Sacrifice (15 page)

Tears were flowing down Delilah’s cheeks. Her face was a mask of agony, soul-deep, churning in her skull.

April wanted to make it all go away, but she couldn’t. Delilah needed to hear it. She had to be stopped.

“I can’t stop, April. I can’t. This is what I was born for.”

April’s eyes widened with surprise as she slowly began to understand. She backed away from Delilah, staring at her with newfound clarity. She was not the benevolent healer April thought she was. Not at all.

“You’re hooked too! That’s why you won’t stop. You’re just as addicted to us as we are to you. That’s why you’re willing to take so much pain, because you’re addicted to the adoration we all have for you. The love. The sex. All of it!”

“April, you just don’t understand.”

“No. I do understand now. I understand everything.” April stood up from the bed and walked out of the room.

“Don’t go! April, please don’t leave me. I love you!”

April stopped in the hallway. Delilah’s voice - something about the woman’s voice broke her heart.
She’s suffered so much. She’s been through so much pain all her life. And now she’s suffering for us.

“Have you ever wondered why the Loa gave you this power? You called it a demon. You said it was evil. Why do you think it lets you help people?”

“I don’t know.”

April could tell she was lying. “Have you ever thought that this is what it wants? It’s bringing out the worst in all of us. Parents sacrificing their own children and all of us condoning it, encouraging it, so we can get more of its power. It has turned us all into junkies. It has made us all into monsters. All of us! We’re hurting children, Delilah! What do you think we are doing to ourselves?”

“I control it. I control it! It doesn’t control me. I use the power how I want. Me! I’m in control!”

April shook her head. She knew it was bullshit, but part of her still believed, the part that was still addicted to Delilah’s abilities and right now that addiction was the strongest drive she felt. As absurd as it seemed, she wanted relief from the pain of Delilah’s betrayal and only Delilah could give her that. She was hurt and angry and confused and she knew that Delilah could take that all away. She could give April her love.

“Come back, April.”

She knew if she went back into the room, the expression on Delilah’s face, that wounded, trusting, vulnerable face that was at the same time so wise and powerful, would prevent her from ever leaving. But that’s exactly what she wanted - to stay with Delilah forever, to never hurt again.

But she’s hurting children.

She took another step, and then another.

“Do you love me, April?”

April was standing in the hallway now. Delilah’s voice vibrated through the floor boards and up through the soles of April’s feet. She could feel it pound in her chest like a bass drum, quickening her pulse. April tried her best not to turn, even when she heard Delilah climb from her bed and begin moving toward her, even when April could feel the heat from Delilah’s body radiating through her as she moved closer. She felt Delilah’s breath on her neck and then finally her touch, stirring up desire in her like nothing she’d ever felt before the day she first came to Delilah’s home. Her legs shook and a moist heat spread between her thighs. She let out a helpless gasp as Delilah’s silken hands caressed her hips, slid up her stomach, and cupped her breasts before seizing her shoulders and spinning her around.

Delilah’s eyes looked just as April thought they would. “I love you, Delilah.” She kissed her and wept as Delilah gathered her into her arms and led her back into the bedroom.

April wept for the children now because she knew that in a few moments she would no longer care.

Chapter 24

Earlier that night, Terrance Taylor was bitten by the neighbor’s Chihuahua. The dog had been intent upon hobbling the big former football player and heavyweight boxing contender by tearing out his Achilles tendons. By the time Terrance managed to extricate his ankle from the dog’s mouth, there were almost a dozen more dogs attacking him.

“Aaaaahhhh! Help! Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” 

Terrance punched and kicked as the dogs attacked. His kicks shattered ribs, busted teeth, bruised and even killed several of the dogs. But those that remained immediately attacked again. A scorpion stung him repeatedly in almost the same spot the Chihuahua had bitten him, and Terrance hoped it wasn’t poisonous. Cats clawed and bit; crows and pigeons swooped down and pecked at his skull, raked his face with their talons. Terrance fought them off, kicking at the dogs and crushing the birds and cats in his tremendous hands, littering his driveway with animal carcasses. Then the rats came. Terrance stomped them as they scampered and scurried toward him, pulverizing the angry little rodents beneath his size-fifteen sneakers. More birds and ants and bees and flies attacked.

