WHEN THE BUTTERFLIES COME
A Novel
by
Rosemary Lightfoot Ness-Bitner
Copyright © 2016 Rosemary Lightfoot Ness-Bitner. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.
THE SECRET AND THE BUTTERFLY and its companion book, WHEN THE BUTTERFLIES COME, expose the impotence of our financial institutions’ regulatory framework and courts when pitted against a committed wrongdoer. The books were inspired by a matter of civil litigation. All characters, events, and conversations are fictional, the products of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual characters living or dead, events past or present, localities or conversations is entirely coincidental.
A caution and disclaimer
There are opinions expressed in these books which are not those of the author. They are expressions of the characters’ beliefs and convictions only. Some or all of these opinions, particularly those of Marty towards married women and their children, and David’s opinions and actions concerning a wide range of matters, some readers may find offensive. They are presented as part of the narrative to illustrate the depths of depravity and sociopathic disorders of the characters. They are in no way intended to convey the feelings or attitudes of the author.
The author holds deepest sympathy and highest esteemed regard for the victims of the sociopathic characters. It is the author’s hope and intent that, by these illustrations, the reader will gain an appreciation of the presence of the evil forces that lurk in some minds, craftily disguised as normal. If you are squeamish about offensive material, especially cruelty to insects, animals, and people, or if you are offended by characters’ offensive behaviors and expressions of strong opinions about controversial subjects, you are advised and cautioned to not purchase this book. If you are a child under the age of eighteen, do not purchase this book as it contains erotic adult content.
DEDICATION
To loving.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
GLORIOUS BUTTERFLY (CONTINUED FROM THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE SECRET AND THE BUTTERFLY)
CHATAT
PATS
EXECUTIVE LESSONS
RITA
TRACKING
VAULT
ECHO
OLD MAC
KNOW-HOW
JOINING THE TRIBE
TRACKING DAVID
FINDING RUBLINA
EAGLES AND INSECTS
COFFEE
SPARKY OR THE BLATHERFLAMEER
THE KEY AND THE BLADE
OLD GRAVEL THROAT
FINS
HOOVES
PEACHY
SNOW AND COFFEE
MENTORING
REYNARD THE RED
NO
ASSUMPTIONS AND BARGAINS
THE URINALS
THE SUPREMES
MISSING SHEEP
CHAIN FALL
ISRAEL’S SIDE
PARTNER BEN
COMPLAINING TO ANDY
ANTS
ANCIENT MARKINGS
BONES AND BLOODLINES
SPIRITS AND WONDERS
MIDNIGHT AT MOUNT OF OLIVES
COYOTE ON A RIDGE
HUD WITH THE SPIRITS
REST
GLORIOUS BUTTERFLY
David put an ether-soaked handkerchief over Marty’s nose and mouth. She struggled briefly while he held her arms. Her thoughts were of a woman crazed. What’s he doing? Where’s my bunny? She struggled and gasped for breath. The air was intoxicatingly cool and she was suddenly overcome with dizziness, falling unconscious. David had timed his attack perfectly, just after Marty exhaled so she breathed the ether in deep. It was only fifteen seconds before she succumbed.
When Marty woke she was sitting on a hay bale naked. Her hands were bound behind her, ankles chained together, and her mouth covered with duct tape. Her head was groggy, and she shook it to dispel this surreal happenstance. This must be some kind of joke, but I don’t like it. David’s way out of line doing this kind of shit! She squirmed and groaned to free herself, but her struggles were of no use. She looked up to see David standing about three feet from her, out of kicking range. She shook her head up and down, then gyrated back and forth as if to demand that he free her at once. He stared at her like a man transfixed. It was that faraway look he sometimes lapsed into. After a little while she stopped struggling and stared back at him, as if requesting an explanation. He was expressionless, staring as if she didn’t exist. She glanced off to the side and saw both her diamond and her pearl necklaces hanging from a nail on the side of the barn.
He finally spoke.
