This World of Love and Strife, page 10
“That so? I hear there’s a party here every Saturday night. Know anything about it?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Is it true?”
“Unless you’re talking about me and Chucky here,” he said, jutting his thumb toward the dog, who was panting on the lawn.
“Ever see a woman with white hair?”
“That’s oddest inquiry I’ve ever heard. No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You said you came here for sightseeing. What sort of sights?”
“Her, and maybe a few other things. You mentioned visitors. I’m sure you’re familiar with this town’s history.”
“It wasn’t a town when I got here, but sure, I’ve heard the stories. Lots of dead fish and a huge fire.”
“That’s all?”
“All I know,” Oscar said with a shrug.
“I can see why people don’t stick around. Why do you?”
“Do I look like someone who’d own his own place? I’m a squatter. Not ashamed to admit that. Despite the trouble a long way back, there’s still plenty of fish to catch. Found a stash of liquor in some basement.”
“Anything else?”
“Picked clean.”
“All of it?”
“Every spot.”
“Then mind if I take a look? Thought I’d ask, since you’re king around here.”
“Be my guest, but it’ll be dark soon,” he said. Cato noticed a glint of hostility in his eyes. It was gone in a flash, but Oscar certainly didn’t want him sticking around.
“On second thought, I’d better use the last bit of light to get back to my car. I’m bound to get lost in the woods. Forgot my flashlight.”
“Good idea. Still, it was nice seeing someone. You take care of yourself.”
“You too,” Cato said, turning to leave. On the walk back across the beach, he resisted the temptation to glance over his shoulder. He didn’t need eyes in the back of his head to know Oscar was watching him the whole way. He also didn’t need to read minds to know something was going to happen once the sun went down.
Cato circled the woods back toward the town, finding a bunch of tightly packed trees near the outskirts, leaving a perfect view of the intact houses. With his binoculars, he watched Oscar sitting on the porch, petting the dog that had settled at his side. This went on for nearly an hour. Night fully set in, the full moon illuminating the empty town.
The sound of tires on gravel riled Cato from his daze. Bright lights shined down one of the streets. Through gaps in the rubble, he saw a black car slowly making its way down the side street. When it turned toward the center, Oscar rose to his feet. He put his fingers up to his mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle. This caused the dog to dart off into the woods. It seemed to notice Cato, but instead of heading in his direction, it went north.
A person walked out of one of the houses. He was followed by a woman, who he placed his arm around. Several more left buildings at the town square. One of them, a short and stout woman, came out behind Oscar. They made their way toward the others, who were gathering near the fountain. The car stopped nearby, but it was blocked by a house. Cato crept down further to the right to see the front of the car. The windows were tinted.
The driver exited the vehicle and went behind the car. The people gradually formed a circle around the fountain, joining hands. They raised them as the car’s occupant exited the back of the car. The moon illuminated her white hair with an unnatural glow. Cato thought it was glitter, but the light reflecting had a strange effect, as though it absorbed the surrounding darkness. He was reminded of the light bending hole in his apartment. The effect was nearly the same. The driver put a veil over her head, little more than a piece of black cloth. It was enough to block the light. She moved over to the circle, which parted, allowing her to approach the fountain. The woman, who had to be Rebecca Levant, looked up at the moon and raised her arms as though to seize it. The water in the fountain turned red as rubies. Without pause, the people ran to it, and kneeling, dunked their faces into it, lapping at it like the dog.
The way Rebecca stared at the moon unnerved Cato. The woman was clearly under demonic influence, and no matter how powerful, looking directly at it was akin to a human gazing at the sun. She kept the pose while the crowd drank away.
Cato noticed Oscar kneeling next to the stout woman, merely looking into the fountain’s waters. Despite being in league with these people, he wasn’t one of them, though he was certainly close. Even through the binoculars, Cato was able to see the longing in his eyes for a sip of that water.
The change of color didn’t alter its properties. Whatever Rebecca Levant was, it was highly unlikely she was capable of little more than an illusion. They had the sallow skin of vampires, but that didn’t necessarily make them entirely inhuman. If their state was demonic, the full moon would have been enough for them to see through the illusion. To them, it was likely more than glowing water. The way they licked their wet fingers was enough to convince him they weren’t seeing the same thing as him.
Cato’s heart leapt in his chest. If he wasn’t under the influence of demons, he would see ordinary water. The power of the moon, combined with an untainted will and clean soul was enough to dispel an illusion, especially from something lesser than a demon. Cato knew he had steered from the way, but not compromised, yet he shared in their illusion. His only advantage was being conscious of it. A huge difference that gave little consolation. His mind started wandering to any hidden reasons for coming this far out. Why was he really here? What was his true purpose in seeking out this white-haired woman?
The people ceased gorging on the fountain’s waters and shifted into a cross-legged sitting position. Rebecca proceeded to pace around the outside of the circle. After a few laps, she tapped each person on the back of their head, one at a time as she continued several more laps. It reminded Cato of a childhood game. The ducks sat in a circle, and whoever was chosen as the goose chased the tagger, and if not stopped in time, the goose’s seat was taken. The goose then repeated the process. He half expected this to occur when Rebecca stopped, her hand on the back of the stout woman’s head. Oscar whipped his head toward her. She had no reaction, even when Rebecca placed both her hands under the woman’s arms.
