase.”
She pointed to her foot. “Hurts.”
He nodded. “I know it does, Yana, I understand. As soon as I can find us way out of here, I’ll get you to the hospital immediately. Ok?”
“Hurts,” she repeated.
“I know. But—fuck!” A dump truck’s worth of weight suddenly dropped on his shoulders. His knees gave out, but he grabbed the handrail to steady himself. It all hit him at once. He killed a man. Maybe two, he wasn’t sure. Never in his life had he seen death up close and personal. And the thing inside Evgeni and Colin? He wasn’t a religious man, nor was his wife, but after today he might have to rethink his place in the universe. He didn’t believe in demons or the afterlife. He had no reason to. He only knew what he could smell and touch, and right now his nose was full of the stink of death, and his hand still gripped the instrument used to bring it. How was he ever going to explain this to anyone? Sure, the proof was in the basement, but for how much longer?
The door dinged open, and Yana helped pull Hershel to his feet. He stood ready, waiting for anything to rush them. He held Yana back and slowly peered out.
The hallway outside of the brightly lit cab was still dark, as he was sure the power was still cut to the switch. He held his breath and waited. Once he felt they were alone, he led her out. The door closed behind them, and the hallway immediately turned into a coffin. Luckily for them, Hershel knew his way around. He led them left, down the hallway, the machete pointing out in front of him.
“Hurts,” Yana said again, this time holding her stomach.
He shushed her, wanting to keep their noise to a minimum. Once they rounded to the next hallway, avoiding all the side rooms and their closed-over doors, Hershel picked up their pace and led them into the master bedroom. He quickly closed the door and locked it behind them. Yana stumbled into the bathroom, while Hershel searched for anything big enough to barricade the door with. Unfortunately the room was kept with minimal furnishings in order to display the maximum space it offered. Virtually nothing was left from the Whitecomb days, Harris’s tacky plaid and camo upholstered bedroom suit tossed out years ago. He dragged the nearest reading chair near the armoire and jammed it underneath the door handle. He doubted it would hold anyone off, but it made him feel better regardless.
In the bathroom, Yana retched into the toilet.
He crossed the floor and carefully pulled open the double glass doors to the balcony. He looked both ways before stepping out. The night was cool and breezy, an icy wind cutting through from the north. Hershel leaned over the railing to the pool deck below. He estimated there was at least a fifteen-foot drop, maybe more, with nothing to break their fall but unsympathetic concrete. He wouldn’t take the chance on the pool being filled, not this time of year, even with its cover tightly pulled over. Beyond the cornfields, lights flickered in distant homes too far to hear his cries. He wished he knew what time it was, or at the very least if he was late for the banquet.
He remembered Evgeni’s phone.
His heart leapt as he pulled the cell from his pocket and swiped it on. He had no idea where his own cell was at, though he suspected it was still somewhere in the basement with Cameron. He struggled to remember Monique’s cell number, or really anyone’s number at all. Remembering nothing, he cursed himself, but it didn’t really matter. He scrolled page after page in Evgeni’s phone, though he couldn’t understand exactly what he was looking at. His apps were in Russian, and the icons were unrecognizable. He continued searching for anything that resembled a phone app, but instead he clicked the open tabs icon.
An app already running in the background reopened. Hershel started at it blankly. He didn’t comprehend exactly was it was, his eyes roaming over the various letters and numbers. Two columns separated the screen, one with a very large number containing numerous zeros, the other with the number ten thousand. His eyes were drawn to the numbers above it.
His bank account number.
Hershel’s mouth went dry. It was the Sokolov’s bank app, the one Evgeni used to bribe him with only hours ago. He glanced back into the empty bedroom then back to the phone.
No, he thought. Don’t you dare. You’re better than that.
His thumb reached for the off button, but his index clicked open the keyboard. He carefully tapped out several numbers and clicked the big red button on the bottom of the screen. Somewhere in the basement, he imagined his cell phone dinging.
He stepped out of the cold and back into the bedroom. “Yana? I don’t think we’ll be able to exit off the balcony. It’s too high.” When she didn’t answer, he walked toward the bathroom. “Also, I have Ev—Geno’s phone, but I can’t read anything on it.” Like the bedroom, the large, white tiled bathroom was just as dark. He flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
The bathroom was empty.
“Yana?” he whispered. “Where are you? Is everything ok?”
He felt stupid, knowing she couldn’t understand a single word he was saying, but he kept his voice low and breathy so not to startle her. What startled him was the inch of blood sitting in the toilet bowl. He started to tremble. His blade hand shook. Stepping past the double sink and the Jacuzzi, he forced himself toward the back walk in closet. He stared into the open door and the absence of light within.