“Marty, I have the utmost respect for you. You are not an ordinary woman. Most women are silly creatures. They are selfish, vain, incredibly boring, pathetic beings who go through life focused on trivialities and obsessed with petty jealousies. They are insufferable company for men with ambitions and purpose. They do not know their purpose for living. They concern themselves with who among their circle of nitwits lunches with whom, who attended whose parties, and who said what to whom. They are maddeningly boring, despicable, narrow-minded beings that men are made to suffer.
“You are different, Marty. You identified your life’s purpose early. You understood a woman’s purpose is to please a man, and you made the most of it. You are like your mother that way. You both figured out that you could make considerable fortunes by shamelessly plying your best asset. You both mastered the techniques of feminine guile to get men to do your bidding. You, even more than your despicable mother, learned how to conquer men with your cunt. I salute your genius. My purpose was to harness it for the good of the firm. You can appreciate that.
“But there’s something you should know. You have a tiny scar on your right little finger. You had a little nub of flesh there when you were a child, didn’t you?”
Marty remained silent, but David held a knife up to her nose, threatening her if she refused to answer. “Well, didn’t you have it removed?”
She nodded, suddenly afraid. I don’t know where this is going but I don’t like it.
“I noticed your nub when you were a little girl. You were at Dad’s house in Rondel Hills, bouncing a ball with me. Remember?” Marty shook her head. “Well, that’s okay. I remember. That’s all that matters. I knew someone else who had that same nub on the same finger. He had his surgically removed too. Do you know who he was?” Again, Marty shook her head. “It was Dad, Marty. I saw his nub when I was a boy. One year I was sent to summer camp, and when I came home, Dad’s nub was gone.
“You and I have the same father. You didn’t know that, did you? You are not Joseph Maloney’s daughter. You’re Marvin Sustack’s. You and I are half-brother and sister.” David paused to let Marty absorb the information. “It’s okay, Marty. I don’t hold it against you that you’re beautiful and I’m ugly. Our mothers were different and they determined what we looked like, not Dad. Dad was handsome. You’re beautiful. Your mother is beautiful. My mother was ugly, and therefore so am I. Nature worked out that way for us.”
David stared at Marty before he continued.
“We have a serious problem. We’re brother and sister so we’re not supposed to fuck together, but we did, vicariously. We broke a mitzvah. And you broke another mitzvah when you fucked Muscle Boy. You broke the one that forbids a betrothed to fuck someone other than their betrothed. You shouldn’t even fuck your betrothed until after you’re married by a rabbi. I see you’re shaking your head to everything I’m saying. Is that because you’re not a Jew? These rule
s don’t apply to you?”
Marty nodded.
“Ordinarily, that would make a difference. Since your mother is a gentile, that makes you a gentile. Jewish law shouldn’t apply to you, but you’re not ordinary. Dad treated your mother like a wife at the office. She wasn’t an ordinary shiksa. She was more like an office wife than a shiksa. By Susan being Dad’s office wife, you’re the daughter of a woman who sought to become a Jew. Dad wouldn’t marry Susan and let her join the tribe through marriage. It’s complicated, Marty, so I don’t expect you to understand everything I’m saying, but Dad wanted Susan for his wife. But for Mother, he would have married Susan.
“Dad loved Susan and you more than he loved Mother and me. Dad pushed us aside to be with Susan and you whenever he could. You probably don’t remember that, do you? Dad loved your mother so much he tied me to her through his will until she dies. Can you see why I think of her as Dad’s wife, which makes you a Jewess from my perspective even though no rabbi would agree with me? Susan, Mother, and Dad all hurt me, Marty. You and I need to correct that. That brings us to why we’re here, and why you’re chained up.”
Marty shook her head vigorously.
“According to the ancient tribal rules of five thousand years ago, when someone comes into contact with a corpse, we must have a red heifer sacrifice. That’s a heifer with not a single hair on it that is not red. Sometimes people used to cheat a little. If a heifer had some white hair, they’d just pull out the white hair, figuring the priests wouldn’t notice. In our circumstance I figure although you’re not an actual corpse, your soul is dead. That’s just as bad as being dead, Marty, and maybe even worse. You are a hopeless base whore, forever committed to whoring. That makes your soul a corpse. I know that for sure because you just fucked for diamonds and betrayed your future husband. I think of Bob as a son, and I didn’t like watching you betray him.”
