CHAPTER 1
Â
Friday Night at
the Dump
Â
Todd
Bochner eased his refurbished ’67 Camaro convertible off the main road at the
crest of the wooded hill and suddenly stopped.
In the
twin headlight beams, a large, wavy pile of barbed wire and an old tricycle
blocked their path. “I ain’t goin’ in there, man,” he
said, and crossed his arms over his skinny chest.
Beside
him, Darcy McGill twisted in her seat. She suspected he’d
do something stupid. But right now, she just wasn’t in
the mood. “Why not?”
“There’s
shit all over the place. Don’t wanna
get Cammie scratched and all messed up.”
“It’s trash,”
she said. “We’re at the dump, remember? Go around it.”
“It’s
barb wire.”
“Same
thing.”
“Know
what barb wire will do to paint and metal?”
She
hated when guys whined. “I give up. What’ll barbed wire do to paint and metal?”
“Scratch
it up.”
“Only
if you get too close to it.”
He
shook his head. “Don’t wanna go anywhere near it…”
Leon
Bellson, his glossy eyes blinking from the grass he and Todd had just sucked up
on their way over, poked his face between the front seats. “Heavy duty,” he
whispered. “That trike looks like it’ll scorch up some highway!” He giggled.
“Flick
your dickhead button in the off position,” Todd said, frowning. “And keep your
zits off the upholstery. I just cleaned it.”
Darcy
cursed herself for asking them to bring her out here. When she first asked Todd
during Study Hall, his face lit up like neon. She knew what that meant but
decided not to give it another thought. If her Nissan hadn’t
been sitting in the shop all week, she wouldn’t have even bothered. Todd was
the only one available on such short notice on a Friday night. If he wanted to
think something else would happen, let him. All guys were swimming around in
testosterone—she couldn’t help that.
She
asked Leon to go along because she didn’t want to be
alone with Todd. Todd and Leon were tight, so Todd didn’t
mind so much. They were jerks, although Leon could actually manage
an intelligent conversation at times. But right now Leon wasn’t
himself. The weed had kicked in. But at least he wasn’t
the perv Todd was. As they cruised out of town, she’d
caught Todd drooling. Probably because the low cut of her tank top showed the
mole over her small left breast. But that didn’t bother
her too much. Todd was a hopeless slobberer—he’d soak
his chin if she was covered in burlap.
Right now,
getting Todd to budge was the main issue. The City Dump sat a mile farther
down. People brought out their trash at night and made a mess of the area. Some
obviously didn’t mind pulling off the shoulder and
dumping right there at the entrance.
Todd’s
Camaro was his pride and joy—she should have known he’d
be funny about taking it into the woods. But she had gotten him this far.
She
opened her door.
“Goin’
for a walk?” His eyes sparkled. “Want company?”
“I’m
going to clear the way so I don’t have to hear you whining about scratching up
your lady.” She stepped into the overgrown grass and, ignoring the tingles of
the tall weeds brushing her bare arms, approached the tangled clump.
Todd
gunned the Camaro, making it roar like an angry lion. He chuckled. “I could
leave ya here, ya know.”
She
patted her pocket. “I could call my uncle, ya know.”
His
grin vanished.
Mentioning
her uncle, Clancy Hawkins, Raven’s finest deputy, had gotten her out of some tight
spots. Not that she’d actually call Uncle Hawk unless
it was an emergency. But it sure kept jerks like Todd in line.
Using
the Camaro’s headlights to scan the area, she found a foot-long section of
rusty wire containing no barbs. She carefully wrapped her fingers around it,
making sure no barbs were close enough to catch her jeans or tank top. Just as
she started to pull, she heard footsteps behind her. Leon reached out to help.
“You’re
makin’ me feel like a first-class jerk,” Todd said sourly.
“Nothing
about you is first-class,” she said.
Leon
giggled, and together they dragged the barbed wire clear of the path.
Leon
rushed over to the tricycle and straddled it.
“Leon…”
She couldn’t understand how so little weed could affect
him so much. Quiet and considerate one minute, he turned back into an idiot in
the blinking of an eye.
After a
couple of tumbles, he pushed the tricycle into the brush. “Growing up’s a
bitch,” he said.
“Because
you’re too big to sit on a tricycle?” she asked.
He giggled.
“I knew someone would understand.”
They
got back in the Camaro.
“You
two finished playin’ around out there?” Todd asked.
