I had unholy relics forged before history was recorded, and the blade itself was stolen from my necromancer father. And he was pissed I had it and was using it to kill evil, I'm sure.
I calmed down and wiped the blood on the drummer's shirt, but knew I needed a shower now. I really did need to go to that chick's house. I also thought it ironic the drummer got killed first. Doesn't the drummer always get the shitty end of the stick? Pun intended.
If I was lucky, the bassist would go next and then the two macho guys, the guitarist and singer.
I could hear them grunting and moaning in the back of the bus. Maybe the chick was still alive, and maybe I wouldn't be doing this and getting myself killed, and maybe the Fiends were going to be on a future list for me to kill, and maybe…
As I got to the overhead bunk area, I heard snoring. I pulled the thin curtain away and saw Frank. Should I slice him open just because he was a dick? He'd hear what I was about to do and I'd have to kill him then. Fuck it. I let him live, hoping it wasn't a grave mistake.
The other bunks were empty.
It was still going to be three-on-one, better odds than against the women. Of course, none of them could literally rip me apart.
I needed to move fast and turn off my brain, because what I was about to do was going to get messy. Like… really fucked up messy.
I held the knife in my hand, the only thing I had to defend myself. The other blade in my boot would do no real damage to them, but maybe it would keep them at bay and they'd hesitate. I pulled it out and held it in my right hand.
Instead of kicking in the door, guns blazing and a death wish on my lips, I slowly opened it. The singer and guitarist were fucking her on the bed while the bassist watched; his back was to me but he was obviously stroking his meat.
The guitarist had his dick in her mouth, eyes closed and pumping away furiously. She was gagging on it but taking it like a trooper, so far. The singer was between her legs, which were spread and in the air. He might have even been fucking her ass, with the awkward angle her back was arched in.
I took two steps forward and slit the bassist's neck before he could move. Pushing his body forward, he fell on the singer's side.
Before the guitarist could pull his dick out, I swung with the normal blade. He blocked it and arrogantly smiled as it pierced his hand but did not damage. The second blade, the one that mattered, came around and cut through his neck like a hot knife through butter. I jabbed him in the eye before he hit the floor.
"Hello, Miss Thorne," the singer said. "Your daddy told me you were in town. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. And to be the hero that delivers your broken body back to your family."
"I don't think so."
The girl on the bed was confused, her eyes focused on all the blood from the two dead men and the blood on me.
When she went to run, the singer gripped her by the wrist and pulled her to him. "Where do you think you're going? I haven't cum in your rancid stink-box yet. And I certainly didn't gut you like a fish."
"Really? You're going to take a hostage?" I asked.
He grinned. "I do whatever it takes for survival. Besides, I'm pissed. You broke up my band. They weren't all bad players, either. Alright, the drummer was, but they're a dime a dozen. I finally got some killer songs."
"I watched the show tonight."
He was still holding her but he stood up straighter. "Cool. What did you think?"
"I did you a favor. And what was with getting DJ Diggie Duval on stage? He sucks dick."
His eyes flashed. "He's the reason you came here tonight, isn't he? I should've known it wasn't us you were after. Well, you did all this for nothing because he's not here."
"I know he's not here. I came to see if I could save her miserable life."
His hand pulsed from sickly green to a fiery red and he put it on her throat. She gagged before her orifices began to bleed. "You can't," he said and dropped her to the floor.
"There was no reason for that," I said and attacked, feigning going over the bed at him, but sidestepping and coming in from his right. The move worked because he went forward, thinking he would hit me head-on.
Instead, I caught him in the side and the knife buried deeply into his side, slicing through ribs as it went. I held onto it for dear life and began sawing up, hoping to sever something important.
He kicked but I used my weight to force him to the bed, where I continued to fillet him until he stopped moving. I would've loved to have questioned him about my father, but knew it would be a waste. He'd conjure up a dark power to free him or simply use his magic to attack me, and I wanted no part of it.
"What the fuck did you do?" Frank asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
I shook the bloody knife at him. "What do you see, Frank?"
He pushed against the wall, slipping to the door. "Not a fucking thing. Religious nuts got onboard and killed everyone."
"Exactly." I wiped the blade on the bedspread. "But you're not going to say anything until I take a shower and find something to wear off the bus. Lead me to the shower."
"Can't I leave?"
"Not a chance. But don't worry because this is your lucky day. You get to stand in with me while I get naked and wash blood off my body. If you're a good boy, I might let you do it with your eyes open. But only if you shut the fuck up, strip down and lead me to the shower."
Frank grinned. "With pleasure."
Necromance 5:
Two Turntables and a Microphone
While Melanie was asleep (after a great night of sex), I went through her closet and found a few things I wanted. Hey, I'm not too proud to borrow items I have no intention of ever giving back.
I slipped into a pair of her black jeans. They were tight but I didn't have underwear right now so they fit. I'd left them with the scumbag, Frank, back at the tour bus; they were one of the things I had to give up to keep his mouth shut. Guys are so creepy.