Marty looked at David and rolled her eyes as if she thought he’d lost his mind. David’s one sick asshole. First he gets his jollies learning about my innermost feelings, and then he watches me while I fuck Muscle Boy. Now he says everything I did for the company, which he paid me to do, was immoral. What next? Will he spank me? I haven’t felt this alone and abandoned since Mother sent me to boarding school. I wish Bob would come along and put a stop to this craziness. Where could he be on a nice weekend like this? I wish I hadn’t told him to stay away.
Men! They surprise you when you don’t want to be, but when you need them around they’re off doing something else. Damn it! This isn’t fun anymore. I can’t think straight. Just wait until David takes this tape off my mouth. I’m going to give that little prick a piece of my mind. After all I’ve done for UGGA, for him to treat me this way. He got loyalty from me—bottoms-up loyalty. I fucked my ass off for UGGA. Where’s the loyalty from him? Nobody should treat their best employee this way. Why is he doing this to me? When do I get my necklaces? Where’s my floppy-eared rabbit?
And would someone shut those fucking pigs up? They’re so damn noisy. I wish David would hurry up and feed them so they’d shut up. Where did he go? David, I can’t see you. You can’t just leave me sitting here like this. I can’t think with those pigs grunting like crazy, and I can’t speak.
David! Come back here. What are you doing? Where are you?
CHATAT AND QORBANAT
Marty’s situation was precarious. A day that began with promises, fun, and games suddenly turned weird and scary. The hot late-summer-afternoon sun beat down on the prairie. The air was still, the humidity cloying. There was no breeze or sound except for the occasional cry of a magpie or the shrill “tuhweeee” of a male red-winged blackbird standing watch on a cattail at the edge of the barnyard pond. She’d arrived casually dressed in blue shorts, sans underwear, expecting to give David an obligatory hug for his magnanimous generosity. She accepted David’s pearl necklace as an offer of good faith and now she trusted his good intentions. She was told she was being reinstated with a raise in pay, a diamond necklace, and a floppy-eared rabbit. Best of all, she’d be reunited with Bob, her lover and husband-to-be. On the drive over to David’s, she’d wondered what other company would set her up like this and pay her this well to fuck her brains out. She ignored David’s reversal of policy regarding office romance. She overlooked his previous temper tantrum when he learned of her engagement. She desperately needed to believe she was lucky in business and lucky in love.
But now events took an unexpected turn. She listened carefully when David instructed her to be still, to fully comprehend the events which were about to transpire. Before that day she had no idea that she and David shared the same blood, nor could she imagine her half-brother’s innermost thoughts that their common blood made her a potential rival for Marvin’s assets should she ever correctly piece together her parentage. Too late she realized that, to eliminate the risk of a contest for their father’s assets, David needed to get rid of her.
She suddenly saw the world through David’s sinister eyes. She was twenty-eight years old. Her allure would soon fade. She’d carried the firm’s sales on her back, literally, for the past few years, but her results had plateaued. She expected to marry David’s new prized salesman. Now she understood that David considered her a threat to his plans. Marriage to Bob could result in the two of them striking off on their own in a different direction, or, with her voracious sexual appetite, there was no telling what turmoil his new sales leader might have to deal with if he married her. Sales could suffer. Suddenly, too late, she realized that possibly David had his own designs on Bob. She shuddered and quivered, realizing she was likely a mere pawn in a very dangerous game. Fear shot through her blood. She now knew she was undoubtedly way over her head into something very dark and foreboding.
David saw all along that it was risky to allow events to progress naturally without intervening. He’d already talked the entire matter over with Dolly. He and Dolly concluded that he needed to maintain control of the company and events, but he also needed a righteous rationale in his own mind to commit a heinous act. For that, he reached far back to his historic roots and plucked an ancient mitzvah from the Torah.