“Yana?”
Something touched his shoulder.
Hershel yelped and spun around, ready to cut down whatever was behind him. In the dark, Yana stood there, holding her stomach.
“Hurts,” she complained, tears rolling down her face.
Together, they hobbled back into the main room and sat carefully on the bed. Her face fell into her hands. Hershel awkwardly patted her back. “I’m so sorry,” he said. And he was. He never wanted any of this to happen. All he wanted was to sell this god-forsaken house so his company could finally be out from under its shadow. He wanted the Sokolov’s to sign on the dotted line. He wanted his seven percent commission. He wanted to dig his toes in the sand and to make love to his wife in a bungalow over the ocean. Deep down in his hands, he could still feel the ghost of the machete as it chopped into her husband’s neck, and the thunk of his head as it rolled off his shoulders. Hershel tossed the blade onto the bed behind him, never wanting to touch the damn thing ever again.
“I’m so sorry, Yana,” he cried. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I… I didn’t have a choice.”
She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I don’t know what to do,” he continued. “None of this makes any fucking sense.”
He felt her lips on his neck. “Is ok,” she said softly.
A shiver trickled down his spine. He closed his eyes as her tongue slid up toward his ear. Her hand swept across his chest. The room was suddenly was very warm. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
“Evgeni gone. More time for us.”
For a moment he was inside of her, inside his head, pistoning in and out of Yana as she cried for him to keep going. And he did. He was strong. He was young again. Able to go for as long as he desired. Like an animal, he growled, and the slim Russian beauty under him screamed for more. In the corner by the armoire, Evgeni’s headless corpse jerked himself off. Hershel seized.
Where did I stop before? He thought. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve books…my books…our books…
“No. Stop this right now.”
Before he could even blink, Yana threw him down to the bed and straddled him. She grabbed both of his wrists and pressed them down over his head. Her grip was strong, and he could not break free. The machete handle dug into his back
“What the fuck are you doing? I told your husband—I’m a married man!”
Head back, she moaned as she ground her hips into his groin. Hershel bucked and tried to push her off, but she felt like anvil weighing him dow
n. Letting go with one hand, she smacked him across his jaw. His ears rang, and for a moment his vision went black.
“What? You don’t find me sexy, Hershel?”
When he came back into focus, he found thick gray smoke pouring from her mouth. Her voice sizzled like frying meat. “I want you so bad, old man,” Ishkalben laughed. “I want to feel your middle-aged cock fill up this woman’s cunt before I cut it off and eat it. How about it, Hershel? Think your wife would care?”
Hershel screamed and writhed beneath her, but she kept him pinned down with unnatural strength. The bed sheets curled around his head, muffling his hearing.
Ishkalben leaned close enough for his smoke to drift into Hershel’s face. “I like you, Hershel. You show conviction. There aren’t a lot of humans like you anymore.”
Hershel wiggled his body and felt the machete loosen and slide sideways.
“I can help you, you know? That little…problem in the sack.” The demon reached down with Yana’s soft hands and squeezed Hershel’s genitals. “I can fix that. Just say the word. But you must do something for me in return. Bring me more people, more souls to feed on, and I’ll gladly cure you of your issues. It’s a simple proposition. If I were you I’d take it. If you decline? Then I fuck you to death with his human’s body.” He sat up and grinned. “She wanted to fuck you so bad. She still wants to. I can hear her screams, but her passion is still there.”
For a moment, the demon’s grip loosened, and Hershel took advantage. He ripped his right hand free and pulled the machete the rest of the way out. Before Ishkalben could react, Hershel swung the blade. It effortlessly sliced right through Yana’s cheek. The demon appeared confused. She looked down on Hershel, fingering her bloody teeth through the wide open gash.
The demon laughed. “Ahhh…I’m not pretty anymore.” Then she growled, teeth snapping, and dove forward.
Hershel freed his other arm and brought the blade up between them. Yana snarled and bit the razor edge between her teeth. Her hands found his exposed neck and squeezed. Eyes wide, Hershel gagged and pushed the machete upward. The blade slipped between her teeth and pushed back until it hit the edge of her mouth. He didn’t stop. Breaths coming in short bursts, he rocked the blade back and forth, forcing it deeper into her head. The demon howled, and her hands loosened. Hershel sucked in a deep breath, and in one quick motion rolled them both off the bed.
Closing Costs Page 6
