Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (34 page)

For
now, all I plan on doing is relaxing for a few days.  I feel like my bones are
made of soup.

Despite
it being early evening, Angela had decided she would turn in for the night. 
Frank was looking after Sammie and now there was little to worry about.  She
got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, wanting to brush her teeth
before having a long sleep.  When she entered it was steamy.  The shower in the
en suite was turned on.

Funny. 
I swear I turned it off last time I used it.  Hope I’m not around when the
water bill arrives.

Angela
padded over to the shower and reached inside to turn the knob.  The water
stopped with a splutter.  She turned back around.

“Oh,
my Lord!”

The
sudden fright sent Angela reeling back, landing ass first in the wet shower. 
The steam in the room was swirling, collecting around the contours of a human form. 
There was an entity in the room with her and it was quickly taking shape.

“Who-who
are you?”

The
steam swirled around the curves of a round, humanoid head.  The sound of the
figure’s voice was like dry leaves crumbling.  “
I helped you once before. 
Now you have helped me.”

“What? 
Who are you?”

“
Chamuel. 
I am Chamuel.  It was my power that helped you expel the demon inside Charles
Crippley.  I was there that day.  I helped you.  Now you have helped me.”

“What? 
How did I help you?”

“
You
freed me.  I tried to cleanse the boy, to save his soul from evil, but once
inside him I found no soul to save.  I became trapped in the void where the
boy’s soul should have been.  It was a dark place, an endless abyss devoid of
hope and joy.  It was a place of pure evil.  The child made me his servant,
abused my power for wicked purposes.  I tried to rot him from the inside, but
he only used my influence to grow stronger.”

Angela’s
eyes went wide.  She thought about the painting of the cherubs above her bed
and the statue outside of Sammie’s door.  Suddenly she remembered what she had
been trying to recall for the last several days.  “Chamuel!  You’re the angel that
expelled Adam from the Garden of Eden.  One of the seven Archangels?”

“
I
am the Loving One; Archangel of Love and leader of the Cherubim.  You freed me
from Hell and returned me to Heaven, but your work is not yet done.
”

Angela
understood.  “Sammie?  He’s…he’s evil?”

The
steam wisped and curled around Chamuel’s spirit.  “
He is the purest kind of
evil.  He is the Devil’s spawn.  He is the great pretender; damnation
incarnate.
”

“God
help me,” said Angela, not wanting to believe it.  “He’s the antichrist.”

“
His
nature was unknown to me until it was too late.  I was imprisoned and
helpless.  Now I am free but still unable to act.  You must finish what you
started.  Finish the Blood Exorcism
.”

“But
I already did finish it.”

“
No.”

Angel
thought about it and then said, “The final stigmata.  I still need to pierce Sammie’s
side, kill him.”

There
was no answer from Chamuel.  The steam was once again just steam.  Angela
dragged herself up from the shower’s floor and sprinted into the bedroom.  She
reached into her luggage and pulled out the cloth bundle that contained the
blood-soaked ceremonial dagger.  But when she opened the bundle, she saw that
the dagger was gone and that just a dried bloodstain remained.

“No,
no, no.”  She shuffled her feet into her shoes and crossed the room in three urgent
strides.  She ran down the hall, heading for the stairs, needing to warn Frank
before it was too late. 

She
thanked the Lord when she found him on the floor below.  He was taping up the
gap in the railing where Tim had smashed through and fallen to the floor below. 
He smiled when he saw her coming.

“Hey,”
he said.  “Just trying to make this place safe again.  Last thing we need is
Sammie taking a fall after all we’ve been through to keep him away from harm.”

Angela
ignored his words; they were just noise in her head.  “Frank!  Sammie wasn’t
possessed – I mean, he was, but not in the way we thought.  It was an angel
inside him, trying to help.  The evil came from Sammie.  He has no soul.  No
soul whatsoever”

Frank
stood up and looked at her with concern.  “Whoa, whoa, what are you talking
about?”

“Sammie
is…God, I can hardly say it.  Sammie is the antichrist.  It all makes sense. 
If he takes over Black Remedy one day he will be powerful enough to rule the
world.  All the signs were there, I just missed them.”

Frank
laughed.  “Are you saying that Sammie is the Devil?”

Angela
nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes, yes, he is.”

“But
he’s been fine since the exorcism.  Everything worked out.”

Angela
shook her head in frustration.  “The Devil deceives.  He’s pretending.”

“So
what are you suggesting?”

“We
need to find the dagger and kill him, but the dagger is gone.  I think Sammie
has done something with it.”

“Sammie
hasn’t done anything with the dagger,” Frank said matter-of-factly.

“Frank,
you’re not listening to me.”

“I
hear you well enough,” he said, and then produced the dagger from beneath his
jacket.  He drove it deep into her chest.  “I know Sammie didn’t take the
dagger, because
I
did.”  Then he pushed her already dying body through
the gap in the railing and watched her hit the marble below.

The
last thing Angela saw before her vision went permanently black was the sight of
Frank leaning over the balcony two floors above and mouthing the words, “I’m
sorry.”

***

Frank
headed for Sammie’s room feeling sick at what he’d done.  It was unfortunate
that Angela had insisted on staying behind to support him.  It was only going
to be a matter of time before she figured it all out.  She was smart.  It only
made Frank even more aware of his own stupidity.  It was insane to think that
he hadn’t seen what was right in front of his face.

