Bloodletters IX: Katherine rose up screaming. Sweat beaded down from her forehead, and her hair a matted mess from the tossing and turning of the nightmare. Though in a dark bedroom, Katherine could still see that no blood covered her fingers as before. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found herself upright on a large bed, still wearing the clothes she wore to the Bathory house. The Bathory house...Elizabeth Bathory. Fear overtook her again, as Katherine remembered the silver knife turning red with blood, and Beths expression as she forced the weapon back out of her chest without a mark to show for it. “Calm child,” a lamp flickered on, and Katherine swiveled to see Clyde by the doorway, “I can hear your heart racing. You will make yourself pass out again.” “Clyde,” she whimpered, feeling like sinking into the bed, “What is all this? Tell me its not...” “It is,” he sat on the bedside, “Kat, everything you have seen is real.” “Then you are a...” every muscle in Katherines body trembled with the idea of a horror monster come to life. “A prophet,” Clyde finished for her, “A prophet from God. Placed in my mothers womb to enlighten the world to the secret truths within themselves.” “But what are you? Your family?” “The exalted children of God,” Clyde responded, “Earthly angels.” “The teeth? The blood? Angels dont look like that,” Katherine fumbled for the words and the thoughts to complete her questions, “Where are your wings?” “Angels dont have wings,” Clyde took her hand and allowed his gentle touch to sooth her, “Nowhere in your religious books do you see us with them.” “Nowhere in those works do I see their long teeth either,” Katherine managed. “The books of the past dont go about explaining our every detail,” the warmth of his touch brought Katherines mind to a certain renewed ecstasy, “You saw the miracle at work. You proved it to yourself.” “And the child,” Katherine looked him in the eyes. Shadows appeared around them in the lamplight, “That was you?” Clyde smiled as a father speaking to his daughter about a familial memory, “A messenger of the Lord appeared to my mother shortly before her unlawful incarceration. The angel, Aviel, appeared to my mother and told her she would bear a son who would lead a great many to rebirth.” “Aviel?” Katherine asked, “Ive never heard of an angel by that name.” Without saying a word, Clyde stood up and motioned for Katherine to do the same. Lifting the lamp, Clyde took Katherine into the second floor hallway and down two rooms. There he placed the lamp up to a large portrait on the wall, allowing its shadows to dance upon the floor. Katherine gazed at the work of a woman with long red hair standing over the woman she recognized as duchess Bathory. A light illuminated the red head and caused emphasis to be done to her black fingernails that reached out to take Bathory by the hand. “This is Aviel,” Clyde pointed at the mystery figure, “As described to me by my mother.” “Clyde...” Katherine hesitated, but found a shred of courage left, “Your rosebushes...the sacrifices. I found Natalies locket...” “Natalies blood was shed so others may live,” he took the locket from the pocket, “Not one drop went to waste.” “So you kill?” she wanted to shrink away from the angel before her, “You killed Natalie? She was a mother...her son?” “No,” Clyde corrected, “We did not kill her, we gave Natalie her Saviors gift. We gave her eternal life through death. Natalie now lives in eternity without pain, fear, or regret.” “And what of me?” Katherine caught his gaze, “What are your plans for me?” “Eternity,” Clydes hand wrapped around her waist, “An eternity without death. Should you wish to choose it.” “Im scared,” her fingers trembled in his hand, “I dont know if I can...” Clyde let go of her hand and placed his fingertips under her chin, “Kat, believe. Let your passions take over and cast fear into the pit.” “How?” she asked, “Im still waiting to wake up from this dream...this nightmare.” “Close your eyes,” Clyde commanded, “Inhale and exhale deeply. Let your mind go blank.” Trembling, afraid of the situation, of Clyde, and this irrational things her rational mind saw and tried to make sense of, Katherine did as instructed with an heightened awareness of everything around her. Katherines ears heard Clyde move behind her, while the hair and fibers of the skin let Katherine know that the tips of Clydes fingers moved from her hips to just below her bust. Hot air from his breath caressed the back of Katherines neck and her right shoulder blade. “Now, let the the body tell the mind what it desires,” Clydes words touched Katherines ears just as her heart picked up in rhythm. The panic of before subsided in an ever so gradual manner as she found that Clyde was the only person close by that she could trust. Isolated. