The Diabolical Conspiracy (8 page)

“
You swing a mean axe.”

“
Um…thanks.”

Nadia patted Carolyn’s head. “Carrie, dear, go fetch us some drinks. And a bit of that special something. If you don’t mind.”

Carolyn shifted around on her haunches and kissed the back of Nadia’s extended hand. The gesture was just another in an endless series of things that struck Mike as strange about this group. Nadia was more than just the leader of a weird little club to these people. They treated her like actual royalty. He supposed he’d better make an effort to do the same as long as he was involved in this Diabolical Conspiracy thing, regardless of how ridiculous it felt.

When Carolyn had departed, Nadia beckoned him closer still and he obliged, shifting around and pressing himself against one of her legs. She slid her fingers through his hair and then patted his head, just as he’d seen her do to Carolyn. He wanted to be mad about that. There was something fundamentally demeaning about it. But that wasn’t possible. Her incredible beauty negated any such resentment, just burned it away entirely. And the feel of her flesh against his was as electrifying as he imagined. Indeed, if he hadn’t come so recently, he would hardly have been able to stand it.

He looked up at her. “Nadia--”

“
Hush.” She smiled. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. Let it all happen. Be happy in the knowledge that Satan loves you for what you’ve done in his honor tonight.”

Mike didn’t have anything to say to that.

Partly because it was fucking crazy. But mostly because what she had said also contained an element of wisdom. The only way through this was just to let it happen. To just sit back and wait for the end of the ride.

So that’s what he did.

His gaze went to the big flat-screen television as Nadia continued to absently stroke his hair.
Twins Of Evil
was still on. A bosomy vampire chick was flashing her fangs. He stared at the movie for a minute before letting his gaze flit about the rest of the room. Marnie and Blake were intertwined on the floor. Mike felt another twinge of anger, but made himself look away before it could spiral out of control. Nearly everyone else was also engaged in sexual acts. As he watched, people would disengage from each other and switch partners. The bodies met and connected in a wide variety of positions. Rather than being turned on, Mike experienced a disconnected kind of curiosity as he observed this carnal activity. He imagined it was like being on-set at a pornographic movie shoot.

After a while, Carolyn returned with glasses and bottles of wine…and a little vial of pills. The pills were X. Which Mike hadn’t taken since his college days nearly a decade ago. But tonight he accepted the X with eagerness. It would make getting through this so much easier. His anger would melt away. For a while he would feel almost deliriously happy. A crash would come later, of course, but for now he needed this. And he consumed the wine--which was very good and expensive--with equal enthusiasm. In time, the substances worked their magic and he actually began to enjoy himself. The occasional resurfacing of the memory of what he had done to Donnie Wilkerson never lasted more than an insignificant moment. He got caught up in the music, the trance-y doom metal having given way to thumping industrial goth. He danced and laughed and whirled about the room. Before the night was done, he had sex again. First with Carolyn, then with the leggy brunette whose name he didn’t know. And again with Marnie, but by then he didn’t care who his partner was, just that he had another warm body against his own. The night lengthened toward dawn and still the party rolled on and on.

When he woke up later that morning, he didn’t remember it having ended.

8
.

He came to with a jolt some hours later. There was an instant awareness of something horrible having occurred and he tried telling himself it had all been a drug-induced dream. But one look around the living room at all the passed-out nude Satanists brought the awful reality screaming back to the forefront of his mind. Here was irrefutable evidence of all the crazy sex stuff he hazily recalled. It wasn’t much of a leap from there to acceptance of the more clearly remembered bloodshed in the garage.

The axe. That heavy blade. All that blood. The mutilation of Donnie Wilkerson’s poor old body…

All real.

Thereafter his mind focused with laser intensity on a single, all-consuming goal--getting the hell out of this madhouse before anyone else woke up. As best he could tell, he was the first to regain consciousness, a supremely lucky break and one he meant to take advantage of without delay. Still, he would have to exercise considerable caution in order to slip away unnoticed, as there were many complications to overcome. He was still nude. And Carolyn was lying snuggled up next to him, with an arm draped across his midsection. He gently took hold of her wrist and lifted her arm slowly off his belly. He then shifted onto his hip and very carefully rolled her onto her back. A panicky moment ensued when her eyes fluttered and seemed about to open. He still had hold of her wrist as he observed this potential complication. She yawned and stretched her body out, causing him to grimace as he maintained his loose grip on her wrist. Then she went still again and appeared to settle back into deep sleep. No more eye flutters. He lowered her arm as carefully as he’d raised it and got to his feet.

Aw, shit.

His head was swimming and his face was still sore from the pounding he had taken. Also, he felt sick to his stomach. Something was roiling around in there. He had a dim recollection of gorging on sloppily prepared food at some point during the night. Some kind of gruesome wee hours culinary concoction involving meatballs, noodles, queso dip, and a jar of jalapeno peppers. Among other things. Some serious time on a toilet likely awaited him in his near future. It was only a matter of time before his body rebelled and started shooting it out one orifice or another. Yet another reason to make fucking haste.

Finding his clothes was the next order of business. He couldn’t very well go running out to his car stark naked. Well, perhaps as a last resort. No way was he sticking around if anyone displayed signs of imminent wakefulness. In that event, he would say fuck this shit, grab his keys from the kitchen, and go. What was the worst that could happen? A citation for indecent exposure, maybe, but even that was unlikely if he moved fast enough.

