“That would be nice, Bruce,” she said.
Kat leaned forward and kissed him. It started as a lingering kiss, full of promise, but she broke it off, turned away, and opened the passenger door of the Viper. She stepped out and closed the door. Still smiling, she blew Bruce a goodbye kiss.
“Call me, okay?”
Bruce’s answer was barely audible, “Okay.”
Kat did her best club stroll to the stairs. She turned and waved. Bruce put the Viper in gear and drove away. Kat smiled again. The hook was set just a little deeper.
She made her way up the stairs, dug her key out of her purse, and opened the apartment door. She entered the apartment and punched her code into the alarm panel. She tossed her purse on the sofa and went into the bedroom. She was tired, but she had one more thing to do this morning.
She opened the top drawer of her dresser — a heavy and expensive Early American replica. It opened smoothly and quietly. For the first time in her life, when Kat wanted something nice, she could afford it.
Reaching into the drawer, she removed two taper candles — one purple, one green. Virgin candles. Never used.
She also removed a small glass bottle of sacred lotus oil. She opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the oil into her right hand. The oil’s rich scent, a mixture of lotus, jasmine, and damask rose, with a touch of vanilla and almond, both soothed and empowered.
She put the bottle down and picked up the purple candle. She gently rubbed the sacred oil onto its eight-inch length. She took her time, covering the entire length of the candle with a light coat of oil. After placing the purple candle in one of two candleholders on the dresser, Kat repeated the process with the green candle. Each candle had a specific purpose. Purple for spiritual power. Green for money.
With both candles secured in their holders, Kat crossed the room to a matching, cherry veneer computer armoire. She sat and reached for a pen and note pad. On the paper, she wrote “Bruce York.” She folded the paper into a small square and set it aside. Taking up the pen again, she wrote “incredible riches” on the next sheet and folded it. She took both notes to the dresser and placed the square with Bruce York’s name in front of the purple candle, and the incredible riches note in front of the green one.
She reached back into the drawer and took out a small matchbox. She removed a single match and struck it against the box’s side. The tip of the match flared up, releasing its sulphuric odor. She lit both candles, first the purple, then the green. She always lit the purple candle first.
According to her understanding of candle magick rules, lighting the candles in the correct order was one of the keys to getting what she wanted. Kat blew out the match and placed it in an empty ashtray. The flames of both candles danced in unison.
Kat picked up the note in front of the purple candle and touched one corner to the flame. As the flame absorbed the paper, she placed the burning note into the ashtray and she began to chant. No words. Only beautiful, unintelligible syllables. Kat had learned to let the mood and the moment determine the chant.
After the first note burned down to blackened ash, Kat stopped chanting and picked up the second note. She touched it to the flame of the green candle and then dropped the lit paper into the ashtray. As it burned, new syllables floated from her lips. Her chant grew more emphatic. Her voice louder, stronger. The syllables burst forth in a rapid staccato. Her eyes focused on the green candle’s flame as the enchantment reached its final crescendo.
The second note burned out and the chanting stopped. She looked past the candle’s flame to her reflection in the mirror. She thought about Bruce for a moment. He had told her that he had received “kind of an inheritance.” What did that mean? A kind of an inheritance?
The Kat in the mirror shrugged. It didn’t matter what it meant. Money was money, no matter where it came from. Bruce had money, she needed money. She had cast the spell and she would trust the magick.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jim Demore drove into the parking lot of the luxury resort that sat right before the bridge leading to Sanibel Island in Ft. Myers. Kimberly, Jefferson Briggs’ girlfriend, was doing a photo shoot at the resort and had invited him to meet her there.
He did not know how Kimberly got his personal cell phone number, but he was pleasantly surprised when she called. Linda had not called him since their last little “dust up” and he damn sure was not going to call her.
He locked up the Charger and walked toward the entrance. Once inside the main lobby, an impeccably dressed concierge accosted him.
“May I help you, officer? I hope there is no trouble.”
Jim smiled.
