by Sawyer Black
There was history in this room, and Henry felt his apprehension rise further. Sweat trailed under the mask and down his cheeks like spiders crawling across his skin. He kept his hands under his thighs and his eyes on the stage.
Meyor made hushing motions with his hands, and the crowd settled. He stepped to the edge of the stage and clasped his hands before him. “Ariana may have what you want, but gentlemen … I have what you need.”
The stirring around him had a frantic heat. A swelling need, giddy and breathless. The taste of pain and fear in the air became cloying. Like sugar-coated maple syrup. Henry’s mind screamed, Get away! While there’s still a chance!
What the fuck is going on?
The door at the edge of the stage opened, and despite the dark opening Henry had fallen through, he wasn’t prepared. His gasp of disgust sounded so much like the appreciation around him that he clamped his hand over his mouth to keep the puke from leaving. To keep himself from screaming. Cursing. Murdering every fucker in this godforsaken place.
Naked children filed onto the stage. Chained together at the waist, they made no effort to cover themselves, watching the floor as they crossed the stage in a line.
Henry’s mind froze in horror. His eyes wider than the openings in his mask, he bit his fist, but felt no pain. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sit and watch this shit.
They were already fucking bidding.
There were already winners.
Henry twirled the ring on his finger and tried not to look. To listen. He glanced up after an eternity of occupying his mind with puppies licking his face, and he saw her. A little girl near the end with hair like Amélie’s. Eyes like his daughter’s. Dark underneath. Glazed with shock or drugs. His heart ached at the pain she was going to endure.
This is one of the mysterious way you work, you fucker? What kind of god lets shit like this happen?
Fuck you!
Something broke inside him. A fundamental belief that he hadn’t even known he’d had.
Henry was sure he’d never laugh again.
The girl was the next item, and Henry opened the bidding.
CHAPTER 13
Some jackass was bidding against him. Henry wasn’t listening to the numbers. He was waiting for his turn while staring at the back of the guy’s head.
Meyor’s eyes gleamed, his lips pulled back in a grin as he guided the men through their bids. Henry stabbed the air with a spiteful finger, his rage hot and showing on his face. The jackass responded with a higher bid, casting an irritated glance over his shoulder, the black feathers of his crow mask swaying.
You sick fucker!
Meyor sent the bid back, and Henry raised his hand.
The price rose through another three rounds. Henry stared at the back of the crow’s head. Amélie’s face hung in his mind, her smile wilting into grief, her mouth spreading into despair. He tensed to keep bidding, hand frozen in his lap. But Meyor had moved on to the next child.
Henry had won his bid.
He sat gasping for air, his rage a haze over his eyes. He glanced up, and the crow was looking at him over his shoulder, shaking his head. He tipped Henry a salute, and Henry nodded back on instinct, bile rising into his throat.
The auction continued with Henry swallowing vomit. Clinking chains scraped the stage floor. Meyor showing off his wares with the flourish of a seasoned barker, his smooth words like lightning from a grinning face.
Henry pressed his fists into his thighs.
How many can I buy?
He couldn’t save them all. He couldn’t even save Amélie.
Where is that fucking horn?
He made jokes for a living. Told stories. Made people laugh and cry.
I’m not built for this shit.
Tears sprang into his eyes. He twisted the ring on his finger.
But I’m a monster now.
He wanted to rip the ring off, become monstrous, and tears some fucking heads apart.
A ripple went through the men assembled in front of the stage. Anticipation rolled through the room, and Henry felt the energy change. From polite engagement to a heightened expectation that he remembered feeling from behind the curtain.
He had recorded his third special in Chicago. Coming off a high from his performance and interview with Conan during the promotion of his web series, Henry Can Wait. His name was in everyone’s mouth. It seemed like he couldn’t turn the TV on, open a paper, or click onto Twitter without seeing some mention of how he was changing the face of comedy.
Henry Black Isn’t Going to Wait. That one was on the cover of Entertainment Weekly, right below his pudgy mug. His puzzled expression like a punch in the face.
