Coven (4 page)

A horn blared. Wade slammed his brakes.

A burgundy Coupe De Ville blew by, missing
Wade’s front slope by inches. Wade immediately recognized the car
as Professor Dudley J. Besser’s, head of the biology department as
well as the most miserable ballpopper on the Exham faculty.

You fat hot air bag! Watch where I’m
driving!

As the De Ville turned,
Wade noticed a woman sitting next to Besser, and sitting close. Did
Besser have a girlfriend? Impossible.
Only
a prostitute or a vision impaired Weight Watchers reject would
date that anal retentive walking lard barrel.

Then Wade did a double take, took a closer
look.

No fucking way!
he thought.

This woman appeared to be
Mrs. Winnifred Saltenstall, who was not only beautiful but also
the
wife
of the
dean.

Wade eyeballed after the De
Ville until it was long gone.
It can’t
be,
he mused. Winnifred was centerfold
material; Besser was a fat dolt. No known logic could explain an
affair between the two of them.

The student shop sat at the far end of
campus. It existed solely as an ill conceived courtesy; not
many rich kids tuned their cars up themselves, but there were a few
diehard hot rodders on campus, and Tom McGuire was one of
them. He owned a flawless white 1968 Camaro in showroom condition.
The “Eat Dust” vanity plates said it all—this was the fastest
vehicle on campus.

“
Well, shit my drawers,”
Tom yelled, looking up from the custom rebuilt 350 smallblock.
Some old Deep Purple song boomed through the bays. “Since when does
Wade St. John go to school during the summer?”

“
Since Wade St. John’s
father lowered the boom.”

“
Bummer.” Tom wiped sweat
off his brow. He tossed Wade a bottle of Spaten Oktoberfest. Tom
was beefy, broad shouldered, with forearms thick as softball
bats. His hair was dark and short, as conservative as his political
views. Straight leg jeans and a white T shirt gave him
the appearance of a sixties motorhead. He had a fondness for old
music, German lager, and
bad
jokes. “Classes start in a week,” he pointed out.
“We’ve got some serious partying to do in the meantime.” Then he
paused, a force of habit. “Hey, Wade. Here’s an old one. Did you
hear Nixon, Hart, and Kennedy started their own law
firm?”

Tom’s notorious jokes were indeed old. “Oh,
yeah?”

“
Yeah. Prickem, Dickem, and
Dunkem.”

Tom roared laughter. Wade shook his
head.

“
But seriously,” Tom went
on. “It’s good you stopped by. I need to tell you
about—”

“
Jervis,” Wade
finished.

“
Yeah. You been up to the
dorm already?”

“
I just came from there.
Jerv wrecked his entire room.”

Tom gave a grim nod. “I heard him trashing
the place this morning, and throwing up. I tried to calm him down
but the lunatic started throwing bottles at me. I guess he just
flipped when it happened.”

“
What?” Wade asked. “When
what happened?”

Stone faced, Tom said, “Sarah dumped
him.”

Wade slumped in place at the revelation.

“
She dumped him right after
the spring semester.”

Now Jervis’ destitution
made sense, Jervis was far more impressionable than most; he was
nuts about Sarah Black, head over heels in love. His whole life
revolved around her; she
was
his life. “But I thought they were getting
married,” Wade said.

“
She’s getting married, all
right. But not to Jerv. It’s some German guy she dumped him
for.”

“
A
German
guy?”

“
Some kraut developer’s
son, richer than shit. That’s all Jerv knows. And you’re probably
thinking the same thing I’ve been thinking.”

“
Yeah,” Wade verified.
“That he might go right over the deep end, try to kill himself or
something. Could he be capable of that?”

Tom’s laugh was stout and hearty. “Capable?
You know how much he loves that smug bitch. This is the absolute
worst thing that could happen to him. Right now he’s probably
capable of just about anything.”

“
Yeah, but
suicide
?”

Tom shrugged. “He’s got a gun.”