“What the fuck! What the fuck is going on?”

He fought harder, punching the dogs as they leapt for his throat, knocking them to the ground. He yanked cats from his legs and arms and wrung them out like dishrags, hearing their bones crack and their maddening hissing cease before he tossed their carcasses at the other advancing animals. He bit the heads off several birds as he peeled them from his face and spat them into the horde of angry creatures.

“Help! Call animal control! Call the police!”

He remembered his cell phone and pulled it out of his pocket. He was dialing the police when a large calico bit his hand between his index finger and his thumb. “Owww! Fuck! Fuuuck! Get the fuck off me!” He punched the cat with his other fist, feeling its bones shatter and collapse inward before it finally dislodged and tumbled to the concrete. More birds dived at his head, aiming for his eyes. Terrance punched several out of the sky, but many more got through, covering his head in a fury of feathers, talons, and sharp beaks.

“Get off me! Get off me! GET THE FUCK OFF MEEEEEEE!” He yanked them from his face and head one and a time, crushed them in his hands, bit into their throats, or wrung their necks. Terrance’s mouth was full of blood and feathers. His phone clattered to the ground. A large German Shepherd charged, and Terrance landed several punches flush on its snout before it finally collapsed at his feet, bleeding from the mouth. Two more dogs charged him from behind. One bit into his hamstring and the other tore a chunk from his calf.

“Fuck! FUUUUUCK! AAAAAAAHHHH! MUTHERFUCKER!”

Terrance collapsed against the SUV but remained on his feet as he beat the two other canines, punching the small Beagle in the snout and striking the Golden Retriever with a closed hammer fist until it let go of the back of his leg, and then stomping its head into the concrete.

“What the fuck is this? Help! Help!”

Legions of flying insects formed a dense swarm and raced toward him, hurtling up the driveway. It was too much. Terrance hit the automatic unlock on the Cadillac Escalade and wrenched open the door. He slammed the door shut just as the swarm slammed into the vehicle. The big SUV rocked as if it had been struck by gale-force winds. He locked the doors, twisted the necks of two cats and a British bulldog that had managed to get into the car with him, and crushed seven or eight birds that had also made it in. Then he went about the business of swatting flies and bees, cataloging his injuries, and assessing his situation. More animals came.

Outside the car were four Pit Bulls and two Rottweilers that looked to weigh more than a hundred and fifty pounds each, along with a dozen other canines. Terrance swallowed hard. Pit Bulls and Rottweilers scared the shit out of him. He’d seen guys attacked by both breeds when he was a kid growing up in Philly. He knew what they could do to a person.

There were too many cats to count, and there were now hundreds of rats. The ground was carpeted with rodents, ants, spiders, and scorpions. The oddest thing was that none of the animals or insects were fighting each other. They were all intent upon murdering Terrance.

There were numerous cuts and lacerations on Terrance’s face, neck, and head. Blood rained down his forehead and the back of his neck. He felt woozy, like he was about to faint. One of the birds had tried its best to rip his ear from his skull, and blood poured copiously from the torn and ragged mess. There were dog bites up and down both legs and on his hands and forearms, and he had no idea how many times he’d been stung. Every inch of his body hurt.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Birds and insects coated the outside of his car until he could no longer see through the windows. Terrance honked the horn repeatedly and cried out for help. A tiny gap wasn’t blocked by bird wings or insects, and through it he spotted his cell phone lying on the driveway where he’d dropped it. Even with his hamstring and his calf torn and bleeding, he thought he might still have a chance of reaching it. He used to run a mile in four and a half minutes. With his life on the line, he was confident he could do it again. He was pumped so full of adrenaline he could barely feel his injuries.

The animals gnawed at his tires. One punctured and then another. He would be completely immobile in minutes. He jammed the keys into the ignition and tried to start the car. It wouldn’t turn over. It was then that Terrance became aware of the droning hum of the thousands of bees. They blanketed the car and were probably clogging his exhaust pipes.

He was trapped.

