The images he peeked at began to meld with his imagination; he imagined sliding his p.e.n.i.s slowly in and out of Melanie's fresh s.e.x. He imagined that virginal tightness, and then flooding it with his sperm. The sperm would rush out of her when he withdrew and run down her pretty leg. Next, she'd be sucking him hard again, the hot friction so deft that his knees would wobble. She would suck him off like a practiced wh.o.r.e and at the last moment jerk him off all over those pert, perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s...

No, Martin couldn't help the unconscionable musings. He could only look on as Melanie continued to tend to herself, oblivious to the voyeur's eye on the other side of the wall.

Oblivious? came the strange question. came the strange question.

Melanie stood with her front toward the wall. She was looking down, drying the m.u.f.f of hair and the insides of her thighs. Then, very slowly, she looked up, right at the wall. She grinned directly into Martin's gaze.

Martin felt locked in rigor. The grin struck him like a fisticuff. He nearly shrieked. The tiny pendant lay between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and in her eyes-her stark beautiful chocolate-colored eyes-he saw madness, ataxia. He saw death.

"You are wreccan now, Martin," she said through her grin.

Erik could smell it even before he entered. He could feel it. Hustig, Hustig, he thought automatically. he thought automatically. Huslfek. Huslfek.

The door to the church bas.e.m.e.nt was unlocked. He stepped into blackness and waited, listening. No one was here, he felt sure of that. He felt sure of something else: people had been murdered in this place very recently.

The hustigs always ended at the high moon. There were no windows, so he felt safe turning on the lights.

Here was the brygorwreccan's chamber. This was where Erik used to live. He wondered about who had replaced him. There was the bed, the old dresser, the same bare, whitewashed cement walls. In the back was a large stereo system, but that was all.

The trunk.

The trunk had been moved to the side. He opened it and was not surprised to find several shovels and a box of heavy-duty plastic garbage bags, an ax, and a few knives. Erik had kept his money hidden in the trunk's vinyl lining, but it wasn't there. There were also a few flashlights and a few pairs of work gloves. Tools of Tools of the trade, the trade, he thought. he thought.

He went to the back of the chamber. The large wooden door faced him like an old nemesis. From under its crack, he could feel the giveaway draft of warm air. Erik didn't need to open the ma.s.sive door for the evidence; he could see it in his mind. He could see the fire pit and stoke rods, the blood-crusted dolmen, the chettles and the iron hooks high on the cement walls.

And he could see the nihtmir propped up in the nave.

But the door was locked.

He set down the shotgun and got the small hand-aesc out of the trunk. He began to dig around the bolt. He actually giggled as he worked. I'm gonna trash the entire cirice. See how they like that. Let the f.u.c.kers know that Erik Tharp is back in town. I'm gonna trash the entire cirice. See how they like that. Let the f.u.c.kers know that Erik Tharp is back in town.

The hard wood around the bolt plate was tough. The sharp aesc-point dug out a splinter at a time. Soon he exposed the edge of the bolt plate. Once he got that out- "Brygorwreccan," announced a voice behind him.

Erik turned. A guy in leather and black hair hanging in his face stood before him. He smiled wanly, holding a double-tipped pickax at port arms.

"Welcome home," Zack said. He lunged, heaving the pickax. Erik yelled and threw his hands up.

The pickax sank into Erik's left palm, then slammed into the door, nailing him to the wood. He reached for the shotgun, felt a bone break in his hand. Not gonna Not gonna make it, make it, he thought, grimly frantic. He stretched, but the shotgun remained inches from his grasp. he thought, grimly frantic. He stretched, but the shotgun remained inches from his grasp.

Meanwhile, Zack came at him with a knife...

Chapter 22.

"Dooer, dooer," oozed the voice in the dream.

Ann strained against the turmoil of sleep. The nightmare replayed through her mind. Melanie's birth seventeen years ago in the fruit cellar while the storm raged outside. The feminine chorus, firelight dancing on naked flesh. Soft hands caressed her, roving the gravid belly, tracing the sweat-slick thighs. Ann twitched in sleep. The emblem hovered, the queer double circle; it seemed to give off the faintest glow, and she thought she could see something in its shape, but what? Mouths sucked warm milk from her swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Tongues licked fervidly up and down over her c.l.i.toris. Her s.e.x began to spasm as her womb began to contract...

"Dooer, dooer."

