The Vessel

Sunday

"Once a visitor to the Church of the Martyrs passes through the vestibule and into the nave, they are greeted by a series of eight dazzling statues that stand in alcoves along the side walls of the sanctuary. Here seven martyred saints are immortalized in polished red Griotte marble. The eighth statue is a mystery and will be described later. As one looks up to the south wall, they find the oldest martyr of the group.

"Saint Archer was twenty-three at the time of his martyrdom by the Romans in 3rd century Roman Gaul. His crime was teaching the Gospel during the Great Persecution of the Emperor Diocletian. He was skinned alive and crucified after refusing to recant his faith by offering a sacrifice to the pagan gods.

"Records show the grisly execution was carried out by a sadistic centurion with the un-Roman name of Asbeel, who vanished from the historical record after this incident.

Saint Archer's tomb is located in a church dedicated to the saint near Marseilles. According to local legend, the vault is empty.

—from the book History of the Church of the Martyrs by Reverend Malcolm Valk.

1. Woe to you, Oh Earth and Sea

There were twenty-two of them. Men and women of apparent means and respect. Old and young. Fat and fit. All of them trained in old arts and sworn by blood oaths to be obedient and keep their mouths shut. Deep in the forest they stood, near a ring of five mighty oak trees, waiting for the moonlit clouds to part. All they wore on their sweaty bodies were thin metal masks shaped like spiders’ heads.

Excitement was high that October night. Two and half centuries had passed since anyone attempted the ritual meant to bridge the gap between the realm of living men and the spirit realm.

That long ago night also had been the last appearance of the Akuma Comet. Now it was back. Although it wasn’t necessary to have the comet fully visible to continue with their plans, it was special to them. They knew its power and longed to see it. Akuma moved through the Second Heaven on its way to Earth where their precious Dark Prince surely watched it pass from his dimension.

Meeting like this was risky, even far from the lights of town, and with a friendly law enforcement officer standing watch nearby. They long ago learned to internalize the danger of their double lives. It made their orgy more satisfying than usual. If tonight went according to plan, danger would fade as their power grew. After lifetimes of living in the shadows, they, the faithful ones, would welcome the Dark Prince. He would come. Tonight.

They stood staring at the sky. Their breathing slowed from the furious rutting that ended moments before. They gasped when the clouds parted to reveal the comet, twinkling with knowledge of their secrets. The group laughed and twittered as if watching a famous musician stride onstage. A tall man stood before them, authoritative, known in the real world as Charles Hemming.

Bring her to us, he said.

A man and a woman emerged from the thicket of trees, each supporting the arm of a nude teenage girl. She wore no mask. Her eyelids were heavy. She had been given a strong drink to dull her nerves, but she was still of sound mind. Her choices and actions were her own. There had not been, nor would there be, any coercion.

She looked younger than her eighteen years. She was shorter than average, skinnier than average, and less robust of figure than the average girl in her senior class. They guided her past the wide tree trunks and into the center clearing of the oak ring. The thick branches of the trees reached over and across and joined high overhead, forming a ceiling of foliage. Now they were more isolated. She stood in the center of the clearing. The group gathered behind her. Her face was blank. She was unreadable, showing no sign of fear.

Hemming spread his arms, keeping his open hands below his hips. The others did the same.

We bid you welcome, Our Dark Prince.

"Yog Zothos," they chanted.

Blood is our birthright, he said.

"This is our covenant."

The star that passeth through the Second Heaven brings us dreams of you, Oh Lord.

"Come, Lord Zothos."

We are your servants in the new world.

"This is our covenant."

You are Lord of the Second Heaven.

"Yog Zothos. Come, Lord Zothos."

As the recitations and chants continued, a matronly woman in her 60s stepped up to the girl. She brandished a fillet knife and clinically made a series of small punctures in the girl’s chest, over her heart. The teen flinched, but didn’t protest. Blood oozed from the wounds and trickled down her breast. They weren’t serious injuries, but their friendly deputy had informed them that hesitation cuts were necessary if the eagle-eyed county sheriff was to come to the finding they wished.

The woman put the knife in the girl's hand, then returned to the circle. The teenager stood alone.