“Now
it’s safe to go down that hill,” she said, pulling the door shut.
He groaned.
“I see shit farther down. Wanna get back out and clear
the path?”
She
gazed into the headlight beams. “I don’t see anything.”
“You
don’t see that pile of crap down there?”
“Weeds,
Todd. Those are weeds. No one mows out here.”
Leon had
stuck his head between the seats again. “Heavy-duty. Looks like a little
Nativity scene.”
“You’re
so totally a dorkster.” Todd put it back in gear and eased down the
slope.
“Where’s
this party again?” Leon asked.
“The
abandoned mine,” Todd said. “And you heard what I said about those zits.”
Leon
sat back and rubbed his cheeks. “Guess I should’ve popped ‘em before you picked
me up.”
The
mine had been the subject of folklore for years. A cave-in made the headline just
before World War II. Casualties were minimal, but ghost and demon stories
abounded anyway.
Darcy had
grown up hearing all sorts of yarns. The theories outnumbered the tall tales.
Evil had caused the collapse of the mine. Several of the religious miners painting
crosses on the rock walls had angered Lucifer. The Dark Force retaliated by
shaking the earth, making it crack, resulting in the cave-in.
Four
years ago, when she started high school, she discovered black magic and read everything
she could find about it. It quickly hooked her, and she got further into it
than many of the other kids. She also read that it strongly influenced acid
rock of the late sixties, creating its own culture. San Francisco boasted more
devil worshipers than gays back then, with Anton LaVey starting up his own
church. With the help of the Beatles, Aleister Crowley enjoyed a triumphant
rebirth during this time. The greatest classic bands—the Stones, Megadeth,
Black Sabbath, and others—all dealt with the Darkworld.
Or so the rumors went.
During
the last few years, the culture experienced a strange resurrection. What with
Rap, Goth, Grunge, vampire flicks and demon shows, and the growing hatred in
the world, Satan had slithered into the spotlight.
Local
rumors also persisted of a secret society that supposedly met in the abandoned
mine years ago to worship Satan. Darcy wasn’t sure she
believed it but grew curious last Saturday night, as she and her friend Sheila
McKay came home after watching the Union Local High School football team practice.
A quarter of a mile straight ahead, Mayor Holeridge’s
shiny Cadillac pulled off Raven Road West, without lights, onto the dirt
path.
Surprised
and curious, Darcy immediately engaged in a heated debate with Sheila.
Why
would the Mayor drive down to the dump at night?
To drop
off trash…
Trash?
In a Cadillac?
To dump
a body…
In the
Mayor’s personal ride?
To meet
a girlfriend…
At the dump?
To take
a leak…
At the
dump?
There didn’t seem to be any reason—other than the age-old
legend of the secret society—to explain the strange occurrence.
“Guess
I shoulda brought my player and some sounds,” Leon
said. “A party ain’t a party without sounds.”
“Don’t
need sounds,” Todd said. “Our favorite cheerleader babe wants to conjure up a badass demon. He’ll provide the sounds.”
Darcy
wanted to backhand Todd square in the face. Lucky for him he was driving. She
abhorred violence, but Todd raked on her nerves.
“Really?”
Leon asked. “A genuine demon?”
“Horns,
pitchfork, and a long, pointed tail,” Todd said, cackling loudly.
“You
really think you can do it?” Leon seemed interested.
Darcy
shrugged. Best keep this low-keyed. She didn’t want to
hear any more of Todd’s tasteless jokes. “I keep hearing demons are out here. I
wanna see if there’s anything to it.”
Todd
shook his head.” Man, just ‘cause she looks like
Buffy, she thinks she oughta—“
“Please
stop that Buffy talk. I look nothing like her. She’s blonde, for one
thing—“
“Only
one way to know for sure,” Todd said, grinning devilishly.
“Todd
Bochner, you can be really crude when you wanna be.”
“Just ‘cause demons might be out here don’t mean you can conjure one
up and take the sucker home,” he said.
“Demons.
Heavy-duty.” No longer serious, Leon went right back to being silly. “Think
they’d go for a buzz?”
“They’re
spirits.” She pushed an impatient hand through her hair. “They don’t need
a buzz.”
“Everyone
could use a buzz once in a while…”
She
turned around and gazed into Leon’s glossy eyes. “If you could fly around, disappear,
and make weird stuff happen, would you need a buzz?”
“Heavy-duty.”
