Tandem of Terror (40 page)

Jerry owed his success to his father, who in
turn owed Harold Ronford, Jerry's Grandfather. Harold had moved
here when the city was still young. It was he who had laid the
foundations of the family's turf and set up the beats they walked
even today, though some things had changed of course. Jerry
remembered through the haze of the years when his father had taken
over the business. It had been snowing that day and the schools had
been closed. His father, cursing like a mad man, had been forced to
bring Jerry along to that meeting where the power had changed
hands. He could see in his mind, Harold in his three piece suit and
his bald head with the smell of hospitals about him talking to his
father. His grandfather had looked into Jerry Ronford Sr.'s eyes
and told him never to bother Mr. Malarath. Malarath was off limits
to the whole organization. When Jerry's father had protested saying
Malarath was a gold mine waiting to be milked, Harold had slapped
him so hard the sound had echoed in the room and told him no again.
No one else had ever done that to Ronford Sr. and lived. Yet his
father had backed down and Malarath's had been off limits until
today. There were stories even back then about the old man. People
said that he "wasn't right."

Jerry downed his second glass of scotch. He
knew he had the cops in his pocket. Surely there was nothing the
old man could do to him now, but this business of murder in broad
daylight left him feeling uneasy. Maybe it was best to lay low for
a while, cut back on some of his bigger deals, just in case the
feds got involved.

When David returned, Jerry told him to get
the car ready. He was going home early today. Seeing Trish and the
kids might help him to take this crap off his mind.

Shane felt lucky to be alive. He'd went
straight from Ronford's office to his dealer and scored a huge hit.
His apartment was trashed but he didn't give a rat's ass.

He smiled as he finished tying off his arm
and got the needle ready. In a second, he would be as close to
heaven as anyone ever got in this life.

Shane jumped, dropping the needle, as he
heard the voice behind him.

"
Where is your friend, Mr.
Kingston?"

Shane whirled around to see Mr. Malarath
standing beside his bed.

"
What the frack are you
doing here?" he shouted at the old man. "How did you get
in?"

The old man grabbed him by the throat and
lifted him single-handedly from the bed. Shane's feet kicked in the
air, knocking against the bed's frame. His eyes bulged as the old
man's grip tightened, cutting off his breath.

"
I don't suppose it matters.
I'll find him soon enough."

Shane's screams echoed down the hallway, but
no one came to see what was happening. People in his building
didn't take chances.

Jerry fell asleep on the long ride home.
David drove the car up to the front steps of Jerry's large three
story house in the suburbs and got out to open his boss's door.

"
Mr. Ronford, you're home,"
David said gruffly, tapping Jerry on the shoulder.

"
Huh. What?"

"
You're home,
sir."

"
Oh, thanks, David," Jerry
said getting out of the car. "Let's go see what Trish has cooked up
for dinner."

"
I hope it's not turkey
again, Mr. Ronford." David grunted, his disgust evident.

"
David..." Jerry started,
then decided not to waste his time. Trish hadn't actually cooked in
years. Jerry saw to it that she had servants to do that kind of
thing for her.

"
Honey, we're home!" Jerry
yelled as he and David walked into the foyer and began to hang
their coats. He looked around expecting to see Brian come running
around the corner in any second. Daddy coming home was still a big
event for the little guy, but nothing moved in the house. Jerry
felt cold inside and dread crept over him.

Noticing his boss's discomfort, David drew
his 9mm and went first into the living room. Trish's body dangled
from the ceiling fan by a strand of her own intestines. Jerry's son
and daughter sat on the couch watching her limp body turn in slow
circles before them. Their eyes were glazed over and their souls
far away.

Malarath sat in Jerry's favorite chair .
"Welcome home, Mr. Ronford."

David leveled his gun at the old man and
emptied the clip in a series of thunderclaps. The bullets passed
through the old man harmlessly, shredding the cushions of the
chair. Malarath casually waved his hand and David burst into flame.
The giant howled as his skin began to melt like wax. He turned
towards Jerry and came at him with his arms open in a blazing
embrace. Jerry drew his own 9mm and shot David point blank in the
forehead, side stepping the giant's corpse as it went sprawling
across the floor. The scent of charred flesh filled the air. Jerry
stared at Malarath.

"
I did nothing to you! You
had no right to do this!"

"
I had every right, Jerry. A
deal's a deal no matter how much time passes. That doesn't
change."

"
What are you talking
about?"

"
You've worn that pentagram
around your neck your whole life. Have you never wondered what it
meant?"

Jerry held up his bandaged hand before his
face and saw that the blood and pus from his wound had leaked
through the cloth in the pattern of the star on his necklace.

"
You have broken the pact
your grandfather made, Jerry. All your family ever had is now gone.
I gave it and I have taken it away. You are mine now."

The sun had set outside. The room was dark
but for David's burning remains. In the flickering light of the
flames, Jerry thought he saw Malarath's face change. In place of
liverspots there was now scales and long horns sprouted from the
old man's forehead. Malarath's eyes seemed to glow a bright
green.

"
To hell with you!" Jerry
shouted, fleeing for the front door of the house.

"
Exactly," Malarath
cackled.

A wave of flame seemed to erupt from out of
nowhere like an explosion. It swept through the house setting
everything ablaze. Jerry screamed in pain and stumbled a few feet
from the door. The fire grew hotter and the ceiling gave way. It
fell over Jerry and Malarath with a loud crash. Then everything was
still except for the fire itself. A quiet voice whispered once
more, "Exactly."

The
Unclean

John Grover

Sarah sat watching her father Jacob preaching
to the entire gathering, light perspiration glistened on her
forehead and neck. She wiped her face briefly; wishing she could
remove her bonnet from her head but she knew it was forbidden,
especially during service.