I loved her Iron Maiden concert shirt so I slipped it on, without bothering to find my bra. I knew it was wrapped up in the covers. I was guessing her loser boyfriend (I wanted to think ex-boyfriend, but I knew she'd take him back once I was out of the picture) was into heavier bands, because I grabbed band shirts from Cannibal Corpse and Bathory and slipped them into my backpack before she woke.
I still had a mark to take care of, and I knew he was still in Jacksonville. I can sense when I have to find them. It's like a bad itch I can't scratch unless I put them down. I'm already antsy to begin with. Add this shit… once I got away from Melanie (or was it Melinda? I suddenly couldn't remember), I'd focus on DJ Diggie Duval, who was the latest mark.
She stirred in bed and rolled over, exposing her naked ass. I resisted the urge to bite her butt cheek. I didn't want to wake her, even though teaching her some good girl on girl action had been fun. She wasn't a lesbian and she'd never be, but at least now she could brag she'd been with another chick. I'd been more than glad to pop her cherry in that respect.
Making sure she wasn't going to wake up, I stood frozen and watched her. When I was satisfied she was snoring softly, I went through her jean pockets and pulled out her cash. Yeah, I know… but a girl's gotta eat. And I really needed gas.
I left as quietly as I could, slipping down the front steps to my car.
I didn't bother looking back because, if she'd woken from the sound of the roaring of my Charger engine, I'd feel shitty. Alright, shittier than the fact I had just stolen from her.
* * * * *
Fiends aren't like vampires or fake shit like that, but they don't like to be around in the daytime if they can help it. The sun won't burn them (and I've seen plenty of Fiends wandering around with killer tans) but they are night crawlers. They like the nightlife. They like to boogie.
I had a general fix on where DJ Diggie Duval was but I wouldn't be surprised to see he had a team surrounding him. It was a little farm off of Lem Turner Drive, out in the middle of nowhere. I'd never seen so many horses in my life, and I'm
from Texas. I also couldn't drive right down the dirt road to the main house in my bright red Dodge Charger; although, it really needed a wash so it wasn’t as bright as it could be. Instead I parked down the road in the parking lot of a church and had to walk. In the Florida heat. During the summer. Wearing nothing under my stolen jeans.
By the time I was in sight of the house, my shirt was plastered to my chest, and, without a bra, my nipples were wet and getting rubbed raw, which wasn't a pleasant thing. Trust me. There were four big dudes wandering around the fence-line and on the porch, all carrying AK-47s. This was some serious shit. I didn't want to get shot or get my own blood on this sweet new Iron Maiden shirt.
I decided to find a place to hide and hope the mark came out at some point; although, my plan really fell apart after that. If he did come out, and hopped into one of the two SUV's parked up front, I'd never make it back to my car in time to see where he was going. Should I run back now and watch the entrance to the farm?
Screw it. I wasn't going to sit in my hot car all day on the slim chance this guy needed to go to Taco Bell. My stomach groaned at the thought of two soft tacos. Great. Whatever I was going to do, I needed to do it quickly. Before I literally starved to death.
If he slipped away, I'd just use my senses to find him again. I don't know what I was worried about. Once I got the call and locked onto a mark, the only way to shake it was for him to die… or me to die. So far I'd been lucky.
I squatted down and moved across the adjacent field as fast as I could go. I wasn't about to crawl through the muck and get my new clothes dirty, and the worst thing for me would've been finally confronting this monster, about to kill him and not looking my best.
Once I was past the house, I slipped over the back fence, making sure one of the gun-toting brutes wasn't around, and slipped up to the barn behind the main house. I didn't think a guy like DJ Diggie Duval would be out here. Don't get me wrong, it's not a racist thing and it isn't about him being black. It's about his stage persona after seeing him last night. This was supposed to be a ghetto hardcore gangsta. He should be living in the big city, with police sirens and babies crying and random gunshots. Instead, he was chillin' on a farm, with horses and mud and hay.
One of the guards walked to the back of the house and went up onto the back porch, leaning his weapon against the railing and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Great, now I had to sit still while he had a smoke break. I was frying out here, my arms slick with sweat. My new goal was to not only kill the DJ but to get in a nice, long, cold shower as well.
After what seemed like an eternity, the guy finally finished his cigarette and snubbed it out on the porch railing. I never understood smoking but only because I found it utterly stupid to have to stand outside whether it was twenty below or over a hundred degrees because you really needed to suffocate your lungs, get that creepy smoker's voice and have all your clothes stink. And pay way too much for the privilege.
Alright, time to get down off my soapbox and get to work.
As soon as I was sure he was wandering back to the front of the house and wasn't going to double back or add something smart like actually do his job, I ran to the back door. When I turned the handle and it opened, I sighed but not in relief. Either someone had forgotten to lock it or DJ Diggie Duval was more of a bad ass than I thought. The men with guns were just for show. This guy didn't fear a damn thing.
I went inside and shivered. It was really cold. The guy had the air conditioning on full blast, and the windows were all covered. I'm sure some people have the idea Fiends are straight from Hell and like it hot so they feel like they're home.
Those people are fucking idiots.