Rebecca’s back started to grow. It was slight at first, two bulges around her shoulder bones. The protrusions broke through the dress, splitting it down the middle, revealing a pair of membranous wings. These expanded to a width at least twice a normal arm span. They started to flap, kicking up dirt and dust. Rebecca began to slowly float, still holding onto the woman, who didn’t struggle. Oscar covered his face in shock, the only one with a visible reaction.
Cato watched as Rebecca’s flight gradually gained momentum. She flew straight up into the air, carrying a woman much larger than her with no strain. This went on for several minutes, until they were roughly a hundred feet in the air. Rebecca stopped, then let go. The woman smashed into the ground with a loud thud. The people dashed on all fours toward the body, tugging and tearing at the limp corpse. Only Oscar stayed at the fountain, bowing his forehead in the dirt, his whole body shaking with sobs that were audible.
Rebecca descended over the ravenous ghouls, now feeding on the body. They managed to rip open her innards and unraveled it, all of them burying their teeth into the intestinal tract. Cato wished this part was also an illusion. He had heard offhand comments about botched vampires who had all off the weaknesses and none of the strengths. Though he never dealt with an actual vampire, he doubted it’d take ten of them to tear a woman to pieces. Still, this didn’t seem to be the case. They were ravenous as beasts of prey.
As the ghouls licked the bones and cloth clean of blood, Rebecca watched from the ground. Her wings retracted into her back, leaving her fully nude under the moonlight. She walked up to Oscar, knelt down, and lifted his head from the dirt. She was saying something to him, but Cato couldn’t hear or read her lips. It calmed Oscar down, though he didn’t join the others. They placed the woman’s bones over the remains of her clothes, then lit them on fire.
They all stripped their clothes and danced around naked. Rebecca joined them, twirling and stepping to a tune Cato couldn’t hear. She had either practiced it or had some sort of rhythm accompanying it. After a long pirouette, she bowed. The people clapped and lay out under the moonlight. As they started to cling together, Cato put down his binoculars. He had no interest in watching a blood-fueled orgy.
Neither did Rebecca. She went into one of the houses and didn’t come back out. Oscar returned to his, and after an hour of bacchanal festivities, the others returned to their houses. It was over three hours past midnight. The fire died shortly after.
Cato waited until daylight for Rebecca to leave her house. When she didn’t, he waited a little longer until the sun had fully risen, then threw on his backpack and headed into the town.
Cato went to Oscar’s house first. He turned the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, pushed it open. The room looked much better than the outside, fully furnished and fairly clean. Still, it reeked of dust and mothballs. Oscar was sprawled out on a colorful carpet in such a haphazard position that Cato thought he had been killed. He drew his gun, then gave the fat man a gentle kick. A few more, than a wallop on the back.
“What happened?” he shouted, springing awake. His eyes frantically darted around the room, and as though awakening into a nightmare, his face contorted into sorrow. “Wendy,” he sobbed. “My sweet Wendy!”
“Yeah, poor Wendy,” Cato said, pointing his gun at Oscar’s face. He stared into the barrel, ceasing his wailing.
“Just kill me,” he whimpered.
“Not going to happen. Start talking,” Cato said, then lowered the gun. Oscar quickly composed himself, sitting upright with chin resting on his hands.
“I don’t know where the hell to start.”
“Last night. Was Wendy your wife?” Cato asked, then after Oscar responded with a curt nod: “How did you two get wrapped up in this?”
“Years ago. Wendy joined a religious group named the Lazarites. I thought it was just some new age crap. It was the first time I saw her happy in years, so I didn’t stop her. It was harmless enough. She was going through another round of chemo at the time and her old friends wanted nothing to do with her. Then she told me about a man named Lazarus who could raise the dead. He claimed to be the Lazarus from the bible. I made the mistake of humoring her and went to meet this man. He…”
“Go on,” Cato said after a long pause.
“He took us to a funeral. Told the attendants we were coworkers to the deceased, a woman named Betty. The three of us knelt at the coffin. He touched Betty’s head. Her eyes opened right up. She had died in a car accident that left the lower half of her body completely mangled. There she was, kicking and screaming inside the coffin.”
“That’s a hell of story.”
“Sad, too. I later found out she died after an hour. The story was in the back of the papers, barely a blurb.”
“Surprised they published it.”
“I had a bad feeling about this Lazarus guy, even after he performed a miracle. What can I say? I wanted to live forever. In order to do that, we needed to die first. I won’t lie. I thought it was Heaven’s Gate all over again. I still drank the poison.”
“What was it like?”
“A good nap. First time for as long as I can remember waking up refreshed.”
“I can already see where this is headed. You needed Lazarus’ touch to keep you alive.”
“His blood.”
“So he’s a vampire.”
“He was. Everything changed two years ago. The White Lady joined our group. She was able to turn water into blood. With her, we had no need of Lazarus. That’s what she said after killing him just like she killed my wife last night. According to her, we were the same as him. We’d die like him and be grateful for it. I’d never heard someone talk about death in that way.”