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Friends and family far away. Clyde symbolized something new; a closeness. No! Dont do this! Katherines rational mind screamed. Just go back home. Forget all of this. Sell the house and leave. But, Clydes warmth kept her body in place. I am home. She replied to the rational consciousness. Clyde is my home. A pang from the back of her mind that sent a shiver down Katherines spine as the interior debate raged. This isnt like you. What has he done to you? Kat, you arent like this. You never get drawn in like some teenage schoolgirl. Break away. Break away now before its too late. All of this is insane! You are insane for letting it go this far! “It has been said that the mind must tell the spirit its desires to get eternal life through death,” Clydes voice overrode the subconscious warfare, “But I say, let the body tell the mind its desires...and then, only then, shall you learn that it wants life instead of death.” See Kat! See! Hes a cult leader! Hes brainwashing you! The sense of touch now sent signals to throughout Katherines body that Clydes hands now cupped the tenderness of her breasts. Shock waves of different sensations and responses rocked through Katherine all at once. A first impulse to push away beaten down by another to melt further into Clydes arms, yet another begged her to slap him and run. Run away Kat! Run while you still have the chance. Katherine let her head fall back, exposing her neck as she released a quick exhale. Run where? Life wasnt that great in Chicago. All of our friends are conceited...just as conceited as us. Clyde is different. Clyde cares...he cares more than mom or dad ever did. But...yet...there is... As soon as it began, the interior war ended. Katherine opened her eyes and twisted out of Clydes embrace, but did not move out of reach. The two stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, neither one moving a muscle. In one quick motion, Katherine pulled him close, but kept her gaze glued to his pupils, “I know what it wants...” “And what is that?” Clyde showed no expression, although Katherine hoped there was something within. “It wants life...” her voice held a demanding firmness to it, “It wants you...” “Well then,” Clyde smiled wide, bearing the large fangs set back in his jaw, “Lets get started...” Katherines heart raced, pumping blood at a quick rate throughout her body. Every vein throbbed with the intensity of the moment. Their kiss grew into a long passion play of sensations; good sensations that ripped through her body. Pleasure. Release of pent up emotion. Warmth. And then...a searing burn like that of a paper cut along her wrist, followed by a hot running of liquid down her arm like that from a shower head. Katherine opened her eyes in the heat of their passion to look toward the source of pain...then passed out. *** Trace locked down the cash register and put all the days profits of hardware sales into the safe he kept in the back storeroom. The last customer, ole Nathan Hadley, left an hour ago, but only after telling a long winded yarn about Felix Grange spotting a UFO over his fields and hog ranch. A bunch of crap. Trace didnt buy into any of that supernatural garbage. If it didnt appear in the farmers almanac, Fox News, or ministers sermons, then it didnt exist. It wasnt the first tall tale of Mayberg that Nathan told, and it certainly wouldnt be the last. Walking out of the backroom, Trace flipped off its light leaving only those bulbs above the aisle rows on. As Trace made his way down the center aisle to finish locking up, his pocket buzzed with the lyrics to Blake Sheldons “Old Red.” Come on somebody, why dont you run. Ole Reds itchin to have a little fun... In mid-step, Trace took the cell phone out and huffed. It seemed that every night his wife called just before finishing closing with some new errand or piece of news that couldnt wait the few minutes for him to get home. Get my lantern, get my gun... The store lights flickered on and off. Trace paused and squinted at the oddity, then they blinked out completely. Ole Red will have ya treed before the mornin come. Cursing under his breath, Trace made it to the front counter and retrieved a flashlight. He shook it to hear the batteries within and hit the gadgets button. Nothing. Batteries are dead...of course they would be. Trace fumbled under the counter