The nightmare's eye showed it all, never faces, just the naked figures bowed in attendance. A cup was being pa.s.sed around, engraved with the same emblem on the wall. Then came more words, issuing in liquid softness: "Dother fo Dother, Dother fo Dother."

And the final vertiginous image: the bright-bladed knife plunging down- slup-slup-slup -time after time to the hilt, into soft flesh...

Ann's eyes snapped open in the dark. A slice of faint pink light canted in through the window. The clock glowed 4:12 a.m.

She lay on her side in a fetal shape. She watched several minutes pa.s.s on the clock, and soon the nightmare began to fade from her mind. She began to feel better. She could hear Martin breathing lightly behind her, and then she felt his hand slide over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. At first she wanted to rebel, slap the hand away. She was still mad at him, she remembered, but his hand on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt so good, so soothing. The sensation pushed the dream out of her head completely, leaving desire in its place. She moaned as the fingers tended the nipple, gorging it. Next, his hands were pushing her nightgown up over her rump. Ann kept her eyes closed. Suddenly, she felt...lewd. She opened her legs at once, inviting him. His hands lay her out on her back; his p.e.n.i.s nudged her once as he moved down in the dark. The glans felt hard as a k.n.o.b of polished wood. He pushed her knees up to her chin and began to go down on her.

She whined at the initial contact of his tongue, then moaned steadily. Gently, and slowly at first, his tongue traced up and down the groove of her s.e.x. Ann felt a flood of moisture and desire collide; she hugged her knees to her chest as the tongue delved harder and more precisely. Martin was going down on her more deftly than she could remember. He made her feel so good so fast that she forgave him instantly of his drunkenness and his coming home so late. The synchronicity of his mouth and tongue against the rhythmic tremors of her hips drew her horniness out like a tension rod being twisted and twisted. Soon it would have to snap...

She was going to come, but she didn't want to, not yet. She wanted to come with him inside of her. "f.u.c.k me now," she panted. She never talked dirty in bed, but tonight she couldn't restrain herself. She'd never felt like this, so wound up, so primitively h.o.r.n.y. "Put your c.o.c.k in me."

Martin's soft poet's hands turned her over on her belly, then hauled her hips up. The roughness with which he positioned her was almost brutal, but she liked it-the promptness, the immediacy immediacy of his desire. He knelt behind her splayed rump; she felt like a b.i.t.c.h in heat waiting to be mounted. One hand came around her hip, the fingers opening her. Ann tensed as the gorged glans nudged into her s.e.x. All she could feel right now was her need, like electricity humming from the swollen points of her nipples to the warm pocket of her s.e.x. It made his p.e.n.i.s feel huge and surreally hard. She almost shrieked when he thrust it all into her at once. of his desire. He knelt behind her splayed rump; she felt like a b.i.t.c.h in heat waiting to be mounted. One hand came around her hip, the fingers opening her. Ann tensed as the gorged glans nudged into her s.e.x. All she could feel right now was her need, like electricity humming from the swollen points of her nipples to the warm pocket of her s.e.x. It made his p.e.n.i.s feel huge and surreally hard. She almost shrieked when he thrust it all into her at once.

He was so deep in her. One hand braced her thigh, the other came around and plied her c.l.i.toris as his thrusts drew in and out. The pleasure was excruciating. The potentiality of her o.r.g.a.s.m ticked in her loins like a bomb about to go off. She buried her face in the pillow, to increase the angle and depth of the penetration. It was too much, too many sensations waiting to break at once. Her hands twisted the sheets into knots, her teeth bit into the pillow.

"I love you, Martin," she panted. She couldn't believe what she said next. "You f.u.c.k me so good, I love it when you f.u.c.k me like this. Do it harder, honey. f.u.c.k me harder."

Her request was obliged. His p.e.n.i.s pushed into her so deep she thought she'd scream. He grabbed her hand and made her touch herself as he doubled the pace of his thrusts. His hips slapped the back of her thighs. He was pounding her, his p.e.n.i.s plunging steadily in and out as she ma.s.saged the tip of her s.e.x with her own fingers. Her breath hissed out of her throat, the pillowcase tore against her teeth. Her o.r.g.a.s.m exploded.

The first was an abrupt, flexing burst, followed by strings of smaller pulses that didn't want to end. His p.e.n.i.s continued to reel o.r.g.a.s.ms out of her loins like strings of large pearls. It felt so good, so delicious, that tears squeezed out of her eyes.