Sammie
had confessed his true nature the evening after the exorcism and Frank had been
stunned – and a little incredulous at first – but somewhere deep in his heart
he knew that Samuel Raymeady was the Devil.  Yet, when he had tried to
contemplate killing the boy and putting an end to his wicked intentions, he
found himself unable.  He loved the Raymeady family and he loved Sammie.  He
had failed the boy so much already and there was nothing else that mattered to
him anymore but keeping him safe – he had made a promise to Jessica.  Besides,
there was already Hell on Earth; he’d seen that from his days in the army and
pretty much every day since.  Frank’s eyes had been opened years ago and he was
not against the changes that Sammie’s existence might bring.  Surely things
could not be any worse.

When
Sammie had asked for Frank to look after him, to be his protector until he was
old enough to take the reins of the vehicle that would steer him to world
domination – Black Remedy Corporation – Frank had hesitantly agreed.  He knew
it would be an unsavoury job with lots of questionable responsibilities
(killing Angela had just proved it), but he had made his decision.  Protecting
Samuel Raymeady would be the last job he ever took, and he was going to see it
through to the end.

Frank
entered the boy’s room.  Sammie was watching
South Park
, but pressed
pause when he saw Frank coming.  He knew now why the boy loved that particular
show so much – it highlighted all of the darker parts of humanity, all of their
weaknesses – the parts that the boy would one day take full advantage of. 

“Everything
okay, Frank?”

Frank
nodded.  “There was a little bit of an issue, but I…
dealt
with it.”

Sammie
smiled and nodded.  “Shame, I’ll surely miss her.  Still, there will be little
need for priests in time.  The world will have a new God to worship.”

Frank
swallowed a lump in his throat and sat down on a chair beside the boy who would
soon become his adopted son, head of the world’s largest corporation, and the
future prince of demons.  The world wasn’t going to know what hit it.

FANGS FOR DINNER

Annabelle
couldn’t wait.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood rigid like platoons of
tiny soldiers.

He’ll
be here any minute.  I’ve waited so long, and finally he’s about to arrive.

Annabelle
had met the one who called himself
Masters
about a month ago; albeit it
via Internet chats only.  It had seemed that out of nowhere her life had
suddenly become consumed by her new and mysterious friend.  They chatted every
day and most of the night.  They exchanged pictures, some safe for work while
others definitely not.

She
met Masters on the dating website she had joined: Children Of The Night.  It
was an online meeting place for the lonely and broken; for those looking to
connect with other damaged souls such as themselves.  Annabelle didn’t
necessarily have a damaged soul, but she was indeed lonely.  Sometimes she felt
like she was the only one alive; some sort of different species, different from
everyone else.  Her job at the supermarket was unfulfilling and anti-social
with the fact that she worked throughout the night.  She never managed to meet
anyone.

That
was until she found Children Of The Night.

The
website had spoken to her, had whispered in her ear that she was not alone and
that there were people out in the world ready to love her and accept her;
fetishes and all.

The
website catered to the ‘alternative’ lifestyle and that certainly described
Annabelle.  Whilst all outward appearances may have labelled her as simply odd,
her dark desires would have sent most people running.  Whips and chains were
her comfort blankets, leather and plastic her norm.  Most of all, she liked to
bit and to be bitten.

That’s
why when she had seen Masters’ online dating profile he had seemed the perfect
match.  Because Masters stated himself to be a Vampire.

Annabelle
had made contact immediately, asking questions and spilling fantasies.  Her
relationship with him had begun without boundaries and it was not long before
she yearned to see him.  To be bitten by him as he had promised her countless
times.

Annabelle
poured two glasses of red wine in anticipation.  The Chianti was thick and
slippery and she could not wait to taste it.  But she must wait.  Once Masters
arrived they would sip wine together and indulge in their darkest fantasies.

The
leather bodice bit at her curves, squeezing her ample bosom forward.  She
imagined Masters’ teeth sinking into them, tugging at the nipples and drawing
blood.  She could not wait.

The
doorbell rang.  Annabelle tried to draw a breath but couldn’t.

He’s
here.  Thank Satan he’s here.

Annabelle
clomped across her apartment towards her front door.  There had been only a
single knock, but she knew Masters was standing just the other side of the
wood.

Annabelle
placed a slender hand around the door knob.  It seemed to vibrate with
electricity.  She turned it.  Opened the door.

Standing
before her was a thing of beauty.   A being of both feminine and masculine
perfection.

“Annabelle?”
the stranger asked in a hissing whisper.

Annabelle
smiled.  “Please, just call me Anna.  Are you Masters?”

“Indeed
I am, my sweet.”  He ginned a wide, toothy smile and Annabelle immediately saw
his fangs glinting either side of his mouth.  “May I come in?  You must invite
me, my dear.”

Annabelle
stood aside and opened the door wider.  “Please, be my guest.”

Masters
cross the threshold to her apartment.  “Thank you.”

Annabelle
looked her guest up and down.  He wore a heavy, black overcoat with a plain,
red t-shirt beneath.  His dark trousers led down to an immaculately-shined pair
of loafers.

“Please,
sit down,” she said.  “I have a glass of wine waiting for you.”

Masters
spoke with an accented lisp.  “Excellent.  I hope that it is red.”

“Of
course.”

Annabelle
led her guest over to the dining room table and seated him at one of the
chairs.  She went and brought over their wine and placed herself down opposite
him.  Then she gazed at him.

His
eyes were the colour of wasps; flecks of yellow battling against black.  His
skin was the same shade of grey as old bone.

Masters’
eyes narrowed as he looked back at her.  “Are you taking me in, my dear?  What
is it, you are thinking?”

Annabelle
shrugged shyly.  “I’m not sure yet.  Guess I’m wondering if you’re the real
deal.  Are you really a Vampire.”

“But
of course, my dear.  How may I convince you?”

“Do
you have a reflection?”