“No trouble.” Jim told the concierge. “I’m meeting a friend. Kimberly...” He realized that he did not know Kimberly’s last name. “She’s here for a photo shoot.”
“Follow me, please,” the concierge ordered.
Jim walked past twin, grand staircases and elegant furniture. The concierge led him through glass doors set into the south side of a trio of magnificent picture windows overlooking the pool and the harbor. It was an impressive layout, and a side of Ft. Myers that he did not usually get to see.
Outside again, the Florida sun blasted down on Jim. He put his sunglasses back on. The sun’s rays shimmered and sparkled across the water of the hotel’s huge pool. At the far end, in a separate lagoon-like section, where a fountain pushed liquid silver back toward the sun, a photographer and his crew splashed around taking pictures while two swimsuit models frolicked together.
The concierge led him closer to the lagoon and stopped at a set of theatre stanchions connected by a heavy velour rope. He was close enough to recognize Kimberly as she posed and camped for the photographer.
The other model, with her back toward Jim, had splashed her way to the shallow water at the far end of the lagoon where an attendant handed her a towel. He could not help comparing her slim, darkly tanned figure with Kimberly’s lighter skin and more classic, hourglass shape. He had never thought of himself as having a “type” when it came to women, but now, looking at Kimberly, he thought he might have to rethink that position.
“Trooper Demore,” Kimberly shouted. She waved and waded over to where he stood. At the other end of the lagoon, the second model turned around. It was one of those unexpected, awkward, “aw crap” moments. Jim looked at Linda, and Linda looked back at Jim. Kimberly reached the edge of the pool and turned to see what had Jim’s attention. She smiled and looked back at Jim.
“She’s very beautiful and quite exotic. Would you like me to introduce you?” Kimberly asked.
Jim stared across the lagoon. This can’t be good.
“No. You don’t need to introduce us,” Jim replied. “We already know each other pretty well.”
“Ah,” Kimberly said. Her face told Jim she had made a connection. “You’re the ‘stupid’ cop boyfriend who never has time for anything but work?”
Kimberly smiled at Jim, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in her eyes that was not lost on him. Kimberly was the girlfriend of a successful and driven executive. Linda was the girlfriend of an equally hard-driven former Marine and Highway Patrol Trooper. The two women suffered the same malady. Both were beautiful, men desired both, and both belonged to the same sad club. The sisterhood of lovely but lonely lovers.
Linda threw her towel onto the pool’s deck and strolled along the shallow edge of the pool toward him. He felt as if he were part of some surreal, soap opera-based chess set with only three pieces left on the board. A pawn and two queens. There is no way this is going to be good.
Linda stopped a foot away from where he stood. Close enough for him to smell her preferred tanning lotion, coconut and aloe. Close enough for the two of them to embrace. They didn’t.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked with a hint of her Dominican accent. Linda was never one for subtleties.
“I was invited. Besides, I had no idea that you would be here,” Jim replied.
&nbs
p; “I’m sorry,” Kimberly interjected, putting her hand on Linda’s arm.
“I invited Trooper Demore. I had no idea he was your cop. Jeff had offered him a job and I thought I would try to help Jeff out a little.”
“What kind of job?” Linda asked.
“Working for Jeff’s company. In corporate security.”
Kimberly said it as if it was no big deal. Linda’s eyes narrowed and a scowl spread across her lips. Jim kept his own expression calm and dispassionate.
“Corporate security?” Linda asked. “You mean like a bodyguard? Travelling all over the place?”
“No, not at all,” Kimberly answered quickly, probably thinking she was helping Jim. “More like routine corporate security, keeping Jeff’s lab secure. Mostly nine-to-five kind of stuff. Making sure trade secrets don’t walk out the front door, background checks on employees, stuff like that. Jeff pays his security staff pretty well and they get great benefits. I just thought I would try to entice Trooper Demore a little.”
Small muscles in Linda’s face began to twitch. Her eyes darted around their sockets until they hit full “crazy eyes” mode. They flashed him unspoken, but clearly understood, death threats.