Soon she was so sore and sensitive she could bear no more. Martin's thrusts ebbed, then he stopped fully, his p.e.n.i.s still buried in her. She eased forward, felt it slip out. "I want you to come now," she whispered. Martin remained upright on his knees. She turned around in the dark. She unhesitantly grasped his p.e.n.i.s at its base and took the gorged glans into her mouth. She could taste the wet salt of her own musk. But something was strange, something she noticed at once.

"You sure as s.h.i.t aren't going to make me come like that," her bed companion remarked.

My...G.o.d, Ann thought. Her movements froze. Her eyes peeled open as she moved her mouth off. Ann thought. Her movements froze. Her eyes peeled open as she moved her mouth off.

It was not Martin who had made the remark. It was Milly.

The bed lamp flicked on. Ann looked up, aghast. Milly knelt before her on the bed, naked, the set of her mouth part grin, part sneer. But...but... But...but...was all Ann could think until she lowered her gaze. Jutting from betwixt Milly's legs was a heinous parody of the male s.e.x organ, attached to the nurse's hips with straps. Ann was disgusted. No wonder it felt so huge-it was was huge. It looked like a miniature table leg, polished smooth with a rounded k.n.o.b. It was black, shining. Even veins had been fashioned along the rubber shaft. huge. It looked like a miniature table leg, polished smooth with a rounded k.n.o.b. It was black, shining. Even veins had been fashioned along the rubber shaft.

"Don't look so surprised," Milly said. "You came, didn't you?"

"How did-what-" Ann stammered. A brief glance showed her Milly's room, not her and Martin's. Ann immediately pulled her nightgown down and crawled back. What was she doing here? here?

"Come on, Ann," Milly said. "Don't pretend. You liked it."

"I thought you were Martin!" Martin!"

"Don't hand me that s.h.i.t. You started it. You You came to came to me." me."

Had she? I I must have, must have, Ann realized. "I was confused, from earlier, I mean. I must've been disoriented." Ann realized. "I was confused, from earlier, I mean. I must've been disoriented."

"Bulls.h.i.t. You wanted it, and you got it."

Milly's grin terrified her as much as the sight of the heinous black phallus, which the nurse then gave a mocking stroke. Next, she touched her s.e.x beneath the thing's base. Ann saw, with further outrage, that the rubber p.e.n.i.s even came complete with molded t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es. Milly's b.r.e.a.s.t.s were smaller than Ann's, and somewhat flat, with large oblong brown nipples. The nipple ends stood out like round wall studs.

"Okay, lover," Milly said. "My turn now."

"No! I... It was a mistake!"

Milly wouldn't hear of it. She pushed Ann roughly onto her back, then straddled over her and unstrapped the p.e.n.i.s. "Lie back," she ordered. She actually put her hand to Ann's throat as she crawled over her. Between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, there was an odd pendant of some kind, a pale stone on a white string. Milly poised her s.e.x over Ann's face, one knee at Ann's armpit, and her other foot planted on the pillow.

"Milly... No..."

Milly chuckled. Her pubis was a great, light brown bush. "You can lick my p.u.s.s.y for a while," she said, "then you're gonna put that rubber c.o.c.k on and f.u.c.k the daylights out of me. You hear me, sweetheart?"

Ann could no longer speak; Milly's s.e.x plopped onto her mouth. A hand grasped the front of her hair. Ann's lips sealed shut. I'm being raped by a woman, I'm being raped by a woman, she thought, but she could not explain how she felt. She could scream or even bite...but... she thought, but she could not explain how she felt. She could scream or even bite...but...

"Go on," Milly said. "Lick it."

The light flicked off. The slant of pink moonlight was all that lit the room, falling across Ann's eyes.

"Lick it."

Ann gulped.

"I said lick it. Don't pretend you don't want to."

What it was exactly that Ann could not explain to herself was that she did did want to. want to.

She hesitated. The pink moonlight oozed into her eyes. Milly lowered herself some more, sitting directly on Ann's face.

"Go on. Do it."

Ann felt something release in herself, something in her conscience or her spirit. Her hands drifted up and stroked Milly's b.u.t.tocks. She sighed. In another moment she was doing exactly as Milly had ordered.

"Holy s.h.i.t," Chief Bard slowly muttered.

