Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  “You could say that,” Gerry replied, somewhat evasively. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he felt reluctant to discuss the deck with her, and even less wanted her pawing the box. He was just about to take them back when Cassie spoke from behind him.

  “Is there a problem, hon?”

  “I don’t think so,” he replied, turning towards her. “We’re just waiting for Sandy’s mom to come down from upstairs. She should be able to shed some light on the cards, right?” He pointed the last part of his question at Sandy, who was looking at him in surprise.

  “How did you know my name?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

  “Ha-ha!” Gerry replied with a mock laugh. “See, I’m really an evil wizard,” he joked, “so get you mom down here quick, or I’ll put a curse on you all!”

  “Hush, Gerry!” Cassie gasped. “Don’t say stuff like that, even if you are joking! That’s not the kind of thing you joke about.”

  “Aw, lighten up, babe!” Gerry replied. “I’m no gypsy or witch-doctor, you know that!” Turning to Sandy standing behind the counter, he said, “Look, I was only joking, you know. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “That’s OK,” Sandy said. “I thought it was kinda funny, actually.” Cassie gave Gerry a stern look, daring him to say anything else that could be misconstrued.

  Just then the door at the far end of the counter, deep inside the store, opened, and a petit, mousey-haired woman entered the store and headed in their direction. As Gerry had expected, it was obvious to him and Cassie that this was not the woman who had sold him the deck. Sandy went over to the woman and started talking quietly to her, while she took surreptitious glances at the two customers. After listening to her daughter, the woman stepped out from behind the counter and walked over to where Gerry and Cassie were waiting.

  “Good afternoon,” the woman said. “I am Janice Cuttler, and I own this store. Sandy was telling me about your purchase here yesterday, and how you think there is part of the product missing.” Without waiting for Gerry or Cassie to respond, she turned her gaze onto the silver box on the counter. “Is this the Tarot deck in question?”

  “Yes, that’s the box with the cards inside.” Gerry replied.

  “May I?” Janice asked, gesturing at the box, indicating that she wanted to have a look at the cards inside.

  “Yes, it is,” Gerry said. “Here, let me.” He picked up the silver box and carefully opened the lid, showing them the leather bundle inside. When he looked at the wrapped deck, he gave Cassie a quick look of surprise. “It’s all wrapped up and knotted again, see?” he said, showing her the box.

  “Jeez, Gerry, we didn’t put it back together like that!” She looked away from the cards and into Gerry’s eyes. “That’s weird!”

  In the meantime, Janice Cuttler had started to unknot the wrappings so she could get a look at the cards. After struggling for a few minutes, she gave up in exasperation, and handed the pack to Gerry.

  “Please open that, so I can see the cards inside. I need to make sure they are the same as those we stock. Nice box, though, and definitely not something we sell.”

  Gerry put the wrapped deck down on the counter to start unravelling the knot, but, as soon as he started to thread the leather thong back on itself, the knot came undone of its own accord. Sheepishly, he looked up at Janice, who glared at him.

  “Well, I suppose there’s some kind of trick to that,” she said. She watched as Gerry carefully unwrapped the cards. Once they were exposed, the bookstore owner spread the deck out with one finger, looking at the eye on the back. “Well, mister...” she said, prompting Gerry for his name.

  “Oh,” he spluttered. “O’Keith. Gerry O’Keith.”

  “Well, Mr. O’Keith, I can tell you that this deck is not one that we have ever sold here.”

  “But that’s not possible!” Gerry protested. “I bought this here yesterday. The old woman that works here took us both into that room over there, and hunted this deck out of a box in there, and sold it to me for two hundred bucks!”

  “Two hundred dollars!” Sandy gasped, while her mother denied Gerry’s assertion.

  “That is just not possible, Mr. O’Keith. Please believe me! That Tarot deck did not come from this store. I buy everything this store sells, and we have never sold a silver box with a pack of Tarot cards in.” She stared defiantly at Gerry, daring him to challenge her.

  “Maybe if we just have a quick look around the storeroom over there, we might find something,” Cassie suggested quietly.

  “That’s not a storeroom,” Sandy said. It’s just a room we use for cleaning stuff and hats and coats.”