for a coffee can full of batteries of various sizes. As his fingers fumbled over the lid and pulled it closer, Trace heard quick scuffling along the tile floor. He stood up with a start, “Whos there?” Nothing. No sounds at all. “Stores closed. If youre not a rat, the come back tomorrow.” When still no sounds came, Trace renewed the search for batteries. All the while, he swore that eyes watched him from two corners of the store. However, the dark proved too blinding to allow any kind of silhouette. Popping the new batteries into the light, Trace twisted on the cap and tapped the flashlight into life. Trace jumped back and his heart skipped a beat as the light fell upon the figure of a woman looking back at him from the other side of the counter. “Jesus H. Christ,” he stammered, “Stores closed dammit!” The woman appeared unmoving, but the more uncanny thing about her was the grin stretched across her face. “I...I know you...” Trace regained himself and moved forward to the counter edge, “You arent from Mayberg, right? Came in just yesterday I think.” Still the woman did not move. “I dont know what this is about...but the store is closed.” “Stop playing with him, and get it done!” Trace swiveled the light toward the front door to see another familiar face. The sister of the charming young man, Clyde, glared back at him through her black hair. “Yes...my sister.” The flashlight fell back upon the woman on the other end of the counter, just in time for Trace to see the fangs protrude from the back of her mouth. One powerful hand grabbed his color and lifted him off the ground. Trace felt the sensation of weightlessness as he hurled through the air and slid down one of his aisles. His back hit one of the rows, knocking down nuts, bolts, and nails of every sort. Dazed, and noticing the flashlight fallen on its side halfway down the aisle, Trace tried to stand up, but failed. The dismal light showed a pair of legs walking to him, kicking the tiny tools aside as they approached. Trace raised a hand to keep the attacker away, but then felt the pain of his mistake. The womans hand took hold and swung the storekeeper up and around to slam into the opposite row. Sounds of more tools and merchandise hitting the floor came as needle-like pain stabbed into his arms. Never before did Trace feel such muscular strength behind a woman of this persons stature. Something about it seemed...unnatural. However, Trace wasnt going to allow some little woman to best him in a fight. His left hand clenched onto a tool he supposed was a hammer and made to lift it. A sharp pain seared his throat, and Trace felt more than the anti-climax of the strength he once mustered. He gurgled, wide-eyed, as a liquid he surmised to be his own blood spilled down his neck and into his shirt and jeans. “And now, baby sister...” Beth spoke from the side, “Feed.” Trace felt two long knife-like blades sink into the tear on his throat. As the life swam out of him, Trace grew fainter still at the feeling of suction on his wound, followed by gulps as blood flowed into the gullet of his attacker. *** You fool! Katherine berated herself on the drive home. Did you sleep with him? Well, did you? Honestly, Katherine could not remember a thing. When she awoke, all that remained as of memory seemed like a dream, a nightmare, or something in between. Her wrist bore a large cut, but other than that Katherines last recollection was of melting into Clydes arms. Ill bet you did. Her subconscious continued its assault. You screwed him, and then you left. How does it feel to be a tramp? “I didnt, okay!” Katherine shouted at her dashboard, “He wasnt even there when I woke up. He wouldnt have hit it and quit it. Not only that, but no one else was there either.” But you wanted to. She ignored this as the Silverados headlights struck an anomaly on the county road between the corn rows in front of her. An old pick up truck had hit a fawn, and gutted the animal open. As she slowed down to pass, Katherine noted an older man trying to get a young blond back into the truck; a look of disgust on his face. Katherine should have felt the same, for the gore along the road normally would make her stomach clench. Now, though, the blood seemed a needless display of waste. What was that? The subconscious brought to attention. Did you say “waste?” Interesting term of phrase isnt it? What has that cultist done to you, Kat? Katherine paid no more attention to the little voice and continued to drive.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 02:53:10 +0000
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