Zack's body lay like a broken doll across the floor. A single Remington 12-gauge casing shined at the baseboard. Zack had a rough, meaty hole in his chest the size of an adult fist. A halo of blood encircled the body.

Tharp, Bard realized. Bard realized.

He noted that the door past the gravedigger's room stood open. Someone had torn the wood out around the bolt seat. Bard, with a knowing reluctance, stepped past the dark threshold.

Aw, s.h.i.t, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, s.h.i.t. His Mag-Lite played across the cirice. His Mag-Lite played across the cirice. Desecrated, Desecrated, he thought. That's how they would see this. The dolmen had been tipped over, several of the iron chettles had been cracked. The earthen chalice lay smashed. Tharp had even tried to pry the nihtmir off the wall. Thank G.o.d he'd failed. he thought. That's how they would see this. The dolmen had been tipped over, several of the iron chettles had been cracked. The earthen chalice lay smashed. Tharp had even tried to pry the nihtmir off the wall. Thank G.o.d he'd failed.

Bard dragged Zack's body out to the cruiser. The town lay asleep in darkness. The high hedgerow hid him and his efforts. Zack was what police called "skell": a low-life deadbeat punk, a criminal. Bard could've cared less that the boy was dead; that's not what distressed him now to the point that he felt tremors in his gut. To them, it wasn't a street punk who had been murdered, it was a brygorwreccan. This fact, and the desecration of their temple, was notice to them. They had been attacked. They had an enemy in the know.

Bard knew well that they would not like this. No, they wouldn't like this at all.

Next morning, Martin sheepishly entered the kitchen. Ann didn't look up from her orange juice and m.u.f.fin.

"I'm sorry about last night," he offered.

"What do you mean?" she feigned, still not looking at him.

"Coming home late, coming home drunk," he said. "I met some of the guys at the Crossroads. We were drinking, running our mouths, and next thing I know it's closing time. You know how it is."

"No, Martin, I don't know how it is. So why don't you tell me?"

"Come on, Ann. Give me a break."

At last Ann looked up. "That's not what any of this is about and you know it."

Martin looked confused. "Why are you so p.i.s.sed off? It's not the crime of the century when a guy has a few too many beers and loses track of time."

Ann huffed. "I know that, Martin, and you know that's not the reason I'm p.i.s.sed off. Don't treat me like a fool."

"Ann, what are you-"

"Who were you with yesterday!" she snapped.

He looked at her funny. "I told you, the guys from the 'Roads."

"Right, Martin, right."

"It's true," he countered. "I was with Andre, the guy who runs the place, and Dave Kromer, Bill Eberhart, and some other guys who work in town."

"Bulls.h.i.t, Martin. I saw saw you. Yesterday afternoon, I saw you driving you. Yesterday afternoon, I saw you driving my my car car away from that silly little general store, and there was a woman sitting next to you." away from that silly little general store, and there was a woman sitting next to you."

"Wha-oh, you mean Melanie."

"No, Martin, it wasn't Melanie-"

"Yes, it was, Mom," Melanie said, coming into the kitchen. She was wearing a sundress Ann didn't recognize. Casually, she opened the refrigerator and poured some orange juice. "I went into the store to get some sodas to take to Wendlyn's. Martin saw me coming out so he picked me up and gave me a ride."

Ann's brow runneled. "A ride to where?"

"I told you, Mom. To Wendlyn's. She wanted to show me her dresses. In fact, she gave this one to me. Wasn't that nice of her?"

"Uh," Ann stalled. "Yes, it was." She felt an instant fool, looking at Martin. "I'm sorry, Martin. I thought-"

Martin laughed. He came around and rubbed her shoulders at the table. "What, you thought I was running off with Maedeen the ice cream lady?" He laughed again.

"I guess I'm overreacting to everything these days," Ann said, as if that were an excuse. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Actually, I can't blame you for jumping to conclusions," Martin joked. "As good-looking as I am, what woman wouldn't be constantly jealous? My expertise as a lover is world-renowned. Before I met you, women had to put themselves on a waiting list to go out with me."

"Oh, G.o.d!" Melanie laughed and left the kitchen. But Ann still felt like a s.h.i.theel. She touched Martin's hand as he continued to ma.s.sage her shoulder. How long could he remain so forgiving of her quick temper and lack of forethought? She'd practically accused him of cheating on her, which was the laugh of all time, considering what she'd done last night with...