Speak to the Dark Prince, Child, Hemming said to her.

She blinked and gazed at the leaves and branches, the first sign she was conscious of her surroundings.

I reject the Weakling’s gift of life, she said.

"This is our covenant."

I offer my lifeforce to the coming Dark Prince.

"Come, Lord Zothos."

She continued chanting her rejections of life and decency. The cult chanted their welcome to their evil deity and again fell on each other in a sexual frenzy.

Make me the instrument of your victory! she said, her voice rising in a low, unnatural register.

"Yog Zothos. Come Lord Zothos, the others hissed through their rutting. Come, Lord Zothos! Come, Lord Zothos!"

The girl reverently raised the knife.

Come into me, she said.

She plunged the blade into her own heart. She shuddered, rebelling instinctively against the assault, but she did not cry out in pain. An arc of blood followed the point of the knife as she yanked it away from her chest. A dangerous red waterfall poured down her body, pooled around her toes, and soaked the leaves.

My body is not my own. My soul is without worth. I am your vessel, oh Lord.

"This is our covenant."

She swayed on her feet as her life force drained away and her heart gave in to its destruction. A wet, crimson gown now covered her body. She fell to the ground, staring at the leaves overhead.

Know my hatred of life is absolute, she said, gasping for breath.

They continued their frenzied fornication around her, abruptly switching partners, all the while chanting, "Yog Zothos. Come, Lord Zothos."

There is no love, she said. Her voice weakened.

"This is our covenant."

I hate.

"Come, Lord Zothos."

As the girl faded into death, the sexual free-for-all escalated into malevolent insanity. Violence and violation were freely given and received. The seething madness within set free to play, although they were careful not to leave marks that would lead to uncomfortable questions in the days to come. To their mind and training, a loss of humanity meant the opportunity to be more than human.

The leaves swirled as a wind kicked up. Everyone froze. The giant trunks of the ancient oak trees, along with the thick ceiling of foliage, should have shielded them from any natural gust of wind. Everyone looked at the girl. Hemming went to her and touched her neck for a pulse. He grinned when he was sure he wouldn’t find one. The wind spun harder. A low, guttural moan cycloned around them in the spinning air. It grew louder, and Hemming had a flash of worry that the sound would break across the flat, harvested fields and bring law enforcement officers who, unlike their friend standing watch, would not be sympathetic to the ritual in the circle of oak.

The moan rumbled long past human endurance. Hemming and his companions leered with anticipation. Was it finally about to happen? If tonight proved the ancient beliefs to be true, the mind reeled at what was to come, the awards that awaited them, and the punishments that would devastate the world.

The dead girl’s sightless eyes betrayed the first hint of emotion since she had stepped into the circle: fear. The others looked at her without sorrow or pity. She had their deepest admiration. She had accepted her role in the coming new world. She had been willing to sacrifice herself. Only she could inflict the fatal blow. A human vessel had to vacate their body for the Dark Prince. She shed her blood with her own hands. She emptied her soul with her own will to die. She went quickly.

The swirling chaos rose higher into the air until the branches twisted and undulated against each other. Oak leaves fell like snow. Flashes of purple lightning bolted and crackled between the trees and the ground, absorbing into the wood until they were gone. The wind stilled. The growling voice settled into a quiet moan again. Everyone stood and watched the trees. Waiting. Anticipating.

A splat sound came from where the girl lay. A gray, mucus-like substance spread across her belly. Another blob went splat against her chest. Looking up again, they saw buds on the branches secreting this odd substance. When a drop was big and heavy enough, it fell to her body. None of it landed on the ground. Each viscous secretion shot from the trees to land on the girl’s skin. The sloppy sounds continued as the substance rained down until her entire body was wet with it.

The older woman cackled with delight.

It’s worked, she said. He’s come!

Hemming shushed her. He wanted absolute silence to witness what was to happen next.

The blob covering the girl shrank. It didn’t drip away onto the dirt but entered her body through her wound and orifices. When the substance had disappeared into her flesh, all was calm.

We have our miracle, he said.

He faced the group.