David stared at Marty sitting on her hay bale, no doubt hoping he’d snap out of his madness. She was bound and gagged, completely at his mercy. He would do all the talking. It was his ritual; she was merely an instrument of his penitence. Her role in God’s mitzvah was to compliantly accept God’s will, to be quiet and play her proper role. It was time for David to involve her in his fantasy ritual, never before practiced in human history with anything other than a red heifer. David realized that Marty probably thought he was insane, and from a psychological sense that worked to his advantage; otherwise, she might have offered even more resistance than she did. David knew he wasn’t a madman. He knew himself well. He was a willful, motivated murderer with a penchant for sadistic terror. In David’s mind, Marty was no different than the helpless butterflies he tore wings from as a child. He had long before lost all feelings for the sufferings of others, be they insects or humans.
“Marty, in our religion, when someone defiles God we must atone. The way to atone is through sacrifice. Our religion stopped this practice about two thousand years ago when the Romans destroyed our holy temple in Jerusalem and murdered over a million Jews. Rabbis tell us sacrifices are forbidden now, but I don’t believe that makes the practice invalid. I made an altar in my basement. It’s hidden behind a bookcase with a secret button that opens the wall to access it. It’s a modern altar, with gas-fired burners and a hood that vents to the fireplace chimney and takes the smoke out. I can’t feel purified unless I make a sacrifice.
“I built the house and altar facing east, toward Jerusalem, where the ancient priests sacrificed before the Romans destroyed our temple. Today, we’ll make our offering together. It will purify us from our sins. It will be a chatat, or sin offering. You will be absolved of your sins by participating.”
Marty was dumbfounded by what she heard. She looked at him as i
f he were mad. She only half heard what David said as her mind blocked his voice with thoughts of her own. Is David mad? It sounded like he said he was going to absolve me of my sins, but how could he? And why am I bound up this way? Then her mind came back into focus and she listened carefully to what her murderer was saying to her.
“Marty, this particular offering also atones for contact by a member of the tribe with a dead person. I’m not real clear on this. Maybe it was to absolve people who committed necrophilia, or maybe it was just used if somebody touched a dead person. I’m no expert on this five-thousand-year-old stuff. But as I explained, your soul is dead so you are morally lifeless, and that’s kind of like being dead. In this special case, we must use a red heifer to atone for our sins like they did between five thousand and two thousand years ago.
“I especially need to do the red heifer offering because I staged today’s events. That was wrong of me. I already knew you’d lost your soul. I watched you lose it years ago. In fact, I paid for much of your debauchery. I entrapped you, another sin for which I must atone. This is called the Qorbanot offering. It’s rare and special. We’re going to be the first ones to do this in two thousand years. What we’re doing is really special. I hope you are as proud to be part of this as I am. Unfortunately, I don’t have an actual red heifer to perform this offering with and our faith doesn’t have priests anymore, so I’ve decided to substitute you for the heifer and myself for the priest. Pretty clever, huh? Substitutions weren’t permitted in ancient times, so this won’t be exact, but trust me. I’ll do my best. Stop shaking your head and squirming, Marty. I’m your big brother. You need to listen to me. I know what’s best here.
“Your hair isn’t red but a dark brown, with a patch of red, which looks like it comes out of a cowlick. In a proper sacrifice, the mitzvah says I should have only red hair. I’m not going to remove all your black hair and just leave that little patch of red. I figured out a better solution. Since you are not a real heifer in the first place and since you only have a little patch of red hair, we’re going to read the mitzvah from left to right like gentiles read the newspaper, instead of our accepted way from right to left. It’ll be okay, Marty. This won’t be a kosher sacrifice anyway, since you’re not a hoofed animal and I’m not a priest from two thousand years ago, but it’ll get the job done. I hope God will know we made a good effort. To make your hair uniform and perfect without blemish, I’m going to first remove your red cowlick plug. You’ll be like a black-haired human version of a red heifer but without any red hair. That way, you’ll still be without blemish, see, but you won’t have all red hair like a red heifer because you’re not a heifer in the first place. The more I read the Torah, the more I realized that the key to the sacrifice was to remove all signs of blemish, so I don’t think it matters too much that you have black hair instead of red hair. I know this may sound confusing to you, Marty, but don’t worry about it. Trust me, I’ll get this done and God will be proud of both of us.”
When The Butterflies Come Page 1