“
What!” Wade
exclaimed.

“
Sure. He keeps it under
his bed, some big old British revolver his grandpop gave him. I
took the bullets out of it this morning when he was throwing up,
and I swiped the rest of the ammo box.”

“
Yeah, but he can always
buy more. What are we going to do?”

“
We’re gonna have to pull
him out of this ourselves.”

“
You’re right,” Wade said.
“He’s got no one else.”

“
I’ll meet you back at the
dorm later,” Tom said. “We’ll clean him up and drag his ass down to
the inn, get some food in him. He’s probably been living on Kirins
since this whole thing went down.”

“
Kirins and Carltons,” Wade
added. “See you tonight.”

Wade took off in the Vette, cranking up an
old Manzanera song called “Mummy Was an Asteroid, Daddy Was a Small
Nonstick Kitchen Utensil.” Thank God for alternative radio; where
would he be trapped in a world of bad rap and Madonna? He checked
the rearview, then pitched his empty Spaten bottle into the Circle.
With the campus this empty, at least he didn’t have to worry about
getting pulled over.

Halfway through the Circle, he got pulled
over.

That’s just fucking
grand,
he thought. But where had the cop
been? They must have cloaking devices on their cruisers.
Get ready,
he primed
himself. Wade wasn’t much of a student, but when it came to
sweet talking police, he made straight A’s. He put on his
innocent-face as the cop walked up, boot heels clicking.

“
Good afternoon, Mr. St.
John. My name is Officer Prentiss. I’d like to see your
registration and operator’s permit.”

Astonished, Wade looked up.
The cop was a woman.
Girlfuzz,
he thought.
A dickless
Tracy.
“Who are you?” he asked.

“
I just told you. I’m
Officer Prentiss and I’d like to see your—”

“
I know, my registration
and operator’s permit.” Lenient cops asked for your license; but
only hard asses called it an
operator’s permit.
This might take
some work. “How come you know my name before seeing my li—I mean my
operator’s permit?”

“
I know all about you, Mr.
St. John,” the cop said. “Chief White has properly familiarized me
with all of the campus troublemakers.”

Wade laughed a chumly laugh. “Good old Chief
White, always joking around. If you want to know the truth,
my—”

“
Your police file is the
most extensive in the history of this campus.”

Wade paused. It was probably true. “Sure,
Officer, I’ve had a ticket or two, but I’m no troublemaker, I
assure you. And my father happens to be a significant contributor
to the Exham Office of Donations, and is a close personal friend of
the dean’s.”

“
Which is the only reason
you haven’t been kicked out.”

Wade paused again.
This girl must work part time on a rock
pile,
he considered,
and she’s using my balls for the rocks.
Disgusted, he gave her the cards. He examined her as she began
filling out his tickets. She stood well postured and medium-tall,
very storm trooperish in her black boots and tailored tan
uniform. Bright, straight blond hair was tied in back in a short
tail, like a whip, and her eyes were a cold mystery behind mirrored
shades. Wade supposed she would be cute if not for the inhuman
police traffic stop set of her mouth. Her prettiness and
her cop aura were a marriage of opposites: she invited to be looked
at, yet revealed nothing to anyone who looked.

But there was something. Just…something.

“
I’m citing you for doing
thirty four miles an hour in a fifteen zone,” she told
him.

“
What, the
Circle?”

“
Yes, the Circle. And you
get another one for depositing hazardous material on campus common
ground.”

“
What hazardous
material!”

“
The beer bottle you just
threw.”

“
Oh, you mean that
Coke
bottle?”

“
It was a beer bottle, Mr.
St. John, but of course you’re welcome to testify in court under
oath that it was not. And since possessing an opened alcoholic
beverage container in a moving vehicle is also against the law, you
get a third citation.”

Wade was getting bombed worse than Pearl
Harbor. All these tickets would cost three bills in fines and three
more points, which his insurance wouldn’t tolerate.