This was our highest obstacle, my friends, but we have cleared it. Tonight we have accomplished what only a few throughout all of human history have done. But now, now we must continue to be careful and vigilant. Now we must continue to do what must be done. I fear our adversaries in this affair are powerful, but far from invulnerable.

He turned to the man and woman who had escorted the girl into the woods.

Take her, he said. Do what we have discussed.

They walked to a pile of clothing first. When they were dressed, the man put the girl’s body over his shoulder and left with the woman. The others filed out as they dressed, exchanging congratulations and checking for any signs of their ritual that might arouse suspicion as they did. Soon, Hemming was alone in the woods.

He stepped out of the oak ring and back into the small clearing next to it. He gazed up at the bright, flickering comet.

Woe to you, oh earth and sea, he said. For the Devil is come down, having great wrath!

Hemming laughed to himself. When he dressed and left, the wind was still.

2. Antonia

The day had been too quiet.

Toni Gershom thought about that as she walked through her quiet country home turning off lights, checking doors, and preparing to call it a night. Her years in law enforcement taught her that a quiet day meant a chaotic night. She’d even stayed in her sheriff’s uniform throughout the evening, anticipating the call about some emergency that required her attention.

To her relief, her phone stayed silent throughout dinner and a few brainless TV shows with her daughters. It was a peaceful night. Girded with tension, but mostly pleasant.

Eventually, everyone tired out. The girls drifted upstairs to bed. Toni went out to the porch to enjoy the starlight for a few minutes and check out the passing Akuma Comet. On the way to her bedroom, she looked in on each of her teenagers. Both were already asleep. Although they were 15 and 19, Toni still watched them long enough to verify the peaceful rise and fall of their night breathing, just as she had when they were babies and plenty of times in-between.

Feeling confident of a quiet night, she’d allowed herself a long, hot shower and changed into her homebody outfit of an oversize, faded, black KISS T-shirt. She wore nothing else under the T-shirt, which brought endless ribbing and eye-rolling and oh, Mother comments from the girls. After working all day in a duty belt and sheriff’s outfit, she was ready to dress down at home.

She stretched out on the bed to sleep, lying on top of the covers as had been her habit since Michael’s accident. The empty space next to her tormented her with its stillness. Thinking of him would make sleep difficult, she worried. However, she quickly dozed off.

It seemed like only seconds later when her phone buzzed. Toni jolted awake, trying to shake off the sleep fog and get a handle on her surroundings. She groaned when she glanced at the incoming call I.D. and realized work had ripped her from sleep again. It was her 2nd shift deputy, Toby Burgess.

Hi, Toby. What’s wrong?

"Sorry to wake you, Boss, but we got a call to the Rawlings’ place again."

Conrad acting up? I assume he’s gone beyond his usual bullshit or you wouldn’t be calling?

"You could say that. He tagged me a good one out in the front yard. He’s inside with a knife at Samantha’s throat."

Good Lord.

Samantha was Conrad Rawlings’ eight-year-old daughter. Toni was already slipping her feet into a pair of flip-flops and grabbing her duty belt. There was no time to change.

"Trooper Holt is here. He was in the neighborhood."

Okay, I’m on my way. Is Rash there?

"Yeah, he came in early when he heard the call."

Christ. Well, keep him under control. Don’t make any moves until I get there. Try to keep Conrad calm.

Toni was halfway downstairs when she remembered to run back to her room and step into a pair of gym shorts.

Five Oaks County sat in western Nebraska, above the inner point of the panhandle, one county north of the Colorado border. Hermon, Nebraska, the county seat, was a few heads over 1,000 in population. The remaining four villages in the county had populations ranging from 78 to 300. None of them had the budget or much need for a police force, so all the towns and villages contracted out their law enforcement needs to the sheriff’s department, making Sheriff Antonia Gershom the chief law officer in the county. She got occasional backup from the state police when needed. Toni was one of only three female sheriffs in the state.

She drove up to the Rawlings’ home at a modest speed with no sirens or swirling lights. She was glad the other officers' vehicles were also dark and quiet. The house was surrounded on three sides by empty lots. It was a grungy, rough part of town that Toni and her deputies knew well.