Still, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. There were discarded garments seemingly everywhere. However, a frantic scan of the floor quickly turned up his jeans and shirt. He threaded his way through the naked bodies, snatched his clothes up, and hurriedly pulled them on, followed by his shoes. Another look around confirmed everyone else was still asleep. He was very close to pulling this thing off. Retrieving his keys from the kitchen was the only thing left to do.

The kitchen was a disaster area. Empty bottles and cans everywhere. Spilled food on the floor, the last remnants of that crazy Frankenstein meal. He nearly slipped in a puddle of milk--
milk?
--on his way to the counter. He pinwheeled his arms for a scary, vertigo-inducing moment before managing to right himself. Then he grabbed his keys from the counter and got out of the house as fast as he could. His plan was to drive somewhere far away. Far enough that he could sit somewhere in peace, with no expectation of being disturbed by anyone he knew and think about how to handle what had happened--and about what to do next. But as soon as he stepped out onto the porch out front he knew he wouldn’t be doing that.

Marnie craned her head around and smiled up at him from the top step as he came through the front door. “Hi, Mike.”

“
Hi.”

So he had been wrong about being the first one up. Marnie looked surprisingly bright-eyed and perky for someone who had been up partying all night. She was dressed and had even had time to fix her hair and makeup. He cursed himself for his shortsightedness. He hadn’t even noted her absence in the living room. If he had just taken an extra moment or two to get a better lay of the land…

Well…then what?

Nothing, probably.

He would have been just as trapped as he was now.

“
Shut the door, Mike, and have a seat.”

She patted the step beside her.

He thought about making a run for his car anyway, but dropped the idea when he saw she was holding a partially concealed gun between her legs. He doubted Marnie would shoot him right out here in broad daylight, at least he didn’t think she would. But it was hard to tell about anything anymore, especially where she was concerned. He figured the gun was just there to encourage him to listen to her and do as she said. And at that it fulfilled its purpose.

He eased the door shut and lowered himself onto the step next to her. “Nice day.”

She grunted. “Yeah.”

The sky was clear and the air was alive with the usual sounds of a weekend in the suburbs. From somewhere nearby came the sound of a lawnmower. Dogs were barking and kids were playing. A minivan drove by in the street and turned into a driveway a few houses down, disgorging even more noisome kids. It was all so grotesquely normal. The things that had happened in the house behind him last night shouldn’t happen in this kind of setting. It was an offense against all that was right and good in the world.

Marnie looked at him. “Trying to slip away, eh?”

Mike didn’t deny it. Why bother with an obvious lie? He nodded at the gun. “Would you really shoot me?”

She didn’t answer that question. Didn’t say anything at all to him for a few moments as she watched the minivan mom down the street get her rambunctious kids together and hustle them inside the house.

Then she stood up and held a hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

Mike stared at her.

“
That wasn’t a request.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then heaved a resigned sigh and handed over the keys. “What now?”

“
Get up. We’re going for a ride.”

9
.

It was a strange thing being driven around in your own car. There was something almost emasculating about it. He wondered if that might not be part of the point. Or maybe it was a way of illustrating how he had surrendered control of his life over to the cult. But as they traveled to various locations within the city it became clear there was a simpler explanation--Marnie knew exactly where she was going and didn’t want to be bothered with the tedium of giving him directions.

That sick feeling of dread he remembered from the night before recurred as he watched her turn down a familiar series of streets leading to an inevitable destination. Their first stop was a small apartment building. She parked at the curb outside and opened her purse to remove a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Menthols. She smoked one down to the filter without saying anything. Mike normally didn’t allow smoking in his car, but this time he made no protest. He was too disturbed to care. His sister and her new husband had moved into this building only a month ago. He was pretty sure he had never mentioned this fact to Marnie during any of their recent conversations.

Marnie flicked the cigarette butt out the window, put the car in gear, and drove across town to another familiar location. She pulled into the parking lot outside the retirement complex where his mother lived on the second floor. Again, she didn’t say a word as she lit another cigarette and smoked it all the way down. After that, she drove him to a handful of other locations scattered about town, each of which held a personal significance for him. He wanted to tell her there was no need, because by then he was getting the point, but his anxiety was such that he kept his mouth shut as she finished her tour of the town.

She remained silent until she returned to Nadia’s neighborhood and parked in the same spot at the curb they had vacated an hour earlier. She patted her purse and looked at him. Her gun was nestled in there next to the cigarettes. “I won’t shoot you, Mike. I like you too much for that. Truly. But I don’t have the same level of affection for your sister, your mother, your fucking grandparents, or your goddamned childhood best friend. Got it?”

Mike was trying hard not to hyperventilate. “Yeah. I…listen--”

“
Be quiet.”

Mike closed his mouth and winced as his upset stomach churned again.

Marnie reached out and touched his knee, making him jump a little. “You’re one of us, Mike, and you will be until you die. There is no escape. Ever. Understand?”

He nodded, but he was shaking.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. He was a free man. A citizen with all the rights and liberties of anyone else. And like any other free person, he should be allowed to determine the course of his own life, including the people with whom he chose to associate. But even as he thought these things, he understood they were no longer strictly true. He belonged to this cult now. This goddamned Diabolical Conspiracy. They owned him. It made him want to scream, to rage against the injustice, but he knew no amount of screaming would change anything.

“
If you ever give me reason to doubt your commitment to the cause, I’ll return to each of those places we visited today. And the next time you see any of those people, it’ll be in a fucking casket. Understand?”