  “Really?” Gerry said in disbelief. Quickly, he walked over to the door that the previous day had lead into the dark, crowded storeroom, and opened it. Instead of the dank, crowded room he remembered, the door opened to reveal a small, brightly lit, and almost empty room. A rack of hangers, some dotted with the odd coat, and a bench beneath it for shoes and boots, filled most of the left side of the room, while the opposite side was taken up with metal rack shelving that held some boxes of dusters and cleaning rags, along with rubber gloves and an assortment of cleaning liquids and polishes. Stepping into the room, Gerry looked behind the door, and saw a collection of brushes, mops and buckets. A few short feet away, the rear wall had a large, barred window, looking out into the yard behind the store, and a rear door.

  “This isn’t possible,” he said slowly, looking around the room, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

  “Mr. O’Keith!” Janice Cuttler’s angry voice broke into his confusion. “This is just not acceptable. I must ask you to leave this store immediately; otherwise I will be forced to call the police!”

  “Please,” Gerry said, still dumbfounded. “There must be some explanation for this. This room was much bigger than this yesterday, and full of books and junk. You must believe me!”

  “I see no reason why I should, Mr. O’Keith. This room is the same today as it was yesterday, or any other day for that matter. Now kindly collect your Tarot cards, and leave my store!”

  “Come on, Gerry, let’s get out of here,” Cassie said, taking hold of Gerry’s arm as she tried to soothe him. “This obviously isn’t the same room, so let’s go.”

  “Yeah, ok,” Gerry mumbled, still looking around the room in confusion. Cassie led him out of the back room and into the store. “Where are my cards?” he said, suddenly coming back to life. He and Cassie looked over at the shop counter, to see Sandy Cuttler with the Tarot deck in her hands, looking at the cards in wild-eyed amazement.

  “Sandy, give these people their cards back, please,” Janice Cuttler called out from behind Gerry and Cassie. The younger woman looked up from the images, her blue eyes flashing with sudden reluctance.

  “But, mom...”

  “No ‘but’s’, Sandy! Has everyone gone nuts around here today? Give them their cards back.” As she spoke, Cassie gently lifted the deck out of Sandy’s grasp, collected the cards the young woman had dropped onto the counter, then wrapped up the whole deck in its covers and put it back in the silver box. Picking up the plastic bag they had carried the box into the store with, she hugged the box to her chest and, making sure Gerry was following her, she quickly left the store.

  ~* * * *~

  Gerry sat down heavily on a big black stone at the side of the Broadway, and slowly shook his head in confusion. Cassie sat down next to him, and put the silver box back into the shopping bag.

  “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on here, Cassie,” Gerry said slowly. “How could that room have effing disappeared over night like that? And where’s that old witch who took my two hundred bucks?”

  “I have no idea, Gerry,” Cassie replied. “I am as confused as you are. But whatever it is, it has to do with that Tarot deck, hon. There’s something very spooky about that silver box and its contents. And where is that woman?”

  “Beats me! I am at a loss.” He rubbed his fac
e between his hands, and looked along the street, watching people going in and out if the stores, and the cars, vans and trucks driving back and forth in front of him. The afternoon sun shone directly into his face, making him squint, and his eyes water. Cassie leant her back gently against his arm, trying not to hurt his wounds while still offering him some comfort. “So, any ideas of what we should do next?” he asked her.

  Cassie shrugged, then looked down the street. Suddenly, Gerry felt her body tense, and she sat up.

  “Well, I’ll be...” she said. “Maybe we should ask her.” She pointed along the street where, in the distance, the figure of an elderly woman, dressed in a long black skirt, and shrouded with a black shawl, was slowly walking away from them.

  “Fuck me!” Gerry said, standing up. “It’s her!” He started after the dwindling figure, calling out as he did so. “Hey, wait up!” A few people in the Broadway turned to look at who was shouting, but the old woman apparently didn’t hear him, and turned a corner, disappearing from view.

  “Quick, let’s go,” he said to Cassie, as he scrambled for the bike. Cassie ran up and pulled their helmets out of the cargo box, dumping the bag with the cards in into it, as Gerry straddled the Harley and pulled it back off its stand. A few seconds later, the hog roared in anger, and Cassie deftly climbed up behind him, then hung on for dear life as he rocketed the bike after their prey.