Leon bounced on the seat. “I’d make mean old Mr. Amos Boswell Gordon pull down his
pants and moon history class. Serve him right, giving me a frigging C on
that last pop quiz!”
Darcy
sat silently and tried ignoring them.
The city
had sliced a wide path in the ground to accommodate Frank Miller’s garbage
trucks. A toxic dump spoiled the old farmland a mile or so down the path beyond
the mine. This suited Darcy just fine. She didn’t want to venture out too far. She had heard enough to
know to avoid going near a place oozing noxious chemicals.
The path
leveled off. Beyond the felled trees, a dome-shaped mound the size of one of
those earth houses she had seen on the Science Channel sat like a giant animal
sleeping in the darkness.
Another
roll of barbed wire lay half-hidden in the weeds. Broken bottles glittered like
fireflies in the Camaro’s headlights.
Todd
stopped. “Here we go again.”
“Does
your steering wheel work?” Darcy asked curtly.
“You
know it does.”
“Then
shut up and use it.”
“Babes.”
Todd reluctantly did as she said.
When they
could go no farther, Todd turned off the ignition but kept the lights on. The
eerie glow flickered like critters running around in the bushes.
“Sure this
is the spot?” Darcy asked.
“Fuckin’
A.”
Darcy
shot him a glare. Todd could be so vulgar. No wondered he never got dates.
He
found his flashlight and slammed the glove box shut. His knuckles brushed her
left thigh.
She
ignored the contact. “Where’s the entrance?”
“Straight
down the slope.”
“I
heard a secret club of rich guys comes out here.” Leon giggled. “Maybe they
left some neat stuff in there.”
“Like
what?” Todd asked.
“Money?
Jewelry? Maybe a Snickers bar?”
Darcy
sighed. Leon sure was outdoing his silliness tonight.
“You
that wasted?” Todd asked.
“Just a
little spacey. I’ve also got the munchies.” Leon squinted. “Did you know you’ve
got a long black hair sticking out of your nostril?”
“Which
nostril?” Todd asked.
“The
left one. Want me to pull it out?”
“Don’t
be such a total dorkster.” Todd switched off the low beams. He grabbed his
stash and a bottle of Wild Turkey from under the seat.
Darcy
picked up her witchcraft book and the printout of the spell she had found
online. Her pulse thumping, she followed Todd and Leon down the wild, uneven
path.
Â
CHAPTER 2
Â
Helluva Way to
Leave a Party
Â
Tiffany
LeBouf opened her eyes and found herself standing in the middle of a gray
field.
She had
not heard anyone say Johnny Rock’s North Hollywood estate included any
pastureland. But where else could she be? She couldn’t
even remember walking away from the pool.
Last
thing she recalled was she had taken a drink from the bright-eyed, good-looking
guy starring in that new reality show. He sure knew how to ramble on. All that
stuff about the classic Porsche he had bought with money from his new contract
had bored her half to death. She must have just zoned out, excused herself and
went down the stone steps leading to the rear of the estate.
This
pasture, beautiful and serene, certainly was strange. The colors were all
wrong—the tall grass a light gray, the flowers a dull white, the plants a
washed-out brown. At least it smelled pleasant. Mixed scents of mint and
cinnamon filled the air.
Well,
except for that dark backdrop close behind her. Its foulness revolted her.
Smelled like a line of porta johns close by.
Porta johns?
At a Hollywood party?
She couldn’t imagine these Hollywood people going near a
porta john, let alone using one. To hear them talk, you would think they
didn’t even bother with bodily functions like the rest
of the population.
Even
so, that didn’t explain how she got here.
What
did he put in that drink?
She didn’t want to take it.
Aside from not being much of a drinker, she didn’t
want to accept anything fixed without her watching. These shindigs often turned
wild. People she didn’t know usually came to them and many
had reputations for being perverts. Tiffany showed up only because her agent
suggested her presence could earn her a TV spot.
She
made her grand appearance wearing her caramel two-piece by Chio with the maroon
sarong wrap, and the gold laminated leather sandals by Ferre’ with the four-inch
heels.
Shoes
were her thing. Her passion. She would rather buy shoes than anything. She didn’t have much money, but her closet was crammed with the best
shoes. The right look on a girl’s feet turned her into a princess.
That was
what Daddy always told her. And, judging by the stares from both men and women,
she figured he was right.
The
outfit had set her back four hundred bucks but really showed off her figure.