His interview on the Hot Cuppa Mo morning radio show with Mo Diaz and his twat assistant Larry the Mushroom Groom had become legend. Dropping three f-bombs on local FM only increased his demand.
“I’m not a violent man, Mo, but if Larry doesn’t shut his fucking suck for two goddamn seconds, I’m gonna pick up that fucking phone and hit him in the face so hard that Russell Crow’s assistant is gonna send a sympathy card. Fuck!”
YouTube tried to remove the videos, but they kept popping up, and for weeks, excitement for the Chicago show had kept climbing.
Just before the curtain opened, Henry had stood at the edge of the curtain, looking out over all those faces turned up to watch him walk out and talk for an hour and a half. Sixty-seven bucks a pop. If the show was successful, he could do whatever he wanted on stage. There would be nobody with the balls to tell him no anymore.
If it failed, he’d go home, rest his head on Samantha’s pregnant belly, and write another joke.
No opener, just a pre-recorded introduction. The voice hit the speakers, and the crowd silenced. As if a switch had killed the sound. Rapt attention. The buzz of excitement washing over Henry as a literal energy. It brought the hair on his arms to life. He waited for the same thing as them, and for a moment, he was in the audience looking up at the stage. Listening to the announcer say his name.
Together, they crested the rise, plunging down the other side, and he walked out on stage in the midst of thunder.
He never remembered doing it, but watching the video afterward showed him stepping out with his wide eyes and a disbelieving smile. He pumped his fist, and his lips formed the words, “Thank you, Samantha.” Waving at the crowd and waiting for them to sit back down.
He had looked at Sam to see if she had caught it, and she had leaned back to cover her mouth, tears streaming from her eyes. She leaned over, pulling him into an embrace that he could still feel. “I love you so much.”
This woman had supported him and loved him, often when he hadn’t deserved it. She was in his arms, heavy with his child, and it had been the absolute best day of his life.
The feeling in the air was so much like the one that had washed over him all those years ago, that he expected Meyor to announce his name. Restless motion and rustling. Shuffling feet and heavy breathing. They were all waiting for something, and Meyor being the showman, was going to make the moment last. Tension screamed. Anticipation screamed louder. Henry longed to bellow.
Just fucking get on with it!
The children were led off stage through the door opposite the one through which they had arrived. Glassy eyes staring at the naked back of the child in front of them. Mouths hanging open. Shuffling like zombies.
What kind of drugs are they on?
Maybe it’s a spell.
Henry turned from the pathetic procession, lowering his head to look at the floor. Their little feet slid along the floor in the deep silence. The crowd fell quiet as if someone had thrown a switch. Chains dragging. Henry squeezed his eyes shut, and the silence yawned.
Anticipation became a fever. A pulsing in his temples.
His heart sprinted, heavy beats galloping through his ears.
Come the fuck on already!
“Gentlemen,” Meyor whispered, and the men released some tension in a bump of sound. Gasps
and cleared throats.
“Now for the real fun.”
Fuck this.
But Henry stood with the rest of them. Filed into a line that moved slower than the last time he got his license renewed. Keeping his head down and avoiding the whispered questions. Drilling a hole into the space between the shoulder blades of the guy in front of him. The guy’s horse mask nodding as if he felt the rhythm of a song only he could hear.
A horse is a horse, of course.
Through the same door the children had been led. A room so dark, the interior didn’t seem to exist. As Henry passed through the threshold, a buzzing charged through his ears and light filled his eyes.
The flash died, and he found himself inside a cavernous stone room. Torches burning in ornate sconces on the wall. A massive table in the center covered with so many candles, it looked like the galaxy in wax. A clear spot in the center of the table. Black with an old stain.
About the size of a human body.
The children stood along the wall behind the table, staring into the flickering shadows. A dirty haze of smoke hung in the air.
Henry followed the men to stand in front of bench bolted into the wall with iron hardware, ornate but ugly, anyway. A door opened across from the one that led Henry into the Cavern of Doom.
