The Dark Ones (12 page)

“Found what?”

“See for yourself. Come on.”

They followed him through the archway and into the kitchen, which was much smaller and humbler than the kitchen in Mark’s parents’ house. There were no expensive fixtures. No high-tech oven or wine refrigerator. This kitchen looked modest but highly functional. There wasn’t a lot of clutter, despite the layers of accumulated dust everywhere. Mark imagined a ’50s housewife puttering about the place in a frilly white apron with a duster always at hand, ever ready to whisk away any hint of dirt. It all seemed painfully ordinary. The only thing that piqued his curiosity was the table. A checked tablecloth was spread neatly over it. Four white plates were arranged around the table, as well as an accompanying set of silverware for each plate. It was a little creepy.

What the hell happened here?

Why was everything left like this?

Jared and the other boys were clustered around the entrance to a walk-in pantry. The source of the excitement had to be in there. The girls followed Mark to the pantry, where he paused at the door and looked at Jared. “So what’s up?”

Jared glanced at Derek. “You found it, dude, you show him.”

Derek shrugged and sidled past Jared into the pantry. He glanced over his shoulder at Mark as he followed him into the space. “It was kind of weird. I was poking around in the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers, looking for . . . hell, I don’t know what. Something made me look over here. The pantry was closed, but I had a really strong feeling I should check it out.”

Mark took a quick look around and saw shelves to either side of him. They were stocked with various goods in cans and jars, ancient foodstuffs gone to rot. There was a sour tang to the air in here. He didn’t see what all the fuss was about until he shifted the Maglite and got a glimpse of the wall at the back of the pantry. Another door was back there. It was covered with writing and crudely drawn pictures, as well as a lot of arcane symbols. One he recognized as a pentagram. Though he couldn’t identify the others, gut instinct told him these also held some kind of occult significance. Above the symbols was a picture of a fearsome animal that resembled a large black wolf. Astride the wolf was a winged humanoid figure with the head of a raven. Mark approached the door for a closer look, his brow furrowing deeply as he read the words painted below the symbols:
DANGER. HAZARDOUS MATERIALS STORED WITHIN. DO NOT ENTER!

The others crowded around him, craning their heads and wiggling their bodies for a better view. Fiona pressed herself against him a little harder than was necessary to get a good look. He knew it was an intentional provocation and it bothered him, but it was something he could deal with later. He was too captivated by the mystery of the door to care about anything else just now.

Derek gripped the rust-flecked doorknob and rattled it. “Locked.”

Kevin Cooper snorted. “No shit. And what if it’d been unlocked?”

Derek shrugged. “Dunno. Would’ve gone in, I guess.”

“You do see that bit about ‘hazardous materials,’ right?”

“Yeah. So?”

Mark coughed. “I don’t know if I believe the warning. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to seal this place up tight. I bet at least part of the reason why is on the other side of that door. I think the warning is a kind of last line of defense, a way to scare off anyone who gets this far.”

They were all silent for a long moment as they thought about that.

Then Natasha spoke for them all when she said, “It’s really kind of freaky.”

Jared laughed. “Freaky as a motherfucker. Everybody out of my way. We’re checking this shit out.”

Fiona pivoted away from Mark and thrust her ass against his crotch as she made room for Jared. He worried for a moment that Natasha had seen this, but her gaze was riveted to the door. He pushed Fiona away and she laughed. He recalled what she’d said about feeling frustrated and guessed, if anything, she’d been understating it. He hoped she’d knock it off soon. The last thing he needed was any drama between the girls.

Derek got out of Jared’s way and the rest of them shuffled back a few steps. Jared planted one foot firmly beneath him and launched the other at the door. It was a mighty kick and the door popped open amid a spray of wood splinters, a vertical rectangle swinging backward into deep darkness.

The thing in the basement exulted.

Yes!

Come closer, children. Just one seal remains
.

Come to me
.

Come down
.

Come down
.

Come down
. . .

Jared poked his head into that dark space, staring down for a silent moment before glancing back at them. “Stairs.”