Show them the product, her agent urged. Make those folks back in Peoria realize
you’re one high-class babe they should never have let
slip through their fingers.
She
wanted to tell him he didn’t know what he was talking
about. Her parading around like a hooker was anything but high-class.
But you
didn’t dare tell an agent what you really thought. You
only did that if you were famous and could pick and choose who you wanted to represent
you.
To be
nice, she took the glass from the reality show hopeful and smiled politely. A promising
young director wandered over not too long after. He’d been
eyeing her legs so much that he nearly fell into the pool. Her open-toed
sandals had obviously done their job. But the distraction made her forget
herself. Before she knew it, she coaxed some of the cool, tangy liquid into her
mouth.
Whatever
it was, it sure worked fast. She had wandered into a strange field, her
eyesight had gone all wrong, and her nose had picked up some really
strange smells.
But she
knew she couldn’t just close her eyes and wish herself
back at poolside.
She
turned to go back. Her sandal twisted in the grass, turning her ankle, and
forcing her foot down hard. A sharp pain scurried up her leg. She hopped
backward, almost disappearing in the foul backdrop.
Before
she could move away, something large and cold yanked her from the soft gray field,
into the dark wall.
The
ground instantly turned cold and wet. Tendrils of ice slapped her bare legs and
stomach. Her skimpy two-piece was perfect for the pool party but totally
inappropriate for jungle exploration.
She was
dragged deeper into a darker section of woods. Maybe Johnny was taking her
back—or the guy who had slipped her the drink. She tried resisting, but the
viselike grip on her arm did not yield. She feared that if she didn’t keep up the pace, she’d stumble and be pulled along anyway.
Should she
struggle? What if this was one of those guys her agent had told her about? One
of those well-connected producers she’d been seeking, perhaps?
Do whatever they say, her agent had told her. Show them what they’re buying.
It sure
was dark, though. And muggy. Faint voices pierced the air as she passed. Maybe
some of Johnny’s friends were having their own party in the woods behind the
estate.
The
darkness gradually lifted.
Large
claws tipped the hand gripping her arm. Fine rust-colored fur covered the arm
that extended from a tall, lean, furred body. The creature’s head resembled
that of a wolf, although when it first turned in her direction, its face
reminded her of an actor from days long past. Lee Van Cleef. That’s
who it looked like, anyway. But this creature couldn’t
be human.
She had
entered a miserable, trembling forest. Crippled trees and broken limbs hunched
around them. The warm air leaked heavily with sulfur. She covered her nose with
her free hand and took short, quick breaths. Fumes from a distant fire burned
her eyes.
A
California brush fire? And she was being dragged right into it.
Terrific.
The
furry wolf guy shoved her against an uprooted tree trunk. Sharp sticks jutting
from its root base scraped her back.
The
grip on her vanished.
Slobber
soaked his hairy chin. Was this another promising young director?
A
Hollywood director dressed in a wolf costume?
She knew
they were weird, but this was way over the edge, even by their standards.
“Look
what I found. Cool beans!” His eyes lowered, taking her in eagerly. The
Lee-image appeared, but the glinting red eyes of the wolf remained. “Nifty
outfit, babe. Plenty of smooth, pink flesh and other mouth-watering goodies, but
you’re dirty and smell kind of funky. Can’t take you anywhere,
can I?”
She
massaged her stinging arm and tried focusing on the Lee-image, but the wolf
kept coming back. What did those guys put in those drinks?
“What
happened to the pool party?” she asked.
The red
eyes blinked. “Pool party?”
Weird.
Everyone knew about pool parties. “You know. Half-naked people standing around
a pool, drinking, making out and pushing one another in.”
“You
mean like an orgy? With water pumped in?” He rubbed his furry palms together.
“Not
exactly. I don’t go to orgies.”
“What
else happens at these shindigs?” he asked eagerly.
“Everyone
says they’ll call and line you up for a job.”
“Then
what?”
“They
never call or line you up for a job.”
“You’re
not coming across as a happy camper, baby. Why were you there?”
“You
have to do a lot of unpleasant things when you’re struggling to be an actress.”
“Is
that what you were?”
Were?
Whatever did he mean?
“I’d
like to think I still am.”
Ah.
Cool. A babe with a sense of humor.” He
extended a hairy hand. “Pull that finger.”
What a
jerk. “No thank you.”
“Heard
that one before, eh?”
