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"Patch me through to Stevenson." Cindy looked at her bloodied hand and shuddered. She avoided the mirror, her face had gotten it worse than her hands. How dare that bitch use the power on her. Filthy red-nigger bitch.
"Ms VanTur, Stevenson is on line six."
The reflection of James' smirk showed in the windshield. Cold anger washed over Cindy. His reflection blanched in fear as the glass divider snowed over into a view screen.
"Stevenson here." Stevenson's eyes bulged at the sight of her. "Ma'am?" he said, looking away.
"I want a crew gathered. I want an around-the-clock surveillance team watching this valley. Get a slasher-SWAT readied. We'll need them at a moment's notice. I want that bitch Anna watched, as well. Well? Do it."
"Ms VanTur, our funds at this time-"
Cindy screamed, "Fuck the budget." Eyes closed, in more normal tones, she said, "If we need more money, contact code name Richards in Appropriations, 200 Pennsylvania Avenue. He'll finance." Before Stevenson could answer, she cut the screen. Her eyes narrowed on James' reflection and the big man whimpered.
"Please," he whispered. "No . . . ."
The 'Stone glowered in the shadowed, murky light under the hemlocks. It pulsed, attempted to draw Benny to it.
Feed me, it whispered into the darkness of his soul. Lay upon me and let your blood scorch into my being.
Benny took one faltering step towards the coffin-shaped chunk of red rock. Then another.
He was an ass to try to go on. What was the use . . . .
A twig snapped. Benny stiffened, shaking off the hypnotizing effects of the demonic presence within the 'Stone. A few dead birds lay around it. They must have been suicidal to touch it.
Todd looked at his cousin, then warily at the 'Stone.
more to himself than to his cousin, Benny said, "It's evil." He grimaced. "God, but I hate this thing. Leda was gross. Carl shouldn't o' looked at her twice. She was a pig." He kicked at a small twig lying by his feet. It arched up, hitting the 'Stone with a small snapping sound, hung for a moment until the 'Stone decided it wasn't alive, and dropped to the ground.
Gaze on the twig, Benny stalked to the blood-blackened altar. To stop his hands from shaking, Benny shoved them deep into the pockets of his jeans.
"You remember, bro," he whispered, his throat raw, hoarse, "when I was six . . . and old man Grey had me down here?"
"Yeah. I dreamed it and woke up Mom and Dad. We got here too late to help much." Todd shook his head and stared down at his feet. "Aunt Anna had already ki-killed your Grampa-"
Benny shouted, "He wasn't my Grampa." He hiccuped loudly, flushed and closed his eyes. "He wasn't," Benny said hotly. "Just my dad's dad." Benny shrugged to cover the tremors running through his body.
Licking at the dry cracks in his lips, Benny swallowed hard. "And Dad, right? You saw my dad?" Squatting on his heels, he stared at the rock altar. "You saw my old man." Benny scrubbed his face and bowed his head. He was torn, not knowing if he wanted to hear, yet fiercely hoping Todd would admit he had seen the man rise from a grave he had moldered in for six years.
Benny rubbed at his face. It was tears. Tears of shame this time. Not hot, sour tasting blood that filled his eyes, his mouth. Not the blood of his father running over him like some grotesque blessing.
"Yeah." The answer came softly, hesitantly at first, then stronger. "Yeah, bro. I saw him. I saw the skean-dubh, the blade old man Grey tried to use on you- That old man Grey killed Uncle Ben with."
"The old fart actually did it. He brought Dad back from the grave." Benny sighed. "Then killed him. My fault. If Dad hadn't a tried to save me, he'd be alive . . . and so would Carl."
He picked the hemlock twig from the ground and broke it a slow inch at a time, tossing each piece at the 'Stone in a cool, contemptuous manner.
Benny snuffled loudly, wiped his nose with the sleeve of the jacket. As if coming to an agreement with himself, he nodded.
With a quick hop, he jumped onto the waist high 'Stone and flashed a brilliant grin at Todd.
Cocking his head to one side, Benny laughed. "Yo. Know what? I think it's, like, thirsty, ist?" He undid the buttons of his fly and Todd rolled his eyes as the sound of spattering urine filled the tiny glen.
With Heart's very tip with in the heart of the 'Stone, Two Swords scowled.
The 'Stone ignored the sword and the massive spirit wielding it, but could not ignore the fact that Shambala, Hell, lay at its feet. One tiny push with the sword, and the 'Stone would fall into that shrieking, screaming mass of tormented spirits for all eternity.
Benny was also ignored, and the insult, for now.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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