by A. L. Mengel
Darius turned around. But it was not Darius…the face was ghastly green, with a snout like a canine; acrid smoke rose out of the nose and mouth; acidic saliva dripped to the floor, as little puffs of smoke rose from the mossy floor.
The figure grew, sprouting muscles and lengthy limbs, the fingers growing spiny with razor sharp nails, jutting out of the muscular hands attached to roping muscular arms.
The monster reached towards an unseen ceiling as the muscles stretched at the fabric and ripped the clothes off its body, revealing a greenish muscular chest with spots of brown.
The tattered fragments of the clothes dropped to the floor in pieces.
Roberto tried to turn and run, quickly forgetting the wall that had formed behind them.
He quickly ducked and was able to swiftly ease between the legs of the towering, lumbering demon.
Looking ahead, all he saw was blackness. The ground beneath him was soft and mossy, wet and muddy. But he continued to crawl deeper into the unknown. He was not going to let this demon take him. He could not.
Crawling further, he reached into his pocket and fumbled again for his lighter. There it was, but it was wet from the watery floor. It did not matter. He pressed on into the blackness.
The moss and dirt fell from the walls as the booming, thunderous steps started behind him. If Asmodai wanted to impregnate humans to create a spiritual army, he was not going to be one of those minions.
Whatever this beast was, it was slow. Its gargantuan muscles were slowing it down. And Roberto’s athletic ability was working well for him, as he crawled like a spider quickly along the watery path, deeper and deeper into Sacrafice.
*~*~*
Sheldon sat at his desk in The Astral studying Antoine’s file, listening to the audio discs, pausing every few moments to take notes.
The more he listened and the more he read, the more uneasy he became about the whole situation. Antoine was viewed in Miami as a leader, a healer, and a spiritual guide.
He took away pain.
But Sheldon knew there was something darker, something more sinister going on beneath the spiritual front that was yet to be revealed.
Sheldon knew that Antoine was an immortal. Sheldon believed, and took Antoine’s stories as fact, not fiction. Which is what Sheldon was afraid of.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Sheldon said, his eyes never leaving the file.
Anthony stood in the doorframe.
“I am going to see Antoine,” he stated. “Antoine said that he has an invitation to extend to me.”
“I am scheduled to see him one last time tonight,” Sheldon replied. “Why don’t you see him tomorrow?”
“Fine,” Anthony replied, turning away, about to leave. “Oh, one more thing,”
Sheldon looked up from his paperwork, expectantly.
“No one can find Paula. Rumor has it that she snuck out to see Antoine last night, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Well, if she shows up there, she will certainly have some explaining to do. If I see her, I will talk to her. As for you, wait until tomorrow. That’s an order. I will be seeing Antoine alone tonight.”
Sheldon arose from his chair, stretched, and gathered up the file, which was strewn across the desk creating a sea of papers.
“As for me,” Sheldon said, “I am looking forward to another glass of that great whiskey he has!”
Anthony smiled wanly and left.
As he left the Directors office, he knew he would have to come up with a plan to see Antoine tonight. Since Sheldon was scheduled to see him, he would have to follow and wait and talk to Antoine after Sheldon left.
But Paula could mess up the entire plan. Antoine was very, very specific about wanting to see Anthony – tonight. Antoine made it sound as if the time was critical, and the time was an issue, and that if he didn’t see him tonight that Anthony would miss out on an opportunity.
He hoped not to see Paula. She was talking earlier in the day about going out to Coconut Grove tonight, but that could have been a lie. Anthony knew she had an obsession with Antoine.
Nevertheless, Anthony waited for Sheldon to leave the office, which seemed to take hours, and then he took it as his cue – he quietly slipped to his car, avoiding as many public areas in the office as possible, so co-workers would not notice him leaving, and there would be no questions to answer, or no obligatory goodbyes.
He slipped into his car, watching Sheldon drive away. He waited about five minutes, and slowly pulled out, leaving the headlights off.
Driving slowly the entire time, he kept his distance from Sheldon, but keeping Sheldon’s Escort in his sight the entire time, as he turned from US1 to Anastasia and finally to Andelusia. Sheldon parked in front of the Nagevesh residence, and Anthony hung back about a block away, cutting the engine and waiting with Antoine’s estate in his direct front view.
What he did not notice was Paula’s car, parked a block away.
And he did not notice Paula following him, from the moment he left the garage, just as he was following Sheldon in a game of cat and mouse completely unbeknownst to the players. Paula had the upper hand. Patiently waiting for three hours in the hot garage in her car, she managed to convince the office workers that she was planning a night out in Coconut Grove. The long, hot wait paid off. She mopped some sweat off her forehead. She knew that Sheldon was seeing Antoine tonight, and she knew that Anthony was planning to as well. What she wanted was in on this case to satisfy her curiosity and obsession with Antoine.
She also knew that if Sheldon saw her, deliberately trying to horn in on a case that was clearly not assigned to her, that she would definitely be in hot water back at the office. But that was fine. She had no plans to see Sheldon that night.
Anthony was another story.
He was always a friend, always an ally. What she definitely wanted to find out was why he was following Sheldon, and why Anthony wanted to see Antoine that evening. What was so important? What could not wait?
