Unearthed (4 page)

He couldn’t even see her at this point, he was buried between her thighs and the machinery stopped clanking. The smell of brimstone was overwhelming. He gagged but nothing came out.

“You fucking pussy,” she muttered and did not sound amused. “I’d call you dickless, but it’s still there—for the moment.” She leaned in, abdomen tensing against his forehead, pushed his nose into her. “What’s the matter? You don’t like the way a demon smells down there?”

He gagged.

“You’re a prissy little fuck, aren’t you?” She sighed. “Fine.” He heard a whir of the machinery separate them just slightly, enough that he could breathe, and she stood abruptly. “I can tell I’m not going to get any good out of you unless I make some accommodations, then.” She stepped out of his view, but he could hear her to his left, over near the wall by Mike. “You men. You humans. So fucking squeamish. Your life is on the line, Tony, and you’re not man enough to suck it up and start licking me because it smells a little funny down there. You’d think,” her voice went muffled for a second, “that the stakes would have impressed upon you that this is some serious shit you’re in, that it would be enough to convince you to take it seriously, to swallow your pride, hold your damned nose, and do what I ask you to do. But no, you men are all the same. It’s like you don’t have the brains given to a goat when it comes to self-preservation. Is it pride? Is it a weak stomach? Is it a lack of desire to debase yourself before what you think is an inferior form of life, you fucking misogynist pig-ass? Because I have a feeling in prison, you’d be sucking ten cocks before noon if you got threatened by even half of what I’ve already vowed for you.”

She was laboring with something, he knew from the slight strain in her voice.
Don’t come back
, he thought silently to himself.
Please don’t come back
.

She came back.

She was covered from neck to thigh in blood.

Mike’s blood.

It ran down her skin in big droplets, beading as it went. Her bra was soaked with it, her belly drenched, and it ran down to either side of her pubic mound and dripped down the lips. She settled back into the chair as though it were nothing, inches from his face, and clicked a button on the armrest. It whirred closer, shoving his lips straight onto her pussy, and he felt the tip of the knife pinch him on the crown of his head.

“Well,” she said, “that should have taken care of the smell and the fear in some measure, so …
start fucking eating
.” The menace dripped thicker than the blood, and Anthony started tentatively.

The smell of blood was pungent, but it did not cover up the sulfuric reek of her skin. It seemed to come from her very pores, like she sweated it. Anthony had never smelled anything like it, nothing, but he breathed through his mouth and went to it, his tongue working feverishly as his mind whirled, pungent smell invading his tongue. He ignored it.

To save his life, he would do this thing.

To save his life, he would do whatever he had to.

She prodded him, alternating between tugging the chain gently and pressing the knife into his skull. The sharp pain of the blade’s edge on his dick made him want to cry in a way he hadn’t since he was a kid. He could feel the steady drip of blood running down to his tip, but he kept going. Her breathing grew heavier as he went, his tongue feeling weary but him urging it on, writing the alphabet on her clitoris, feeling the rough bump of the thing in the smooth, wet skin, tasting his friend’s blood as it dribbled down into his area of work.

She traced the blade across his scalp slowly. He felt the stinging line it left as she teased out a soft moan, and he wanted to bite his lip. Instead he forced his tongue hard against her clit, shoving his face against her to muffle his desire to cry out. He slowed his pace and she ran the knife across his skull faster, causing him to jerk and stop. He felt the dig of the blade easing a half-centimeter into the shaft of his penis and he swiftly plunged his tongue down again, without thought or plan, seeking the little nub that would grant him reprieve.

It lasted an hour, a month, a year. He dragged his tongue around and around until he lost all feeling, until all that remained was the stench of blood and sweat and sulfur. A drop of one of those ran down to the tip of his nose, and he felt his eyes burn from the sweat and the smell. Still he went on, drawing moan after moan from her in a steadily increasing fervor.

She had her head back now, the hand with the chain gripping the armrest of her seat, the one with the dagger vibrating against the top of his skull. She rested the tip against the crown of his head, lightly, as with each increasingly insensate lick, he drew her closer to her breaking point.