Minutes ticked by and the animals continued to surround his vehicle. The dogs had begun ramming the side of the Escalade, denting the doors. Terrance remained convinced someone would rescue him. He honked his horn several more times and called out for help. He wasn’t just your average citizen. He was Terrance fucking Taylor. He was special. Someone had to come save him. He was supposed to start filming a movie next week.

“Where the fuck is everyone? Someone has got to hear me.”

He heard his phone ring several times beneath the snarls, hisses, growls, the screech of birds, and the buzz of hundreds of thousands of insect wings. He blacked out from exhaustion and dehydration. He woke to shouts from outside. It sounded like children’s voices, crying out in anger.

“Get out of here, kids! Go get help! Get away from here! The animals have gone crazy! Run!”

But the kids stayed, and Terrance noticed something disturbing about their voices. They didn’t sound frightened or in pain. They just sounded angry. The animals weren’t attacking them. Then he began hearing the beat of tiny fists against the vehicle. He could hear the children climbing up onto his vehicle. Then he heard them pounding on his windows.

“Get away from me! Stay the fuck away from me! What the fuck is going on! Help! Help! Somebody help!”

The kids were beginning to shatter the glass. One of the little bastards on the hood of his car was repeatedly hammering his head into the windshield. Terrance opened his glove compartment and was relieved to see his pistol still inside, a Glock .40. He hadn’t packed it yet. He pulled it from the glove box and checked the clip. It was loaded. Twelve in the clip and one in the barrel.

“Where are the cops? Where are the fucking cops? Why hasn’t anyone called the police?”

Terrance thought about his phone lying on the driveway. Soon the kids would be through those windows and the animals with them. He would either die in his car or could make a run for the phone. If he dialed 911 and the cops got there fast enough, he might just make it. He was still in pretty good shape. He was relatively certain he could outrun those kids and would kill any dog or cat that caught up to him. The birds and the insects were the only problem. He couldn’t outrun them.

“Shit. Oh, shit. I am so fucked!”

The little kid hammering his head into the windshield finally broke through. His face was a bloody mess from using it as a battering ram. It looked like raw hamburger. Several of his teeth were missing, knocked out of his mouth from the force of his face repeatedly striking the laminated safety glass. Both his eyes were swollen and purple and his forehead was a mask of lumps and contusions. His nose was smashed sideways onto his cheek and leaking blood down his face. He tried to crawl through the jagged portal his face had made in the windshield. Unable to fit, the kid twisted and jerked his face free from the glass, allowing birds and insects to fly through and renew their attack on Terrance. He was fighting off the incoming swarm when the kid slammed his face into the windshield again, widening the hole he’d made, allowing the cloud of insects and birds to come roaring into the vehicle.

Terrance screamed as a deluge of furious animals flooded into the car behind the birds and insects. He aimed the Glock at the little boy with the bleeding face and fired. Teeth, blood, bone, and brains splattered the interior of the vehicle, coating Terrance in an avalanche of gore. Birds and insects bit and tore at his face. Cats, dogs, and rats bit him everywhere else. The Escalade was no longer safe. It had been compromised. There was only one option left. Go for the phone. Terrance swung open the door of the SUV and loped across the driveway, snatching up the phone as the biting, stinging swarm engulfed him.

The Rottweiler attacked and Terrance shot it twice before it could do any damage, disemboweling it with the first bullet and almost decapitating with the second. He shot two more dogs, one of the Pit Bulls and a mutt of some kind, and then closed his eyes as birds attacked his face. Terrance speed-dialed 911 without looking, afraid to open his eyes for fear of being blinded by talons. He snatched a crow from his forehead and squeezed it until blood squirted from between his fingers and bones burst through the bird’s skin and feathers. A small hand punched him in the nuts and Terrance swung a fist in the direction of the punch and felt it connect and someone cry out, followed by the sound of a body hitting the concrete. Another set of small hands seized his wrist and drew it into its mouth, biting down hard, drawing blood. Terrance jerked his hand away, lifting whoever was attached to it into the air, then slamming them down to the driveway as hard as he could, taking out several rats and hundreds of insects along with his assailant. Someone answered the phone and Terrance began shouting into the receiver as he ran down the driveway onto the sidewalk.