She walked to the house. Through the front window, she saw a crying woman sitting on a sofa in the living room. Conrad stood behind the screen door with his left arm around Samantha’s neck. In his right hand he held a kitchen knife that he used to gesture while he ranted. The girl was weeping but frozen in place.

Burgess had his hands out in a calming gesture, speaking in a soft and reasonable tone of voice. Her 3rd shift deputy, Cam Rash, stood a few steps behind Burgess, looking impatient. Nebraska State Trooper Brent Holt noticed Toni’s approach and nodded a hello. She felt self-conscious. Everyone was in uniform. Here she was in a T-shirt and shorts and no undergarments of any kind. Her unrestrained A-cup breasts were unlikely to trigger an earthquake, but she cursed herself for changing out of uniform against her better judgment. She straightened out her T-shirt like a fool and cursed herself for that as well.

So far so good? she asked Rash.

The dumbshit won’t bend, Rash said. May not end well.

Well, you stay back then.

She put her hand on Burgess’s shoulders. He took the signal and eased back.

Hello, Conrad, Toni said.

You bein’ here doesn’t change anything! Conrad yelled.

I understand that, but can you answer a question?

What?

I see Shirley through the window. Is she okay?

She ain’t hurt.

Is Samantha hurt?

Ain’t nobody hurt yet.

That’s good. That’s real good. Can I ask a favor?

What?

Can Shirley and Samantha come on out? I’ll take their place and we can talk about this.

Ain’t nobody movin’.

Toni watched the muscles of his forearm ripple as he gripped the knife.

Okay, that’s fine. Just thought I’d ask, Toni said. Maybe you can tell me what this is all about?

I ain’t been laid in twenty-eight days!

Toni stifled a laugh and hoped the men behind her did as well.

That’s some dry spell.

It ain’t what I was promised.

One could never outguess what an unstable mind might throw at you, Toni thought.

That has nothing to do with Samantha, Toni said. So just send her out, and let me talk to you and Shirley.

Bullshit it ain’t nothing to do with Samantha.

Toni felt a ripple of fear. What does that mean?

I made a deal. That’s all. I want my slaves.

Toni could sense the officers tense up behind her and knew why. Conrad Rawlings was off his nut.

Who’s supposed to give you slaves? Toni asked.

The Dark Prince. Promised me sex slaves. I know you wouldn’t like that, but a deal’s a deal.

Does he have a name?

This is bullshit, Rash muttered.

Toni gave him a glare and motioned for him to stand by her truck.

Does he have a name? Toni repeated.

Dark Prince is all I know.

What deal did you make? Something to do with Samantha?

He didn’t answer, but his uncomfortable fidgeting said yes. Toni worried the conversation would only reinforce his delusion. She studied his appearance and manner. He was wound up, but his arms were loose. He seemed offended at his lack of sex slaves that were his due. She noticed a small gold cross on a chain around his neck. She pointed at it.

"Is that a cross? Are you a Christian?"

He was still and silent.

It was my mother’s, he said, quietly.

You wear a cross when you hold a knife at your own daughter’s throat?

She was startled at the stern tone in her voice and further startled when Conrad looked chastened.

Can’t wait to hear what Jesus will have to say about that on Judgment Day, she said.

I forgot it was there.

I’ve heard the Christian belief that your whole life is going to play out like a movie after you die. Everything you said and did. Every good thing. Every bad thing.

He was silent. His muscles unclenched.

Just you and God, side-by-side, watching you do this and whatever else it is you do. That’s how I remember it, anyway. That’s the deal when you wear the cross. That’s what your mother believed. You think she was wrong?

I’m afraid, he said. He sounded like he might cry. I made a deal, but I’m afraid. I made everybody mad. God. The Devil. Everybody.

Let Samantha come to me. You don’t have to be afraid.

He didn’t move.

It’s okay. We’re here for you like we’re here for Samantha and Shirley.

A tense moment as Toni and the men waited, knowing they were at a dead end where things would break good or bad.

He slowly dropped his arms to his sides.

Can Samantha come on out? That okay?

Conrad nudged his daughter forward. She pushed open the screen door and ran to Toni, who put her arm around the girl.