So Paula had the best parking spot – nestled between some trees on the corner, with a sight of Antoine’s estate and Sheldon’s Escort to her left, and directly in front of her, about twenty five yards away, was Anthony’s Jeep.
Of the three destined to see Antoine, she most clearly had the advantage.
CHAPTER FOURTY
Andelusia Avenue.
What a desolate trash-laden barren wasteland it had become. Looking at the behemoth houses imposing their shadows across the tree-lined street, one could see that each house suffered the same fate as Antoine’s – it seemed as though none of the houses had been lived in or entered for years. Cracked windows were everywhere, a rat scurried across the pavement dashing towards a sewer amidst crumbled papers, cigarette butts, broken glass and ripped wood littered the street that appeared as if torn off of a house.
Then, of course, were the wrought-iron benches that lined the sidewalks on Andelusia, where various shoppers would have waited for the Coral Gables trolley to scurry them across town to Ponce De Leon, or perhaps the shops lining Coral Way. No longer were the benches there, for the few that remained and weren’t ripped off the pavement or bent and torn askew, were deeply rusted or severely mangled.
Paula sat, huddled in a small bush near a crop of twisted palm trees, shivering, scared, not knowing what had happened and where everyone went. And she didn’t know what to do next. She quieted herself, breathing shallow with the fear of disturbing the demon that had pursued her outside of the Nagevesh house further down First Street.
Once her visitor had left, the demon had crashed through the door, splintering wood and sending plaster cascading in a shower to the floor. She had fallen backwards, startled by the blow. Her survival instincts took over, and she jumped over to the window. Unlocking it and throwing it open, she jumped outside the window face first into the bushes below.
Crawling through the front lawn, she heard the demon inside the bedroom, screaming and thrashing, sending walls crashing down.
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Another crash behind her.
She had turned her head, and saw the monstrous demon hurtling through the side of the house with little effort as plaster and cinder blocks fell to the ground. Nothing was stopping this monster.
She had made it several blocks away, closer to US 1, when she felt that she had outrun the demon and managed to gain some sort of a sanctuary.
She lay near some bushes and leaned her head back on a tree stump and savored the quiet, tears beginning to stream down her face, carving small paths on the dirt on her face, making it look like a blackened roadmap.
What is going on? She shook her head. Where has everyone GONE?
Perhaps she fell asleep.
Or maybe she passed out, or fell unconscious for a few moments. But, when Paula opened her eyes, she saw a face in front of her. Not directly in front of her but a few feet away. Not an actual face, but rather a disembodied head, hovering over the sidewalk.
She blinked her eyes sleepily. I must be asleep.
She strained to look through the bushes, unaware if the face was looking at her or not. But deep down, she knew it was. The face was staring right at her, and the face knew she was there.
But where is the body?
She did not move. She did not dare make a sound, or a whisper, or even breathe. She sat there, frozen with fear and frozen in time, staring down the face before her that seemed to have misplaced its body.
Who is that?
The face, as she squinted and looked more closely at it, seemed to be that of a man. A young man, for sure. It did not look as if the face were more than thirty years old. Long flowing brown hair that waved in each direction framed the light complexion, deep blue eyes and supple lips. But that is where it stopped.
If the head were to come closer, Paula might be able to determine more closely who or what was staring at her. But she knew, and closing her eyes she knew, that she did not want that face to come any closer to her. She wanted that face to go away, she wanted to look through the bushes ahead of her and just see Andelusia, not some bodiless head before her.
And then the head began to float. Closer and closer it moved towards Paula, slowly and silently.
Paula huddled in the bushes, staring with intensity and fear. She shook, and took in a breath.
As the head levitated closer to her, a body started to fill in beneath it. She strained to look at it, as the body that was forming was partially covered by a swirling white mist. As the strange form glided off of the street and onto the sidewalk, now in spitting distance from Paula, she started to make out a man’s clothes.
The clothes that the man was wearing was a light t-shirt and a faded pair of jeans, but the t-shirt and jeans were marred with dirt and stained with blood. There was a tear at the top of the t-shirt near the collar, and another tear in the jeans by the knee.
And then the neck, now more prominent below the head, which was covered in dirt and blood, the wounds on the neck still fresh and oozing blood and pus, spilling out over the shirt staining the formerly white fabric.
The eyes were the most prominent; and as the figure moved even closer to Paula, the eyes began to stare at her with such intensity that she cringed.
She knew those eyes, and she had seen them before.
The intensity of the stare subsided. There was no more feeling of anger; now anguish. It seemed as if the eyes were crying out to her, in fear and in pain and in a begging need for help.
It stopped at the end of the sidewalk, where the cement started to meet the earth. The eyes continued to stare and beckon, as if she were silently being requested to come forth.
Come forth.
Come forth, and see me in all my glory.
But the man was not glorious.
He was unkempt and covered in blood, and he looked like he was dinner for a group of vampires or demons.
Paula did not move.
She remained stone cold and still. This figure appeared so rapidly and without warning. If she were to turn, could it instantaneously relocate right in front of her escape path? Given her encounters with the demon back at the Nagevesh residence, she did not want to even try to interact with this being.