Fiends are like everyone else. They have their own personality and their own ideas. They used to be normal people, at one point in time, and they still retain all of that humanity. As well as the evil they lived with in their lives. Now they're, like, ten times more evil and back on earth to wreak some havoc and have as much sex as they can have before they are called back to Hell… or wherever they were supposed to go. I didn't actually know and I didn't actually care. I just wanted them dead.
When I stepped into the massive kitchen, my stomach grumbled. There was food stacked on the tables and counters. Someone had gone shopping recently but never put it away. I forced myself not to open a box of Lucky Charms cereal and go to the giant refrigerator for some milk. I had a mission. And then I'd feast.
I went into the living room - I think when a house is this big they call it a Great Room - and stopped. It looked cozy but completely unlived in. No one hung out in here. This was the room you walked through when you entered from the front door. You either went up the staircase or you circled around to the other rooms downstairs. I was about to do a search of this level when I heard what sounded like a moan coming from upstairs.
By the time I got to the top of the landing, it was obvious where the moaning was coming from because I could clearly see it through the opened double doors: a writhing mass of flesh on a huge heart-shaped bed. How cliché.
But I didn't see the DJ in sight. I scooted to the side of the doors and peeked in, expecting to see him sitting on a chair watching the action. But the only people in the room were two of the DJ's bodyguards and a woman who was getting double-teamed and really enjoying it.
The black bodyguard was behind. He was sweating and grinning. She couldn't make too much noise since the bald bodyguard was in her mouth and he was gripping her cheeks to keep it in, laughing when she started choking.
She managed to get her mouth free and gasp for air but when he tried to shove it back in she grinned. "I want you to switch."
"Fine with me," the black guy said. The two men stopped and slapped hands, spinning her around.
She shook her head and went down on her back. "Like this for awhile."
The men didn't seem to mind. The bald guy got into position on the bed near her face, while the black guy put a hand between her legs.
She looked down her body at him. "What do you think you're doing?"
"The Shocker," he said with a grin.
"I don't think… ohhh," she said as he gave it to her. "I like that."
"I thought you would," the black guy said. "All whores do."
"Hey," she started to say but was too busy moaning to finish her thought. I watched her just give in and enjoy the ride.
I was wet. I admit it. I slipped my hand down to my crotch and wanted so bad to touch myself. But I had to find the DJ and was wondering if I should let these two have their fun when I saw a dark look pass between them. They were going to rip her apart and feast. Oh, yeah, maybe I should've mentioned before I talked about them taking turns with her: they were both also Fiends, just not two I was looking for.
Up until this point, I had no idea DJ Diggie Duval had hired fellow Fiends to work for him. It usually didn't happen. Fiends didn't like to defer to another of their kind. They were their own bosses while they were here. They did their own thing, but I knew these two were definitely working for the DJ. I didn't like it. It meant he was way more powerful than I'd thought.
I decided I needed to kill these two and do it quickly. When I glanced down the hallway, wondering if there was another room I could slip around into and come up behind one of them, I smiled. On the walls were various medieval weapons and not all of them looked like they were for display only.
I pulled down a long, sharp, curved sword and took a couple of practice swings. It felt good in my hand.
I walked casually into the room, knowing they would have to rely on natural weapons since their clothes and guns were in a pile on the floor near the bed.
"Mind if I join in, boys?" I asked, walking in and swinging the sword in front of me. "Unless the whore is more than enough for you."
"Holy shit," the bald one said.
She looked angrily at me. "Everyone stop calling me a whore."
"You're getting double-teamed by two dudes you don't even know. Is there another word for wha
t you're doing?" I asked and took a step forward.
"She's right. Shut up, whore," the black guy said and tried to grab her by a leg and use her as a weapon or a shield, but the chick was feisty. She began kicking at him, which was perfect for me.
I took three strides and brought the sword down across the neck of the bald Fiend just as his fingers grazed his gun on the ground. The blade was sharp and took off about eighty percent of the neck. I took the last step and kicked his head off of the body. He wasn't coming back for a few hundred years.
The whore was still fighting, but now she was in my way.
"Stop moving, bitch," the black dude said and smacked her across the mouth. As she began to fall, he seized her by the neck and turned her around to face me.
He was smiling. "I don't know who the fuck you are…"
"I'm Cheri Rose Thorne," I said.
His eyes grew wide. "Thorne?"
"I'm guessing you know my sister?"
By the look on his face, I knew he didn't. Now I had to say holy shit. "You know my father?"
He nodded but his look of fear turned to a grin. "I was going to use this whore to get out of the room but now I think I'm going to have to kill you first. There's a huge reward to bring you to your daddy."
"Really? How big is it now?" I had to ask. I was curious how much my father thought my life was worth.
"Fifty large for your head," he said. The whore was squirming but she was losing oxygen quickly. "The boss said your old man didn't care what happened to your body." The guy looked me up and down like I was a piece of meat.
I'm not going to lie… he looked like he liked what he saw, and this was after I'd been running around in this damn Florida heat. Imagine what he'd say if we'd met in better circumstances… like I wasn't about to kill him.
"What if I offered you and your boss twice that to bring me my father's head?"
Necromance Page 6