  It only took a few moments for them to reach the corner of the street down which the old woman had disappeared, but, when they got there, there was no sign of her. Shit! Gerry thought, as he slowly pulled the bike over to a nearby parking lot, and scanned the road ahead.

  “She can’t have gone that far, Gerry,” Cassie said. “Let’s just drive down and see if we can spot her.” Gerry put the bike into gear, and they moved slowly along the lane, Cassie scanning the houses and side streets as they went. Seeing nothing, after a few hundred yards, Gerry turned the bike off onto one of the side streets, and they continued their search. At the end of that street, they flipped down to the next street and started riding up in the opposite direction. Just when it looked as if they were going to be shit out of luck, Cassie spotted an old, small, beaten up RV trailer, hidden away amidst some trees at the far end of a cleared lot that was being used for town parking. She tapped Gerry on the shoulder, and pointed the trailer out to him. He swung the bike around, and they headed into the lot and across to the trailer.

  As they approached, a couple of rather large, scruffy-looking men appeared from behind the trailer and started walking slowly towards the approaching Harley, but, just then, the old woman appeared at the door of the trailer. Gerry couldn’t hear what she was saying, but, whatever it was, it stopped the two goons in their tracks, and they shuffled slowly away from the bike. The old woman looked over at Gerry and Cassie as they approached, and waved at them in greeting, a smile on her age-worn face. Gerry gave the bike a last spurt of juice, bringing them quickly up to the side of the caravan. Killing the engine, he let Cassie jump off, before pulling the bike up onto its stand again, and getting off himself.

  “I wondered when I’d see you two again,” the old woman said, a liveliness in her voice that belied her age, as Cassie and Gerry walked over to her. “Come on in,” she said, turning back towards the trailer, leading them to the doorway. Cassie looked at Gerry in concern, and he rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, but followed the old woman anyway.

  Inside the trailer was dark, as all of the windows were covered by old, brown curtains, some of them threadbare, and all of them frayed at the edges. The living space of the caravan was crowded with packages, boxes, and odd pieces of furniture, while, under the front window, a long sofa doubled as a bed, covered in a brown, suede-like cloth and a few crumpled blankets. The other end of the space, past a small sink, a stove, and what appeared to be a lavatory, was cluttered with all kinds of stuff – paints, bowls, pans, dishes, pots, cutlery, rolls of cloth, stacks of papers and books – a real hoarders paradise!

  “Have a seat, have a seat,” the old lady said, gesturing to the sofa under the window. Cassie and Gerry looked around the packed space in wonder, taking care not to bump into anything, just in case it happened to be valuable, then slowly sat down as bidden.

  “This is, er, quite the place you have here,” Gerry said, still gawking around the trailer. Then, looking at the old woman, he said, “Will my bike be ok out there, with those two ‘friends’ of yours?” The old woman laughed.

  “Don’t you worry about Rott and Dobb, my dear. Their bark is, usually, worse than their bite! They just like to look out for me. After all, I am getting on, you know, not that you’d notice, eh?” She cackled loudly, bringing a smile to Cassie’s face.

  “Rott and Dobb?” Gerry repeated.

  “Yes,” the old woman said, conspiratorially. “Rottweiler and Doberman! That’s my nicknames for the two of ‘em – but don’t tell ‘em that!” She winked at the couple, then sat down on an old, rickety chair across from the stove and smiled back at them.

  “So, Gerry,” she said, “how are you getting on with the Tarot of the Acolyte? Is it not as beautiful as I said it would be?”

  “Tarot of the Acolyte?” Gerry repeated. “Is that what it is called? That’s good to know.”

  “Ah, yes,” the old woman said, wistfully. “The Tarot of the Acolyte. There’s some very interesting characters in there, eh, Gerry?” She winked at him, and he suddenly had the impression that she knew everything that had happened between him and the Queen of Storms.

  “The reason we hunted you down,” he started to say.