He felt it when she reached her climax. Her legs squeezed him tight between her thighs, she ground her pelvis harder into his face, rubbed her clitoris harder against his tongue. She let out a scream that started life as a breath, her head cocked back and—

He felt the knife drive into his skull as her entire body drew into a tensed state and then grew slack. He heard the crack of bone breaking, of steel entering his brain. Felt the dribble of blood run down over his eyes, saw the darkness roll in.

The taste of sulfur died on his tongue—that curiously strong scent—as his head lurched forward, his neck going slack as Anthony’s muscles gave up with the rest of him. He plunged into darkness and the last sensation his dying nerves felt was the pain as the blade below dug hard into his cock and cut him off from his manhood just as certainly as he’d been cut off from life.

Katlin “Kitty” Elizabeth had enjoyed the fuck out of that one. He may have been a criminal and a rapist, but when properly motivated, he muff-dived her pussy with the best of them. Fear was the secret, of course. That was the best part for her as well. The staggering sense of power as she forced them to slave their fucking tongues to her clit. She lay there, slack in her chair, blood and demon-sweat sticking her ass to the leather.

“Oh, fuck yes,” she muttered to the corpse between her legs. He was dead, empty eyes staring right at her taint. The fucker on the right side of the door was dead, too. Which left the skinny little peckerwood hanging to her left as the sole inheritor of her words. “Is there anything better than a full-body orgasm? I ask you.” She felt limp, like a rag all wrung out. Her legs were still quivering. Hell, almost everything was quivering at least a little bit. She shoved the corpse’s dead head off her lips; no point in keeping him down there now that he was gone, after all.

Kitty sat there for a long time like that. She didn’t like to sleep the night before a flight. Hell, she didn’t really need to sleep anyway. She sat there and let the smell of sex and blood waft up to her. It was a good smell, she thought. She actually just enjoyed the smell of herself, even after a couple days not showering. It was potent, which was another word for powerful.

She was all about power. Whatever kind she could get her hands on.

She fingered her clitoris lazily, purposelessly, the sticky blood from the guy whose throat she’d slit kind of gumming up the works. She liked blood play, but preferred to keep it above the waist. A money shot of blood was a fun thing to watch—hot, too. It got her started. But this one caked her bra to her skin, which was kinda gross. She discarded it, forgetting there was still another man in the room. She had no problem showing her fucking vulva and clit to a man, especially when she was about to force herself on his mouth, but she didn’t like to feel exposed in any other way.

“It doesn’t matter,” she decided lazily, because it didn’t. She looked at the wide eyes of the skinny bitch hanging from the chains next to the door. “You’re not going to last the night, after all.” She tugged on the chain and tilted her head sideways to watch Tony’s manhood fall free of his carcass. She kicked it out from underneath the corpse—it wasn’t more than a few square inches of flesh, like a greasy sausage from a grocer’s freezer. She watched the skinny bitch’s eyes fall on it, then meet her own. “You want some breakfast before you go?” And she laughed her ass off watching those eyes get wide, wide with fear.

Then she cooked it up and made him eat it before she slit his throat. She wouldn’t have touched the thing herself, after all, much less put it in her mouth.

She showered afterward. When she came out of her bathroom she found her bed disturbed where Tony had done his little class warfare act. She sniffed, caught the hard stink of his pee, and rolled her eyes. She threw a leg up on the side of the bed and reclaimed her territory, watching her own stream of urine turn the sheets black as they hit. The specialty maid service would clean it up later anyway, along with the corpses. The beautiful thing about New York was that you could get anything you wanted in this town, even discretion, so long as you were rich and well connected.

Kitty dressed afterward, did her hair—back in the bun—and put on a suit. Grey, grey, grey. She had more colorful things to wear, but not just yet. Not until she got to this place in Tennessee and took its temperature. With a rectal thermometer. Made it turn its head and cough while she squeezed it by the balls. She’d had enough men by the balls to know it hurt. She loved the look in their eyes, agony framed in the flesh around the whites. It was just about her favorite thing to do other than forcible knifepoint cunnilingus with a little blood play thrown in.