This Sunday's service was being held at her
father's best friend's house, Amos. Amos was a large, quiet man
whose wife had passed on six months ago. Now it was just he and his
daughter Rebecca. She was the same age as Sarah; both were
twenty-one and still unmarried.

Although the October air was cool and crisp,
Sarah felt as if the summer sun was setting her body afire. Amos
kept his home quite warm as a fire roared in the fireplace too
early in the season. Add to that the candles that burned around the
room and in the windows as dusk chased away the sun, and the house
was almost unbearable.

Still Sarah could do nothing but listen to
her father thunder on. There was something different about his
sermon tonight. Normally he would be glowing about their heritage
and past, of how they were ancestors to the original Amish pilgrims
that settled here in Philadelphia during the seventeen hundreds.
Tradition and family were important to him and Sarah thought he was
bordering on pride, but she would never dare tell him.

Tonight Instead of heritage he went on and on
about something called "The Unclean", a demon sent by Satan to
tempt the righteous into acts of lust and perversion. The Unclean
was the incarnation of lust itself, of works of the flesh and once
it entered your soul and twisted it black and vile it had the power
to take you straight to hell.

"
To burn in the eternal
flames," Jacob roared as he eyed Sarah, his only daughter, as if he
trying to stare directly into her soul. "Beware the unclean. It may
assume the form of a human or even one of us. Beware it, carnal
pleasure is its weapon, its lure, Hell is its price!" He lifted his
arms to the heavens, shaking them with vigor.

Sarah's gaze left her father and swept over
to the solemn Rebecca. Rebecca would not look up at her. She still
felt strange about the day they touched, the day they looked on
their naked forms and became enchanted with each other's
womanhood.

It had been a silly game; they were supposed
to be baking when they spilled some flour on one another, which led
to throwing the flour at each other until they were both a mess.
Rebecca feared that her father would see the mess so she begged
Sarah to help her change. That was when they first looked upon each
other and touched...yes touched with soft, gentle strokes, evoking
sweet, innocent sensations.

"
It can sense the weak,"
Jacob caught Sarah's attention once more; she turned from Rebecca
to watch her father again. He addressed the rest of the crowded
room; husbands and wives, children, sons and daughters all
captivated by his new story about the spirit of fleshly desires.
"Protect yourselves, marry young and be faithful and the unclean
shall not take you."

Marry young? If only it were that easy. Sarah
considered the men of her community to be in short supply. What
ones were eligible seemed to be related to a distant cousin or part
of her family in one way or another. Everyone in the community was
somehow connected. And Sarah did not find the men here all that
pleasant on the eyes. But it wasn't her place to judge as her
father so often told her, after all generation after generation was
born and died here and the gene pool was simply getting smaller,
too small for Sarah. But what was she to do? It was the way of
things, the way of the Lord.

The service ended with a stern look from
Jacob and then silence. The crowd broke and left the house filing
out into the night in the most sullen mood they'd ever been in. The
tone of the night's meeting could not have been more serious.

Sarah watched her father walk ahead, her
mother Catherine beside him. They would go home now and prepare
dinner. Upon entering the house Sarah went straight to her room.
From her window she could see Rebecca's house and her bedroom
window. A faint light glowed within it.

Sarah removed her bonnet and let her chestnut
hair roll to her shoulders. She stared at her friend's window
across the way. The night grew darker, blacker, causing the window
to glow even brighter. Her heart fluttered a bit as she thought of
Rebecca, her soft skin, and smooth body.

Sarah removed her layers of black clothing,
piece by piece until laying naked on the bed. "Rebecca..." she
whispered over and over, careful to not allow her father to hear.
He would lash her for hours if he ever found out what she was
doing. She kept her fantasies secret, this not being the first time
she imagined herself with Rebecca, conjuring adventures of ecstasy
that were more than just forbidden, they were sinful, grounds for
damnation and an invitation to the...

Sarah could not think about that, she could
only think of Rebecca, sweet, innocent Rebecca. She rose from the
bed, still naked and stared out the window again. Her breathing had
slowed to a reasonable rate as she watched the leaves dance in
front of Rebecca's window and the shadows stretch long and
abominably in the candlelight.

One shadow crept independently of the others,
gliding over the house and suddenly vanishing. It was odd and
elusive, a trick of the night. It must be her eyes, tired, deceived
by the night and the golden light. Sarah paid it no mind and
dressed again for dinner.

The morning sun was bright and warm,
showering her with its radiance as she made her way across the
yard. In her arms Sarah carried a quilt. The one she and Rebecca
had been working on for months. Breakfast was hearty as usual,
fresh chicken eggs, toast, bacon and recently squeezed orange
juice.

Father and mother were already in the fields
and suggested Sarah finish her quilt, a request she was more than
happy to oblige.

She knocked on the door and waited. Moments
later it opened with a creak, a timid Rebecca stood on the other
side. She looked at Sarah then shifted her gaze to the nearest
wall. Stepping aside, she bid Sarah entry.

"
Hello," Sarah said with a
coy smile but her friend refused to look at her. She walked in and
placed the quilt down on the kitchen table. Rebecca paced slowly in
the kitchen.

She walked up to Rebecca and put her hand on
her shoulder. Immediately Rebecca pulled away and started towards
the living room. She glanced out the windows, searching the yard
and fields where her father had joined the others.

"
Rebecca what's wrong?"
Sarah asked, following her into the living room. "Please talk to
me."

"
It was here last night,"
Rebecca answered.

"
What was?"

"
You know what," Rebecca
said with a hush, turning from the window, her face draining of all
color. Sarah could see the terrified look in her eyes. "It was
right outside my window last night. Oh Sarah it was horrible. It
has come for me. I am a sinner. I am full of perversion and evil.
It can smell it all over me...I reek of it."