“Is that how you ended up here?”
“Six months ago,” he said, then cracking a slight smile: “I’m sorry for lying. It’s my job.”
“You’re obviously different from the others.”
“Sunlight is agony to them. It doesn’t bother me, but I don’t get worked up as they do with blood. I’ve gotten used to it, though.”
“Do you realize that she’s not actually turning the water into blood?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw it myself. It’s an illusion. All I saw was red water. Not even that is real.”
“That’s impossible. How are we still alive?”
“Have you tried eating anything else?”
“Of course. It’s hard as hell to swallow, and even if you manage, you puke it right back up.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You’re not vampires.”
“How would you know?”
“I deal with these sorts of things. For instance, I bet there’s a sigil around here.”
“That’s in the White Lady’s house. We go there to worship our god. He granted the gift to Lazarus, who granted his gift to us. The White Lady is his emissary.”
“She have a name?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill her now. Sit back and—”
“No!” he shouted, rising to his feet. “You’ll kill us all!”
“If she dies, the curse leaves your body. Probably won’t cure your taste for blood. You seem well off. The others, I’m not so sure.”
“Please,” Oscar said, getting on his knees. “I know the others. They were good people.”
“They aren’t people anymore. Take a demon’s gifts and reap a demon’s penalty. Miracles come at a cost. It’s always the same thing—your soul.”
“I just wanted to make my wife happy.”
“She didn’t seem bothered by getting picked.”
“The White Lady promised she’d bring everyone.”
“For what purpose?”
“Apollyon.”
Cato had to sit down on the couch to relax his frenzied mind. Though his wish to justify going after Aldous was becoming a strong possibility, the revelation had implications for the future. One of the basics teachings of the Vanguard was thirty demons that weren’t to be trifled with. Even a hint of their invocation was enough to warrant wiping out everything involved. One of these was Apollyon. He was the arch demon of Lumina City. The reason for Cato and Reggie’s jobs were to prevent any demonic activity that may even lean toward worshiping his corner of the hierarchy. Mephisto’s rumors were more than credible at this point.
“When was the first time you heard that name?” Cato asked.
“From the White Lady. Lazarus used his sigil. No one ever asked what it meant. We figured it was our equivalent of the holy cross.”
“When did she first say it? What has she told you about it?”
“One at a time,” Oscar said. “She told us it was our god before killing Lazarus. If we were to die true deaths, like him and Wendy, then we would resurrect in our immortal bodies.”
“How do you end up believing this crap?”
“A man told me he could resurrect the dead and he does. Then he a woman comes and rips him in two and is able to turn water into the blood we need to sustain ourselves. Why wouldn’t she keep on helping us? Besides, she didn’t make me eat the sacrifice. She said I’d be the last to receive the gift. I knew this day would come.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“The reason she drops the sacrifice is symbol of being dropped in a bottomless pit. You don’t get out of something bottomless.”
“You aren’t far gone, Oscar. Leave this place and never look back. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Who are you?”
“It’d be better if you didn’t know. The others are tainted. Even if I kill the White Lady, they’ll be vessels for demonic possession. A regular mind has defenses against this. Theirs is porous. I’m sorry, but it’s got to be that way.”
“Kill me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve got nothing. You really expect me to just walk away and get on with my life? It was over before I drank that poison. Please, kill me.”
“Are you sure,” Cato said, drawing his gun. Oscar got on his knees, nodding his head. Cato aimed the barrel between his eyes. His finger touched the trigger, but he couldn’t press it.
“Kill me,” Oscar mumbled, eyes closed. He grabbed the gun and grit his teeth: “Do it! Kill me! I don’t want to be resurrected! Kill me now!”
Cato squeezed the trigger. The bullet passed through Oscar’s head, spraying blood on the carpet and ceiling. He collapsed, utterly still.
Before Cato could assess the situation, he heard car tires grinding against gravel outside. With his gun still drawn, he darted out of the house. The black car pulled out from across the street. Without pause, Cato fired two shots at it, piercing the back door. As it sped up, he fired three more shots at the tire. One of them hit. He fired the rest at the other rear tire. Two bullets pierced it. The vehicle lost speed, allowing him to carefully aim at the driver’s side and empty the rest of his clip. At the end of the street, it veered off and crashed into a tree stump.
Cato ran up, quickly reloading his gun with his last three bullets. A suited man with sunglasses staggered out of the vehicle. Cato fired a shot while running, missed completely, allowing the man to hide in front of the car. Cato went across the street for a better view. He saw the man’s leg twitching violently. It stopped, then a moment later, the man slumped to his side. Cato slowly approached, finding the corpse’s mouth covered in foam. The bullet had only passed through his shoulder, which meant he swallowed some kind of poison from the look of it.
Though he wasn’t getting an interrogation, he took solace knowing the White Lady was stranded in this town with the death of her driver. Cato holstered his gun and removed the mallet and silver stake from his back pocket. Killing the White Lady would wake the others and give them a chance to escape, so they would need to go first. He had a long day ahead of him.