“So, you turned down a good job with normal hours and benefits?” Linda’s voice went up an octave. “Really?”
She did not give Jim a chance to reply.
“You stupid bastard,” she said.
Linda reached around and unhooked her bikini top.
“Remember these, Jim?” Linda asked.
She reached down, hooked the side strings of her bikini bottom with her thumbs and stripped it off. Standing naked in front of Jim, God, and everyone else at the pool, Linda hissed at him.
“Remember this?” She said as she did a little pose that accentuated her assets. “I hope so, because all you’re ever going to do with me again is remember, you stupid bastard.”
She did not wait for an answer. She grabbed the pieces of her bikini floating in the water next to her, turned her back on Jim, and strode through the water back to where the photo crew stood with their mouths hanging open. Her lithe, tanned body moved gracefully through the shallow water. He wondered for a second why he had stayed with her for so long. Stupid question, Jim-boy.
Kimberly cleared her throat. Just loud enough to regain Jim’s attention.
“I’m so sorry, Trooper Demore.”
Jim shook his head and smiled his own bittersweet smile.
“It’s Jim, remember?” He continued, “There is no reason to be sorry. I was married to my job before I met Linda. Nothing much has changed.”
Kimberly gave him a thoughtful look.
“But, it could, Jim, if you really wanted it to.”
CHAPTER SIX
Bruce parked the Viper outside an old estate, in front of a modern steel security fence. Coils of razor wire snaked around the top. Below it, a sign warned that the property belonged to the United States Government, and that trespassing was punishable by fines and imprisonment.
Behind the modern fence, stood aged stonewalls and the pillars that had held the original gates. On the pillars, the name De La Garza was carved into stones on each side. Below each name, a date — 1892. Bruce unlocked the heavy-duty padlock securing the chains that kept the steel gate locked.
Kat sat in the passenger seat of Bruce York’s Dodge Viper, her hair tied back in a ponytail. This week it was blonde. Bruce seemed to like it better than her natural brunette.
As Bruce returned to the Viper, she studied his face. Definitely an average, or maybe even below average, looking man. Nevertheless, he had a high-level government job and he was not afraid to spend money. She only had a short time to take advantage of her looks and her body, and guys like Bruce were easy marks. She needed to make the most of it.
Today was the first time since the breakfast “date” that Kat had agreed to see Bruce outside of the club. Dating men from the club was risky, but all of the serial killers she had ever heard about were middle-class losers who drove crappy cars. Besides, she really liked the Viper. It had a look and feel that suited her. Even aroused her. Sometimes a girl just has to take a chance.
The compound behind the fence was located off a state road southeast of Ft. Myers. Far enough from the city to guarantee privacy. Bruce had promised to take her somewhere special, some place no one ever got to see. Almost jungle-like growth had begun to reclaim the estate giving it a creepy, haunted house in the woods feel. The highway behind the Viper was quiet. Not much traffic out here in Serialkillerville.
Kat ordered herself to stop it. Bruce grinned like an idiot as he slid into the driver’s seat.
“You’re going to love this place, Kat.”
Bruce drove inside the gate and stopped the car.
“I have to lock the gates. No one is allowed in here.”
She smiled at Bruce as he got back out of the Viper, leaving the driver’s door open. He had left the convertible top up on the drive down from Tampa with the air conditioning set to freeze-your-ass-off. The hot, heavy afternoon air fought its way into the car. Fire and ice struggled for control of the car’s interior.
Kat had dressed carefully that morning, anticipating fire’s victory. She wore a yellow halter mini-dress with sexy thong sandals, both for the late summer heat and for Bruce’s benefit. Kat studied his face as he reentered the Viper.
“This isn’t exactly a luxury spa, Bruce, and I’m not much for playing in the woods with the bugs.”
With the gate now relocked, Bruce seemed pleased with himself.
“Wait a minute until we get around back. This place is special. I’m the only person in the state of Florida who can authorize entry here.”