Okay. B.S. time,
he thought. He put on his best poor boy look,
which probably was not very convincing while seated in a car that
cost $75,000. “Officer Prentiss, I’m ashamed of myself. There’s no
excuse for the thoughtless immaturity that I’ve demonstrated in
your presence, and I humbly apologize. But the truth is, Officer,
these tickets might cause my car insurance to be dropped, and that
would make for some
major
trouble between me and my father. So I’m at your
mercy. I’m going to ask that, in your generosity, you overlook
these infractions, and in return you have my word and my personal
guarantee that I will never violate the law on this campus ever
again. My word.”

“
I’ve heard better bullshit
from Sterno drinkers,” she replied. She bruskly passed him the
ticket book. “Sign, Mr. St. John.”

Wade was getting ticked. It wouldn’t kill
this broad to give him a break. “What if I refuse to sign?” he
dared ask.

“
Then I will arrest you for
ignoring a state summons.”

Wade laughed. “You wouldn’t
dare. Maybe you don’t fully realize who I am. I’m
Wade St. John.
My
father—”

“
Sign the tickets or get
out of the car,” Officer Prentiss said, then withdrew a shiny set
of Peerless handcuffs.

Wade, boiling, signed the tickets. The cop
tore off his copies and rather roughly stuffed them in his shirt
pocket. “And if I ever see you throwing anything out of that car
again,” she said, and smiled, “I’ll toss your rich boy behind
in my jail in less time than it takes to say collegiate expulsion.
Oh, and have a nice day.”

Officer Prentiss then drove
off in her cruiser, leaving Wade slack mouthed.
Have a nice day?
he
thought.
Baby, they don’t get any nicer
than this.

—

CHAPTER
5

The women stirred, moaning out from endless
dreams. Their lair was a labyrinth; they lay deep in it. The
labyrinth was silent and black, like death.

They lay together naked, their big eyes
suddenly, inexplicably open. Something had waked them. Something—a
word.

—
Who are we?
they wondered in unison.

But then they remembered. The labyrinth’s
buried blackness began to move. They remembered who they were. They
remembered the word, the holy, loving word.

Supremate.

—
WAKE!

—
Hello!
one said.

—
Hello!
cried several more.

—
We love you! We remember
now!

They giggled together in their box. In joy,
they kissed.

Then, like love, the voice caressed
them.

—
MY DAUGHTERS, MY
LOVE.

The labyrinth was coming alive. Their lair
grew warm. The dark and holy light felt beautiful on their white
skin.

Memory crept closer. All things to serve
their god! But first came an impulse. Sustenance. Hunger. Filling
themselves up. The women remembered. They were hungry.

—
Eat!

Yes, to eat. To make their bellies swell.
Warm meat. Blood.

—
We want to eat,
please!

The Supremate’s voice was
like a promise in the wind.
—SOON,
DAUGHTERS. SOON YOU’LL EAT. YOU’LL FEAST ON THE NEW
PIGS.

Their loins tingled. Their red mouths
drooled.

—
Blood!

—
Meat!

—
New pigs!

They fidgeted in their box, reveling in the
promises, like kisses. New blood to bathe in, and meat. They
giggled and grinned.

—
PRECIOUS
DAUGHTERS…ARISE.

««—»»

The Old Exham Inn was an antediluvian brick
and mortar catacomb full of dully clashing decor. Upstairs was the
pub, downstairs the stage. The inn served pretentious “light fare”
only and imported beer. The town, after all, knew who it was
catering to—spoiled, rich college kids—which was how they got away
with astronomical prices. Only “diverse” bands were billed, to keep
out the local riffraff.

They filed down the stone steps to one of
the small dining coves far off from the stage.

“
Feeling any better?” Tom
asked.

Jervis nodded like a wooden puppet. They
hadn’t let him shave—his current hand and mentality could not yet
be trusted to hold a razor to his throat. But they’d gotten him
cleaned up and walking.