The Midnight Tour

Owen had often hoped that he would someday find a chance to experience the Midnight Tour. But he’d never really expected it to happen. That he now was here seemed unreal.

And all the more unreal because of Darke.

It seemed impossible that such a strange, beautiful creature had actually sipped his blood, sucked him, taken him into her body, and was now holding hands with him like a cherished lover as they made their way down the stairs.

Best night of my life!

Below them, a woman said quietly, “I don’t liiiike this.”

Though Owen didn’t recognize the voice, he thought it might belong to Connie, Phil’s wife.

“It’s all right, honey,” said a guy. Phil?

“This is the hour when the beast loves to strike,” said Vein in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “And this is its lair.”

Nervous chuckles.

“I do hope you’re enjoying yourself, Owie,” Monica muttered from behind him.

Eat your heart out, he thought. But he said nothing.

Darke turned her head and looked up at him. Her eyes made him forget all about Monica. They made him want to know every secret of Darke’s life.

What if tonight is all we ever have? he thought. Tomorrow, maybe she won’t be interested in me anymore. She’ll go away with Vein and I’ll never see her again. Never hold her hand again, never kiss her again...

A terrible sorrow welled up in Owen.

She’s with me now, he told himself. I’m in the cellar on the Midnight Tour and I’ve got Darke holding my hand right now, right at this very second, right here in the present. Here in the present, this is the greatest of all possible nights. Don’t ruin it by worrying about tomorrow.

At the bottom of the stairs, they walked over the dry dirt floor of the cellar and joined the semi-circle of tourists in front of Lynn.

Darke let go of Owen’s hand. Easing in against his side, she reached across his back and rested a hand on his hip.

He slid his hand across the back of his own windbreaker and curled his hand over Darke’s shoulder.

“Awwww,” said Monica. “What a handsome couple.”

Darke rubbed his hip.

“Did we lose anyone?” Lynn asked.

Heads turned this way and that.

“Beast didn’t put the snatch on anyone?” Lynn asked, grinning.

“All accounted for,” announced Bixby.

“Okay, then I guess we’ll continue with Lilly’s story. As I mentioned in the kitchen, she found that someone had been in the cellar, breaking jars and sampling some of her canned goods. She knew her boys hadn’t done it; the empty jar had contained beets. Her kids hated beets. So she was sure that a stranger had been down here. She was no coward, Lilly Thorn. Instead of running away, she searched the cellar. And she found a hole in the floor. This hole.” Lynn stepped aside and gestured behind her.

Owen couldn’t see the hole. People blocked his view. He didn’t worry, though; he was certain that everyone would be given a good chance to look at it before leaving the cellar.

“When Lilly found the hole,” Lynn said, “there was no steel cover. We added that a few years ago—along with the padlock—as a security precaution. This hole is the mouth of a tunnel that leads into the hills behind the house. We used to get occasional woodland visitors before we sealed it.

“When Lilly found the hole, she figured it must’ve been the way in for her intruder. The next night, she came down with a shovel, planning to fill it in. But her intruder had paid another visit in the meantime, helping himself to a couple of jars of peaches. Suddenly feeling sorry for him, Lilly gave up her notion of filling the hole. In her diary, she wrote, ‘My heart went out to the luckless, desperate soul who had dug into my cellar for a few mouthfuls of my preserves. I vowed to meet him, and help him if I can.’

“Later that night, after her kids were in bed and her lover had gone home, she came back down into the cellar. She was dressed in her nightgown. She sat on the bottom stair to wait in total darkness for the arrival of her hungry visitor.

“Soon, she heard stealthy sounds of movement from the direction of the hole. She was able to make out a dim, pale shape rising out of the darkness. ‘And I was filled with dread,’ she wrote, ‘for this was no man. Nor was he an ape.’”

“As the creature approached Lilly, she had to see it better. So she struck a match.”

Vein and Darke suddenly recited in unison, “‘Whether he was one of God’s exotic creatures, or an ill-made perversion vomited forth by the devil, I know not. His ghastly appearance and nudity shocked me. Yet I was drawn, by an irresistible force, to lay my hand upon his misshapen shoulder.’”

“Very good!” Lynn said.

Dennis and Arnold clapped wildly and said, “Far out” and “Bitchin’.” Several of the other tourists clapped as well, while others nodded in approval.

“For those of you who might not have recognized it,” Lynn said, “Vein and Darke have just done a very nice rendition from Lilly’s diary. Making my job a lot easier. Can you give us more?”

“If you like,” Darke said, squeezing Owen’s hand.

“Please. Proceed.”

Again in unison, their voices rose through the silence. “‘I allowed the match to die. In the darkness, totally without sight, I felt the creature turn.’”

As they continued, the beast Itself—with Clyde inside—made his way through the group. Startled, some people flinched or gasped before stepping aside to let him pass.

“‘His warm breath on my face smelled of the earth and wild, uninhabited forests. He lay his hands upon my shoulders. Claws bit into me. I stood before the creature, helpless with fear and wonder, as he split the fabric of my nightgown.’”

Clyde in the beast suit climbed onto an old steamer trunk beside Lynn and began to strike muscle-man poses.

“‘When I was bare, he muzzled my body like a dog. He licked my breasts. He sniffed me, even my private areas, which he probed with his snout.’”

Lynn seemed delighted. “Excellent. Can you go on?”

“‘He moved behind me. His claws pierced my back, forcing me to my knees.’”

Clyde began to pantomime the beasts movements.

“‘I felt the slippery warmth of his flesh press down on me, and I knew with certainty what he was about. The thought of it appalled me to the heart, and yet I was somehow thrilled by the touch of him, and strangely eager.

“‘He mounted me from behind, a manner as unusual for humans as it is customary among many lower animals. At the first touch of his organ, fear wrenched my vitals, not for the safety of my flesh but for my everlasting soul. And yet I allowed him to continue. I know, now, that no power of mine could have prevented him from having his will with me. I made no attempt to resist, however. On the contrary, I welcomed his entry. I hungered for it as if I somehow presaged its magnificence.

“Oh Lord, how he plundered me! How his claws tore my flesh! How his teeth bore into me! How his prodigious organ battered my tender womb. How brutal he was in his savagery, how gentle in his heart.

“‘I knew, as we lay spent on the earthen cellar floor, that no man could ever stir my passion in such a way. I wept. The creature, disturbed by my outburst, slipped away into his hole and disappeared.’”

Simultaneously, Vein and Darke bowed deeply like stage actors. Atop the steamer trunk, Clyde raised both arms in triumph.

The midnight tourists burst into wild applause and cheers.

Bixby shouted, “Bravo!” Others called out, “Wow!” and “Well done!” and “Great!” Through the tumult, Owen heard Dennis and Arnold shouting, “Awesome!” and “Dudes!” and “the Beast rules!”

Owen hugged Darke. “That was fantastic!” he whispered.