Coven

get a third citation.”

Wade was getting bombed worse than Pearl Harbor. All these tickets would cost three bills in fines and three more points, which his insurance wouldn’t tolerate.

Okay. B.S. time, he thought. He put on his best poor boy look, which probably was not very convincing while seated in a car that cost $75,000. “Officer Prentiss, I’m ashamed of myself. There’s no excuse for the thoughtless immaturity that I’ve demonstrated in your presence, and I humbly apologize. But the truth is, Officer, these tickets might cause my car insurance to be dropped, and that would make for some major trouble between me and my father. So I’m at your mercy. I’m going to ask that, in your generosity, you overlook these infractions, and in return you have my word and my personal guarantee that I will never violate the law on this campus ever again. My word.”

“I’ve heard better bullshit from Sterno drinkers,” she replied. She bruskly passed him the ticket book. “Sign, Mr. St. John.”

Wade was getting ticked. It wouldn’t kill this broad to give him a break. “What if I refuse to sign?” he dared ask.

“Then I will arrest you for ignoring a state summons.”

Wade laughed. “You wouldn’t dare. Maybe you don’t fully realize who I am. I’m Wade St. John. My father—”

“Sign the tickets or get out of the car,” Officer Prentiss said, then withdrew a shiny set of Peerless handcuffs.

Wade, boiling, signed the tickets. The cop tore off his copies and rather roughly stuffed them in his shirt pocket. “And if I ever see you throwing anything out of that car again,” she said, and smiled, “I’ll toss your rich boy behind in my jail in less time than it takes to say collegiate expulsion. Oh, and have a nice day.”

Officer Prentiss then drove off in her cruiser, leaving Wade slack mouthed. Have a nice day? he thought. Baby, they don’t get any nicer than this.

—

CHAPTER 5

The women stirred, moaning out from endless dreams. Their lair was a labyrinth; they lay deep in it. The labyrinth was silent and black, like death.

They lay together naked, their big eyes suddenly, inexplicably open. Something had waked them. Something —a word.

—Who are we? they wondered in unison.

But then they remembered. The labyrinth’s buried blackness began to move. They remembered who they were. They remembered the word, the holy, loving word.

Supremate.

—WAKE!

—Hello! one said.

—Hello! cried several more.

—We love you! We remember now!

They giggled together in their box. In joy, they kissed.

Then, like love, the voice caressed them.

—MY DAUGHTERS, MY LOVE.

The labyrinth was coming alive. Their lair grew warm. The dark and holy light felt beautiful on their white skin.

Memory crept closer. All things to serve their god! But first came an impulse. Sustenance. Hunger. Filling themselves up. The women remembered. They were hungry.

—Eat!

Yes, to eat. To make their bellies swell. Warm meat. Blood.

—We want to eat, please!

The Supremate’s voice was like a promise in the wind. —SOON, DAUGHTERS. SOON YOU’LL EAT. YOU’LL FEAST ON THE NEW PIGS.

Their loins tingled. Their red mouths drooled.

—Blood!

—Meat!

—New pigs!

They fidgeted in their box, reveling in the promises, like kisses. New blood to bathe in, and meat. They giggled and grinned.

—PRECIOUS DAUGHTERS…ARISE.

««—»»

The Old Exham Inn was an antediluvian brick and mortar catacomb full of dully clashing decor. Upstairs was the pub, downstairs the stage. The inn served pretentious “light fare” only and imported beer. The town, after all, knew who it was catering to—spoiled, rich college kids—which was how they got away with astronomical prices. Only “diverse” bands were billed, to keep out the local riffraff.

They filed down the stone steps to one of the small dining coves far off from the stage.

“Feeling any better?” Tom asked.

Jervis nodded like a wooden puppet. They hadn’t let him shave—his current hand and mentality could not yet be trusted to hold a razor to his throat. But they’d gotten him cleaned up and walking.

“I’ll have a beer,” he eventually said.

“You’ll have coffee, you dumb schmuck,” Wade corrected.

“And food,” Tom said.

Jervis groaned.

Wade ordered from a waitress whose frilled brauhaus dress exposed enough cleavage to dry dock a runabout. Tom and Wade glanced warily at each other, contemplating a strategy to open Jervis up. Tom recognized the fragility of the situation. Wade, however, preferred a slightly more direct approach.

“So she dumped you, huh?”

Jervis wailed. Tom shook his head.

“Look, Jerv,” Wade said, “you can’t hide from this thing forever. You’re gonna have to face it, grab it by the balls.”

“Life’s got its ups and downs,” Tom said. “This is one of the downs.”

Jerv’s forehead was on the table. “But I still love her!”

Some can of worms, Wade thought. “Take my word for it, buddy. You’ll get over it. You got your whole life to look forward to.”

“Not without her,” Jervis told the top of the table. “We were gonna get married. I even bought a ring. It was going to be perfect.”

“Jervis, no girl is worth getting this bent out of shape over,” Tom offered. “When things don’t work out, you find someone else.”

“But I don’t want someone else. I want Sarah. I want my Sarah back!”

Wade tried to reason. “She’s not your Sarah anymore. That may sound cold but it’s the truth. Women can be treacherous, cunning monsters. One minute they’re telling you they love you forever; the next minute they’re in the sack with someone else, balling like there’s no tomorrow.”

Jervis jerked upright, pop eyed. He began to make croaking noises. Then he jumped up from the table and staggered away.

“Good going, Wade,” Tom smirked. “You really have a way with words. Why not just buy him a bus ticket to Lover’s Leap?”