Now Shirley? Toni asked.

Conrad stood aside and gestured for Shirley to get out. Shirley flattened herself against the wall and eased past Conrad, then ran into the yard to her daughter. Rash guided them to his cruiser.

All right, Conrad, Toni said. Deputy Burgess is going to come in. He’s a good man, you know that. He'll take you to my sheriff’s station, and you’ll see Judge Hanlon, probably tomorrow. He’s a fair man. This is how it has to be, okay? Let us take care of you.

Conrad stuck he head out of the door and looked around, fearful.

You see any of the dark ones?

You don’t have to be afraid. We won’t let any dark ones get you. Think of me as an angel. I won’t let that happen.

Conrad, looking tired and defeated, dropped his knife and nodded. Holt and Burgess walked into the house to put him under arrest. They handcuffed him and brought him out to Burgess’s cruiser.

Toni turned and walked to Rash’s cruiser, where Shirley and Samantha stood by the open passenger door.

You okay, kiddo? she asked Samantha.

The girl shook her head. Toni gathered her in a hug. The girl sobbed into her shirt. Toni looked at Shirley’s anguished face and pulled her into the embrace, too.

We’ll get him help, Toni said.

They pulled away from each other. Toni stroked Samantha’s hair.

Your Dad will be okay, hon. He’s just got a little sickness. You know how you get a cold? Well, the mind can get sick sometimes, too. And they have doctors for that, just like for a cold.

Samantha nodded. Toni hugged her again, then turned to Shirley.

Does your sister still live down in Lundberg? Can you stay with her for a bit?

Shirley nodded.

Okay. Deputy Rash can get you down there in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go pack a bag after we take him. You want a Coke for the road, Samantha?

Yeah.

I’ll have Deputy Rash stop and get some stuff for you. Pray for your Daddy, hon. We’ll take care of him.

Rash took Shirley and Samantha into the house. Toni walked back to Conrad, who looked agitated again. His hands were cuffed behind his back.

Calm down, Conrad. What’s wrong?

You gotta get me out of this air!

"The air? How would we do that?"

He struggled so hard Holt and Burgess had to restrain him. They each took an arm.

Get me outta this goddamn air! Can’t you feel what’s in the air?

He suddenly drove his head forward. His forehead cracked Toni right on the cheek. The force drove her to the ground.

You’re lyin’ to me, bitch! I want my slaves. Me and my boys are gonna jackhammer your asshole, bitch!

Holt and Burgess roughly subdued Conrad and wrestled him into Burgess’s cruiser.

Take it easy! Toni said, holding her cheek. She knew the men under her command could get aggressive when she was attacked. I said easy!

Burgess shut the door to his cruiser, with Conrad inside. He was calm, so being in the open air must have been his worry. Toni jumped to her feet before they could help her.

You okay? Burgess asked.

Toni rubbed her cheek, cursing that her eyes were watering, making it look like she was crying. I’m fine.

You need me to get—

I said I’m fine, Toby.

Burgess shut up and nodded, but Toni could tell she’d hurt the man’s feelings. She relaxed. Most of her squad was respectful to her, but had a latent lust and/or resentment toward her. Burgess was her little brother on the squad.

Well done, fellas, Toni said.

Rash emerged with Shirley and Samantha. He carried two suitcases.

Rash, I need you to take them down to Shirley’s sister in Lundberg. Make sure you stop for Cokes on your way.

Toni winked at Samantha.

You got it, Rash said as he loaded Shirley and Samantha’s bags in his cruiser.

Toby, take our guest to his room at the station, Toni said.

She exchanged a look with Holt.

I’ll be in to question him in a little bit.

Burgess acknowledged the order and drove away with Conrad.

Toni gave another round of hugs to Shirley and Samantha as they got into Rash’s cruiser. She waved as they drove away. The house was now dark and locked. The neighbors, fearing Conrad, had stayed inside. Even their lights were off.

Mindful that they might be watched, Toni and Holt behaved as colleagues.

So much for a boring night, Toni said.

That might bruise, Holt said, making no move to touch her face.

What’s one more blemish? she asked.

They stood in awkward silence for half a minute.