Mark frowned at the darkness. He didn’t believe in any kind of supernatural phenomena. There were no horror-movie spooks lurking in the shadows here, waiting for just the right moment to spring at them from the shadows. Even so, it was apparent that whoever had lived here
had
believed in such things. The symbols on the door could be wards, part of a spell designed to keep evil things out.

Or in
.

Mark frowned.

Now where had
that
disquieting thought come from?

Derek took a look through the open door. “Basement.”

Natasha clasped hands with Mark again. Her skin felt cold against his and she was trembling a little. But Mark knew she didn’t share his trepidation. The trembling signaled not fear but mounting excitement. She leaned against him and the heat of her breath against his throat was a stark contrast to her cool flesh. A nice contrast. Because, just for a moment, he’d felt he was clutching hands with a dead thing. He felt a sudden prickling of something close to real fear. Something just didn’t feel right about this place. At all. It was a bad place. It flew in the face of his disbelief in the supernatural, but sometimes you had to listen to your gut.

“We should leave.”

The words just came out.

Natasha tensed next to him. “What? Why?”

“I just—”

Jared’s booming laughter made him wince. “Are you shitting me? Are you
scared
?”

“No.”

“What then?”

Natasha let go of his hand. “Yeah, what?”

Before Mark could reply Jared stepped through the darkened doorway and started down the stairs.

Mark’s heart lurched. “Wait!”

Jared stopped just a step or two down and turned back to look at him. “Dude, seriously. Stop acting like a bitch.”

Mark sighed. “Look, it’s not that I’m scared. I’m not, okay? But this place is fucking old. Those stairs are probably rotten. You could fall and break your neck.”

Kevin tittered and threw his words back at him in a lisping, mocking tone:
“Yeath, you could fall down and break your neckth, fellas.”

The others were laughing now. Even Natasha, which was the worst. That really stung.

Mark seethed. He wasn’t accustomed to having his courage called into question. And in any normal situation it would never happen.

Jared’s voice cut through the laughter. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Check it out.” He stamped a foot up and down, a flat, slapping sound that suggested unyielding solidity. “The stairs are fucking concrete. I’m going down. See ya there. That is . . .” He grinned. “. . . if you’re not too
scared
.”

He started down the stairs, the light from the Maglite he was holding bobbing as he descended. Derek was right on his heels, following Jared’s lead instead of Mark’s for once. And then Natasha strode rapidly ahead and stepped through the doorway without so much as a glance back.

Shit
.

Kevin hurried after her.

Fiona smiled. “It’s just you and me, I guess.”

Mark grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Let’s go outside.” She touched his hand. “Who wants to go banging around some smelly old basement anyhow?”

He didn’t say anything. All he could think of was Natasha’s back turned to him. Of course she’d want to check out the basement, but to leave without a word like that? It felt like a judgment. How could she do that so soon after making love with him for the first time?

Fiona took his silence as encouragement. She wrapped her arms around him, raised herself up on her tiptoes, and pushed a thigh up against his crotch. She kissed his chin and then his lips, making a soft moaning sound low in her throat.

Mark placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back a little—but not all the way. Their bodies were still touching.

“Stop.”

She laughed softly and pressed her thigh against him again. “Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop. Besides, that bitch totally blew you off. Get back at her by taking me outside and fucking my brains out.”

“This doesn’t sound like you.”

She laughed again. “It’s an all-new me. New and improved.”

“Natasha’s your best friend.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m above stealing you from her. Come on.” The press of her thigh was more insistent this time, the need in her voice more pronounced. “I am so fucking horny. Please.”

Mark’s pride was wounded. It was tempting to just let it happen. But the intensity of his feelings for Natasha wouldn’t allow it. He had to go after her and make this right.

“I’m sorry.”

He pushed her away again—all the way, this time—and went to the open door. He stared down into the darkness and caught glimpses of the others in the herky-jerky shifting of Jared’s Maglite. He saw other things. A chair. Stacks of boxes and crates against one wall. A table and another chair in a corner. And, in the approximate center of the small room was a circle painted on concrete. Another fucking pentagram. He didn’t start down until he felt Fiona touch him again. He cringed at the sound of her boot heels on the steps behind him as she followed him down. He’d hoped she’d elect to stay behind in the wake of his rejection, but he supposed that hadn’t been realistic.