Oh, good times. So many good times.

She’d made her arrangements, and when Gary from the front desk called up to let her know that her cab was here, she was almost ready to go. She schlepped her own shoulder bag to the door and waited. She wouldn’t carry it any farther. She didn’t do any more than she had to.

She sat and waited, leafing through a magazine, until the elevators dinged and Gary stepped out, picking up her bag for him. She favored him with an indifferent expression and passed him a crisp hundred as they stepped into the elevator. What was the name of the doorman that Anthony had gotten her information from? Jack? No, Jake. What a little shit he was. Too bad she couldn’t thank him properly for her evening’s entertainment. That was a minor regret at this point, though.

She would miss this place. She’d miss the chair most of all, she figured. It certainly made things easier when she wanted to get her lick on. But she was strong and men were weak, and this town she was going to was bound to have its own supply of Tonys, waiting with their tongues doing nothing of use, waiting just for her to come along and give them a reason to have the damned things.

“Where you heading, miss?” Gary asked. He had a New York accent. She wondered how strong his tongue was.

“Tennessee,” she said, sniffing a little. It wouldn’t have been her first choice for a vacation destination, but it was what it was.

“Oh, really?” He looked vaguely impressed. He fell into silence for a moment, and she studied the thin line of facial hair that he’d trimmed across his jaw. It looked like he’d drawn it on with a marker. “Why Tennessee?”

“I’m going down there to acquire something,” she said, staring at the counter as it dipped from two to one. It was an old-fashioned one, a concession to the building’s age. “An antique,” she added. “Something … one of kind, shall we say.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Gary said politely, nodding, her bag clenched in his hand. “Like at a store down there?”

Kitty felt her eyes flash with pleasure. “Not quite. More like … an archaeological dig.”

“That’s cool. Like Indiana Jones?”

“Not quite,” she said, “but close enough.”

“So, will you be back in a few weeks?” he asked as they passed through the lobby. The whole place was done up right, class lingered in the air around here, and Kitty liked it that way. Velvety carpeting crushed beneath the soles of her shoes.

Kitty pondered that question. “The truth is,” she said, actually speaking it in this case, “if things go well … I just may not be back at all.” She gave him a regretful smile that bore no resemblance to the truth, though. It was a consolation. She didn’t give a fuck about Gary or his wanker, drawn-on beard. He could lick her asshole for all she cared.

She pursed her lips and made a mental note to try that in Tennessee. She’d heard good things, but hadn’t gotten around to giving it a go yet. Thousands of years on this earth, and she still had things to explore.

“Well, have a good trip, Ms. Elizabeth,” Gary said as he opened the door for her. She slipped out with him in tow and he slapped his hand on the trunk. The cabby popped it then stuffed her bag inside gently and slammed it back. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He smiled nervously at her, awaiting her approval since he’d already gotten paid.

She just stared back at him, and couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Gary,” she said.
You dumb fuck
, she thought.
If I find what I’m looking for, you and the rest of your whole damned species are going to be licking my twat in the pits of hell
.
As it damned well should have been long ago
. She smiled, almost laughed at the next thought that came along behind it.

But at least I won’t have to worry about them bitching about the sulfur smell anymore
…

Hot, lazy days spent on the Caledonia River were the best days of all, Nicholas Reeve thought. Of course, this day was particularly hot, and the Caledonia was shrunk up to about half its normal size thanks to a near-record drought, but it was still a day spent on the river, and that was a hell of a lot better than tending to the duties assigned the sheriff of Calhoun County, Tennessee. Especially since said duties were pretty fucked up nowadays.

The heat blazed down from a high sun overhead. Reeve had been out on the water since before daybreak, his bass boat rocking gently with the current. He’d drift a little farther, another mile or so closer to the Tallakeet Dam, and then he’d start the engine up and head back upriver. The water level six weeks ago had been high enough that he’d have washed over the Tallakeet. Now it was so low he’d be bumping up against concrete until he nosed into one of the intakes, which were partially exposed, the water had sunk so low.