And, then, she was torn.
But Paula knew that she did not have much time to react. She had to make a decision, and she had to make it fast. The man was drifting closer through the mist on the sidewalk, and closer, closer to her hiding in the bushes.
And she stopped breathing as the mist started to clear and revealed the mauled and mangled body standing before her.
CHAPTER FOURTY-ONE
Opening night.
Saturday, one in the morning. The techno beats thumped loudly just past the grand entrance doors to Sacrafice, and there was a line down the block on the sidewalk next to Washington Avenue, kept in order by a procession of red velvet stanchions separated by brass stands, containing the dapperly dressed Miami elite standing in queue on a lengthy red carpet; even some of the upper echelon of New York and Los Angeles came to South Beach to attend the opening of the much-hyped grand opening celebration of Club Sacrafice.
There were two very large doormen in front - both gigantic bodybuilders dressed in black that no one had seen before in the city. Perhaps flew in from New York. The crowd attending the grand opening was a mix of ethnicities and backgrounds; pretty much anyone who could afford the entrance fee could come in and party however they wanted to on opening night.
The doormen simply kept reporters and riff-raff away from the grand church-like entrance to the venue. Every time a young party going fellow with his young date tried to make it past the long, snaking line to say that “We are on the list” a gigantic, trunk of an arm extended forward and pushed the would-be partier back into the crowd without a word uttered.
A tall brunette woman in a short, tight-fitting bright red dress appeared in the doorway to the club and slinked down the stairs towards the guards. She was holding a clipboard in her right hand, clicking against the sidewalk in matching red stiletto pumps, smiling with fire-engine red lipstick, and magically produced a sleek wireless microphone from her left hand.
“Good evening!” She exclaimed. The crowd cheered. “This is the night you have all been waiting for!” she continued and gestured back to the grand doors at the top of the steps. “This, I promise to you, will be a nightclub experience like you have never experienced before!” The cheers swelled.
The thumping techno music hit a crescendo as she finished her words, and she climbed the stairs towards the door. She turned around as she reached the foot of the stairs just outside the main entrance. “I hereby open the doors to Club Sacrafice!” She opened the grating iron doors outward, and thumping music of a different kind wafted out the doors along with smoke and mist, red and blue lights, and drowned out the music that had been playing outside. The woman seemed to vanish into the mist as she walked through the door.
The crowd was growing impatient, but still held in check by the massive guards. One man dressed in black ducked under one of the ropes about ten feet back in the line, and tried to run up to the doors, but one of the guards effortlessly grabbed him by the neck just as he was making his way up the first of the steps, and threw him into the bushes on the side.
“No cutting in line or you will be ejected!” he barked in a monstrous deep voice. The guard scowled at the crowd with fiery red eyes. A stunned woman also dressed in black slowly stepped backwards. She exited the line, and as she turned back to look at the guard, she stared with eyes as large as plates, her face suddenly contorted; she cautiously headed to the bushes and kneeled down in front of the man.
A mysterious thundering voice overtook the music “Welcome brethren! Come forward now!” The guards removed the roping that had been blocking the crowd and the crowd slowly filed forward, climbing up the stairs and to the doors – all staring forward, all gazing upon the doors and the smoke. The music continued, louder than ever.
As the first followers entered the main doors, the mist be
came so thick the one was not able to see in front. It was a walk of faith under a shroud of uncertainty as each person disappeared, one after another.
The mist lifted somewhat to reveal a long hallway leading towards a large room with soaring ceilings. Most of them were impressed by the earthen walls, and the stone floor, feeling it added to the gothic feel of the venue. Many snapped out of their trance as they entered the main rooms, and looked upwards at the soaring ceilings; many darted their eyes towards the lights, the bars, the sounds and the smoke, taking it all in.
In the great room, it appeared like any other nightclub on South Beach. The ceilings reached upwards to an impressive laser light show, an extensive bar on every wall, and gigantic marble statues of Greek gods on every corner. Truly this was a nightclub that South Beach had never seen before. Marble floors. Premium liquor at every bar. Floor to ceiling mirrors. All was put there by Antoine to impress and lure them.
Above the sprawling dance floor was a mezzanine, where clubbers could sit in expansive lounge-style black leather furniture, where the stone walls continued dotted with real burning torches. Between each set of torches was a wooden door which, to many of the guests discovery, each was locked.
The clubbers danced and partied at the massive club, sat on the mezzanine guzzling martinis, reveling in the gothic feel. Some passers by could overhear conversations about the nightclub mysterious owners - no one knew who they were, where they lived or where they came from, but all agreed that the nightclub was a hit. It would draw thousands from around the world.
Except for Gizelle, who could be spotted easily in the darkness with her bright red dress working the crowd, there was no indication of any staff. Even the bars were self-service. And the owners still have not made an appearance.
*~*~*
Despite the gothic feel of the exterior and the public areas, Sacrafice had a very businesslike, very professional and very impressive looking executive boardroom. It was a soaring room above the main dance floors of the club, with a giant, mahogany table in the center, which looked roughly the size of North Dakota when viewing it from the main brass-handled double doors.