Can you believe this? Sex slaves? ‘Get me out of the air?’ Toni asked. "This is the weirdest frickin’ town I have ever lived in."

It really is, Holt said. Only a few good things about this place.

More awkward silence.

I understand they had a call of a prowler out at the Five Oaks Motor Lodge, Holt said.

He looked at her outfit and grinned. Although you’re not dressed for the job.

She looked down at her outfit. Only then did she realize which shorts she had put on in a rush.

These are Callie’s shorts, she said.

They are rather snug.

Please don’t tell me these are the ones that say ‘Juicy’ across the bubbles.

I’m sure Burgess will leave it out of the report, Holt said. So are you going to assist me with that prowler call or not?

I might be under-dressed, Trooper Holt, but I am freshly showered.

Rash stopped at a convenience store on the south end of town so Shirley and Samantha could get a few snacks and drinks.

You didn’t get a diet soda did you, Kid? Rash asked.

Nope! Grape soda! she squealed as she ran back to the cruiser.

She seems to have calmed down, Rash said.

Yes, I hope so, Shirley said. Thank you so much for your help.

Don’t mention it, Rash said. And that bit about the Dark Prince. He’s never mentioned that before, has he?

Yeah, he has, just the other—

I said he’s never mentioned that before, has he?

Shirley froze, and her face took on the look she wore when Conrad went out of control.

No. No, I suppose he hasn’t.

That’s good to hear, Rash said. And you have no idea what he might have meant when he said it for the first time tonight, right?

Shirley shook her head. No. No idea.

Rash rubbed her back. Good girl.

They got in the cruiser and he drove them to Lundberg. He was as kind as anyone would want, joking with Samantha and putting her at ease.

Shirley didn’t relax her muscles until she was safely inside her sister’s house and Cam Rash was far away.

3. You're Too Good to Me

It was half-past midnight at the Five Oaks Motor Lodge. Since Hermon wasn’t exactly a bustling tourist town, the lodge on the southern outskirts of town was closed most of the year, opening for various seasonal events for people who just needed a bed and little else. On Monday, the first guests would trickle in for the upcoming Festival of Saint Anthony. For now, it was cleaned up and ready, but deserted.

Two vehicles sat behind the lodge, out of view of whatever highway traffic might pass. One of them was Toni’s work vehicle—a 2015 Dodge Ram Crew Cab pickup. The other was a Nebraska State Patrol Cruiser.

Inside room fifteen at the end of the row, a small glow of light could be seen through the curtains if anyone was looking for it. There, lying on the bed, was Brent Holt. On top of Holt was Toni. He watched her with amazement as she made love to him, eyes closed, attached physically but detached mentally and emotionally. She had been humping him fast and relentless for 25 minutes without a pause. His body tensed as he drew near to climax. She sensed this and increased her speed. He tried to hold back and delay out of sheer curiosity at how long she could keep up the pace. Twenty-five minutes was his average endurance with her, and so it was tonight.

If tonight was further true to form, she would give him a quick kiss, tell him how good he was, then pull off and check her phone or otherwise avoid any afterglow cuddling. And so it was.

She walked to the bland old dresser and got her phone. She returned to bed and lay on her stomach next to him, her feet on the pillows next to his head, keeping her distance. They caught their breath, and she apologized for getting on her phone but had to check on Rash and Rawlings and so on and so forth.

Holt knew the routine. She would leave before he could initiate anything resembling intimacy. He rested his hand on her bare bottom, caressing and lightly drawing his fingertips across the skin.

If you’re trying to tickle me, I can’t feel it, she said.

He pinched her butt. Can you feel that?

I can feel the pressure of it, but my lower body nerves are shot.

He sat up, his sweat chilling his body. He was fit. Not as fit as Toni, but he looked good in his uniform and out of it.

Really? he asked. Is that from your injury?

Yes.

Brent’s hands felt their way up to the scarring that went around her sides and faded on her lower back. He traced his fingers around the swirling folds and valleys of pink and white scar tissue.

Are you ever going to tell me what happened? he asked.

Gulf War I. Desert Storm.