“A few
times.” Was he for real? “So where did everyone go?”
He
shrugged. “No idea. Doesn’t matter, though. Solitude
turns me on. Especially with a female.” He scratched the back of his head.
“Then it’s not solitude, is it? Unless the female’s not
listening. But it’s not her ears I’m interested in—if you catch my drift.”
This
was making less and less sense. “There were more than forty people at that
party.”
“Maybe
they just faded quietly into the sunset with the passage of time.” He giggled.
“Sometimes I’m so full of myself. Anyway, what’s wrong with a cozy evening for
two?”
She had
heard that one before as well. “Where are we?”
He
waved an arm at the sick-looking woods behind him. “Welcome to my humble abode.
As you can see, it needs a little, um, straightening up. The servants all seem
to be on strike at the moment.”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious. With some men you never
knew. “Who are you?”
“Your
date for the evening—ain’t it great?”
Figures. She sighed.
“And I thought my day couldn’t get worse.”
He
wrinkled his nose. “Not your type?”
She
wanted to tell him that a furry Lee Van Cleef didn’t
do much for her. She just smiled politely. Producers and directors came in all
shapes and sizes. He could be important, for all she knew.
“What
don’t you like? My abrupt manner? Take-charge attitude? Light-heartedness?”
“Your
slobbering doesn’t really do much for me.”
“What’s
wrong with it? Not enough? Too much?”
“Some
girls might like it, I guess…”
“I take
it no one slobbers at your pool parties.”
“Everyone’s
much too drunk to notice.”
“So
maybe if I don’t slobber, you’ll be warm for my form?”
“I’m
not too warm about how you dragged me here.
A girl doesn’t like to be manhandled.”
“How
else could I get you to come with me?”
“You
might have asked me.”
He
blinked. “You would have come, then?”
“No,
but the gesture would have been nice…”
“You
don’t find me dashing? Debonair? Ruggedly handsome?”
“Hardly.”
He was no Cary Grant.
“How’s
this?” His image instantly changed to Cary dressed in a dark two-piece suit he
wore in Philadelphia Story. “Dashing enough?”
“How
did you do that?” She didn’t remember Johnny
saying anything about a magician showing up at the party.
“It’s
all done with mirrors.”
The
stumps and rotting deadfalls revealed nothing.
“I don’t
see any mirrors.”
“They’re
invisible.”
Terrific.
Another guy who considered her gullible and stupid. She should be used to this.
But that wasn’t the main issue. “Where did the slobbering
wolf guy go?”
Cary
vanished. “Miss me?” The wolf guy returned, his grin just as bright as before.
Her
heart sank. “No.”
“How’s
this?” Humphrey Bogart appeared in his white dinner jacket from Casablanca.
“Play it, Sam…”
“Stop
doing that and just take me back. I’m getting depressed.”
“Me?
Take you back? Where? You’re depressed?”
“You.
Take me back to Johnny’s. Yes, I’m depressed.”
“Who’s
Johnny? Why are you depressed?”
“This
place is really creeping me out. And it smells awfully—“ The realization hit
her hard. Her temples pounded. “You…don’t know Johnny?”
“I’ll
bring air freshener next time. I keep forgetting, babes don’t
like things that smell bad, do they? Mint okay with you?”
She
forced herself to stay calm. There had to be a logical explanation for all
this. Losing her cool wouldn’t help. “Johnny’s the one
giving the party.”
His blank
look caused an icy tingling to slide down her shoulders.
“Well?”
she managed weakly.
“I’m
thinking of a really dynamite answer.”
She was
in no mood for this. “Take me back. Right now.”
“Have a
peek at this first.” Fred Astaire, in tails and top hat, held out his cane. He
tried one of his old spins and nearly tripped on an exposed tree root.
She
shook her head.
Another
flash. Clark Gable, as Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind, winked devilishly
and tipped his hat. “Frankly, my dear—“
“I’m
not having a good time, whoever you are.” But she couldn’t
help wondering how he knew about her favorite stars.
“Tell
you what. We can just mosey on over to that humongous deadfall and have our own
little pool party. But we’ll have to improvise. The closest
body of water lies on the other side of those dead trees. It’s
not bad if you ignore the smell. Usually, the sludge doesn’t
make it this far south. Anyway, if you’re still bummed
out, later on I’ll give you the bad news about where you are.”
Tiffany
had the sinking feeling she wasn’t going back to
Johnny’s.
Â