Bruce steered the Viper around the main house. In spite of the creepy feel of the place, Kat remained surprisingly calm as they passed several rundown outbuildings. The Viper followed a faint set of tire tracks until they were fifty yards behind the house. The brush grew higher and thicker here, creating a wall of vegetation. Bruce stopped and turned off the ignition.
“We have to walk a little. But not far.”
Kat opened her door and stepped out of the Viper, adjusting her dress. She felt alert, but not out of fear. It was more a sense of anticipation. Like the feeling of being about to do it with someone you actually wanted to do it with. God, when was the last time that had happened?
“I don’t see much. Not too impressed yet, Bruce.”
He took her hand and Kat let him lead her through the brush, along a faint footpath. Her other hand clung to Bruce’s shoulder and she pressed up against his back, trying to avoid the vegetation’s thin, scratchy fingers. Bruce pushed through another wall of brush into a clearing.
Thick, soft grass carpeted the ground and created a barrier that almost magically kept the wilder growth at bay. Some kind of spring, a natural pool, sat in the middle of the glade. The rays of the afternoon sun skipped across the water in a mesmerizing ballet of light and liquid.
The pool seemed to pull Kat forward. She slipped out of her sandals and the soft, cool grass caressed her bare feet. In the eerie silence that hung over the clearing, she heard Bruce’s heavy breathing somewhere behind her. She glanced around, but there was nothing else to see. Only the pool of water and the unmoving wall of vegetation that surrounded them. However, an uneasy sense that they were not alone nudged her. That someone or something else lurked close by. But the clearing was quiet and empty.
Standing at the edge of the pool, she swept the water with her right foot. The surface was warm and the ripples spread out across the water. The air stirred around her, driven forward by Bruce’s bulk and his heavy breathing. Kat turned and faced him.
“Is it safe to go in?” she asked.
“About a hundred years ago, they used to bottle the water here and sell it up North,” Bruce said. “It was supposed to have some kind of special properties. The family that owned the estate got rich, but something happened. Rumor has it they left a lot of money hidden around here s
omewhere.”
Bruce’s voice trailed off. He smiled at Kat. “Go ahead. Jump in,” he said.
Kat reached down and pulled her dress over her head. She stood in front of Bruce wearing only her thong panties. Stripping those off, she handed her clothes to Bruce.
“Are you coming in?”
He squeezed his eyes together as if he could not believe what he was seeing.
“I can’t swim.”
“Your loss, Lover.”
Kat turned, flexed her knees and dove into the water. In the split second before her body penetrated the surface, before she closed her eyes, the water stirred beneath her.
***
In the pool, trapped in his liquid prison, suspended somewhere between heaven and hell, Baalzaric waited.
***
Kat gasped when she saw the eyes staring up from below the water’s surface. A single thought flashed into her mind. Bruce was some kind of perverted bastard and had a partner hiding in the pool.
As the water enveloped her, she realized that she was screwed. Not in a good way. Stupid girl. You let your guard down.
Kat’s body sliced through the warm surface layer. She opened her eyes, hoping to see, avoid, and maybe even defend herself against whoever was waiting for her. As her body cut deeper into the pool, Kat looked for the man behind the eyes. She saw no one.
Below the surface, it was cold, dark, and deep. Something struck her body. Not seeing another person in the water, her thoughts screamed, Alligator.
Intense fear numbed her mind. She needed to flee, to kick her legs and move her arms. Get the hell out of the water. Instinct fought to override her fear-leaden limbs, to fight off whatever had attacked her and get herself out of the pool. But her arms and legs ignored the panic in her mind. Her fear morphed into a blinding terror that ripped away any hope that she would survive.
She had one option. One final choice of her own making. She would take a deep breath and let the cold water flow into her lungs. Better death by drowning than to be torn apart and eaten alive. With one final all-encompassing act of will, she tried to inhale. She couldn’t. Instead of cold water pouring into her lungs, she felt something else, as if every pore in her body had become a receptacle for some unknown energy.
The Demon Pool Page 4