Explore this unnatural wonder! Bring your family!
A line of masked women came through, looking around with the same wonder as the men. Nadia’s wolf fur shined orange in the light. Her eyes were wide and staring. Her hands kneaded the air in front of her.
Meyor and Ariana emerged from a dark corner. Still masked, they were both naked. Ariana’s silver chains wrapped around her bare waist. Beautiful people. Even in such circumstances, they were breathtaking. They were followed by four hulking forms in red robes. The rough fabric seemed to swallow the light, but Henry caught his breath when one of them crossed in front of him to stand in the corner. The Order From Chaos symbol stark but proud on the front of his robe.
MotherFUCKER!
He had to get that horn. It had to be here. He wouldn’t go through this shit with nothing to show for it. His daughter’s killers.
Rapist fucks!
He’d get the horn, save Amélie, and then these fuckers were all gonna pay.
“Shall we begin?” Ariana’s voice bounced from the ceiling and walls in a chorus of echoes.
The men got to it, stripping down without hesitation. The women followed.
Henry raised numb fingers to his tie, loosening it as he watched Nadia reach up to the zipper at the back of her neck. He took his time, folding each item as neatly as he could on the bench behind him.
Two rows of naked men and women in animal masks.
He stood still, the muscles in his shoulders quivering with tension. A shiver ran through him, and he watched Meyor and Ariana walk around the table, their nude forms moving with a practiced grace. Meyor grabbed the mermaid and bent his mouth to her neck. She gasped and pressed her hips into his stiffening erection. Meyor paused to look up, his eyes seeming to lock on Henry’s gaze. “What are you waiting for?”
The men and women hopped forward in a breathless rush. Flesh slapped into flesh like the splashing of a creek. The four robed thugs looked on with bored amusement from the shadows of their hoods.
Nadia squeezed through a group of frantic lovers. Couples dropping to the floor. Leaning against the walls. Standing in the middle of the room. She pressed herself against him, pushing her mouth into his ear. Her eyes behind the circles cut in the wolf mask rolled up to meet his. Her hissing voice was a fierce whisper.
“What the fuck do we do?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Henry gasped. He tasted the salt of his own tears. He looked around, catching the eye of the black crow who had bid against him. The jackass smiled, and Henry returned it. His face was going to split in two.
He dove his head down and smashed his lips into Nadia’s, hoping it looked like he was overcome with emotion, and not like he was hiding his terrified panic from the rest of the deviants. “I don’t want to do this,” he said against her lips, tasting blood but not knowing whose.
“We need to get the horn.” Her words muffled against his chin, their masks scratching and catching, pushing his fox ears askew.
From the corner of his eye, Henry saw the jackass still watching, pushing his masked date to her knees in front of him. He grabbed Nadia’s breast, turning away from the man’s eyes. She grunted in pain, her breath hitching in a sob, and grabbed Henry’s flaccid dick. “Oh God,” she groaned.
He thought she was playing the part, but she bore down with an iron grip, and Henry grunted in pain. He pulled back and looked at her face, but her horrified eyes were locked on something over his shoulder. He put his right hand on her upper arm and turned to see what was behind him, almost tearing his dick off at the root.
A small boy was on the table, Meyor holding one hand over the child’s head. Ariana holding the other. A bidder in a pig mask walked to stand between the child’s spread feet. The guy’s pig date rubbed her tits on his back as she reached around to stroke his glistening hard-on. The man lifted a knife above his head. A wicked blade the length of his forearm. Ariana and Meyor looked at the hanging knife with frantic glee filling their masked faces.
The pig looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. That building anticipation from the auction theater. Just like Chicago. Henry turned back, and Nadia let him go, reaching up to take his hand from her shoulder. She looked at his ring, and lifted her own to send reflected light from its carved surface into his eyes. Henry nodded.
Fuck that horn! Fuck MANDYEL! And FUCK GOD!
They turned to the altar as one, removing the rings from their right hands. Nadia looked up at Henry and smiled.