  “Was to get this,” she said, lifting up an old notebook, bound in black leather, the pages of which looked yellowed with age. On the front of the book, engraved into the leather, was the same design as that on the backs of the cards, complete with eye! “I hadn’t realised at the time, that this was not in the tin with the cards. Here,” she said, handing the book to Gerry, “it belongs to you now.” He took the book from her, feeling the heaviness of its weight, and the warmth of the leather. It seemed to him that, like the cards, the book exuded some kind of energy, or essence, that seeped into his body, stimulating him, awakening thoughts and passions within, and, suddenly, he was hard again, the head of his cock straining against his jeans.

  “Tha-thank you,” he stuttered, hoping that neither of them could see his arousal. Quickly, he passed the book over to Cassie, who took it in her arms and held it up to her chest. As she did so, a sudden ray of sunlight broke through a gap in the curtains, and lit up her face, causing the old woman to gasp.

  “My, my!” she said, gazing at Cassie. “You are so beautiful, Cassiopeia, so beautiful.”

  “Cassiopeia?” Cassie said. “That’s not my name. It’s Cassandra.”

  “Ah, it might be Cassandra for them as calls you by it, but, in your heart, and in your dreams, you’re Cassiopeia, the most beautiful queen in the world!” Before Cassie could respond, the old woman held up a finger, then got up and stepped quickly to the back of the trailer. From a shelf at the very back, she picked up a stack of large cards, then came back and sat down on her chair, resting the pile on her lap. Flipping slowly through the cards, which Gerry and Cassie could now see were painting and drawings of Tarot cards, she stopped when she came to the card she wanted, lifting it up and holding it in both hands in front of her face. Then, with a long, sighing, “Ahh...”, she handed the card to Cassie.

  “See?” she said. “That’s you, right?”

  Cassie looked at the image on the card, and was taken aback by what she saw. The painting was a depiction of The Star card, from the Major Arcana, and Cassie’s eyes widened as she looked at the central figure, shown in graphic detail, because she would have sworn to anyone that cared to listen to her, that she was looking at a photograph of herself, standing, naked, in the middle of the card, facing outward for everyone to see. Her head was thrown back, and her eyes were closed, and her face was bathed in a silver-and golden mixture of light, shining do
wn on her from the giant, glowing star just above her. The light also glittered on the tops of her breasts, accentuating the dark hardness of her aroused nipples, and shimmered in the valleys surrounding the muscles of her abdomen, even highlighting the edges of the small, trim, black triangle of pubic hair covering her mons that pointed down to the shadows of her glistening labia, through which, a tiny spot of hot pink flesh was just visible.

  The figure on the card held a golden ewer in each hand of her outstretched arms, both ewers tilted to allow the water they were holding to flow out: that in the figure’s right hand poured as a wide, glittering shower onto the greensward of the lakeside that her raised right leg was also standing on, while that in her left hand poured as a single, solid stream into the lake that the figure’s left leg was standing in, creating a single set of concentric ripples that reflected the light from the star. The greensward spread out to the edge of the card, and was covered with myriads of small flowers, leading to a forest edge, where trees, luscious with foliage, loomed in the darkness, while the dark lake filled the other side of the lower part of the card, moody and serene. Above the figure’s head, in the inky darkness of a clear night sky, seven small stars shone brightly, the middle five of which formed the lopsided W of the constellation Cassiopeia.

  Cassie looked at the painting, taking in its magnificent details, the beautiful richness of its colours, and the seeming reality of its textures. On instinct, she turned that card over, revealing a white back, on which was written in smudged pencil, the word Cassiopeia, and, underneath that, in quotation marks, her name, “Cassie.”

  Handing the card to Gerry, she looked at the old woman and asked, “Did you paint that?”

  “Me?” said the old woman, in surprise. “Ha-ha! I wish I could paint like that! No, no, not me. That picture’s much older than me, my dear.”

  “It looks almost new,” Gerry said, looking at the woman in disbelief. “I thought The Star card was always depicted as a white woman, and Cassiopeia, too, for that matter.” He scanned the image again, taking in the details of Cassie’s picture. Suddenly he swallowed, and realised that what he was seeing was almost identical to the view of Cassie he had had the previous evening, and the memory brought a lump of desire into his throat.