Jared turned his beam toward them and barked laughter. “Well, look who decided to join the party after all.”

Mark gave him the finger and crossed the room to where Natasha was standing in front of a bookcase, the shelves of which were lined with thick, leather-bound volumes. She glanced at him. “Some strange stuff here.”

“Hey, look . . . I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You know, for saying we should leave. For acting like . . .”

She smiled. “Like a pussy?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

Her smile broadened. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I—” She tilted her head to look past his shoulder and her eyes went wide. Then she burst out laughing. “Holy shit.”

Mark turned around. He echoed her comment: “Holy shit.”

Derek and Fiona were inside the pentagram. He was on top of her and they were clawing at each other, grinding against each other. Most of their clothes had already been discarded. Derek ripped at the Skinny Puppy T-shirt she’d worn beneath her hoodie, tearing the fabric and exposing her pale flesh to the light. It looked so tender juxtaposed with Derek’s harder, more muscular flesh. Mark felt a tightness in his throat at the sight of it.

And another kind of tightness in his jeans.

What’s wrong with me?

It was a good question. He couldn’t understand why he was getting turned on by this. And that wasn’t all. He’d known Fiona was desperate to get laid, but that didn’t explain why Derek had suddenly lost his previous disinterest in her. Now he looked like he wanted to devour her. And the air in this basement was too warm, whereas the air in the rest of the house had seemed unnaturally cool. Sweat beaded in Mark’s eyebrows and spilled down the sides of his face. He knew something very wrong was happening, yet even in the midst of this awareness, he was unable to shake his fascination with the erotic scene playing out in the circle.

Fiona’s bra was off now and the thick nipples at the tips of her small breasts stood erect and glistening, bathed in the light from the Maglites. It was only then that Mark realized he was aiming the beam of his own flashlight directly at the couple in the circle, holding it at just the right angle to provide optimum illumination. Jared, on the other side of the circle, was doing the same. This was a show. A performance. And they were the rapt audience. Mark knew he should look away, had the sick sense that what was happening here was not right, but he was helpless. The last of Fiona’s clothes came away from her body, leaving her writhing naked in the middle of the circle. Derek, also nude now, fell atop her again and penetrated her. A shrill scream ripped out of her lungs as her thin legs shot into the air. She clawed at his bare back, tearing crimson gashes in the white skin. They writhed against each other with astonishing ferocity, both of them growling and grunting like animals as they copulated.

From a distance, Mark heard the door at the top of the stairs slam shut.

The air vibrated. It felt like . . .
laughter
?

A voice like crackling hellfire spoke in his brain,
I am Andras, killer of men. I am a grand marquis of hell and I have been a prisoner. But you have set me free
.

Then more of that demonic, subaudible laughter.

Mark knew he should feel nothing but terror, but the erotic charge in the air was too intense. He was under a spell of some type. Something that was relentlessly massaging the pleasure centers in his brain, rendering him incapable of responding to anything but physical impulse and need. In the next instant, he was kissing Natasha with an intense hunger that felt like it could never be sated. He needed to be inside her
now
, wanted to feel her nude body pinned to the concrete floor beneath him. They fell to the floor, groaning and tearing at each other’s clothes. The clothes came away in tatters. And then he had what he wanted. What
it
wanted.
Andras
. He screamed as he felt his cock plunge into that delicious, moist softness. Then he was pounding her for all he was worth, arching his back and screaming again and again into the darkness overhead, the sounds reverberating in the enclosed space as they intermingled with the screams of his friends. It seemed to go on endlessly, with the release of orgasm always just out of reach. Mark would look down at Natasha’s undulating body for a time, and then he’d look at what Derek and the others were doing to Fiona. He knew they were all under the same kind of spell. That what they were doing would leave psychic scars that might never be erased. But right now all that mattered was the demands of the flesh. The other boys were taking turns with Fiona, turning her over and rearranging her body to be penetrated from different positions. And she screamed in ecstasy through it all, urging them on. Later he wouldn’t be aware of when the transition had occurred, but eventually Mark had a turn with Fiona and the others all had a go at Natasha.