One of the thugs stepped off the wall. “Hey!”
Henry bent and kissed Nadia on the cheek under the fuzz of her mask. He turned back to see the pig leaning over the splayed child stop and turn, his eyes widening when he saw Henry and Nadia standing in the middle of the disgusting carnality that continued unabated.
Animal noises. Grunting and slapping.
Henry and Nadia slid the rings onto their left hands, and all Hell broke loose.
CHAPTER 14
The children’s misery crashed into his senses. Henry’s human horror drowning in his monster’s delight. So much emotion in the air. Pain and pleasure. A menu of too many choices. Dishes dressed in art and pretentious description when all he wanted was a rare steak.
The chick blowing the jackass in the crow mask was oblivious to Henry looming behind her. The crow stared up at the monster that appeared out of nowhere and drew a shuddering breath. But Henry killed his scream with a kick to the chick’s head.
Her skull caved in, crushing into the crow’s shattering pelvis. He folded over her as Henry’s kick sent them into a woman gleefully riding a fat slop in a bulldog mask.
I hope she bit his cock off!
Henry planted his feet and roared at the ceiling. His voice burst into his ears, amplified by the stone, and another voice joined his, screeching and rumbling at his side. Nadia stepped forward in her demonic form. Black scales and onyx claws. Muscles rippling under thick hide, gleaming with cobalt highlights. Her blunt raptor face. Eyes on fire, heat pluming from a mouth full of serrated teeth.
Henry took another breath, then released it in a scream of fury. He plowed through the orgy, and any sick fuck that escaped his claws met Nadia in his wake.
His vision narrowed to a pinpoint, bleeding red across his field of view. His victims’ screams fell to a hush covered by his rasping breath. Growls swelling from his chest, his anger growing with every touch of his claws to skin. His glee at the destruction smearing his reason to nothing.
The horn was an afterthought. The face of his daughter. The blood spraying up and out, the escaping life force following him in a sparkling cloud. So much energy and power. Absorbing until he thought he would burst. He flared, and the sick fucks fell back
like he was dynamite and they were caught in his shock wave.
He charged the table and swung, his claws tearing through the pig mask in a cloud of flesh and blood. Horrified eyes gleaming out from an exposed skull. Teeth spun away, trailing blood and gums. The pig flew back, crashing into his bitch pig mistress.
Another swing, and a cat with sagging tits screamed through the bubbling hole in her neck. Her chest collapsed under his kick, and Henry stepped on a furiously copulating couple of deer-masked assholes. Their bodies moved in rhythm despite the murder bearing down. He dug in, pushing off to leap at the next, and the bodies burst beneath his driving weight. Ketchup packets on the sidewalk, his claws slicing them open like water bottles.
He soared across the room, his horns brushing the vaulted ceiling, and landed in the center of a Roman pile, spreading out beneath his approach. Panic and terror drenched his shoulders. Seeped through his nostrils and into his lungs. And then to his blood, where it strengthened his senses further — a shot to his brain like a young man’s wad.
Fractal patterns blooming across his eyes, built out of the blood filling the air as he bit and slashed and stomped.
The universe itself opened in the rush of awareness, and he could feel the thoughts of the sick fucks falling under his fury. His twisted monster’s face reflected back into his eyes. His blood-soaked mouth wide with a garish, hilarious glee. Henry bellowed with joy, and his imagination filled his ears with applause.
No light from Heaven above. Only darkness below, and Henry sent the souls tumbling down.
He twisted a wrist in his paw, and the arm came loose with a pop. Blood sprayed into his face. Henry swung the arm like a bat. The skull under a spider mask exploded, and the arm splintered into pink mush.
That’s gotta be second base, at least!
A swipe of his claws, and intestines erupted from the wound, spilling out to loop over a deflating erection. The man’s scream died as he dropped to his knees, and his insides hit the outside. Henry wiped the guy’s shit off his fingers, and bit the hand off a tiny woman in a cat mask trimmed with pink pearls.
