Succubi

“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re not sick?”

“I’m…fine. It was just a nightmare.”

Ann sat down next to her, pushed her damp hair off her brow. “Join the club. I had a nightmare too, as usual,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me about yours. Sometimes when you tell someone else your nightmare, it’s not scary anymore.”

God! Melanie thought. Sure, Mom, I dreamed I made out with two girls. And I liked it. “It was stupid,” she dismissed.

“You look pale. Do you want me to get you something?”

“No thanks. I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“Okay.” Ann kissed her on the cheek. “Get some sleep.”

“Good night, Mom.”

“Good night.”

Her mother left.

Melanie lay atop the covers, still perplexed by the dream. The pink moon beamed in on her. A special equinox or something. That’s right, it was almost spring. The moonlight looked pretty, but she shivered. It reminded her of the dream. That shimmering, faint pinkness. You’re very special, Wendlyn had said in the dream. They’d said that, too, for real, hadn’t they? That she was special? The more she tried to forget the dream, the more vividly she remembered it. It seemed enticingly forbidden, not repulsive. She closed her eyes and saw it more lewdly. They were pretty girls, with pretty faces. She saw their breasts again, from the dream, and those odd pendants. Then she gasped.

She lay still for a moment, until she realized what must’ve happened. It was that stuff they’d smoked, that was it. It clouded her memory, mixed some of the dream with reality. The pendants—the little gray stones on white strings. Her hand lay between her breasts. She was awake now—the dream was over.

Yet an identical pendant hung about her own neck this very moment.

—

Chapter 15

Sergeant Tom Byron loaded his left cheek with Skoal, then spat into a paper cup.

Chief Bard, fat behind his desk, wasn’t sure about how to make the revelation. “Tharp and Belluxi shot up another Qwik Stop last night. Killed the clerk and three stoners.”

“Where?” Byron asked.

“North of Waynesville.”

Byron’s lips puckered. “But that’s—”

“I know, it’s thirty miles away from us. And those two guys burned up in their pickup were found right on our town line.”

Sergeant Byron was no mental giant, but he didn’t need to be told of this particular inexplicability. “That don’t make no sense, Chief. The bodies we caught Tharp buryin’ were burned up just like the two Crick City guys yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and their brains were missing, and some of their organs, just like five years ago. So why would Tharp risk driving all the way back here just to go thirty miles backward last night to do the Qwik Stop?”

Byron chewed and spat again. “Maybe Tharp didn’t do the Qwik Stop. Maybe it was a fluke, someone else done it.”

“No way. The state just called me with the ballistics. They pulled Webley .455 slugs out of those kids last night. And that’s what they ripped off of old Farley at the first Qwik Stop.”

“Ain’t never heard of a Webley.”

“It’s a big piece, a big old British thing. Used ’em in the Boer War or some fucked up war like that. Got more stopping power than a .44 Mag, .45, l0mm, you name it. Slug’s so big, you hit a guy in the face with one, his whole head’ll explode.”

“And they also got the 870 from the Luntville car.”

“Yeah. Ain’t that grand?”

Byron sucked his wad of Skoal reflectively. “Maybe this means they’re headin’ away now.”

No, Bard thought. They’re coming back here. That’s what Tharp wants. He’s just driving back and forth to keep us off his tail. “Maybe,” was all he said. “And worst thing is we got no idea what they’re driving. They kill everyone who sees ’em, cops included.”

Byron continued to venture. “Maybe Tharp didn’t do the two guys in the pickup. Sounds crazy, shore, but maybe it was someone else.”

“Don’t be a moron,” Bard said. “Who else would do something like that? Burn up two kids, take their brains?”

But that’s not what Bard was thinking at all. As preposterous as the suggestion sounded, he knew too well that Byron was right.

«« — »»

“Any change?” Ann asked.

She stood in the kitchen, morning sunlight pouring in. It shined like glare off Dr. Heyd’s bald head. “No, he’s still the same. He hasn’t gotten any better, but at least he hasn’t gotten any worse.”

That was about as hopeful a prognosis as she could ask. Milly was putting little IV bottles into the refrigerator, medication and intravenous sustenance. “He didn’t stir at all last night.”

“Sometimes he convulses,” Dr. Heyd added.

“Why?” Ann asked.

“Really, Ann, the details would only upset you.”

“Tell me,” she said.

Dr. Heyd sighed. “A massive stroke causes a massive blockage, a clot. Every so often his blood pressure will break up some of the clot and he’ll revive for a short time.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m afraid not. All it does is disperse more particles of the clot deeper into the brain, which will cause further clots and microscopic arterial ruptures. I have to be honest with you, Ann. The stroke has occluded the blood supply to a large portion of his brain. Therefore, when he is conscious, he’s completely insensible.”

“But he came to for a moment yesterday when I was in the room,” Ann said. “He seemed to recognize me.”

“Perhaps, but probably not.”

Wishful thinking, she concluded.

Milly put her arm around her. “It’s best not to think about the details, Ann.”

“I know. I’m just worried about Melanie. I haven’t taken her in to see him yet. I don’t know how much of this she’ll understand.”

“She’s almost an adult now. You’d be surprised.”

“I guess I should do it soon,” Ann said more softly.

“Yes,” Dr. Heyd agreed. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Ann thanked them and left the room. It was awkward, thanking people for attending a loved one’s death. Upstairs, she found Melanie’s bedroom empty. She mustn’t have slept well at all, and Ann could easily sympathize. Maybe nightmares are hereditary, she tried to joke to herself. She’d had her own nightmare again too. She knew what it was like to not be able to sleep because of a dream.

Back down the other end of the house, she heard voices. She walked up to her father’s door and stopped.