Everyone in town knew Toni was a combat vet, so her answer wasn’t a surprise. He waited for the story. She was quiet.

"How did it happen?"

I.E.D.

Her attention was on her phone screen, which he took as a hint to end the questioning. Learning she had been scarred by a bomb in Desert Storm was a mountain of information to get at one time from Toni. He looked at her body. Her feet rested near his head. He took her right foot and caressed it.

You have nice feet.

She got a puzzled look and guffawed. Thanks.

You keep the nails trimmed. You use clear polish, and you even keep the pinky nail in shape.

She frowned at him. He went on.

No crusty callouses on your heel.

I didn’t know you had a foot fetish, she said.

She moved her foot to an inch from his face.

Here, she said, still into her phone. Knock yourself out.

He frowned as he got a close look.

They’re a little dirty, though. Were you stomping grapes today?

Her body shook as she laughed. Had a little scuffle tonight. Remember?

Your cheek okay?

A little swelling, but I’ll live.

Just watch out for Conrad. Remember, he and his boys are gonna jackhammer your asshole.

Toni snickered. Usually it’s my pussy they threaten to destroy.

This happens a lot?

Oh, all the time. My vagina has standing threats of destruction from pliers, blowtorches, even chainsaws.

Jesus.

Me and the gals at law enforcement conventions compare threats.

Add jackhammers to the list, I guess.

Toni was silent. Holt wasn’t sure where to pivot from that. He massaged her some more. She didn’t react. He tickled, checking the nerve story. She didn’t flinch.

So why do you always lie with your feet at my head? You always do that with me, he said.

She looked back at him.

Your head is down there. Mine’s up here.

She pursed her lips. You wanna cuddle?

You’re mocking me, but yes. He opened his arm. Come cuddle. Better yet, have sex with me again. Slow this time. And don’t call me a girl. I know you’re thinking it.

I really should go.

She sat up. He put his hand on her shin to keep her from leaving the bed.

Hang on. Don’t go. I didn’t mean to be pushy, but after one month of having sex the same way and learning basically nothing about you, I don’t think I am being pushy.

She softened. No. You’re right. I know it’s been six months since Michael . . . anyway, that seems like a long and short time all at once, but there are still some things I’m working through.

I get that.

She rubbed his thigh. What you do for me, and to me, means a lot. It really does. But it’s all I can do right now.

He nodded, thinking about what his next words, his next move, should be. He wasn’t content with mindless sex anymore, but he didn’t want to be without her and being with her in these circumstances was better than nothing. They were like high schoolers in the have-to-have-it-everyday phase. He knew she was under stress, and that was partly what brought her to him. They were seeing each other several times a week, sometimes several days in a row. Eventually, secret rendezvous would not be enough. Today was not that day, though.

Okay, he said. Ride me fast and go away until you need me again. I’ve been at lower places in life.

She rolled her eyes. Since you’re so understanding, I’ll ride you a little slower before I go.

That’s mighty big of you.

She straddled him facing away and made love to him slowly. She chose a position that allowed her to avoid eye contact, to once again enter her own world. Brent knew it was deliberately impersonal on her part, but the view was pretty damned good. He wondered what she thought about in those moments. Her late husband? Someone else?

He stared at her lower body to pull his thoughts away from thinking.

I’m up to three hundred pounds on the hip sled, she said, reading his thoughts.

Not bad.

And two hundred in the squat cage.

It shows. Congrats.

She was about to thank him when her phone buzzed. She stilled her body and checked the incoming call.

Sorry. I have to take this.

At least she didn’t get up.

He is? . . . Okay, I can swing by . . . I’m still in town, checking on some things.

She gave him a couple of thrusts and a wink.

Just keep him calm until I get there. Won’t be but a few. Okay, Cam. Bye.

She ended the call and got up.

Party’s over, I’m afraid.

What’s going on?

Conrad’s acting up. He’s insisting on talking to me.

Ranting about the ‘dark ones’ again?

Not sure. I don’t know where this all comes from.

We live in the weird zone, remember? Haunted Hanwick Forest and all of that?

Right. And it’s festival time. A barrel of laughs.

You need some help? Want me to come with you?

"Thanks,